#based off of how happy those memories he shares are. the two boys hang out with her all the time- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queen-of-the-night-lights · 3 years ago

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Beautiful (Omega x Mom!Reader x Bad Batch)

A/N: So, I have been seeing all of these other stories with a few scenes of the reader being a mom towards Omega and then the rest of the story being with a member of the batch. While I love those my brain went “ Give this little girl done love and support” and I came up with this story which is basically Omega and the reader just hanging out by themselves. ( I also left the ending open so you can imagine the batch member of your choosing😉)

Warnings: None/fluff

Plot: The reader does Omegas make-up for the first time.

“ What are you doing?” The young girl asked innocently. She caused you to jump slightly, it has taken a while to get used to a new voice around the ship. “ People on this planet wear a large amount of make-up so I decided to wear some while I go out to get food and supplies. Here I would stand out much more if I didn’t wear any, opposed to if I did.” You explained brushing on some finishing touches. Meanwhile Omega just watched you, she has never seen anything even close to what you were doing, but then again she didn’t know much about anything outside Kamino.

When you finished you turned to the child and asked “ What do you think?” She smiled and said “ It looks good. A little weird because you look a little different, but still good.” She gave a soft chuckle “ Well thank you, I appreciate your honesty.” Just as you were about to put your makeup away Omega chimed in “ Can I try some on?” You turned back to the girl as she gave you a curious and pleading look. With a small smile on your face you approved with a “ Sure. Come sit down.”

You stood up from your vanities chair to let her sit in it hoping it would make her feel special, in some weird way that’s how you thought of the chair. Pulling a stool close so that you could sit while helping her. “ Lets see...” You said studying Omegas face, you didn’t want to put too much makeup on her since this is probably her first time putting anything on her face. While doing this you noticed many qualities she did share with other clones, making Techs statement a few weeks ago resonate with you. She of course was very different from Regs just like the rest of the batch was, but little traits here and there are where you can tell they are related.

“ Okay so, since I don’t want to put too much on you just incase you have a poor reaction to the makeup, we are just going to do yours a little lighter than mine.” You explained and she nodded in acknowledgment before asking “ What do you mean by reaction?” You then explained how some makeup isn’t compatible with people’s skin and how sometimes people have allergic reactions. After noticing the slight nervousness on the kids face you soothed her by telling her that you only use hypoallergenic makeup and the likelihood of her having a reaction would be very low, but you just want to be careful. After that reasoning she seemed to have gone back to her usual curious nature. “ So usually we would start with foundation, that this part that covers the entire face...” you gestured a circle around yours as you continued “ ...but since I don’t have your exact skin tone of foundation , we are going to use this powder.”

Showing her the brush and translucent powder. “ Now let me know at anytime if you are uncomfortable. Then I will stop and we will make sure everything is okay.” With that you started gently brushing the powder along her face. She giggled at first “ It tickles.” You smiled at her adorable laugh “ Yes it does at first, but I need you to try to hold still the best you can okay?” She then nodded and you continued. The brush was big and soft she had never felt anything like it before. It was a nice feeling as you gently brushed and stippled along her face. You then decided to skip the eye shadow primer and things such as that. Those are for another time when you could teach her longer and had more makeup for her to try.

“ Next, I’m going to have you close your eyes and we are going to use this brush with these two colors and put them right on your eyelids. After that I’m going to wet this brush and put a little line of eyeliner on. That’s this around the base of my eyelashes.” You explained closing your own eyes. She smiled and closed her eyes trusting you not to hurt her. You and the boys always made sure that she was comfortable, no matter what. However there was this different feeling she had towards you than with the others. While she trusted them and loved being around them, there was this different kind of feeling of care you gave off. Maybe it was that “mother” feeling the others told her you had. You just seemed to know the right thing to say and how to say it. You also knew exactly what everyone needed when sometimes they didn’t know themselves.

“ (Y/N), can I ask you something?” As you switched colors you replied in a calm yet reassuring tone “ Of course.” “ How did you learn to do makeup?” You smiled at her question as memories started to fill your head. Taking a breath you explained “ I used to watch my mom. My mother she was, beautiful. With or without make up she had the ability it make a transport ship stop in its tracks. She had these two friends and sometimes they would all put their makeup on together before they would go out. They had this setup where they would put all their mirrors, like this one, all together in a row in front of this huge window we had at my family’s house. And from there I would watch them and think ‘ I can not wait until I am old enough to play with this stuff.’ “ As you finished your story you told Omega to open her eyes and instructed her on the next step. “ It’s all coming together now! This next part is a little scary, but I promise I will not poke you in the eye. I’m going to take this mascara wand and gently put this on your eyelashes.” Omega nodded an okay, then you explained “ Okay, I’m going to need to open your eyes really really wide and look right here.”

You pointed right at where your neck meets your collar bone and quickly put on the mascara. You remember how uncomfortable you were the first time you had it put on for you. Omega seemed a little more relieved after you put it on as well. She then blinked and fluttered her eyes as they adjusted to the new sensation. She then looked back up to you with your soft smile still adorned on your face and asked “ Do you think I’m pretty?” A little taken back you then confidently answered “ Yes Omega, you are very pretty. You have these big, round, and bright eyes, a cute nose...” you said giving her a light tap on her nose to emphasize your point. That caused her to scrunch it up and let out a little laugh. “ And you have this amazing smile.”

Omega had a small blush creep on to her face as you complimented her. You can’t imagine her life back on Kamino, even though she probably treated differently from the rest, you knew that her life, her beginning of her childhood must have been hard. Yet she almost always seemed happy. “ Alright here’s where the hard decision comes in, for your lips do you want a solid color or something shiny.” You said holding a lipstick and a lipgloss in each hand. “ Definitely the shiny one.” She said pointing to the one in your right hand.

“ Excellent choice! Now I’m going to ask you to make a really weird faces. Kinda make your lips go like this.” Omega then mimicked the pursing of your lips making sure she was doing it right. You always thought it was cute when she would try to do the same actions as you all did in the ship, her favorite person to mimic was Hunter, but you couldn’t blame her. “ Alright, now we blot. We want to make sure that our lipstick or lipgloss doesn’t stick or wear off to easily.” Grabbing a tissue of the vanity and showing her what you wanted her to do. Making you lips form a line and gently putting them together, but not actually putting the tissue in your mouth.

Once Omega finished you stood up and asked “ Are you ready to take a look?” She nodded her head with excitement and you spun the chair around to have her face the mirror. You saw her eyes widen and get bigger, if that was even possible, as they filled with wonder. A small whisper of her exclaiming “ woah” left her as she looked at the makeup you did. A bit of pride and affection towards the girl swelled in your chest as the girl copied the head tilts you did earlier as you finished your own makeup. “ Beautiful.”

She smiled as she continued to admire your work “ Thank you!” She exclaimed with a beaming smile looking up at you. “ You are very welcome, but you have to remember it is never the makeup that makes you look pretty, it’s how you treat others and what is on the inside that makes you beautiful.” When you finished that statement Omega turned the chair around and gave you a hug. With tears pricking your eyes you hugged her back. You felt bad for everyone that lived on Kamino, you remember the first time you hugged the others and they were a little taken back and confused by the gesture. Omega however was different due to her young age and hugged you quite often. You wished her the best in the galaxy and wanted to protect her and your boys, your family from any danger.

The hugged lasted a while but you didn’t care, what the two of you didn’t know was that someone was watching you from the doorway. His heart swelled at the interaction between the two of you. He wasn’t there long, he had only been standing there a few minuets. Everyone seemed to have changed a little when Omega came on to the team, and while you didn’t change as much as the others your personality amplified. The way you are able to take care of them became more noticeable, you just had this amazing way with all of them and your ability to care so much.

Everything you did was amazing, making sure they we’re rested, making sure that they had eaten, that they didn’t overwork themselves, reassuring them when they had doubts, and giving hope. He started feeling different about you after the first few months of you being with them. Back then he didn’t know how to describe what he was feeling, but now he knew. He had fallen in love with you. Seeing you with Omega assured him that you would always be there with his family and that you wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt them. He wanted a life with you, his brothers, and Omega. No one will ever take that dream away from him, ever.

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years ago

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strike

part 3 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2k

warnings: extremely mild mentions of sex, unwanted advances that don’t get far (not by Frankie)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball au - trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, we learn that a ‘strike’ is when a batter misses the ball when he swings, even though he shouldn’t have. And some strikes don’t just happen during baseball.

“Jimbo, I'm here!” You called as you kicked the door closed behind you, arms heavy with grocery bags. Your grandfather would be in the living room, no doubt impatiently waiting for you to unload so you could watch the baseball game together. It was a few states away, which meant the two of you could enjoy evening on the couch with affordable snacks and air conditioning. Games in person were more exciting, but climbing all those stairs wasn’t great for his knees, and it was nice to chat with him without the roar of the crowds.

There was a faint squeak to his favorite rocker, and you unloaded half the bags onto the coffee table – his favorite treats – before tossing the rest haphazardly into their places in his little kitchen. You raced the commercials, listening to the final advertisements with one ear as you hurried to get yourself settled, even though he was always happy to chat with you during the game. For these times with him, you hated to miss even a moment. The chair to the left of his was yours, newer and softer and it would have been the perfect evening, eating and catching up with your favorite man.

Except this was the first real opportunity for him to grill you about your unexpected lunch with his heroes.

There had been laughter in his voice when you had tried to call him afterwards, and he had told you he would wait to hear the story. To him, even over the phone you couldn’t hide how flustered you were, just moments after Francesco’s eyes had been in yours. All things considered, he had been more than patient, so as you fidgeted and you kept your eyes on the screen, you told him what had happened as casually as you could.

It was the top of the first inning – the very beginning of the game, and his boys were mostly crowded into the dugout. Their fingers were grabbing fistfuls of sunflower seeds or pulling on batting gloves or hanging on the wire, watching as Will walked up to bat. There was a fun country song playing, and it was surreal, thinking it had just been a few days since he had tossed a chunk of fried food into the air and his brother had caught it in his mouth. James thoroughly enjoyed you story, laughing and for once not lecturing you about leaving them alone to live their lives. He seemed approving, proud of you for taking a change, and proud that the boys from his favorite team did his favorite granddaughter well. You answered this questions and indulged his excitement over the little things, trying not to reveal too much of your own daydream fodder. Thinking of Francisco’s eyes as he laughed at the Miller boys, you grabbed a pillow to give your hands something to hold onto, to ground yourself.

The camera panned over to Tom adjusting his cap and without thinking you winced. When you realized that James had caught the movement, you winced again.

You had to explain, then, the biggest detail that you had glossed over – the only one that would disappoint your grandfather. The outfielder had looked at you with confidence and hunger in his eyes. His fingers on your hand left cool, invisible lines, slimy like residue of the stadium cup holders.

James listened with sad eyes, before he was reaching over, gently squeezing your hand, and asking about Will’s family in town to find out if he knew a relative. It was kindness - changing the topic, rewarming the memory as he coaxed out more details of their interactions with you and each other, making you blush and laugh and smile.

The discomfort that had been lodged in your heart regarding the athlete lessened as you remembered that they were all human. It had been clear the other players respected him, maybe even looked up to him, and that had to be good for something. Even though it had just been a lunch, a single moment in time, the assessments of a group of open hearted baseball players already held weight on your opinion.

As you began to tell James about a joke Santiagio had told, you noticed that Tom’s turn had come and gone, and he had struck out.

Every professional sports group had a second team, full of people who pushed papers and cleaned locker rooms and handled press conferences. One of these people was a woman who was in charge of sorting through and organizing special fan appearances.

Flipping through applications and mail, she would have hardly noticed the broad shoulders and hazel eyes of the man who entered, had he not kissed her breathless the night before.

For all they were on and off and she knew he was a player in all senses of the word, she couldn’t help but stand, and let his hands find her hips as he pressed into her.

“Hi, Tom,” she whispered, already dazed and adoring as his beard scraped at her neck, warm and insistent.

“Hey, babe,” he returned, absentmindedly, squeezing her hips before pulling away. There was something about his eyes, the way he held his head, like his shoulders were comfortable bearing the weight of others, like he’d prefer it that way, that made him seem like a natural born leader.

She knew him better. He had the crowds and the rookies and the managers and even his brothers on the team wrapped around his fingers - the perfect mentorship allusion, but she knew. There was another side to him, a darker side, filled to the brim with pride and arrogance and power. Of all the men who flashed smiles as they shook hands and carried kids on their shoulders for photos – he was the one who preened the most. There was a hunger in his eyes, even greater than when he’d love her, when a chance came for him to do an extra interview, put some senior input in, or take a newbie to his first after party.

Still, she loved him. Too much, maybe, but her mind whispered not enough, and she hungrily took what ever he would give her. There were always flowers and jewelry and coveted high-status sex in his apologies, anyway, and she knew he’d always come back to her, eventually. She knew better than to guess.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, star stuck in spite of it all, but knowing there must be something. His “cousin” had stocks in the team, or a certain string needed to be pulled. There was always something.

When he asked for the number of a girl from a few weeks ago, there was an all-too-familiar twist in her gut.

“Tom, you know that information is confidential,” she whined, masking her fear, turning back towards her desk. It was infuriating how disarming, intoxicating, and how solid he felt behind her, how smooth his words felt on the shell of her ear.

“It’s for Benny, babe, he’s got it bad for her,” it was a lie, but she didn’t know it, and the knot in her stomach loosened a little. His hand slipped under her blouse and it came undone, submitting entirely to the façade.

“Let me help the little guy out.” For all his charisma, she wanted desperately to believe he was sincere, so she did. Her hands started steady as she opened a thick binder and began flipping through the glossy dividers. She moved as slow as she could, hopelessly savoring his touch, knowing when it was gone, the unpleasant feelings would be just as strong.

But it didn’t take long to find you number and hand it over, and exchange more heated kisses and half promises before he slipped out.

The woman settled in her chair again, fingers tracing the letters of your name, the knot reforming below her breastbone. She reached for her phone, telling herself it was a courtesy, to give you a heads up.

When a player was about to steal second base, you always wondered if Santiago Garcia could tell, without even looking. If he could feel it in his bones, or if the hairs on the back his neck rose, against his sweat.

If he could, that was exactly how you would feel now, walking into the bar to see only Tom Davis waiting for you. The building was dim, strategically chosen by Will, allegedly, so they could drink in peace. As before however, there was no hiding the silhouette of a man like him, not when he was oozing confidence like sap from a tree.

When he had called you, it had been so shocking you had agreed without thinking. It was surreal, but like following a trail of candy through a forest, not at all like the knights in shining armor of before.

He swung his arm around, cocky smile across his face, and you shook his hand.

There could not have been a more awkward boundary made, but he laughed it off as you considered turning tail and running. It was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help how guarded you felt alone with him, so you turned to the polished woof of the bar and ordered a lemonade. It would buy you time, anyway, to reassess.

You had always thought of baseball players as beer guys, but he had a short glass of something gold and expensive, as if he were trying to prove a point. Slipping onto the stool next to him, you set your bag in between you like a wall. He was broad and he pulled close, making you almost press against his side, giving you the opportunity to realize his skin almost cold. Slow sips reminded you that there was no basis for your feelings, and you were the one being strange.

It wasn’t bad, talking to him. You chided yourself internally, thinking you made unfair assumptions. Really, he was a nice guy. He talked highly of his friends, even defending their lateness, taking the blame for the mix-up. It felt like one of those interviews your grandfather would watch sometimes, the way he could go on about himself and somehow tell you nothing at all. Fighting your instincts to give short, guarded answers, you found yourself sharing about your life more than you expected. Not a lot, but not nothing either.

It was awkward and nice, not unlike a first date and when his large hand covered yours, it didn’t feel half as slimy as before.

A spider’s web was feather-light, so subtle it was almost impossible to feel until it was too late.

His eyes were sharp and deep and certain as he shifted closer, and you felt dazed, despite all the alcohol you hadn’t consumed.

When he leaned in, though, a thought struck you. With his deep hazel eyes, the perfect beard, and tanned skin, he looked like a prince. Not our prince, though, it was just someone else’s fairytale.

Clarity and your own confidence warmed you like a jacket one rainy day, and you touched Tom’s cheek, holding his face at enough of a distance. You shed the web before it stuck and something flickered in his eyes – doubt, maybe, or something like fear, as you spoke the most prominent thought on your mind.

“What about Molly?”

When he heard you, again speaking words that weren't meant for his ears, warm pride shot through his chest.

That’s my girl.

Of course you weren’t, but it felt like you were.

You turned to him like you knew he was there, hand leaving Tom’s stunned face to wave at the grinning catcher.

Frankie had been at war with himself across the bar as he looked towards the two of you, heart wrenching. He had seen from the far side the room first how close you were to the other man. It was unreasonably terrifying to see that you weren't immune, to see you consider his friend. Then he saw how non responsive you’d become to Redfly, how politely you regarded him as he lathered on the charm. By the time he reached the two of you, he found you fully awake, handling it yourself.

When the woman had called you, her voice had betrayed something. It was formal conversation, just admitting she had shared your contact information, and disclosing that it was Tom, and he’d made it clear you guys were friends. Her tone, however, told you she was territorial and jealous, but also desperate, longing. It felt right to get out of the way – that’s what you and she wanted and you sort of thought that’s actually what he wanted, too. He was moving away from you, still processing, trying to play off the moment, and even more than pity, you felt a touch sad for them.

Still, you were impressed you were able to manage yourself. It was the same confidence that had filled you when you stood up for James, a confidence that came from a feeling that whispered something good was coming, something well worth the boldness.

When you felt a warm presence at your side, you felt even more sure. It felt wonderful, the way Francisco was looking at you. It was too early to read into it, but you were sure you wanted him to look at you like that again - like you were capable of telling mountains to move.

You smiled up at him, relieved, and he couldn’t help but beam back, wanting to hug you. He wasn’t feeling quite brave enough yet, but there was a resolve settling in his heart. There was no way he was going to leave your side tonight.

The other guys came quickly. Each of them was excited to see you again, and you pretended not to notice them shooting confused glances at Redfly when he slipped outside to spit on the ground and stare at the sky.

It didn’t take long for him to rejoin you, anyway, and his shoulders seemed lighter, his eyes just a little more thoughtful.

The group as a whole accepted you into their fold like they needed you, like each one of them had missed you when you were gone, like you missed them, like you belonged there from the start.

You had no idea how long the daydream would last, but in that moment it didn’t feel like it mattered at all. Collecting stories for James even faded as a priority as you just enjoyed the feeling of the glass in your hands, the laughter in the air, and teasing the men like they were just boys. Even after the last half hour, it was easy to trust Will’s sincere tone, and Ben’s eager blue eyes. The others were grounded at your side, steady and comforting - you felt yourself open like a flower to the sun.

There was something about the shape of the catcher at your side, safe and warm, like his presence was reaching for yours, aching with yours. Through the stories and the jokes you relished it, and his eyes made it clear that you weren’t alone. And even though the universe made it abundantly clear that you had no idea what would happen next, you didn’t feel any need to hurry. Fate seemed to know what she was doing.

In the darkness of the bar, only Santiago’s eyes saw Frankie’s hand find the small of your back.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier #baseball au #triple frontier baseball au #hey batter batter #maybe i don't know people

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caranfindel · 4 years ago

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Take these broken wings and learn to fly (15.20 coda)

het, but Wincest-compatible | about 2300 words | PG-13 for language | characters: sam winchester, sam’s blurry wife |

Julia has been widowed (God, what an awful word, widowed) for three years when she meets Sam. It’s a work-based friendship at first. She’s kind of lonely and sad, he’s kind of lonely and sad, and they gravitate toward each other. And then one evening they’re at a bar, the last ones left from an after-work happy hour, both of them drinking more than they should, and she thinks he’s kind and thoughtful and smart and he may be 10 years older than me but he’s still hot as hell and I enjoy being with him and I look forward to seeing him and maybe I should just… and she kisses him. He’s shocked; shocked enough to confirm that he wasn’t just hanging around hoping to make it out of the friendzone. And then he’s holding her face in his hands and he’s kissing her too.

It’s good. They’re good together. It’s not the earth-shattering, all-encompassing romance she had with Shaun. Julia knows she’ll never have anything like that again. Most people don’t even get one soulmate in their lives; no one gets two. And she knows Sam doesn’t have that same desperate love that Shaun had for her; she knows she’ll never have his whole heart. (She knows the woman he intended to marry was killed in a fire, she knows another woman he loved went back to her ex. She doesn’t know which of these women still owns that last piece of Sam’s heart.) But she loves Sam, and he loves her, and they get married.

(The sex is amazing. Sometimes he’s gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s afraid he’ll break her, and other times he’s fierce and passionate and almost tries to break her, and she loves both ends of the spectrum.)

She suggests they melt down her old wedding band to make a new one. It was an heirloom from her grandmother, a plain wide band of yellow gold that she loves, that she thought she’d wear for the rest of her life. But Shaun is the one who put it on her finger the first time. It doesn’t seem right to ask Sam to accept it now. A new band from the old gold seems like a good compromise. No, Sam says, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I know a way we can make it ours. He has the inside of the band engraved with the same symbol he wears tattooed over his heart, and makes her promise to never take it off. Bad luck, he says.

He’s such a contradiction. Scary smart, but as superstitious as an Appalachian grandmother. Calm and unflappable, but with a weirdly hyperactive startle reflex. Kind and empathetic, but capable of extreme violence when pushed to his limits (seriously, don’t walk your drunk ass up to Sam Winchester’s wife and lay hands on her, and don’t get mouthy when she tells you to back off) and just really, frighteningly skilled at that violence.

(A little frightening and also very sexy. Julia’s always had a thing for the hero type.)

They both have nightmares. One night Julia watches Shaun’s face melting under his gear and wakes with a cry of horror. Sam holds her as she tearfully describes living on the knife edge of constant fear that comes with loving someone whose job is literally running into burning buildings. I know, he says, over and over, even though he can’t possibly know. The irony of their first loves both dying in flames is not lost on her, but it’s not like his college girlfriend was a firefighter. It’s not like he watched her go to work every day and prayed she’d make it home alive.

Julia’s pregnancy is a wonderful surprise. She and Shaun had tried for over a year before she was widowed, and she just didn’t count on it happening with Sam. They agree not to name the baby after anyone they’ve lost. Let’s not name him after our pain, she says, and Sam is okay with that. (Or he isn’t. But ever since she showed him the positive pregnancy test, she’s known she could ask him for anything. She’s known he would rip out his heart and serve it on a platter if she asked for it.)

But they haven’t decided on a name yet when her water breaks four weeks early. When their perfect baby boy is born at 12:10 a.m., the nurse announces the date and time and Sam looks up at her in shock and blinks away happy tears and says it’s the 24th. It’s my brother’s birthday. Julia is flying high on endorphins; she loves this baby and she loves this man and she even loves his dead brother she never got to meet, and she says it’s got to be a sign; let’s name him Dean.

She takes off her wedding ring, just this once, to have Dean’s birthdate engraved on the inside. Sam does the same with his own ring. He insists they go to a jeweler who will engrave while they wait, rather than leaving the rings there. She waves a hand at her lumpy postpartum body. You afraid someone’s gonna make a move on all this if you don’t keep a ring on it?

He laughs at her and says you’re onto me, even though he’s the one who needs to be locked away, still with that long lean runner’s body and the amazing shoulders and the goddamn dimples. I just don’t like us being without them, he says. He is a sweet, sentimental fool and she adores him. He bends down to kiss her, carefully maneuvering the baby he’s wearing in a sling, and Julia looks at this man and this baby and this life she didn’t think she was get to have and knows she’s happier than she has any right to be. And she’s relieved when Sam slips the ring back onto her finger, this ring imbued with the men she loves, so maybe he’s not the only sentimental fool.

(One thing she loves about Sam is that he understands why she feels guilty that Shaun didn’t get to share this life with her.)

In July they light a little candle for Dean’s six-month birthday. When Julia wakes the next morning, Sam’s side of the bed is empty and cold. She finds him cuddling their sleeping baby in the living room. I got up to give him a bottle, Sam says. I guess I just fell asleep out here. His red-rimmed eyes and empty coffee mug suggest he didn’t actually sleep at all, but, well. They’re both battling their own private demons. If a night cradling the baby gives Sam some peace for whatever reason, she’s glad of it.

Sam’s fierce love for their child takes her by surprise. If Julia has 90% of his heart, his son has 110%. He parents with a vengeance, is the only way she can think of to describe it. Like he’s making up for something. She doesn’t feel slighted, but it’s impossible to ignore that ever since Dean was born, Sam’s prime objective has been to make sure the boy is happy and safe. Everything else comes second.

(When she notices Sam has been carefully marking his tattoo symbol onto Dean’s clothing, hidden near seams and always in a color that almost matches the fabric, she decides not to say anything. He gets a little funny about his superstitions sometimes.)

Sam desperately wants Dean to have a sibling, and they try for another one, but it doesn’t happen. Julia reminds him that they’re lucky to have even one child. That having a sibling is not a lifetime guarantee of companionship and love. She should know, after all, since Stephanie cut her off after she married that asshole Scientologist and decided she couldn’t have a relationship with anyone who wasn’t also in their stupid cult.

Dean has plenty of friends and tons of activities, which Sam encourages with an almost religious fervor, but he never pulls away from his parents. They have so much in common, Sam and his son. Instead of rebelling as a teenager, Dean seems to grow even closer to his father. They spend hours together, paging through the ancient books in Sam’s study (she hates them, they smell musty and make her sneeze) or driving in the old Chevrolet. They even travel together sometimes, visiting those friends of Sam’s that live up north somewhere. Julia met them at the wedding and they were perfectly nice, thrilled to death that she and Sam had found each other. But she always feels like an outsider when they’re around, like they’re part of something she’ll never understand. So much history, with Sam and the brother she never got to meet. They absolutely dote on Dean though, and he seems to love them too, so the boys’ trip to Sioux Falls becomes an annual event.

(Dean is 14 years old when he comes home from one of these trips with his own version of the tattoo.)

When Julia is diagnosed with cancer, Dean is 16 years old. Sam does his best to ensure life goes on as normal for their son but somehow never neglects Julia’s needs. He throws himself into research and is always on top of the latest treatment, always at her elbow with the top internet-recommended remedy for her side effects, making sure both she and Dean have everything they want and need, all the attention and support they can tolerate. She doesn’t know when, or if, Sam actually sleeps. When she feels up for it, he arranges experiences for the three of them. A week lying on the beach, a weekend in New York City, a night in the mountains looking at the stars. When we look back on this time, he says, I don’t want us to only remember how much it sucked. I want us all to have good memories too.

(She doesn’t know why he’s concerned about her memories. There’s a good chance she won’t have much time to enjoy them. But it’s good for Dean. She doesn’t want this to ruin Dean’s childhood.)

Sam insists Dean go away to college as planned. Julia agrees, although she’s kind of surprised he’s willing to let the boy out of his sight. Aren’t you going to miss him? she asks.

So much, he answers. But this isn’t about me, and what I need. It’s about him. They drive Dean to school in the ancient Chevrolet. Supposedly because the trunk has room for all of his stuff, but Julia is pretty sure it’s just one last sentimental road trip in the old thing before Sam retires it. When they pick Dean up at the end of the school year, it’s in her SUV. Dean promises his father, more than once, that he’ll restore the Chevy someday.

Five years after Julia’s diagnosis, she’s sitting in the doctor’s office learning that her last remission was her last remission. There are no more options. She has months, not years. Sam clutches her hand and nods, once, as if to say I should have known this would happen; I should have expected something like this. Then he takes her home.

It’s a blessing in a way, he says late that night, after a little too much to drink. Knowing what’s coming. Having time to say goodbye. You don’t always get that. And yes, she knows this as well as anybody does.

Sam has always been supportive of her choice not to contact Stephanie, but one day he says Jules, I promise I’ll never bring it up again. It’s just that I don’t want you to have any regrets. I don’t want you miss the opportunity to say things that you’ll wish you’d said. Julia isn’t sure Steph will speak to her. She’s not even sure she’ll have the same phone number — they haven’t spoken since Dad’s funeral, a year after she was widowed — but she makes the call. And Steph answers. And cries. And comes to visit, where she hugs and cries some more. Sam watches it all with a sad smile for a while, then disappears into the garage to sit in the old Chevy.

When Julia takes her last conscious breaths, Dean is holding one hand and Sam is holding the other. She squeezes her son’s hand and thinks I love you, dear boy, and I’m sorry I have to leave you. She squeezes her husband’s hand and thinks thank you for giving me this, thank you for taking care of me, thank you for loving me and letting me love you. Then she closes her eyes and lets the soft, warm darkness take over.

And then. Then she wakes to a cool breeze and the sound of chirping birds. She’s standing at a lake she recognizes. It’s Shaun’s favorite fishing spot. And Shaun is there, waiting for her. And everything is okay.

Sam does show up eventually. Julia’s sitting on the porch of the cabin with Shaun, enjoying the perpetual nice day (sometimes a spring morning, sometimes a fall afternoon, but always nice) when she hears the familiar rumble. It cant be, she thinks. It can’t be that old car. But it is.

I’m glad you found someone with good taste in cars, Shaun says, as Sam unfolds himself from the driver’s seat. He looks exactly as he did the day she met him; no glasses, only a little grey at his temples. Still tall and strong and beautiful. She runs to meet him and embraces him as Shaun watches from the porch.

You found Shaun, Sam says. I’m so happy for you, Jules. I really am. He doesn’t seem to have any intention of joining her (their) Heaven permanently, but he doesn’t seem to have anyone else with him either. Where is the dead girlfriend? How is this fair?

They talk about Dean, and Julia’s heart swells with pride over her strong, smart, kind, brave son. He’s like you, she says. He’s just like you.

Sam shrugs. He’s a Winchester.

But what about you? she says. You’re not — you’re not alone here, are you?

Nah, he says. I’m good. I promise.

(Eventually Julia meets the first Dean, and she understands.)

===

I know a lot of people have mocked Sam's blurry wife, but I actually have grown to love the concept. Because it means she can be anything we want her to be. And yeah, initially I liked the idea of her being Dr. Cara, or Eileen. But now I don't think that would happen. I think Sam would have to start fresh to have that kind of relationship. And I also like the idea of Sam's wife having her own soulmate somewhere, waiting for her, so she's not a huge part of Sam and Dean's shared Heaven. I mean, they're gonna visit, obviously. And then they'll go home to their soulmates.

The title is from "Blackbird" by the Beatles.

#spn #15.20 #my fic #episode coda #sam winchester

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donteattheappleshook · 4 years ago

Text

There is a Pirate in the Dungeon

Summary:

There is a pirate in the dungeon. All the serving girls are too afraid to go down the steps and bring him his meal. All but one.

This fic is based on a beautiful little story from The Starless Sea that just screamed of Captain Swan so strongly that I couldn't resist.

***

Happy Birthday to @elizabeethan who supported this fic and is just an all around great friend and writer <3

Thanks to @kmomof4 and @the-darkdragonfly for looking this over!

***

There is a pirate in the dungeon. All of the servants are in a flurry over it, gossip filling the halls of the Evil Queen’s palace. They say it’s him. Him who? You know, him, with the hook. The girl pays little mind to it. There is always someone in the dungeon. It doesn’t take much to upset the queen. One foot out of place, one word out of turn.

There are always people in the dungeon. Some are former servants, some former friends, some simply people who had the misfortune of crossing her path on a bad day. In fact, this pirate may be one of the few - if not the only - prisoner being held for any real crime. But the girl keeps her head down and goes about her work. No need to get involved. No need to stand out.

***

The pirate sits in the dungeon. He finds himself bored. It’s a strange emotion to have when facing down one’s inevitable end, but it’s the emotion he feels all the same. He wonders when Death will come. He wonders if this time he will stay, if they’ll meet like old friends, if Death will smile - not in self satisfaction, but in fondness for this game they’ve played so long. It’s only fair. He’s slipped through Death’s fingers so many times, it was bound to be his turn sooner or later.

A key hangs on the wall, six feet away from his cell, a tease of freedom just out of reach. He appreciates the metaphor. The guard is old, and drunk, and asleep most of the time. In a past life, the pirate may have attempted escape, may have hatched some elaborate ruse to win back his liberty. But he is old now - though he does not look it - and he is tired. And so he sits in his cell, bored, and waiting for death.

***

The girl does her best to ignore the chatter, but it follows her everywhere. She hears it in the kitchen, ears catching the whisper of a name, or perhaps a title. She hears it in the hallways, a guess at what he’d done to earn his date with the gallows. She hears it in the small bedroom that she shares with another girl, a rumor of his terrifying reputation, of a man more monster than human. But she isn’t afraid. There’s no such thing as monsters.

***

On the first night of his captivity, a girl comes into the dungeon carrying a tray of food and water. The pirate makes the mistake of standing too close to the bars, of looking over perhaps a tad too suspiciously, too threateningly, and the girl gasps, dropping the plate and running from the dungeon in fear. The guard wakes, and shrugs, and the pirate goes hungry.

On the second night there is a new serving girl. She makes it halfway across the room before the candlelight gleams off his hook and she stumbles. Half the food and water spill from her hands before she sets it on the floor far enough from the bars that he needs to remove his hook and use it to pull the tray close enough to have what’s left.

The third night no girl comes at all, though he hears her retreating footsteps at the top of the stairs. By the fourth night, the pirate has resigned himself to dying of starvation. It’s not quite the death he’d always pictured for himself, but he supposes it’s as fitting as any other.

The guard is asleep again when the girl comes down the stairs on the fifth night, this one also new and more striking than any of the other servants who have fled from him. More striking than most women he’s ever seen and suddenly something that had started to go out in the pirate’s heart begins to stir.

There’s a wariness about her, a hesitation as she approaches, but there is no fear, and it surprises him. As she approaches the bars, she meets his eyes and he watches in wonder as the doubt melts from her features, making way for confusion, relief, and even, he thinks, disappointment. It makes him laugh and he nearly startles at the sound of his own voice after so many days of silence. The girl, however, does not startle.

She sets the tray in front of him and he thanks her. That does startle her. He wonders briefly if it’s at seeing manners in a prisoner or from having become accustomed to never being thanked for her work at all.

The girl studies him, gaze falling over his face and his greatcoat, settling finally on his hook before finding their way back to his eyes. He wonders what she finds there, what she may have been looking for. He takes the chance to study her himself, her long golden hair and bright eyes, the rags she wears unable to disguise a certain dignity with which she carries herself.

He holds her gaze for a long moment, neither compelled to speak as they take each other in and draw their conclusions. Soon, however, his stomach cries for him to eat the bread which she’s brought him and he’s too tired and too hungry to deny it. But as he takes note of the thinness of her cheeks and the smudges below her eyes he feels a certain obligation towards her, a long forgotten sort of duty.

The pirate tears the bread in two and holds one half out through the bars. The surprise returns to her face and he wonders at the fact that it’s kindness that seems to scare her, rather than danger. She watches him, closely, carefully, more curiously than she has yet, and he’s stunned when an older - younger - version of the pirate makes himself known, one he hasn’t seen in years, but that he hopes is still worthy of this girl’s scrutiny, perhaps even of her trust.

She takes the bread from his hand and neither miss the way his fingers brush across her wrist as she pulls back. But she doesn’t recoil. She doesn’t run.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” the pirate asks, trying to remember the last time his presence wasn’t met with fear or dread.

She considers him a moment before answering, her voice low so as not to wake the guard. “I’ve met scarier men than you,” she says, and he believes her.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, because he is, and because he doesn’t know what else to say. He himself has met few scarier men.

The girl does not stay to eat her bread. The guard begins to stir and she hurries out of the room before he can ask her name. The pirate cannot chase after her. He would like to, but the bars pose a certain problem. When the guard wakes he finds the pirate with his forehead pressed softly to the iron rods of his prison, a soft, faraway look in his eyes. He does not, the guard notes, look at all like a pirate anymore.

***

The girl walks swiftly down winding steps that lead from the kitchen, which is on the second floor of the palace, deep underground to the damp, carved out tunnels that serve as a dungeon. She doesn’t pay attention to the strange looks she receives from the other serving girls, or the judgemental ones she receives from the men. She is the first to make this trip twice since the pirate’s arrival and it has earned her the distrust of her coworkers.

“Aren’t you afraid of him? Haven’t you heard what he’s done?”

“He’s behind bars,” she answers simply whenever this question is posed. But she knows that the bars are irrelevant. She does not fear the pirate.

She is more concerned with the second question, that of what he has done. The girl, who grew up near the palace and was orphaned near the palace and now works in the palace, has never done anything, not truly, not anything worthwhile or worth remembering.

She wonders how many places outside this palace the pirate has seen. She wonders how many places outside this kingdom he has visited, or perhaps even, outside this realm. She decides that she’ll ask him to tell her about them. The worst he can say is “no” and then her life will be no different than it was when she woke up this morning. She thinks however that if he says “yes”, it could be a little bit better.

When the pirate sees her coming down the stairs he looks surprised, and then relieved, and then pleased. A small smile pullis at the corner of his lips and she feels it makes him look even less the terrifying monster those upstairs believe him to be. He looks young, his eyes which yesterday had betrayed an ancientness of one who has lived many lives, perhaps, more lives than they’d have liked, are now bright and anxious like a boy’s.

The guard is predictably asleep and the girl makes her way to the bars where the pirate waits and hands him his food. He takes it with a thank you, as he had yesterday, and while she’d expected it, she was still not prepared for it and it catches her off guard, her cheeks flushing. Then her cheeks flush at her embarrassment over her cheeks flushing in the first place.

He is handsome, dark hair and dark lashes framing blue eyes and a soft smile contrasted by a strong jaw. But she has seen handsome men before and paid them little mind. She wonders what it is that is different about this one. Whatever the difference, it makes her lose her nerve, and with no other reason to be here, and no question bold enough to ask, she turns to take her leave.

“Wait,” the pirate says, and the girl stops, glancing back. “Will you tell me your name?” he asks. When she does not answer, he speaks again. “If I’m to see you again, I’d like to be able to thank you properly for your service. If I’m not, then I’d like a name to associate with the memory of you.”

The girl is grateful for the darkness in the dungeon, and the distance that hides her stricken expression. “Emma,” she tells him, and he smiles at her in the same youthful way he had before. She offers a clumsy curtsy, and leaves.

When she returns the following night, the girl has slipped whatever extra treats she could find onto the tray. A roll of bread with honey stolen off a table while serving breakfast, meat leftover from the servant’s dinner, and a small, baked good that the queen had sent back. She imagines the pirate must be hungry. She is only sent to bring him food once a day and there are no other servants making trips to the dungeon.

He looks relieved, and then happy to see her. And then something crosses his expression that she doesn’t recognize. Likely, because no one has ever looked at her like that. She finds that she likes it. She hands him the tray, watching a little too eagerly as he notices the contents. He smiles, one eyebrow jumping up, the pull of his lips lopsided, and it spreads warmth through her belly.

“Thank you,” he says, adding “Emma” to the end. It’s the first time he’s said her name, and Emma is surprised at how much she likes hearing him say it.

The guard is asleep, and she imagines he will be for a while, his snores resonating annoyingly through the room. She wonders if the pirate gets much sleep. She imagines it would be hard to sleep with the threat of impending death looming over her. But she imagines it would be even harder to sleep with the guards snores echoing in her ears. Either way, the guard seems unlikely to wake, so she chances stealing a little more time in the pirate’s company.

He watches her as she makes her decision, and when he offers up some of his meal again to share, she accepts it. She feels guilty, taking his food, but it allows her the excuse to step closer to the bars and to brush her fingers carefully against his as they had last night.

When their hands have been touching as long as they reasonably can while passing food, perhaps even a little too long at that, the pirate pulls his arm back through the bars. She notices the hook on which he balances the tray. He notices her noticing it, but says nothing.

After a moment, he sits on the floor, resting the tray against his knee as he picks at it. While he doesn’t ask her to stay, the invitation is clear in both how close he sits to the mouth of his cell and in the way he watches her, waiting. Feeling bold, Emma sits down beside him, shoulders near close enough to touch, were it not for the bars between them. They sit silently, letting the guard’s snores fill the quiet that would be filled by their words. After a long time, Emma speaks.

“They say you’re a captain,” she tells him, wondering if any of the gossip is true.

“Aye, that I am,” he answers. “Or… was,” he corrects, acknowledging his current predicament. Can a captain be a captain without a ship? She takes a breath before speaking again.

“They say you’re a pirate.”

He smiles, mirthful, his eyebrow ticking up again. “Aye,” he says, “that too.” Emma only nods and it seems to surprise him. She wonders if he was expecting shock, or fear, or perhaps even fascination. She gives him none of it.

“Have you been a pirate long?” she asks then, and this time his smile is melancholy as he nods.

“Yes. Too long.”

Emma draws her knees up, holding them in her arms as she gazes forlornly at the floor. “I can’t imagine you could ever tire of being a pirate. Not when there are so many places to see.” When she says it, she’s thinking of the freedom he must have had, the chance to go wherever he pleased whenever he pleased. But then she feels guilty, remembering where he is now.

“I suppose you’re right,” he agrees, offering her an accepting nod.

“And have you?” she asks, breath held in her lungs until he answers.

“Have I what, love?”

“Been many places.”

“Aye. More than you could imagine.” She can imagine quite a bit, but she supposes he’s probably right.

“You must have many stories,” she suggests, and he smiles at her the same way he had when she’d asked him about being a pirate.

“As many stories as there were places,” he promises.

“Will you tell me some of them?” She looks at him when she asks and is met with eyes that are both old and young all at once.

Before he can answer the guard starts to stir and she jumps to her feet. The pirate follows suit, hand reaching out to catch at the sleeve of her dress before she can leave. She turns to him and is shocked at the look in his eyes, she can’t quite place this one either, but if she had to name it, she’d call it... hope.

“I will,” he promises. “If you come back tomorrow. And I’ll tell you more if you come back the following night, and more after that.”

Emma meets his eyes and knows he isn’t lying. And the promise of hearing his stories is nearly as powerful as the promise of being able to sit next to him in the dungeon again, with their shoulders just close enough to touch, if not for the bars. She agrees.

***

When Emma returns the following night, there is more food on his tray. The pirate imagines she must have stolen or kept most of it, sharing her own dinner with him. So it feels only right to share some of his own meal with her.

He’d tried to hide his excitement at seeing her come down the stairs, though he’s sure it was written all over his face. And she’s quite perceptive, he’s noticed. It feels strange, to have something to look forward to. He never imagined being excited for or anticipating anything while in this dungeon, apart from perhaps death. He prefers it this way.

“So what would you like to hear?” he asks after he has touched her hand and sat next to her on the dirty floor of his cell. She contemplates his question for a while, putting serious weight to her decision and he smiles. It’s been a long time since someone was so interested in learning anything about him.

“How did you become a pirate?” she asks finally, and his heart settles like a lead weight in his chest. It must show on his face because she begins to apologize. He stops her. He had not expected to have to share such a painful story so quickly, but he tells her anyway. He tells her of his childhood, uncertain why he starts so far back but the more he continues the more he feels it suits the story.

He tells her of his upbringing on Silver’s ship, of his time in the Navy, of his brother, of everything he was and everything he himself wished to be. He tells her of his brother’s death and her eyes fill with tears, the kind that speak of understanding rather than sympathy. He’d learned long ago to spot the difference, to pick a kindred spirit out of a crowd. Tonight, he picks a twin soul out of a dungeon.

When he has finished his story he waits for her appraisal, wonders if he did it justice. He embellished in parts, if only to make himself more dashing or the dangers greater. He could read on her face that she knew what he was doing and it only made him smile, even as she rolled her eyes. That made him do it more.

“I’m sorry,” she says, he imagines in much the same way he had said to her that first night, and he knows then that they understand each other, perhaps in a way nobody has ever understood him before, not really.

The guard is still asleep but he doubts they have much time left. Nevertheless he offers her another story, if only to keep her here a little longer, to watch her eyes light up with wonder and excitement as he spins his tales. Emma considers again, as carefully as she had the first time.

“Will you tell me your name?” she asks.

He smiles. “Killian.”

***

Killian tells her of Neverland, of evil little boys and fairies and mermaids. He tells her of a land covered in snow, of one where sand reaches as far as the eye can see. He tells her of krakens and monsters and heroes and damsels, of kings and knights and pirate queens over the course of the following nights, each tale more fantastical than the last. But he never lies. She knows he doesn’t. He may embellish but his stories are true, and that makes them all the more unbelievable. She begins to pity the guard, who sleeps through such magical stories, but does not begrudge the privacy it allows them.

His fingers tangle in her hair through the bars, as they do every night, playing with each stand before letting it slip delicately between his rings. He likes her hair and she likes that he likes it. He’d made a comment when she asked, about pirates being drawn to gold. She’d rolled her eyes and he’d laughed.

“What tale would you like to hear tonight?” Killian asks, smiling that smile which always makes her stomach warm and her cheeks flush.

She thinks carefully, as she does every night, wanting to ask the right kind of question to hear the right kind of story. With every tale he reveals more about himself, whether intentionally or not. She knows he is brave but also protective, charming, but also solitary. Dangerous, but kind. He’s seen the whole world, known countless people, but he carries a loneliness that breaks her heart in a way her own never could.

There is a story she wants to know, one that she’s held off on asking. In part because it feels rude, because she is unaware of the rules around asking such things. But also, because she imagines this is the tale that everyone asks him, and she doesn’t want to be everybody. She hopes she can ask and still be Emma to him.

“Will you tell me how you lost your hand?” she asks finally and his fingers still in her hair. She fears she’s crossed a line, but when she turns to face him he’s watching her with that same expression he had when he told her the first story. She knows that this will not be a fanciful tale.

Killian nods and his fingers return their attention to her hair, his eyes fixated as he begins to speak. He tells her of a woman, of a great love and a cruel man. Of adventures and romance and the promise of happily ever after struck down by one monster’s hatred. His eyes water and she wants to ask him to stop, to beg him not to continue if it pains him so much to speak of it, even after all these years. But he finishes his story. Nothing embellished, nothing softened. And when he is finished she’s the one with tears in her eyes.

He does not look at her, preferring to watch the strands of her hair slip through his fingers as he brushes it over her shoulder and back again. She wonders if he’s awaiting her judgement, disgust or forgiveness. Neither are fitting. There is only empathy, and anger, and a feeling she has not felt before but is certain of regardless - love.

She reaches through the bars, takes his hook which rests in his lap in her hand and turns so that she can face him. He looks up in surprise as the movement steals the strands from his fingers, and then in greater surprise when she brings his hook to her lips before holding it to her chest, hoping he can read what she cannot say.

He does.

***

The following night is the last night. Killian knows this and while he’d always thought he’d leave this world with no regrets, he is left with one. He regrets not meeting her sooner, regrets time, not having enough of it, having wasted too much of it. For the first time in a century he fears death, resents it, because death will steal her from him and he is not ready to let go. But the gallows await him in the morning.

The guard is, shockingly, awake when Emma arrives, and he flatters himself that the redness around her eyes is because she knows as well, because she will miss him as well. His heart tightens, loathing that their last night will be cut short, impeded by the presence of the guard who will prevent her from staying. But he should have known to expect more of her.

Emma smiles at the guard, offering him something from the pitcher she carries on the tray. She imagines from his enthusiasm that it is wine or rum and he supposes he was to be offered a last drink on his last night. The guard drinks greedily and Emma continues to smile that lovely smile until he suddenly falls against the table, face colliding painfully with the wood. Killian looks at her in surprise as she comes to meet him. She shrugs.

“He’s not dead,” she dismisses and he smiles, proud and impressed.

“Perhaps there’s a little pirate in you yet, love.”

She gives him his food and they share it as they always do, sitting side by side yet too far apart to truly be together. Killian is aware of the metaphor here as well, though he appreciates it less than the keys on the wall.

Tonight, perhaps because it is their last night, perhaps because she is feeling the finality of it, the grief for all that could have been and what little was, Emma slides her fingers through the bars and takes his hand, letting her fingers slide along and play with his own and his rings as he had her hair. His whole body warms from his hand, rolling through him like a wave, like the sea, like magic.

“I thought, perhaps,” he starts but then hesitates, fingers tightening against hers. “I thought you might tell me a story,” he suggests. She watches him, eyes still red, thumb stroking along the back of his hand. “I’d quite like to know you before I die,” he admits, his voice more strained than he’d like. He realises it's not death he fears, but never seeing her again, never again touching her hair or holding her hand, never having so much as kissed her. He brings their hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles. It’s a poor substitute, but it’s something.

She nods, eyes watery and lip caught between her teeth. She tells him of her life, of being born near the palace, of losing her parents young, of being left by them, sent to live in the castle before she even had a chance to know them, of having looked for them but only having been met with dead ends and disappointed hopes.

She speaks of growing up in the castle, of the queen’s temper and the constant fear and he can see where her strength comes from, though he believes she may have been born with it. She tells him of a man that she believed she loved, one who left when things became too much. All her stories speak of abandonment, of loneliness and perseverance and hope, despite it all, hope.

When it’s nearly dawn she asks if she can have one final story and he cannot deny her anything so he says yes. She asks him what he did to be imprisoned by the queen. He laughs, because there is nothing else to do. He is not a good man, he has not believed himself to be one for a long time. But he likes to think that his last deed, the one that sent him to the gallows, was. That it was one that Liam could be proud of, and Milah, and Emma.

“I refused to kill someone for her.” Emma’s eyes widen. Clearly, this was not what she’d expected. “The Queen learned that someone in her castle had been placed there by the former king and queen, the ones she overthrew so many years ago, and that she, a girl - a daughter - had the power to destroy her. She wished me to find and kill the girl for her, as she cannot. I refused. I am many things, but a killer of innocent women, I am not.”

The booming of a drum brings his story to a certain, poetic end. It is followed by another and it is only a moment before they recognize them for what they are. The gallows await. Emma turns to him, fingers tightening against his until her knuckles are white, eyes wild.

“No,” she says with all the strength and stubbornness he’s grown to love in her.

“Emma,” he starts, not wanting their last moments to be anger and pain and sadness. But she pulls away, standing and staring at him for what feels like an eternity as she makes up her mind. She lunges for the keys, fingers fumbling as she tries to find the right one, to fit it in the lock. “Emma,” he tries to stop her. “Go,” he warns, fearing what fate awaits her if they catch her trying to help him escape. But she doesn’t listen. He did not expect she would.

When she finds the key the gate is wrenched open and she stands in the open doorway watching him with frantic, panicked eyes. He is frozen in place, unable to move, shaken by the risk she is taking. For him. She frowns at him then, confusion and just enough disbelief and annoyance to make him want to laugh.

“Run!” she commands, gesturing towards the stairs. He knows he could make it, he could run now and get out before the guards catch him. He’s gotten out of more dire situations before. But he can’t. She may save him from death but the result will be the same. Either way he will be without her. Being without her when he knows she is somewhere he cannot reach is far worse.

“What are you waiting for?” Emma demands, voice raising. “Get ou-”

He strides forward, takes her face in his hand and kisses her. He kisses her as though this may be the last time, because he fears it will be, regardless of whether they catch him or not. But once he’s kissed her he can’t let her go.

He’s held the whole of his world in his hand and against his lips and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to let her go. He’s lived a very long time, and been to a great many places, but nothing has felt quite like this. Nothing has felt so much like home.

“Come with me,” he pleads, knowing that if she says no he’ll wait here for them to come for him, because it won’t matter, not without her.

The guards burst in, catching them with their faces still only inches apart and it takes them a moment, registering their own shock before they lunge at them, at him. Emma screams and suddenly there is a burst of white light, a light so bright that he has to shield his eyes against it. When he opens them again the guards are on the ground - breathing but unlikely to wake up anytime soon - and Emma is staring at her shaking fingers.

She looks at him with confusion and fear, helpless he thinks for the first time in her life. He takes one of her trembling hands, kisses it softly, and asks her again.

***

They run. They run until they reach the shoreline, Killian gazing out at the sea, and Emma imagines them on any of the ships out there as he attempts to figure out which he could commandeer most easily. She’s quite pleased with how easily she’s taken to piracy. Or perhaps, she’s just taken to pirates. He hasn’t released her hand since they ran from the dungeon and he still won't. She’s not sure she wants him to, for fear that what happened in the dungeon might happen again.

He’s only just picked a ship and started to pull her towards it when they hear the commotion behind them. The guards have caught up to them. The Queen is with them, fury on her face. They stop only a few feet away and Killian steps forward, attempting to stand between them and her. She attempts the same, and so they end up standing side by side, hands clasped tightly, ready to face whatever comes together.

“Well, Captain,” the Queen says. “I underestimated you. It seems you found her after all.” Emma’s breath catches, putting together the pieces of Killian’s story, of her own. Killian’s fingers only tighten around hers and she realises that he must have put it all together much sooner than she had.

She calls for her guards and this time Killian does stand before her and the Queen has him on his knees without even taking a step, sick pleasure in her eyes as the man Emma loves gasps for breath. She screams and she cries and she begs but the Queen doesn’t stop. She won’t lose him. It’s not a question or a choice but a fact. She refuses to lose him, not when they’re so close to freedom, not when she’s only just found him.

She isn’t sure how she does it, but before she has time to question how she does it now, or how she did it then, a light bursts from her fingers and she only just has time to see the fear in the Queen’s eyes before it engulfs them. It flows out of her. Like magic. Like love. And she’s certain that’s what it is, at least, that’s what it feels like.

She helps Killian to his feet and he takes her hand as he had in the dungeon, thanking her. She asks if he still wants her to come with him, warns him that if she is who they think she is, the Queen will never stop hunting them. He smiles, that same smile from their first night. His fingers find her hair, slipping through the strands from her ear to the ends and letting them fall around her shoulders.

“I’ve been hunted before,” he says. “And for far less valuable treasure.”

Someday, her parents will find her. Someday they will defeat the queen and they will ask her to come back with them. And she will, for a while. But she will always go back to him, to the adventures that wait for her in far off lands, and to the love that waits for her aboard a ship. But that is only someday. For now, the pirate takes the girl’s hand and asks her to follow him as he will follow her always, to the ends of the earth, or time.

The End.

*****

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke @stahlop @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @gingerchangeling @bubblegum1425 @jackieorioncat @darkcolinodonorgasm @xhookswenchx @lfh1226-linda @searchingwardrobes @winterbaby89 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xsajx @thejollyroger-writer @elizabeethan @carpedzem @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @demisexualemmaswan @itsfabianadocarmo @courtorderedcake @yasbio2015 @the-darkdragonfly @klynn-stormz

#captain swan #cs #cs fanfic #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #cs au

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years ago

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Phantom Children Ch. 7

Massive thanks to my awesome betas for this chapter!

In Which: A Story is Given to the Locked Room

AO3 | Prologue | 6 | [ 7 ] | 8

DICK DOESN’T REALLY KNOW WHAT TO FEEL. Surprised, maybe? Though he really isn’t all that shocked. Not that the revelation of another Wayne kid isn’t surprising, it’s just that—well…

Bruce has a tendency to attract foolhardy kids with a strong sense of justice and a willingness to harp on Batman until he gives them wings and teaches them how to fly. It’s the way of the world. The sky is blue, the sun sets in the west, and little Robin-hopefuls flock to Batman like ducklings to their big, brooding, mother duck. (That most of them are black haired and blue-eyed with some sort of traumatic backstory is a coincidence. Probably. The universe is just weird that way.)

And Bruce, bleeding heart that he is despite all the steel walls and nuclear spike fields he placed around it, always had a soft spot for children. It’s what people don’t get when they call Robins and Batgirls, former or current, child soldiers. They think that Batman picks these children up from gutter alleys and unfortunate homes, breaking and reshaping them into crusaders for his war against crime.

(What most don’t get is that the easiest way to gain ‘favorite child’ status in the Wayne household is to just stay home and live the most normal life possible. All of them—with the exception of Damian and Cass—chose this life. And even those two chose to stick with it, even when Bruce was more than happy to give them a way out.)

Dick was one of the first to stand at Batman’s side. The original. The ‘golden boy’ as Jason always put it. He’d been there so early in Batman’s career that, years later, it’s nearly inconceivable to imagine Batman without his Robin. He’s been there for Bruce’s soaring highs, his crushing lows, his mundane middles, just as Bruce has been there for him. Sure, they’ve had their fights, but Dick had always settled himself with the knowledge that he was one of the few people that knew everything about Bruce Wayne.

But this . This nursery—no, this memorial . This monument that spoke of a life that could have, should have, would have been, is something that predates Robin’s existence. A story, a memory that had hurt Bruce so badly that he would rather hide it away than breathe even a word of its existence.

Until now. Until Bruce had no choice but to rip the wound open once more.

“Bruce. I—what’s going on?”

“Perhaps,” Alfred interjected. “Perhaps it may be best to take this to the cave. Such a story should be told once.”

Bruce laughed, a broken, shuddering thing. “What is there to tell? I was naive with a heart too open and full of longing. I let myself hope, and I let myself get crushed . I picked myself up, moved on, end of story.”

Alfred raised an imperious brow. “As you are the one who always insisted on detailed reports, I do hope your summary to the boys downstairs would have a little more detail.” His face softened as he placed a comforting hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “What recent information that has been passed to us paints a worrisome picture, given what little you have shared, but know that this time you are not alone to deal with this matter. Regardless of what you do, the rest of the family is involved by proxy."

Bruce seemed to release some of the tension in his shoulders at that. “Yes. Of course. Dick, why don’t you see if Tim is back yet. I don’t want to explain this more than once, if possible. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, I’ll get right on that.”

“And, Dick?”

“Yeah?”

Bruce’s gaze was intense. “How is Damian doing?”

He remembered the way Damian sunk deeper into the chair, hands clasping and unclasping at air. The white of his cast hanging limply as Damian’s legs could just barely brush against the cave floor. Dick swallowed a lump in his throat. “I don’t know. But I do know that he could really use his father right about now.”

Bruce gave a shaky nod and Dick left.

_______

Everyone has heard this tale before.

His boys have learned about the birth of Batman, of how a boy lost his parents in an alley at the age of eight. How at 14 he took to the study of criminology to an almost religious fervor. He took and aced every AP test, graduated high school at 16, headed off to get a college degree, then disappeared off the face of the earth.

Batman may have been born kneeling in the shadows of a dirty alley, but it was on the streets abroad where Batman grew up. Learning and studying and fighting until he knew what made the criminal underworld tick, how to escape almost every type of restraints, how to solve a murder with only the smallest of clues. He trained under a demon and met his daughter. When their ideas of justice clashed with each other, he tried to leave, they tried to stop him, and he set their base on ablaze.

He returned to Gotham the prodigal son, the favored prince, the charming socialite. Bruce Wayne took his place at the center of Gotham’s solar system, shining and bright and unbelievably foolish. Batman put on a cowl and learned the shadows of Gotham’s streets, and built himself up to be a symbol of fear and justice. Soon, he acquired a Robin to temper that darkness. To bring a light of hope, to instill a sense of peace— something more than vengeance and the night.

The rest is history.

Here is the part of the story that Bruce had omitted:

Early in his career as Batman, a man named Quayin had plans to steal a weather modifying US satellite. This, and certain other events, led to Bruce and Ra’s al Ghul crossing paths—and working on the same side. The details of that mission, in the long run. do not matter. Not anymore. What’s important is that accompanying him is his daughter, Talia al Ghul. She was as deadly as she was beautiful—and Talia was very, very beautiful.

It was a whirlwind romance. A storm of passion. Gotham’s Bruce Wayne and socialite Miranda Tate. * Batman and the Daughter of the Demon. The tempest reached its peak on that fateful day in the gardens of Wayne Manor. The hot summer sun and buzzing insects fading away as she pulled him aside and said “Beloved, I am with child. I am pregnant.” **

Bruce was caught unawares by the news. Stared dumbfounded at her until his brain caught up with his ears and he felt such unbridled joy bubbling in his chest. He laughed, clear and bright. He held her tight against him as if she held the world in her hands—because she did . Talia held his world within her and Bruce vowed to protect it with every fiber of his being. He called Alfred immediately to tell him the news and started arranging for discreet interior decorators and shipments for everything they needed for a nursery.

Thomas, for a boy. Martha for a girl. He swore that very day that it would be the happiest baby in the world. **

And then—

And then…

As Ra’s and Bruce planned their next move to stop Quayin from initiating a war between America and the USSR, Talia collapsed.

Talia collapsed and the baby was just…

Gone.

And suddenly Talia wanted nothing to do with him. Told Bruce to leave her alone, that their relationship would never be the same.

His child was gone .

By the time the rogue satellite was recovered, Quayin defeated, and all loose ends tied up, the nursery was fully furnished. Bruce took one look at it and then turned away. Locked the door and hid the key god-knows-where.

His child was gone.

Batman continued to work.

There was no use for an empty nursery.

--------

End Notes:

The story I'm using for the circumstances surrounding Danny's birth is basically a modified version of what happens in Batman: Son of the Demon. Modified so that people knew that Bruce Wayne and Miranda Tate were a couple and to give enough time for a nursery to be built along with the rest of the events of that comic.

*Miranda Tate is the name Tahlia al Ghul went by in 'The Dark Knight Rises'

**These lines are taken from Batman: Son of the Demon

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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peggyrose19 · 4 years ago

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Amnesia

Hehe. You knew it was coming :) I have no regrets. More Harvard FinnLo angst. This is not an amnesia fic, as the title may suggest, but rather a song fic based off Amnesia by 5SOS. Companion fic to Bablyon, which you can read here if you’d like. Characters as always by @lumosinlove <3

Also, I tried so hard to proofread this and it just did not work. So... oops?

I drove by all the places we used to hang out getting wasted

I thought about our last kiss, how it felt the way you tasted

When he felt particularly self-deprecating, Logan would drive. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes the night became too dark and the house became too bright and he needed to get away from it all. Sometimes remembering Finn hurt too much.

He would drive in circles, no real direction, just burning time and miles. His mind would take him unwittingly to all the places he associated with Logan, as if reminding him of all he used to have. The coffee shop they frequented each morning. The pizza place two doors down they always went to Fridays after practice. The library they always ended up at whenever Finn had a test. The bar they frequented with the team after a win. The rink they spent most of their days.

Logan would drive by every place that broke his heart and wonder where they had gone wrong. Wonder if they had just talked, if they had stopped for one moment, if Finn would still be his. Wonder if he ever truly had him.

When he really felt bad for himself, Logan would head to the frat house where they had kissed for the first time. It had unlocked something in him, feeling Finn’s lips against his. All night he had watched girls touching Finn and kissing him, wanting him for nothing more than his body. And Logan suddenly couldn’t stand it anymore.

Those nights he would go home with tears in his eyes to find their dorm room exactly the way Finn left it. His stuff was gone, and so was he, but his presence remained. On those nights Logan would get in his bed and cry, remembering their last kiss the night before Finn left him, curled in this tiny twin bed together, Finn begging for his forgiveness.

Sometimes I start to wonder, was it just a lie?

If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

'Cause I'm not fine at all

“Hey, Fish,” Logan’s voice came through the phone. He sounded normal. It hit Finn like a truck.

“Hey.” Finn swallowed hard, throat tight. He and Logan had only talked a few times in the month since he’d left for Gryffindor. With so many practices, he had little time to himself these days.

“How’s the team?” Logan always asked that, these days. Finn was getting kind of sick of the question. He didn’t say that though.

“Good. They’re good. It’s all… it’s all good.” It wasn’t but Logan didn’t need to know that.

Finn could hear his smile as Logan said, “I’m happy for you.” He wanted to scream. He wanted to shake Logan, get him to stop sounding so happy and chipper all the time, get rid of that stupid endearing accent, thicker since he’d gotten home for the summer.

It felt sometimes like nothing had ever happened between them. Sometimes Finn wondered if he’d just dreamed it, Logan’s lips against his, their bodies pressed together, the emotions swelling in his heart. He wondered if they’d ever meant anything at all. Hearing Logan sound so normal was just the final nail in the coffin.

“Hey, Lo, I gotta go,” Finn said, interrupting the story Logan was telling him about an old teammate. He wasn’t sure he could sit here anymore and pretend everything was fine. “My uh, my mom’s calling. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised. “Yeah, okay. Say hi for me.”

“I will. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line clicked and went dead. Finn put his phone down and cried.

I remember the day you told me you were leaving

I remember the make-up running down your face

And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them

Like every single wish we ever made

Logan could see it clearly when he closed his eyes. He could hear the silence closing in around him, the shakiness in Finn’s voice, the ringing of a cell phone. He saw it all in reverse, standing in the middle of their old dorm room.

“What-” Finn’s voice was shaking as he hung up the phone. Logan watched him, curiosity and dread fighting in his mind.

“Who was that?” Logan asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.

Finn swallowed hard. “I’ve been drafted to the Gryffindor Lions.”

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Finn, that’s incredible!” Logan launched himself at his best friend, pulling him into a hug.

“Yeah, I can’t… I can’t really believe it.” He let out a laugh. “I mean… me? Playing pro? Can you imagine?”

“Of course I can. Fish. You’re gonna do amazing, I know it.”

“It means I’m leaving.”

The elation drained from the room.

“Well… not for a little while, right?” Logan asked hesitantly.

Finn shrugged. “Pretty soon.”

“Finn, I-” Logan opened his mouth, searching for the right words. But he found nothing. There was nothing left to say.

Something painful twisted in Logan’s chest as he watched Finn pull away. It was too soon, far too soon.

“Lo.” The familiar voice shook him from his thoughts. He looked up at Finn, who was staring at him with sad eyes.

He sighed, “Finn, don’t look at me like that.”

“I don’t-” he shook his head. “Please be happy for me?”

“Fuck, Harz, of course I’m happy for you. You’re in the NHL now. It’s what we’ve always dreamed about, remember? Going pro? It just also means you’re leaving.”

“Logan…” He looked up at Finn again and there were tears in his brown eyes.

“Finn, don’t-” Logan stopped, squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again. Finn was still looking at him. “C’mere,” he muttered, and hugged Finn again. Despite the height difference, Finn buried his face in Logan’s shoulder, holding him tight.

Logan remembered all the times Finn had held him, after a win on the ice, late nights out when he got drunk and couldn’t walk straight, early mornings getting coffee before either was fully awake. He remembered all the dreams Finn had whispered into his ear when they’d climb up to the roof after everyone was asleep, about going pro, meeting their idols. About one day writing a book, maybe on hockey, a true literature nerd to his core. And once, when Finn was drunk and exhausted, a future of them, together.

It seemed Finn’s dream was coming true.

One of them at least.

They never talked about those nights after. It left Logan to his skewed memories of Finn’s words, his delirious confessions to the stars. All those dreams he shared that he never seemed to remember. It was like Finn didn’t need them anymore, didn’t need him. He was a thing of the past, a part of a bigger story. They still talked, sure. But it was different. Finn wasn’t there anymore. And there was no breaching that gap.

So Logan kept the memories and the promises to himself. He went to class, he did his homework, he talked to friends. He worked hard at practice and he called Finn and he buried deep the yearning in his heart. And he pretended it didn’t cut him to the bone.

The pictures that you sent me they're still living in my phone

I'll admit I like to see them, I'll admit I feel alone

Finn’s home screen was a picture Logan had taken, that Finn didn’t have the heart to change, no matter how much it hurt anytime he looked at it. It was of the two of them, one morning after practice, cheeks flushed and smiles wide. Finn couldn’t remember now why they’d taken the picture, just the hours he’d spent staring at it, Logan’s smile and bright eyes and mussed up hair.

He kept hoping he’d feel better the longer he looked at it, as if it would bring Logan back to his side. It never worked, in fact it did the opposite. All it did was widen the yawning cavern in his chest. He just felt alone, staring at their smiles. And he was alone. He was all alone in a different city and a foreign hotel room and a new team.

So Finn looked at pictures of the two of them, of when his world still had stability, and ignored the pain they brought. He pushed it down, the loneliness and regret. Pretended he wasn’t missing Logan like crazy, like it wasn’t a bullet to his heart each time.

He wanted Logan back.

It's like we never happened, was it just a lie?

If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

'Cause I'm not fine at all

Finn seemed fine. He sounded tired, perhaps a little lonely, but overall fine. So why did Logan feel like such a mess? Why did he struggle to get up in the morning, the bags under his eyes growing darker as he fought back tears anytime he was reminded of Finn. Why did it feel like nothing had ever happened at all?

As the call connected, Logan took a breath. He knew Finn didn’t have a lot of time, knew he would have to go soon. He pretended to himself his call wasn’t timed on purpose.

“Hey Fish,” he said as brightly as he could manage. Finn replied, voice steady. Logan didn’t know what to say after that, wasn’t sure what you asked the boy you were crushing on when he was hundreds of miles away.

It hurt, knowing seemed so okay after everything. He wasn’t sure what was true and what was a lie anymore. He could still remember Finn’s choked-off breaths that first conversation after he’d left. Logan had pretended he couldn’t hear Finn’s cries, pretended everything was fine. He hadn’t known what else to say.

Maybe neither of them was fine.

“Hey, Lo, I gotta go,” Finn said, breaking through Logan’s thoughts. He had been talking, although now he wasn’t sure what he’d been saying.

Logan said goodbye quietly, Finn’s voice still ringing in his ears as he hung up the phone. Oh how he wished the pain would fade.

If today I woke up with you right beside me

Like all of this was just some twisted dream

I'd hold you closer than I ever did before

And you'd never slip away

Logan hadn’t realized all he’d had until suddenly Finn was gone from his side. He didn’t realize how much he loved him until he was no longer by his side, making him laugh and leveling him out. He missed him. He loved him.

And he wished he hadn’t wasted it all out of fear. He wished he’d had the courage to realize what he wanted, to reach out and grab it. He wished Finn would come back. He wished he could just wake up and Finn would be by his side once more.

Except he wasn’t sure what he’d do when he saw Finn again. Pretend nothing between them had happened, nothing had changed? Or would he hold him close and whisper in his ear all the words he’d never said before. He wanted him close, he knew that. Wanted it so bad he didn’t know what to do with himself. But he knew, he knew no matter what happened, he would never let Finn slip away.

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia

And forget about the stupid little things

Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you

And the memories I never can escape

Finn slumped onto the couch of his hotel room, feeling the loneliness creeping in again now that he was alone. It was just him these days, the homesickness finding him each night, the newness wearing off now three months in. Some days he wished he would wake up and he’d be back at Harvard, the familiar sounds of the city and the frat house surrounding him, Logan lying in the bed beside him.

Finn grabbed for his phone, finding in between the cushions, and unlocked it. A moment later he hadn’t moved, staring unseeingly at the bright screen. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been looking for in the first place.

His home screen was a picture Logan had taken, that Finn didn’t have the heart to change, no matter how much it hurt anytime he looked at it. It was of the two of them, one morning after practice, cheeks flushed and smiles wide. Finn couldn’t remember now why they’d taken the picture, just the hours he’d spent staring at it, Logan’s smile and bright eyes and mussed up hair.

Logan.

At the heart of everything lay Logan. A constant presence in Finn’s mind, always there, always hovering at the edge of his thoughts. He never left, not really. Every little thing Finn did Logan somehow crept in. Every memory, every store, every play on the ice was tainted with Logan, unavoidable no matter how hard Finn tried. Even lying in bed at night, he could remember his last morning in Boston, pressed against Logan as he fought tears in the early-morning heat.

Some days Finn wished he could go back there. Go back to the late nights and early mornings, hard practices and too-sweet coffee, his best friend by his side. He wanted to go back and tell Logan, tell him how he felt. Tell him that he wanted him, damn the consequences, damn the pain. He was already in pain. He was tired of it. He wanted him.

Some days Finn wished he didn’t remember him at all

I'm not fine at all

No, I'm really not fine at all

Tell me this is just a dream

'Cause I'm really not fine at all

#finnlo #harvard finnlo #angst #this is manda's fault blame her #amnesia #song fic #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years ago

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You Broke Me First (C.H)

Pairing: former FWB!Calum X Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Based on the song “You Broke Me First” by Tate McRae. You are trying to forget about the man who broke your heart, so it’s a surprise when his name appears on your phone again.

Warnings: Angst af. Language. Mild Smut. Mentions of Alcohol and cheating. Probably one or two grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 5K

Author’s Note: Requested by the lovely @thebasicbitch-things ✨ I loved writing this piece, maybe because I love the song so much, so thank you for requesting it and I hope I made it justice 💕. Feedback, reblogs and comments are always welcome and appreciated it! You can read my other works HERE. Happy reading! 🦋

@thebasicbitch-things : Can you write a Calum imagine based off the song You Broke me first by Tate McRae?? Like I’m just in a weeping mood. Thank you xxx

Maybe you don't like talking too much about yourself

But you shoulda told me that you were thinkin' 'bout someone else

You're drunk at a party or maybe it's just that your car broke down

Your phone's been off for a couple months, so you're calling me now

The liquid burns your throat, but you don’t really feel it anymore. When the heat starts spreading around the rest of your body is when you know you need another one. And another one. And another one. Anything to keep him from your mind.

It’s ironic how the memory of him still lingers on, even more with every drink you drown. Well, it’s not so ironic as it is shitty. But it’s at times like this, when you’re at a random club in the middle of the night surrounded by strangers trying to create stories of their own while all you want to do is forget, that the only thing your mind can focus on is him.

A year ago:

“Babe?” You heard his voice as he exited the bathroom. Still shirtless and with his boxers on, hanging loosely “Are you okay?”

You sat down on the bed, your naked skin barely covered by the messy sheets “Mhmm” you mumbled, still zooned out in your own thoughts and worries as you saw Calum grab his shirt and jeans from the floor.

It was always the same. He would call or text, you would meet with any excuse, hang out for a while before moving to the bedroom. The same old story of friends who fuck each other, with the same old ending every night: you in your bed watching him get dressed and close the door on his way out.

“Do you really have to leave?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“I have to”

“No, you don’t have to”

“Y/N…”

You hated that condescending tone. Not only that, but you hated yourself, too. You and this whole messy situation you got yourself into. You didn’t know how bad of an idea it was to accept his proposal of friends with benefits when you already had feelings for him. But who could say no to Calum Hood? Especially with the hopes of becoming something more along the way.

At the beginning it was all you could dream of. The night seemed endless when he hold you close to him, breathing the same air as your bodies collided with each other, creating messes as you explored every inch of skin you had to offer, seeing stars explode with every right touch, hearing each other’s names like prayers coming from your parting lips. It was almost like you couldn’t get enough, almost.

“What? God, Calum, would it kill you to stay the night just once? Would it ruin your reputation of a heartthrob batchellor?”

“What has gotten into you?” He asked in confusion at your sudden outburst “You know the rules of this”

“Oh, the rules. Fuck them”

The rules were simple: Never overstaying, no exclusivity, don’t let others find out, never do anything public… but most importantly: Never fall in love. You had agree to that once, but most certainly broken almost every rule. You’ve fallen in love with him.

“Y/N…”

“It hurts, Calum” You said with glossy eyes “It hurts when you leave, and I- I can’t watch you do that anymore”

Calum’s eyes soften a bit. Debating whether or not he should stay. But after a pleading “Please” from your lips he caved in, laying down on the bed next to you, pulling you closer to him.

You smiled, allowing yourself to drift away in dreams and hopes of him laying next to you for the rest of your lives. Little did you know that those dreams were to be crushed next morning when you find an empty bed and a note with a little ‘sorry’ scribbled on it.

That was the first nights of many where he would lay down with you. Sometimes he would stay till morning and share a cup of coffee with you at breakfast. Other times he would disappear as a ghost in the middle of the night, only leaving the marks on your body as proof of his presence. It hurted, but at least you didn’t watch him walk away. You never watched as he did.

Took a while, was in denial when I first heard

That you moved on quicker than I could've ever, you know that hurt

Swear for a while I would stare at my phone just to see your name

But now that it's there, I don't really know what to say

You feel your friend’s grasp on your arm as they drag you down to the dance floor. Pulling you away from your own pity party as you watch how they sway to the beat of a song you’ve never heard of, soon joining them with the alcohol in your veins rushing towards your brain and taking control of your every move. ‘Tonight is not about Calum’ you tell yourself as you let the music take you away, already feeling the effects of the one too many shots you did earlier. But some things are easier said than done.

It’s funny, how after so many months of not seeing each other you can still feel him in your skin. You memorized the way his hands wrapped around your waist and the smell of his cologne. You could still feel his breath on your neck, the burning kisses he used to leave and the whispers that got lost inside a dream. Even now that you are dancing along to an ear shattering beat, the rhythm of your heart still beats and longs for him.

You can feel yourself in the dire need of another drink, desperate to push those memories away and cleanse yourself from his touch once and for all. You don’t care how many nights it would take, how many people or how many hangovers. You are determined to get that boy out of your system, where he won’t hurt you anymore.

“Y/N!” Your friend yells over the music, gesturing towards your hand “Your phone is glowing!”

You bring your phone to your face, trying to focus on the image that’s plastered across the screen. A name pops up, a name you haven’t seen in so long.

Muttering an “Oh fuck” you press ‘decline’ over and over again, until Calum stopped calling.

Seven months ago:

It’s been two weeks since you last heard from him. It’s been two weeks since he left you alone in a fuzz. It’s been two weeks since he slammed the door and he still hasn’t called.

Maybe he was right and you fucked everything up. But you were sure of your words, you know there’s truth to them, so you stan by them. He will soon realize his mistake, he has to. He wouldn’t leave you like that, would he? He must know he hurt you, he must. The words he said… they are like tattoos on your mind, they don’t seem to fade with time. But you knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. You were as guilty as he was.

For the past two weeks you’ve been glued to your screen, hoping for his name to appear. Taping your screen randomly to see if you’ve gotten a text or a call or a dm or even a fucking email. But nothing ever came.

It wasn’t until you were scrolling down Twitter that you saw it.

It was a paparazzi photo, he was wearing a classic tee and the sweatpants you once told him were your favorite on him. His hair was longer, or at least it seemed like it, his eyes avoiding the cameras as he walked through the busy streets of LA as he normally would. The only difference is the hand that was holding his.

A lump formed in your throat as you opened the tweet to find a thread of even more pictures of him with the mysterious person, grabbing them by the waist and smiling as they came closer. The paparazzi seemed to catch every single intimate moment he was able to show in public, much more than he ever showed you when you were both out and sober, at least. But Calum seemed happy, and that hurt you the most.

A thousand questions ran through your head as you ignored the happy tweets from fans celebrating that his favorite band member finally got a significant other. How long has this been going on? Did he ever tell you about it? You never claim exclusivity, so it could’ve had happen when you were still ‘together’, meaning he choose them. He left you and chose them, replacing you and everything you didn’t get to have without even saying goodbye.

Swallowing the bitterness of the memory with a shot of tequila, you press decline once again and order another drink. What would you say to him anyway? Would you curse him? Would you kiss him? Would he even apologize or pretend that it never happened? The truth is, you don’t even want to know.

You catch some flirty eyes from across the bar, but you ignore them as you try to collect your thoughts on this whole situation, and besides, don’t need another heartbreak at the moment.

“That guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he came in” Said the bartender, pouring you another drink.

You lift your gaze towards ’pretty eyes’ over the bar, but he already seemed to have lost interest in you as his eyes scattered all over the room, looking for another person to spend his time with.

“Doesn’t seem like it” You nod toward the other end of the bar.

“What? No, not him. Him!”

They point behind you and you turn around quickly, a pretty bad idea considering how drunk you are at the moment. But wasted or not, you would recognize those eyes anywhere.

Calum is standing in the middle of a sea of people, but his eyes are solemnly focusing on you as he raises his phone to his ear, raising his eyebrows as he hears the dial tone. Almost immediately, your phone starts ringing next to you with the all too familiar name popping out again.

Without breaking eye contact, you press decline once again, standing up quickly as you start to walk up to the nearest exit, trying to get away from him as fast as you could. ‘Tonight is not about Calum’ you told yourself earlier that night, and yet there he was, pushing his way through a drunk crowd to get towards you.

“Y/N!” You hear him call, but you are not stopping. You don’t need this confrontation right now. You don’t want to see him or talk to him. You want to forget him and everything you ever did.

Feeling like your chest is going to explode at any second, you accelerated your pace, not caring how many people you have to push to get to the door as long as he doesn’t find you. Your legs, however, had other plans as they give out due to the mix dizziness and adrenaline you were feeling, just mere meters from the exit. You curse your past self for having so many drinks as you try to get up. But, soon enough, you feel an arm rounding around your waist and pulling you to your feet.

After almost eight months you find yourself reflected in those eyes again. The same eyes that made you feel butterflies in your stomach everytime he looked your way. You couldn’t help but get drawn into them, remembering that the last time you saw them they replaced the desire with anger, shaking you to your core.

He was saying something, you were sure of it because his mouth is moving “What?!”

“I said, Why aren’t you answering your phone?!” He yelled over the music. Your drunk mind can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him or cry right there on the spot.

“That’s none of your business! Now please let go of me, I want to go home”

You push yourself away from his grasp “Y/N, please I need to ta-“ He interrupted himself as he watched you almost trip over your own feet again, clearly too drunk to stand straight. In a matter of seconds, he was by your side again, this time pulling your arm over his shoulders so you could lay on him “Wha- How many drinks did you have?”

“As many as I needed” You scoffed, trying to pull away, but his grip on your waist was stronger.

“For what?! Drown yourself?”

“I needed to forget you” Calum clenches his jaw, feeling like his heart was shattered into a million pieces “But that’s clearly not working, given that you are here. Would you please let me go?”

“Y/N you are too drunk to function,”

“Am not!”

“Please, let me take you home. I need to talk to you”

“Leave me alone, Calum. I don’t need you and I most definitely don’t want to talk to you”

You turn your face to him. It has been a long time since you last saw him. He has more curls now, and a little five o’clock shadow, but his yes,,, oh, his eyes. The time stops, or at least it feels like it, it was almost like the first time you saw them, magnetic and filled with something you couldn’t decipher, but now they had something different. They were hurting, pleading, almost begging you for something you didn’t quite understand at the moment, but you know you couldn’t say no to those eyes, at least not here and not in your condition.

So after making sure you could stand properly, you caved “Fine”

I know you, you're like this

When shit don't go your way you needed me to fix it

And like me, I did

But I ran out of every reason

The car ride was as silent as a tomb. The sounds of the city night and the flashing of streetlights were your only source of distraction. You looked through the window, not wanting to make any eye contact with the man that broke your heart. He, however, was anxious for you to spare a glance towards him. Calum’s fingers taped the steering wheel nervously, he wanted to fill the silence with something, anything. But his words came short as he realized that you weren’t the person he knew, you were a stranger sitting in his car. The clothes you were wearing, the state of drunkenness you were in, the anger behind your eyes and words, and the fact that you couldn’t even stan him touching you… that was not the Y/N he knew.

Once you reached the house, you didn’t even wait for him to turn the car off as you practically jumped out of the seat and went to open the door. Calum quickly following you, half of him afraid that you might hurt yourself, the other half afraid that you would lock him out.

He let out a breath of relief as you let him in. Remembering the last time he was here.

Seven and a half months ago:

It was a normal afternoon for the two of you. Things were going well, Calum started to be more open towards you, spending the night, cuddling and hanging out more without the promise of sleeping together afterwards and you loved it. You were having fun as well, you would walk Duke together or cook dinner or just exist together by watching a movie or listening to his favorite songs that you “absolutely needed to hear” And today was no different as you cuddled with him watching one of Netflix’s crappy teenage movies. Things were going well, or so you thought.

You were straddling him, lips melting together as the movie was long forgotten. His hands were cupping your ass, setting a slow pace with your hips as you grinded on him. You whole body was on fire, ready to burst when his lips made their way down your neck, leaving marks that you would later trace with your fingers as you try to hide them.

“Calum,” You moaned softly as he found your sweet spot under your ear, sucking and biting it like only he knew how. Your hands flew to the back of his head, fingers lost in his hair, tugging it lightly every time he met your hips with a dry thrust.

He groaned, drunk to sounds you were making. He loved the effect he had on you, almost as much as the effect you had on him. It was addictive, dangerous. He knows he shouldn’t play with fire, but what a lovely way to burn it was.

You moaned again when you felt his teeth grazing your jaw, finding their way to your lips again. The rolling of your hips was faster, more desperate than before, the friction was almost unbearable. You needed him with a passion “C-Calum…”

“Tell me what you want, baby” He said with a raspy voice, breathing onto your neck “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you”

You shuddered at his words, getting dizzy with his touch, his soft groans and his eyes filled with lust, looking straight into your soul, burning like the sun.

You grabbed his head by the sides, pulling him closer until your foreheads pressed together “You” you whispered loud enough for him to hear “I want all of you, Calum”

A couple of hours passed and you were still laying on the sofa, cuddled against the naked chest of the bassist. His fingers were caressing your sides as both of your breathings became even, coming out of your highs.

You felt infinite in his arms, safe and wanted. You wanted this to last forever, to have him only for yourself and be his everything. You craved for more intimate looks, for innocent touches while in public, you wanted to show the world how in love you were with this man that has, not only conquered your heart, but also your soul. You loved him, and you hope with your whole heart that he loves you too.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, drawing circles down your arm.

You debated on whether to tell him the truth or not. You knew Calum had always denied himself the possibility of love, stating time and again that he doesn’t really believe in it. But you’ve seen a change in him for the last few months you were together. He was more caring, more attentive, staying longer than he should and being there for you when you needed, not only for a quick fuck anymore. Maybe the chances of him loving you back were not as low as you thought.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know?” You ventured, lifting your gaze to meet his. He gave you a quizzical look, not really sure of what you were referring to “I do want all of you, Calum”

He smiled “You have me now”

“Yeah,,, but that’s not what I meant”

Taking a brave step, you pushed yourself forward and kissed him. You were done hiding the feelings you’ve been accumulating over the years, ready to let yourself go and drown on him. Only him.

Calum, however, was taken by surprise. Pulling himself from you.

“I thought we agree on not to catch feelings for each other” He said coldly. Already sitting up and looking across the room for his clothes.

You sat and watched as he got up from his spot on the couch and started to dress as fast as he could.

“Cal-“

“We agreed, Y/N. We said no string attached. Goddammit, everything was going so well, but you had to fuck it up, didn’t you?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Shattering you completely from the inside. You tried to collect your thoughts as the tears threatened to come out, but Calum kept going.

“What the hell were you thinking? What were you expecting? Huh?”

“It’s not my fault that I love you” Your voice sounded broken, weak, and you hated that. How could he be so angry? What gave him the right when you were the one who was hurting?

“Well, it’s not mine either! Is it?” Calum said with exasperation, putting on his shirt.

“I thought-“

“What? That I loved you? Y/N, I don’t love anyone! You knew that when we started this!”

“And what am I to you then?!” You matched his tone of voice, tears were already spilling down your face but you didn’t care. You were fuming “What am I, Calum? A friend? A good fuck? Huh? Was I just a toy that you could play with every time you felt needy? Have you ever thought of me as something more?”

Calum’s stare was cold as ice. He was standing in the middle of the living room, clenching his fists to either side of his body until his knuckles became white. You, on the other hand, were sitting on the couch, crying. But your eyes burned with anger as you saw how carelessly he was invalidating your feelings, throwing everything away just because he couldn’t admit his own. A silent war was being fought between the two of you, both of you so scared but with nothing left to lose.

It seemed like ages had passed before Calum spoke again, grabbing his jacket and heading towards the door.

“Was there ever something more?”

You kept staring at the nothing he left behind, the last thing you heard was the slamming of your front door, leaving you alone and completely heartbroken.

Calum followed you into the kitchen, completely avoiding the living room where he last saw you, where he left you. He felt weirdly unwelcomed as you poured yourself a glass of water without even offering one to him, maybe he was.

You drink your water slowly, thinking that that will give you time to think on what to say to him. Maybe he would start talking soon, but the only thing he does is stare at you from the other side of the kitchen island. “How did you know where I was?” You asked.

“Your friend’s stories. You may have blocked me from yours, but they haven’t”

Then, silence came over you again. It was almost like he was waiting for you to say something, just like you always did. You played this game before, you are not going to cave. You are not going to give him the satisfaction of controlling the situation here.

“I need to talk to you” He finally said, letting his shoulders relax for a bit.

“You keep saying that. But you sure haven’t done a lot of talking”

The tension in the room was so thick that it could easily be cut by a knife. You always wondered what you would say to him, what would you feel the next time you saw him and, right now, you felt like there was nothing more to say. He had no right appearing into your life again, not when you were picking yourself together after he shattered you.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“For what, exactly?” The venom in your voice was palpable, Calum knew this was not going to be easy for him “For leaving me here alone and then got yourself another person to play the ‘couple’ part? For practically calling me a whore? Or for giving me shit because of what I felt for you, knowing damn well you felt the same?”

You tilted your head, waiting for his answer, but it seems you left him speechless. Good.

Calum ran his hand through his curls, staring at the floor then back at you “I fucked up”

“That much is true”

“I’m serious, Y/N” He started walking towards you “I’m sorry for everything, you are right. You always are. I just- I didn’t know what to do! I panicked and-“

“And that’s your excuse of why you ran away instead of facing the problem?”

“I was scared! Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Calum raised his voice. He was now standing a couple of feet in front of you, so close and yet so far away from you “Y/N, I was so fucking scared. You know that I’ve never had a committed relationship before, that I never let things get too far but with you.. God, I never felt the same with anyone like that before not after you. And then you said all of those things and I- Hearing you say that you love me was too much, I couldn’t process it and instead of saying something coherent I just lashed out on you and you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry”

Calum took a step forward, softly grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. He took your silence as his cue to continue.

“You were always there for me, every time I needed you were there. No questions asked, no judging, not waiting for something in return. Always making me laugh, supporting me and letting me take a break from the messy life I have. You were the best thing in my life and I took you for granted. I hate that it has taken me this long to realize that, but I just miss you, Y/N. I miss us, so much that you can’t imagine how much it hurts. I need you with me, please let’s just go back to where we started. Or we can start over, whatever you want! But, please, baby, please don’t leave me”

And just before you know it, Calum cupped your cheek with his free hand and brought your face closer to him, crashing his lips into yours. You responded almost immediately by parting your lips and granting him more access, getting completely lost inside the kiss.

For a moment it felt like the old times, he tastes just like you remember and his touch stills makes your skin erupt with goosebumps. For years you’ve been waiting for this, for him to feel the same about you and love you without any fears or doubts, claiming that he was yours and you were his. You wanted this for so long… but why does it feel so bad?

Gathering all the courage you could manage, you push Calum away from you.

“S-stop!” You said, trembling “Stop, this isn’t right”

He gave you a confused look as he took a step back “Y/N-“

“What about your partner? Calum, did you at least break up with them before you came to find me?” The way he looked at the floor gave you all the answers you needed. You raised your hand to your forehead, suppressing the urge to cry or laugh at his antics “Oh my God”

“I was going to! I swear I just-“ He failed to find an excuse “Things were doing awful between us lately, Y/N. You have to understand, I-“

“What?!” You spat “that you had to make sure I was on board with all of this?! I am not a consolation prize, Calum. I am not a second choice!”

“Baby, I know. I-“

“Don’t call me that!”

Calum took another step back, he has never seen you so angry before.

“How dare you? How. Dare. You, Calum. Coming here after eight months! saying all that shit about how much I mean to you when it’s just bullshit”

“Y/N, it’s not-“

“I’m not fucking finish” You say raising a hand to silence him “Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve? I don’t get a single text or call or fucking smoke signal from you for eight months, knowing how I felt about you, and now suddenly you're asking for it back? Saying that you miss all that we had? We had nothing, Calum. We were nothing more than just a fuck around, you said it yourself, didn’t you? There was no ‘us’ for you to miss. You made damn sure of that. You don’t miss me, not really. You miss how I made you feel. How easy it was for me to be there for you every time you called, well, I’m tired of fixing all your problems, I ran out of every reason to do it.

And I was so stupid, you know? For believing just for a second that this could actually mean something when it never meant something to you in the first place! Did you even think about how I would feel about all of this? Of course not! Why would you? After all, I’m just Y/N! The one who always gets stepped on, why should my feelings matter? If I’m always going to be there for you and everything you ask for. Well, fuck that!”

“Y/N..” Calum tried to intervene, but you couldn’t hear him.

“You want to know what I did after you left? I cried myself to sleep for weeks, reliving every moment we had, every word you said just before you left. Waiting by the phone for hours just to see if you’d call. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I was the living incarnation of death because I realized I lived just for you. Well, not anymore. You said you were hurting, you have no idea what I went through so, I’m sorry, but I don't really care how bad it hurts. I’m done. We are done”

You walk by him and towards the front door, opening it as an invitation for him to leave. Calum, however, remained standing in your kitchen, staring at you with glossy eyes.

“Baby, please don’t do this” He said with a trembling voice “I don’t know what to do without you I’m- I’m broken”

You were still standing by the door. Unmoving and without an inch of sympathy for the man crying in front of you.

“You broke me first, Calum. But I’m all glued back together now, and I did it by myself. Hope one day you could learn to do that too”

And, for the first time in months, you saw him leave.

398 notes · View notes

hops-hunny · 4 years ago

Text

She.

Pairing: Luna Lovegood x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.2k

Request: N/A

Summary: (Y/n) never really questioned her views on love, that is until Luna came into her life.

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst, make out session, underage drinking.

A/N: This is a fic based off of She by Dodie. I DO NOT condone underage drinking, it just fit with the story. This is a long one but I hope you guys enjoy!

Am I allowed

To look at her like that?

Could it be wrong

When she's just so nice to look at?

For (Y/n)’s entire life, she had thought of herself as a straight woman. She had a few boyfriends on and off again throughout the years. None of them were very long term but she had still enjoyed the time shared with each one. However, she had never thought to look outside of the realm of boys either and she still didn’t know what to describe her current feelings as. She kept telling herself it was just a close bond considering she hadn’t had many close friends over the years. Luna was her first one, the two girls bonding over their unique habits but it quickly grew the more time they’d spend together. The Hufflepuff felt guilty for even viewing her best friend that way. She hated herself for the dreams she had, for the way her heart would race when the blonde would hold her in her arms, stroking her hair softly as they talked. However, as she gazed up at Luna from the tree stump she sat on, watching as the Ravenclaw sat perched on a high up branch, delicately holding out her finger for the butterfly that danced across it, she couldn’t control her thoughts. ‘How could it be wrong when she’s just so damn nice to look at?’

And she smells like lemongrass and sleep

She tastes like apple juice and peach

Oh, you would find her in a Polaroid picture

And she means everything to me, oh

The (h/c) haired girl sighed softly as she smiled at the polaroid in her hands. She could still remember that day very vividly.

It was a nice day in May and Luna had come to visit for the week-long break after the girls had both begged their parents about it. Her family lived in the countryside, preferring the quiet and peace that the city could never provide. Her father was a farmer who grew fruits and vegetables and Her mother a baker who used her husband’s crops in her bakery treats. His prized peach tree was a big hardy one, the leaves forming a roof of shade that sunlight streamed through. (Y/n) and Luna had been swimming in the lake all morning which left them in a happy high but also absolutely exhausted.

They both lay close to each other on the pink gingham blanket, clothes slightly dry in some part but still soaked in others. Her mother had brought them out a nice plate of cheese, crackers, and almonds along with a pitcher of freshly made apple juice. They both had since then finished it in a hungry frenzy. They stared at each other silently. Anyone looking at them would think they were using legilimency but in reality, sometimes they didn’t need to use words to communicate. The (e/c) girl found herself admiring her blonde counterpart. She found her to be so beautiful, her white dress clinging to her form, wavy hair half dry, and the new freckles she had accumulated over the course of the time they’d been outside.

“How sweet do you reckon these are? I bet they taste lovely.” Luna said as she sat up, reaching for a low hanging peach. She dusted it off on the blanket before taking a big bite of it, peach juice dripping down her chin. She hummed in content with a soft smile before holding the peach out to her friend. (Y/n) hesitated for a bit before sitting up taking a bite from it as well.

“Wow yeah, that’s amazing! I reckon this will be his best bunch of the year, these are the sweetest they’ve ever been.” She said as she handed her friend back the peach. She didn’t know if it was the way the peach tasted or the beautiful girl she was enjoying them with, but she could safely say peaches were her new favorite fruit. She found herself focusing on Luna’s lips, wondering what they’d taste like, what they’d feel like. ‘She probably tastes so sweet, peach nectar and apple juice. Maybe even a dash of-’

“Are you even listening to me?” Luna said, smiling at her friend. She shook her head slightly before scooting closer to the girl. She looked into her eyes deeply, stroking her cheek. “You know (Y/n/n), you mean everything to me.” she removed her hand, placing it on the other girls as she continued to look at her friend.

“Oh Luna, I feel the same. You mean everything to me and more.” She said, tangling their pinkies together. “In fact, I wanted to tell you...I wanted to tell you that I-”

“Girls! Lunch is ready!”

She glanced at the polaroid once more before sticking it back in its place on the inside of her wardrobe. As she took a step back, looking at all the photos, all the memories that littered the doors, her hands reached up closing them slowly before locking them, she rested her head on the wardrobe, sighing. ‘I’m in deep, aren't I?’

And I'll be okay admiring from afar

'Cause even when she's next to me

We could not be more far apart

(Y/n) could feel her heart slowly breaking as Luna was describing all the things she loved about Rami Picanto, a gryffindor a year above her. Her anger boiled deep inside her but was deeply masked with a smile and fake interest. She couldn’t stand it, at this moment she wanted more than anything to not be able to hear a thing. Although they were similar, when it came to their feelings, they were lightyears apart. (Y/n) wondered how the one person who held a place in her heart could feel like a distant stranger.

“And he’s got the most beautiful eyes, it reminds me of a jade crystal when they hit the sunlight. He took me for a walk today around the forest. When we were sitting together, we saw the most beautiful birds sweep across the sky. It was quite romantic, you know?” the blonde said, rolling over to face her dearest friend. She noticed a stray tear fall down the girls face. She had never seen her look so empty, so..distant. “(Y/n/n)? Are you alright?” she stroked the girls hair softly, a look of concern on her face.

And she tastes like birthday cake and storytime and fall

But to her, I taste of nothing at all

The girl sat up and without even thinking, she leaned in and kissed Luna. It was everything she had ever imagined. Her lips were soft like pillows. She tasted like the cake the house elves had given them earlier but even more than that, she tasted like happiness. She tasted like when the leaves turned orange in fall, like the sleep you’d get after your parents would read you stories to sleep, like that bittersweet day in May. And it would’ve been perfect, a dream come true even, if Luna had kissed back. (Y/n) pulled away with wide eyes, quickly standing up. Luna went to say something but she didn’t bother staying to listen, she ran. She didn’t stop running until she had reached her dorm, making sure to lock it. She threw herself onto her bed. She wanted to scream, let out loud sobs but she couldn’t. She didn’t wanna disturb the peace in the room unlike the peace she had destroyed amongst her friendship. She felt her world crumble as she let out silent cries into her pillow, falling asleep on the damp fabric.

And she smells like lemongrass and sleep

She tastes like apple juice and peach

Oh, you would find her in a Polaroid picture

The next few months were agonizing for her. (Y/n) had completely cut Luna out of her life, too afraid to face the damage she thought was inflicted. But no matter what she did, Luna’s spirit lingered. It first started with the polaroids in her wardrobe which were quickly torn down and thrown into a box under her bed. When the weather got colder, her scarf had the girl’s scent in it, lemongrass and lavender which was also thrown into the box. Deep down, she knew these were only temporary fixes to the problem. The memories they had together, the special moments they shared could not just be tossed in a box and forgotten about. She’d have to deal with those on her own.

-------------

As Yule Ball came, the spirits in the castle were lifted for everyone. The ambiance of the decorations in the corridors, the snow on the ground, it was a beautiful sight to behold. Even (Y/n) had found it in herself to be uplifted by the magic of it all. After a lot of badgering from her roommates, the (h/c) girl had decided to go. The dress her mother had sent her was absolutely beautiful. At first, she was a bit apprehensive of wearing the dress, fearing it would cause a lot of unwanted and unnecessary attention. But once it was on, she knew it’d be worth it.

Her roommates all looked absolutely breathtaking, each one slowly disappearing as their dates came to collect them, handing them beautiful bouquets of flowers. As (Y/n) didn’t have a date, she didn’t feel in a rush to get ready. She took her time with her hair, putting it in a beautiful but intricate style, her makeup was flawless which wasn’t surprising with the amount of time spent weeks before in the mirror trying to get the perfect winged liner down. The girl had also taken it upon herself to place the flowers in water, knowing that her roommates would probably want to keep them alive a bit longer to be reminded of the beautiful night to come. As (Y/n) was putting on a coat of lipgloss, a knock was at the door.

“I told you lot to go ahead! You don’t have to wait for me, wouldn’t wanna hold you back, I’ll be there soon!” she hadn’t looked up, still looking into the mirror on her vanity as she powder her face. She placed on a beautiful pair of white gold hoops, finally looking at herself in the mirror. Smiling, she stood up before facing the door. Nothing could prepare her for who was standing there. Luna stood there in a beautiful dress, holding a beautiful array of flowers (Y/n) had never even seen before.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I was with Neville gathering these for you. He told me you would probably like these ones the most.” She walked towards the (h/c), putting the flowers in an empty vase that sat on her vanity. (Y/n) was quiet, still trying to process this. Why had she shown up? Wasn’t she attending Yule with Rami? “Oh, well, after what happened between us that night, I told Rami I could no longer see him. I didn’t want to lead him on when I knew who my heart belonged to at the end of the day.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to say that outloud. It’s just, I’ve been seeing you guys so close together lately so I had completely given up hope on the possibility as friends let alone lovers.” She finally met the girl in the eyes, finding she had a sympathetic look as she felt quite guilty for her actions.

“It did look that way, didn’t it? If I’m honest, once you cut me off I had no one to talk to so me and him grew close. But trust me when I say, you were the only thing on my mind. He was the one who advised me to give you some time. He also was giving me dance lessons so I could do this,” she spun the (e/c) eyed girl around before dipping her. She pulled her up, placing a light peck on her lips. “But I think I’ll save my best for the ball.”

And she means everything to me

Yes, she means everything to me

As the two walked arm in arm down the grand staircase, everyone’s eyes turned to look at the pair. A few gasps and whispers could be heard causing the Hufflepuff to get nervous. She gripped onto Luna’s arm tighter as she leaned over to her ear. “They’re all staring at us. Maybe this was a bad idea.” she whispered, voice began to waver.

“Don’t be silly, dove. It’s not bad attention. They’ve simply just haven’t ever seen two people so fabulous before. We look amazing.” she reassured as she descended the last step. She turned waiting for the girl, admiring just how gorgeous she truly was. As she held out her hand for her help, the blonde took it as she bowed, placing a light kiss on it. “A girl as pretty as you deserves to be treated like royalty not only tonight, but every night to come.”

------

The night was marvelous, much more than the times she had dreamed of it. They were the first ones onto the floor, her leading you through the dance as you were much too nervous to. Luna spun her around and held her close through all the slow songs and they both waved and jumped around wildly to the upbeat ones.A lot of (Y/n)’s housemates and roommates saw them throughout the night, telling them how cute they were together leading (Y/n) to have to explain how they weren't together leading Luna every time in turn to add a “not yet at least!”. She was still trying to wrap her head around it all. If someone were to show her a month ago or hell, even a day ago what was to come she probably would’ve laughed and broken down in her room later that night.

“Where are we going Luna? We shouldn’t be out here, we may get caught.” the Hufflepuff said as her friend- er lover?- dragged her along to the carriages. Luna looked both ways making sure the coast was clear before dragging her friend into it. The girls giggled as they tried shushing each other, failing miserably. Luna couldn’t help but admire how beautiful (Y/n) looked tonight. A few of her hairs stuck to her face from the light sweating they both did on the floor tonight, the moonlight hitting the glitter on her cheekbones from the highlight she had.

“Ron gave me this and while usually I don’t partake in these kinds of activities, tonight is a special occasion.” Luna pulled up her dress slightly revealing a small pouch. She reached in it pulling out a bottle of fire whiskey and two small shot glasses before pulling her garment back down. She poured some in each of the glasses before handing her date one as well.

“A special occasion?” (Y/n) said, a warmth filling her cheeks as she smiled at the girl.

“Well of course it is!” Luna lifted the small glass, clinking it with the other girl’s as she smiled as well. “When I told you that you meant everything to me that time in May, I truly did mean it. Even though I was a tad confused at the time I’m quite sure of my feelings now. To, not new love, but love that has finally grounded. To a love that will last forever.” she tilted her head back, swallowing the burning liquid as her partner did the same. A comfortable silence overcame the carriage as they both sat there, enjoying each other's presence. Nothing needed to be said for them to understand how they both were feeling which is exactly what led to the kiss they shared.

(Y/n) leaned forward, kissing Luna back as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Luna’s hands wandered all over the girls body before resting them on the small of her back. The blonde’s tongue swiped across the girls lips, the taste of fire whiskey still lingering there. The fight for dominance ended just about as soon as it started as Luna gripped the girls hips, pulling her into her lap. She slid her hands under the girl’s dress, gripping at her ass as she bit her lip as she pulled away. The blue eyed girl began trailing kisses down the girls neck. (Y/n) let out an airy moan as Luna began to nibble and suck on her collarbone, leaving a purple and red marking.

“I think I’m quite satisfied with that, what about you darling?” she said as she pulled back, admiring her work. The girl just nodded in response, a bit buzzed from not only the whiskey but the intimate moment they both had just shared. She yawned slightly, wrapping her arms around her neck as she rested her head on her shoulders. After about 10 minutes of them both being silent, Luna realized that the gorgeous girl had in fact fallen asleep. Luna carefully laid back with the girl in her arms, allowing herself to drift as well. For the first time in a while, they both felt peace. (Y/n) couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so well and Luna couldn’t remember the last time she got to hold her former friend, now lover, in her arms.

---------

As teens began to slip from the ball, getting up to who knows what kind of trouble, Severus Snape was put on carriage watch. He had caught many of his former and current students in rather, compromising positions that he would love to obliviate from his mind. Each house had lost many upon many points from the carriages alone. He came across the last one in the row, opening it up. He prepared to yell like he had the last five times but shortly closed his mouth. He let out a soft smile at the sight in front of him. Two of his students, Luna Lovegood and (Y/n) (L/n) both were asleep and content in each other's arms. He noticed the fairly full bottle of fire whiskey and discarded shot glasses. He looked both ways before shoving them under his robe, wanting to get rid of the incriminating evidence.

“I suggest you gather your lover, Miss Lovegood, and remove yourself from the carriage. I doubt the other professors will be as kind as I was. Run along now and enjoy your night.” He said, knowing the noise from the carriage had disturbed the girl who was pretending to sleep. Luna opened her eyes, giving him a brief nod and smile. The professor bid her farewell with a nod before closing the carriage door. “No, this one appears to be empty, but you are more than welcome to come check if you think I am too old or blind to see.” Luna took that as her que to leave. She carefully picked up her girlfriend, opening the other side of the carriage before sprinting back to the castle. She tried her best not to jostle her.

Once she reached the Hufflepuff’s dorm, she carefully removed the dress she was wearing along with her own, leaving them in the slips they wore underneath them. She pulled back the sheets, placing (Y/n) delicately under the sheets before climbing in next to her. She smiled as the girl cuddled closer to her in her sleep. She glanced at the flowers on the vanity once more before she drifted off as well, both having pleasant dreams of the night they had together.

She means everything to me

Tagslist: @weIpitsart , @sarcasticallywitty15

#luna lovegood #luna x reader #luna lovegood x reader #luna lovegood x you #luna lovegood x y/n #luna x y/n #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter

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gotnofucks · 4 years ago

Text

Parts of Whole

(No images are mine, but I did edit them. If anyone knows the owners, do let me know so I can credit them)

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes, Sam x Steve (platonic)

Summary: Steve would see his OTP’s ship sail, even from across the grave.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of death (nothing graphic and not very sad), language, angst + fluff

A/N: I saw the trailer for tfatws and I just had to write this. This is also my entry for the amazingly talented @sagechanoafterdark and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork challenge (pic prompts above). Thank you for hosting this and being wonderful. The beautiful dividers are made by @firefly-graphics . Huge thanks to @the-inquisitive-hobbit for beta reading and giving me her very valuable insight.

It never felt right in his hands. It was his to wield, his to claim, and yet it never felt more foreign. The concentric red and white circles with the star embedded in the blue center glared back at him from the mirror. It had been months, but Sam had never taken this shield with him to any mission. He couldn’t.

It felt starkly cold in his hands, lifeless and materialistic. It was Steve’s symbol of strength and hope. It used to hang on his back, warmed by his body heat. Now, it seemed like the shield only existed to remind him of Steve’s absence. This shield was made for Steve. It belonged to him, it always would. How could he ever stand where he stood? How could Sam ever be the captain that Steve was, take this shield that held more power than a crown on a head?

He put it down again, covering it with a cloth before shutting the door on it, leaning heavily against it. He missed him, he missed him like a throbbing wound that refused to heal. If only he could see the sun shining on those golden locks again, have those baby blue eyes smile at him again. What wouldn’t he give for that.

He didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until a heavy hand was on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Sam didn’t open his eyes, just let the weight of it anchor him, let it bring him back from the chaos that was his mind. The cold metal hand felt like a relief against the overwhelming burden of grief that penetrated his being whenever he touched the circular shield.

“I miss him too.” Bucky said, and Sam opened his eyes. Bucky’s eyes were blue too, slightly grey where Steve’s were green. He could see himself reflected in them and he straightened, looking away, hiding his weakness.

This mantle of Steve Rogers that he was supposed to assume, this legacy he was supposed to take forward felt like cheating. His friend, his mentor, his brother was no more. How could people just expect him to move on? But they did. It didn’t matter he was emotionally compromised, it didn’t matter he wanted to drown, like Steve nearly had at the Potomac all those years ago. The world didn’t wait to create one disaster after another. They needed Captain America then, and they needed him now. Like Fury said, trouble always sticks around.

Sam cleared his throat, making sure he was collected before looking at Bucky again.

“Everything loaded in the Quinjet?” He asked and Bucky nodded. They’ll be leaving for another mission soon, and Sam was glad he’ll have the sounds of battle to drown the war in his heart.

“Sam.” Bucky said once Sam started leaving. “Take it.”

Sam looked at Bucky over his shoulder, his gaze equal parts pain and accusation. Of everyone, Bucky shouldn’t be the one telling him this.

“I’ll meet you in the jet.” He said firmly and quickly marched to his room, shutting the door behind him. He hated coming back to the compound, the lingering memories of their fallen warriors whispering in his ears every time he was here. He preferred his little house in the woods where it was only Bucky and nature with him.

He took out his tactical gear, laying it on the bed and getting out his wings when he heard it.

“You are punishing yourself Sam.” Came his voice.

It was this moment where Sam broke, sliding down the wall and letting a few tears escape. He was gone but he never left him.

“How could you have been so selfish Steve. Why?” He asked, looking up to glare at Steve. Even dead he looked so handsome, so put together with his hands on his hips. He didn’t look like the old man they had buried a month after the battle. No. He was their Steve, their young, beautiful Steve who left them behind.

Sam didn’t know why he saw him. He didn’t know if this was a ghost or a creation of his mind. To him, it was Steve. It was Steve and it was a beautiful suffering to see him again every time he reappeared.

“I am sorry.” Steve said and knelt before Sam, looking apologetic. Sam didn’t try touching him. Not when the first hundred times his hand just went through him.

“You are? What for?” Sam asked. “For leaving behind your shield and title, for leaving me behind, or for abandoning a best friend you promised to walk till the end of the line with? What are you really sorry for Captain?”

Steve didn’t answer, he never did. He let Sam take out his hurt and anger, and Sam cried. In the privacy of his walls, he cried. He was so tired of pretending to be strong, to be happy. He hid behind his jokes and smiles, fooled the world which was so ready to move on while Sam was buried somewhere with Steve in the cemetery, half dead, half alive.

“I am sorry Sam, for everything.” Steve insisted. “But you need to stop punishing yourself for mistakes you never made. You can’t live this way.”

Sam snorted a laugh for even in death Steve was a humanitarian bastard. He didn’t come back to haunt his enemies; oh no the centenarian came back to help his friends. Why didn’t people see that he could never be Steve? That Sam Wilson can never, won’t ever be the Captain that Steven Rogers was.

“I hate you so much Steve, I really do.” Sam whispered, wiping his nose and getting up. Steve watched him getting changed, no barriers of shame between them from that side of the grave.

“You always said that. I have never heard a ‘I love you’ more pronounced than I do in your hate.” Steve commented with a soft smile, it widened when Sam gave him a half-hearted glare. It was amazing how they could go from having a painful conversation to joking, but that was how it worked with Steve. He knew Sam, he knew everything that made him laugh and made him smile.

“What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have a tea party with Gandhi or some other do-gooder like you in the afterlife?” Sam grumbled, tightening the belt in his suit and attaching his wings to it. Steve chuckled, sitting on the chair and watching Sam with a relaxed smile.

“They are too uptight for me. Mother Teresa tried to adopt me the other day” Steve said, and Sam laughed. His wings were the colours of American Flag, a new change. He grabbed his weapons and fixed Steve with a look, hating and loving him for being so him.

“I’ll see you after the mission?” He asked tentatively. He would never admit it, but he feared one day Steve would disappear again. It was crazy, it was not normal to see dead people, but Sam would rather have a shadow of Steve than just a memory.

“I’ll be here as long as you need me Sam. Always.” Steve said, a sad smile on his face when he saw Sam leaving without the shield.

Sharon greeted him in the jet, talking to Bucky and the other agents over the blueprint spread before them. Sam nodded his hello, snatching the half empty pack of Cheetos from Bucky’s hand and munching on it.

“So now you want to steal the show and my food. You’re such a dick Wilson.” Bucky said, poking Sam in his shoulder and Sam poked his tongue out at him, a gap-toothed smile on his face. Their previous somber interaction would not be mentioned, filed again like so many inside the neglected corner of their minds.

“Bitch, I paid for grocery this month. This is technically mine.” Sam replied, making Bucky scowl. Sam knew there was a 70-30 chance he’ll find his bed crawling with centipedes when they got back home.

“Charming, boys.” Sharon remarked rolling her eye. “What are you guys doing for Christmas? Must be nice to have a holiday.”

Bucky shrugged, sharing a look with Sam. It was their first Christmas without Steve, a 6 feet 2-inch void always between them.

“Nothing special. Stay home, watch movies, eat a lot.” Bucky said. A lot remained unsaid, but they rarely needed words to communicate anymore. Sam bumped his shoulder in his, offering him some Cheetos to munch while he silently grieved.

“Well, I’ll leave my address here for you to deliver your presents to me.” Sharon joked and Sam laughed softly, mentally making a note to get her something.

“Alright then, and I’ll just casually remark that my phone and laptop are both in serious need for an upgrade. Just saying.” Sam said. “Hey Buck, what are you going to gift me?”

Bucky crumpled the empty chips packet before sending Sam an amused glare, flipping him off.

“A ball gag, so that I can hear something other than your stupid voice.” He snarked.

“Damn dude, at least ask me out for dinner before getting kinky.” Sam winked and Bucky swelled with indignation, pointing an accusing metal finger at Sam.

“I cook dinner 3 times a week you bastard, and I don’t even burn it!” He protested making Sam laugh louder than ever. He loved making Bucky mad, teasing him into an incensed rage that usually ended in a pillow fight or sometimes with Sam’s head in a headlock.

They straightened as they saw the incredulous looks on the new agents’ faces, baby agents as Bucky liked to call them. It was times like these, when both the battle-hardened veterans missed their lost teammates, the inside jokes that were shot around with as much precision as bullets and arrows on the battlefield.

They got to work again, discussing the mission and its details with the other agents. Sam would run point on scaling the territory and fly down to the enemy base with two agents while Bucky would guide him from up here and take out potential threats. They just needed to secure a technological innovation and it didn’t seem too like much work. As Sam poured over the briefing, his eyes subconsciously went over to Bucky who was fiddling with the equipment, making sure everything was in working condition.

If someone had told him a few years ago that Bucky would become his anchor, his solace in his darkest hours, Sam would have punched them in the face. But as it happened, they came to lean on each other, the only unchanged part of their older lives, the only person who made each feel that were still real, still alive. They were still annoyed by each other, but the arguments were more of a routine than an actual expression of resentment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until someone deliberately coughed behind him.

“He is so pretty, isn’t he?” Steve asked, though it was a rhetorical question. Bucky Barnes was a beauty, from his blue grey eyes to the new golden streaks running through his new arm. Sam tried not to notice the way Bucky’s armor clung to his muscles, his face looking almost boyish as he forgot the world and focused on his task.

“I thought you said I’ll see you after the mission.” Sam muttered, taking care that no one noticed him talking to air. He hurriedly looked away from Bucky when their eyes met, a heat rising in his cheeks that made Steve chuckle.

“I said I’ll be there when you need me. And it seems like you do.” Steve commented. He took the seat next to Sam, so near that Sam swore he could feel the heat emanating from his body.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam snapped, the smug look on Steve’s face making him wish he could touch him if only to be able to punch him. Stupid blonde best friends with perfect teeth and beautiful smiles and an ass that looked just as round after being dead.

“Oh, I think you do.” Steve said, shifting his gaze to Bucky. “I liked his hair longer but the shorter is going well with the new arm. Don’t you think?”

Despite himself Sam found himself nodding, admiring Bucky as he’d done a thousand times before. He liked his longer hair too, but without them falling in his face, he could see him better. And the arm. The new arm that gave Sam tingles in the most delicious ways, it had him flustered for three whole weeks after Bucky first showed up with it on him.

He didn’t know when it started, but Bucky had somehow become the most beautiful person to Sam. From the way he would make him the perfect mug of coffee to their little kitchen garden they started to keep themselves busy, he loved everything about him. Those moments where he would sense the turmoil inside Sam and silently slip his hands in Sam’s to assure him that he was there, these little moments endeared him even more.

Sam had lost count of how many times Bucky and he had woken up on the couch, sharing a blanket, both silently afraid to sleep alone. He had forgotten how many times he had spent kneeling at Bucky’s bedside, coaxing him out from a nightmare. Every moment spent in each other’s company, laughing, joking, mourning together, it brought them together in a way Sam had never imagined before.

“Tell him” Steve said, a wistful look on his face as he looked at his best friend. “He feels the same. I know.”

Sam shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Bucky with reluctance. He’d already lost so much, he wouldn’t lose Bucky too. Not because he has a minor, very minor teensy tiny crush on him.

“Man, shut the hell up.” He snapped.

“Who’re you talking to?” Bucky called out from across the jet and Sam’s head snapped up, mouth parting a little before he mumbled out a ‘no one’ and focused on the papers in his hand. Sometimes he felt guilty for keeping Steve a secret, for keeping Bucky away from his best friend. He knew Bucky cried into his pillow at nights, he knew because he’d held him then, tried his best to fill the cracks that appeared in the walls of Bucky’s heart as well as his own.

But then, Steve chose to come to him. Chose to talk to Sam. And he was afraid that telling anyone would disturb this magic, whatever this was. That he would once again have to bury Steve. So, he kept quiet. He buried this secret in the deep recesses of his mind, the initial worry of insanity long forgotten in favor of seeing his friend again.

“Do you even have a plan?” Bucky questioned, watching him prepare for the jump. Sam had a job for every agent accompanying him, but the idiot had not outlined anything for himself.

“I do.” Sam said, and when Bucky looked unconvinced, he lightly punched his shoulder. “You’re my plan, my backup. I scream, jump down and get my ass back up.”

Saying this, Sam jumped, the exasperated look on Bucky’s face imprinted behind his eyelids as his wings flared out and he floated.

Everything that could have gone wrong on this mission did, and Bucky was hysterical even before Sam’s call for backup came. He was going to kick Nick Fury’s ass, but before that he was going to bring his friend back in one-piece and chew him out for giving him a heart attack.

Sam’s wings took most of the weight of the fall, so he came back with a sprained ankle and bruises. Bucky was getting increasingly irritated when they came back home, their little secluded spot in the woods welcoming them with the smell of pine and wild grass.

“It’s not my fault Fury gave us shitty intel.” Sam groaned, “You can stop being salty now.”

Bucky remained quiet, the silent treatment going for almost the third day in row and Sam was at his wits end. It was stupid and ridiculous because Bucky almost always pulled the stupidest moves in the field, like stopping a bomb with his hand or listening to the villain’s evil monologue.

Steve was grinning as he leaned against the edge of the table, and with every suggestive wink he gave Sam, the new Captain America resisted the urge to throw a vase at him.

“He cares so much that he’s speechless.” Steve commented and Sam flipped him off. Dickhead has been giving running commentary of the thick tension in the air since they came back, and Sam was on the verge of calling for an exorcism.

“Why do you do that?” Bucky asked suddenly and Sam was so glad to hear him talk again it took him a while to understand the question.

“What?”

“This thing, looking somewhere and talking to yourself, or – I don’t know, you keep being weird.”

“You’re the one with the cyborg brain and arm and I’m weird” Sam tried deflecting. Bucky frowned, coming closer to sit near Sam, leaving abandoned Christmas decorations scattered around them. Clint had delivered it for them but neither had the heart to put them up.

“Sam.” Bucky deadpanned, and Sam sighed, resting his head back and avoiding eye contact. He looked at Steve who was still smiling, his beautiful face like a slap on the face and caress on the head at the same time.

It was more difficult than one would assume to explain. Why did Sam see Steve, and why did only Sam see Steve? Was it a hallucination, or his spirit? Would Steve go away if Sam confided in Bucky? Would Bucky be mad he didn’t tell him? There were so many questions, so many doubts, and yet as Sam looked into Bucky’s eyes, shining like sapphires, he couldn’t keep it to himself.

“Its…Its Steve.” He said, looking down and playing with the soft lint on his blanket. He didn’t hear Bucky say anything but moments later a metal hand gripped his, stopping its nervous movements.

“Steve?”

Sam gulped, the coolness of Bucky’s hand in his warming his heart, swelling it with hope and an emotion Sam was too afraid to acknowledge.

“Steve, he – he talks to me.” Sam confessed and tentatively looked at Bucky whose eyes were brimming with emotion. He expected him to call him crazy, or to get mad, but what he did not expect was Bucky to shift closer and take Sam’s other hand in his too.

“He talks to me as well.” Bucky said. Sam was breathless, both by the slight smell of cinnamon that came from Bucky and the way Bucky came even closer, close enough that he could count the flecks in his eyes.

“He does?” Sam asked and Bucky nodded.

“I don’t know how he does it with you, but whenever I need him, miss him, I feel him speak to me from here.” With this Bucky placed one of Sam’s hand on his chest, the beating heart under thumping strongly. Unconsciously, Sam’s hand caressed Bucky’s chest, mapped its muscles and the jagged scars that bulged under his left shoulder.

“I see him.” Sam admitted, unable to look away from Bucky. “I can see him”

Tears blurred his vision until they dropped on his cheeks, sliding down, and forging a river down, leaving a trail of hurt, betrayal, and loss in their wake. Bucky’s hand came up to wipe them away, staying on Sam’s cheek, playing with the soft hair on his chin.

“I see him too. In you.” Bucky said and they didn’t know who moved first, but their foreheads were touching and then their lips met in a chaste, hesitant kiss. Sam melted into his touch, molding himself to fall into Bucky’s larger frame, his arms circling his waist and pulling him closer. They kissed as if they had walked a hundred miles just to kiss each other, as if they had saved every last breath just to live this moment.

“I – I, Buck –” Sam began but Bucky shushed him, pulling him into another soul-searching kiss before pulling away.

“I know.” He murmured.

As Sam relaxed in Bucky’s warm embrace, lost himself in the blues of Bucky’s eyes, he noticed Steve from the corner of his eyes. There was sadness on his face, the pain of a goodbye in the creases around his eyes. But when he smiled, he smiled with genuine love and happiness. The two parts of his soul he’d left behind seemed to have found themselves, and with them Steve felt himself complete.

“Till the end of the line pals.” He whispered.

Sam never saw Steve again.

Their Christmas was not very festive in terms of decoration. There was still too much pain, too much suffering in their hearts. Steve and Nat’s pictures beamed at them from the walls, and Sam sent Pepper the confirmation that they’ll come over for New Years.

It was a beautiful thing about human nature, about how one rises from the ashes to become stronger. Sam and Bucky lost someone, but they found each other. In the shared grieve of their hearts, they discovered the love long buried in there, eagerly waiting to be spread and shared.

They stayed warm under the blanket, wearing oversized sweaters that they wouldn’t be caught dead wearing outside. The sweaters may or may not have been Steve's; the soldiers mutually decided to hold Steve close in this way. Sam’s heart was tripled in size, as his head rested in the crook of Bucky’s neck, the smell of chocolate and cinnamon melting together to make a little world of their own. Sam wondered if he would mind growing out his hair again.

“So, what did you get me?” Sam asked, knowing he wouldn’t mind if Bucky did get him that ball gag. Part of him almost hoping for it.

“How rude Wilson, here I’ve given you all of myself and you still thirst for more.” Bucky mocked and Sam tackled him into a hug, peppering kisses all over his face.

“Bitch, you’re lucky I lo-” Sam cut himself off, suddenly shy. The smirk on Bucky’s face melted into a smile, a hungry look in his eyes.

“Say it” Bucky ordered. And Sam did. The Captain obeyed his Sergeant without hesitation.

“I love you. I love you so freaking much! I got us the cheesiest gifts.” Sam said in excitement. He pulled away long enough to grab his gift from under the bed, giving it to Bucky to open. He watched with his bottom lip between his teeth as Bucky opened the box to pull out two chains, each dangling with a rectangular pendant.

Dog tags.

Their dog tags. Bucky raised his eyes to Sam’s, fisting his hand in Sam’s t-shirt to pull him closer into a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and moans, hips grinding as passion merged with love and emotion.

“I love you!” Bucky growled and kissed Sam again. “And I got you chocolates that look like dicks. I didn’t know this would happen between us when I bought them, and I was going to give you a hint with them.”

Sam’s laughter echoed around their small house, the dopey smile on his face remaining intact as they ate candy and burnt sparklers into the night. In the colourful light that played on their faces, they held hands together, filling the void that was there with the warmth of each other.

“We can use the shield as a sleigh until you’re comfortable using it as a weapon.” Bucky mused and Sam smiled into his neck, thinking of a certain blond asshole who may have gone away, but will never be lost.

Permanent Taglist: @what-is-your-wish @shooting-star-love @stanmysoul @sweeterthanthis @scentedsongrebel @muralskins @rayofdawnworld @donutloverxo @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @angrythingstarlight @rockyrogers @slothspaghettiwrites @nerdygirl8203

CE & Steve : @littlegasps @bluemusickid @harrysthiccthighss @abeyyaaar @slytherinandoutasgard @empath-bunny

SebStan & Bucky : @sebastiansthot @its-izzys @harrysthiccthighss @empath-bunny

For this fic : @barnesandco

#ssholidaychallenge #sambucky #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sam x steve #tfatws #fluff

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babylooneytoonz · 4 years ago

Text

200 Followers Appreciation Post

I'll be very honest, two months back when I joined Tumblr, I hadn't expected that my writings will be read by many, and the last thing I had expected was to be followed. Now look far we've come, from 0 followers to 200.

A personal thank you and a lot of love to each and every follower of mine.

I think this is the best part of our fandom. We love each other like family.

As a little token of my thank you, I decided to publish two of my requests combined as one today. Hope you like it. 💓

Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Request 1- Prompt "We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies."

Request 2- Reader was always in love with Tommy, thinking he can't love her back she starts writing cheap novels as a way to deal with it. Her books become popular and everything is cool until Tommy finds out about her hobby and notices similarities between her writing and real life.

Warnings - Angst

GIF Credits - @thomasshelbyltd thank you. ❤️

A Maid's Diary

You slumped against your desk, letting your head rest against the old wooden table top, your elbows on either side of your face. Your desk was a cluttered mess, with sheets of paper flooded all over. In your hand, you held a pen, as you were just seconds back, scribbling vigorously on a parchment as an idea had just hit you, and just as swiftly, the idea had vanished from your mind.

You couldn't forget and you couldn't forgive your best friend, Linda, for having betrayed you by sharing your diary to a local printing press, who had, without your permission, published your countless feelings that you had penned down in your little diary, without even your consent, although they didn't take the credit for it. You were still the writer, even though the publishers never published your real name on it, just a pen name.

As much as you hated to admit it, the little push made by your friend had worked tremendously and your popularity had grown amongst the lower middle class especially; as that is where you hailed from. They loved your modesty, they loved how humble and down to earth you were, although you were extremely talented.

Little did they know, that the book that had been published, as an act of mistake, was actually based on your life.

"What is it that you are reading?" Tommy pushed his round glasses over his eyes, as he looked through them and fixed his broody stare on his wife.

Grace was sprawled on the couch in his study, shimmering in a beautiful pearl white satin nightgown hanging loosely over her slender frame, her natural blonde hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She seamlessly brought up her ring studded hand to her hair, running her fingers through the locks as her eyes came to rest on her husband.

"Would you look at this Tommy?" She raised a red little book in her hand, showing it to him briefly, before she sat back more comfortably. Their son, Charlie, crawled about on the carpeted floor, playing with a toy train. "I don't know who this woman is, but if you read this book, you would feel like you are a bloody part of it."

"Is it one of those fucking love stories again, Grace?"

"It's much more than that, love. It's complex. It's like reading a person's life, living her memories."

"Right, well, I'm out, I've got a bloody meeting with Arthur at the pub." He stood up, sliding his hand into his waistcoat and pulling out the pocket watch, taking a quick glance at it. He then kissed his wife a goodbye, lifting Charlie up in his arms, "Be good, you cheeky little oaf."

Little did he know, how that would be the last week, that he was spending home with his wife. The next week, Grace Shelby was shot, and she couldn't make it.

As days inched by, Tommy started growing more and more morose. Although he didn't show it, those around him felt it everyday. The snapping and the yelling increased, and Tommy found himself sleeping less and less, and chugging down more and more of that alcohol to keep his mind at rest. There were weeks when Tommy didn't see his son. Although he felt guilty, for neglecting him, as the poor child had lost his mother, just like he had lost his wife, he couldn't bring himself to face him, as he reminded him so much of her.

Soon, weeks turned into months and finally, Tommy's agony subsided to a bit. It wasn't as if it was an overnight process, but somehow, over the course of time, Tommy didn't feel the hurt anymore, as he initially did— or maybe, he learnt to live with it.

One night, when the nightmares crippled him to such an extent that he found himself unable to sleep, he decided to go through Grace's belongings, something he had kept locked up in the attic, afraid to touch them. Holding a lantern in his hand, he walked up the flight of stairs, the old floorboards creaking underneath the weight of his foot as he stepped into the dinghy little room. In a corner, a brown crate was hoarded up, keeping all of Grace's belongings.

Pulling off the the wooden board that was nailed shut, he pried it off and ran his hand through the dust coated silk dresses, his fingers gently brushing against the fabric. He let out a weak, pained exhale, slowly sliding down against the floor, pulling his hand out as he started fumbling around his pockets for a cigarette.

With a lit cigarette in his left hand, he slid his right hand back in, feeling around the box until his palm hit something hard. Pulling it out, he saw a little red book that was now turning a shade of purple at the edges. The book was coated in a sheet of dust, causing Tommy to squint his eyes slightly and scrunch up his nose as he brushed the dust off its cover.

A faint smile, a fond remembrance of Grace reading this book with such enthusiasm brought a weak smile to his lips. He took a drag of his cigarette, pulling himself off the floor and pocketed the book, walking out of the attic.

It was his eyes, eyes that could hold an entire ocean in them, that captivated me. I often found myself looking at him, stealing glances, when no one was looking. A part of me begged for his attention, hoping, yearning that he would atleast give me a glance but he never did.

The more he read through the passages, the more he realized what Grace had meant. This was not just a book, it was someone's life, it was someone's feelings. The words were simple and not at all fancy, the backdrop set was not that of a fine mansion, it was a tiny little house, in a clamoured street, a family of five siblings, four boys and one girl, and the writer, who was just a servant. The writer knew the love she felt for one of the sons of the house was wrong, improper and it was forbidden because she was a servant and they were her employers but she couldn't help how she felt, no matter how hard she tried to forget. Tommy couldn't help but feel drawn— drawn to the writer's pain, her anguish and the feeling of being stuck at the end of a self destructive, one sided love. He knew what it meant to not get to be with the person you loved. He had experienced the pain, although in a different sense but somehow, he could relate. Although Thomas Shelby didn't show any feelings, he had eventually fallen head over heels in love with Grace Burgess and life with her had been a life of roses and poppies, while he was a crown of thorns; that Grace bravely adorned on her head.

It was a cold night, and I was freezing. I could feel my cheeks turning to stone and my hands fervously rubbing against my arms to keep myself warm. I could see them right in front of my eyes; the whole family. They looked happy. They brothers were teasing their sister, who had a look of dismay plastered over her face, and the youngest brother, who was just a toddler, ran about the parlour, sucking on his thumb. I wondered if it was selfishly wrong of me to think of him in this way, to imagine how our little household would have been, had I been bound to him by marriage. I wondered if it was a sin, wondering what I would have named our children if we had a handful of them.

Thomas found himself leaning back comfortably in bed, straining into his glasses, wanting to read more, although his body and his eyes were beyond tired. It was as though he could see a glimpse of his life before the war had been, right through someone else's eyes. He could see little Finn, perched on the carpeted floor, running his toy train all over it, making a weird engine sound with his mouth while John and Arthur teased Ada for something she had probably said. He could picture himself by the window, staring at the dimly lit sky, the illuminating stars, thinking of the moment Greta took her last breath, her frail hand falling limp in his warm one.

How unlucky had he been with women, he had watched the women he loved die, in in his arms.

As I scrubbed the dishes in the kitchen, I could hear the curses in the parlor. He was screaming at himself, bringing the dishes down, breaking them one by one. No one dared stop him, because no one wanted to be slammed against the wall or have to be the one taking a porcelain hit on his face. I wondered if I should step in, maybe give him some tea but I didn't. Maybe, he didn't need it. It was only later that I found out he had lost the love of his life.

He shoved the book aside and sat up straighter, running his palm through his face, his breathing shaky and rushed. He grabbed his cigarette box off the bedside table and lit himself a cigarette. Maybe reading this book had been a mistake, it was opening up all his raw wounds that he had buried away.

He was leaving. I wanted to ask him when he would be back but of course, that would have been such a silly question. And besides, he had a lot more on his plate, why would he want to speak to a servant? I stood behind the kitchen wall, listening to the solemn parting, the shuffling of feet, listening to them leave until finally I could hear them no more— I could hear him no more.

Years after years, I went on with life, with a smile on my face. I did what I always did in the mornings; scrubbing the floors clean, washing the dishes, preparing supper and doing the laundry. At night, though, I thought of him and his blue eyes. I wondered if there was any news, for I hadn't heard anything about him in ages. Maybe my prayers were finally answered, the war ended and they all were back home. Only they weren't themselves. The war had killed a part of them. They were the ghosts of war, left to meander the Earth until they finally died.

"Mr. Shelby?" Tommy sharply looked up, his eyebrows straightened into a visible frown.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Charlie's asleep, the supper's ready. I was wondering if I could get a night off—"

"Mary, you may. You have bloody worked hard enough to earn a night off. Go on then, hurry up, it's pretty dark outside."

He watched her leave, staring at the door before bringing his gaze back to the book, wondering if the writer was out there somewhere. And he wondered, and hoped, that she had finally gotten to be with the man she loved. She deserved it. She deserved all the happiness in the world.

I finally mustered the courage, after what seemed like eternity, to speak my heart out. I was afraid of rejection, but he deserved to know. I deserved to be free of this heavy secret in my heart. I didn't care if he would ask me to leave, stop coming to work from tomorrow but he needed to know I loved him. So, I stepped out into the chilly night, wrapping myself with whatever warm I could find. I walked and walked, until I was at his pub. Of course, he wasn't there. With a heavy heart then, I thought of going back home, through an alley, that was a shorter route. Little did I know, I was never going to get the man I loved for he already had the woman he loved, the woman from the pub; that barmaid. I saw the man I was in love with, from a window, the way I always imagined him to be with me, kissing her and stroking her cheeks. It was as though I heard a devastating sound somewhere close by, but it was nothing but my heart—shattered into two.

Thomas Shelby was many things, but he was not ignorant, or dumb. He slammed the book shut, shoving it on the bedside table. His heart was racing rapidly and he could feel blood rush through his veins. Arching his body forward, placing his elbows on his thighs, he buried his face into his palms. Every single detail in the book, every single piece of writing was something he had experienced before. It couldn't be a mere coincidence, could it? He slid out of bed, stomping through the hallway into his study until he was perched on a stool by the telephone his fingers frivolously moving against it. He knew what he had to do now.

"Pol?" He mumbled into the phone the instant he heard her on the other side.

"Tommy? It's fucking midnight, what's the bloody matter?" Tommy didn't mind he had woken her up. He needed answers.

"Do you remember a maid that worked for us?" He sighed into the receiver.

"Tommy, we have hired a dozen fucking maids, which one are you talking about?"

"She was with us when Greta died, when we went to war—"

On the other side of the telephone, Polly's demeanour softened. She remembered you, she even knew how you loved Thomas, but she could never bring it up to her lips, because she knew that you and Thomas had no future.

"Yes."

"Do you know where she is? And for fucks sake, don't lie."

Your coffee mug lay on the table untouched, smoke bellowing out of it in waves. Outside your window, snow drizzled from the sky, like tiny droplets of fur falling to the ground, your garden sheeted in pristine virgin white.

"Love, you have to bloody see this," your friend Linda's voice echoed through the closed door, loud enough to alert you.

"What is it?" You threw open your window, watching your bestfriend stand at the gate, her eyes fixed to your window, "Just get your bloody arse down here (Y/N), I have to show you something. Come on out, now."

Annoyance.

You practically ran down the flight of stairs, not even stopped to calm your breaths.

"Jesus, Linda, it's fucking snowing, I'm going to freeze to—"

"Sorry love." Linda gave you an apologetic smile, her index finger pointing towards the silhouette of a man leaning by your front gate, slowly sliding out of the periphery of gaze. Neither were you watching her. You were watching a ghost of your past, that stood leaning by the metal gate on your front door, a cap on his head, a long overcoat drawn over his scrawny body. He had gotten weaker than you had last seen him.

"Miss (Y/N)." His voice was curt, yet warm, without a trace of malice in it. After all these years, he was right here, on your doorstep.

"Mr. Shelby? Would you like to come in?"

He shook his head, rather, his eyes and you knew that he didn't want to talk in the confines of your home, under prying eyes. He slowly pulled out a book from his pocket and your eyes widened. Your fingers flew to your lips and you felt a rush of blood in your body, an instant feeling of being in the warmth of a fireplace. You wanted to reply, but you couldn't find the words.

"You read my book, you found me out."

"It wasn't that fucking difficult to figure it out, love."

"Jesus, would you please come in? It's freezing out here, you're going to bloody catch a cold—"

He cut you off as you turned to walk in, grabbing you by your arm, not hard, but firm enough to stop you from walking. He then pulled you towards him, your front hitting his hard chest, to look into his face.

"It was you all along?"

You didn't know what to say anymore. He had found you out. After all these years.

"I don't understand—" You whispered, shaking your head. You couldn't lie, his eyes were making you nervous and all the feelings that had simmered over the course of time were finally lighting up again. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it will get published."

"Do you believe in destiny?" He cut you off.

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to mentally think where he was going with this, "Perhaps, Mr. Shelby, but you need to be clearer than that."

"I didn't believe in fucking destiny, until this minute. I can't believe I'm fucking saying this—" You could see reluctance in his eyes, an inward fighting. You could see that he was thinking hard, probably having a hard time figuring out what he should say to you. "You remember Greta?"

You were hundred percent sure you weren't smiling, but had you been smiling, it would have withered.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby, the girl that died holding your hand, the girl you loved."

"Good, and what about Grace? The woman you saw at the fucking window."

Your cheeks reddened at the remark with embarassment, making you regret how he had read that part. That was a private thing between Thomas and Grace.

"I didn't mean to pry, I was just passing through the alley and I looked up and I —" You voluntarily bit on your tongue in an attempt to silence yourself because you knew you were babbling and your words were not making much sense. You needed to compose yourself, compose your thoughts.

"I married her, yeah? And do you know what happened then?"

You closed your eyes briefly, hoping he wouldn't see the pain in your eyes. When you blinked your eyes open again, you straightened slightly, almost taking a step away from him. He caught your arm, pulling you back to him.

"We have a lovely boy together, Charlie, he's three almost."

You wondered if Tommy was here to chastise you, to make you apologize, or maybe, your book had caused a rift in their marriage.

"She was shot. Fucking took a bullet that was meant for me. I fucking watched her die. Twice, (Y/N). I think it was my destiny. Will you ask me why?"

"Mr. Shelby—" You hopelessly began, trying to tell him how sorry you were about what had happened. But what could you do? It wasn't as if you had shot Grace.

"Just bloody ask me why."

You stiffened at the harshness of his voice.

"I- Why?"

"Because this fucking destiny had something else in mind for me. Perhaps it was you all along, the one I was maybe meant to be with."

Your eyes widened in surprise at his words, a sudden palpitating feeling in your heart, a sudden throbbing in the back of your mind. You pulled your arm away, wincing slightly at his sudden outburst, instantly moving away.

"Your words make no sense. Will you please stop?"

He parted his lips in an attempt to reply, but all that shot out of his plump lips was foggy winter air and he shut it. His hand flew to the side of your face, but he didn't touch you. He merely took a loose strand of your hair, curling it over his index finger. You could feel the sudden tension, his lips so close to you, you knew if you didn't stop him, he would kiss you. And later regret it.

"Mr. Shelby, this is a mistake. If I was your destiny, I would be the one buried in a grave and not the women you loved. I did love you," you spoke, hopelessly pulling yourself one step away but this time he didn't make an attempt to pull you close, perhaps having sensed your reluctance.

He raised his eyebrow, "Did?"

"I still do, but I don't think we were meant to be."

"I see," he almost stepped closer, reluctantly, fighting for control at the back of his mind. This was a new feeling. He knew he didn't love you yet, but at the same time, he knew he was in love with the woman from the book. The woman who had always loved him.

"Why?"

A single word can hold a vast meaning. A single word can have an answer that you could probably write a book on.

"Because Thomas .. We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies," you whispered in a low voice, tears shrouding into your eyes.

"Yet there's a bloody thing that binds us to each other. Something neither you nor I can see," he mumbled under his breath, sliding his hand into his pocket, pulling out a box of cigarettes.

You didn't know what to say to him. Your mind was fervently throbbing through your skull. Your heart leapt with joy but your mind didn't let you be at ease. He waited a few seconds but when he realized you had made up your mind, he decided he will not push you. You had given him the answer. You didn't want him. He nodded softly, letting his eyes wander down to your feet for a bit before giving you a last look as he turned his tail and started walking off, his boots crushing the snow as he started walking away.

And just like that, you realized that history was repeating itself. But this time, it was all your fault. You were letting him walk away when you could finally be happy.

"Thomas stop.." His name flew out of your mouth even before you could clamp your mouth shut. You saw him freeze, but this time, he didn't turn your way, but with his back turned towards you, you missed the hint of a smile that crossed his lips; the way you had stopped him meant that he still had hope.

"I would like to work for you again, does Charlie need a nanny?" You bit your lip.

It was nothing, but yet, it was a start. If destiny really wanted the two of you together then you wanted to try it out from the beginning, maybe make the man fall in love with you and not the woman who wrote the book. You wanted him to love you and not pity you.

"Twenty shillings, you stay at the Arrowe House, no further will be discussed on that, yeah?"

You gave him a weak smile, although you could not see his face.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Mr. Shelby, first thing in the morning at 9."

He nodded and then, sliding his hands into his pockets, he walked away, his heavy boots crushing the snow underneath, generating a squishing, crunching sound until you could hear him no more. You couldn't wipe that smug smile from your face as you looked up at the sky, scrunching up your nose when you felt something cold; perhaps a snowflake had landed on the tip of your nose. It was a start, a start of a new day and who knew, perhaps a new life for you. Needless to say, you were excited.

#thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders x reader #200 followers appreciation #thank you for liking my work

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ramen-rambles · 5 years ago

Text

HC: Going On A Disney Date

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader, Kirishima Eijirou x Reader, Kaminari Denki x Reader, Todoroki Shouto x Reader, Midoriya Izuku x Reader

Warnings: None! Just fluffy goodness

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: Just some headcanons on what spending a day at the parks would be like with your favorite boys. (btw, this is based on the Disney parks in Anaheim!)

A/N: S/O to the discord for indulging me in my Disney obsession :’D Fun fact, when I went to Disneyland for Halloween, I borrowed my friend’s Pikachu kigurumi so that I could lowkey cosplay as Denki LOL

Taglist: @jojosmilktea

♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

You had to do so much convincing to get him to even go to one park, let alone two

Teases you and smirks saying, “Why do you want to go to some lame theme park? I’m all the fun you need, princess.”

Bakugou ends up giving in to your begging because… how can he resist such a cute face?

He is super whiny in the beginning, literally complaining about every little thing

“Why the fuck is all the shit here so damn expensive?”, “The lines are too fucking long!”

Don’t even bother trying to get him to wear any kind of Mickey Ears either

He thinks it looks adorable on you though, not that he’d admit it

However, after seeing how much fun you were having, he eases up a bit and begins to enjoy himself too

Actually, he ends up becoming more excited than you

Once you start getting tired from all the walking and constant queuing, he mocks you and says “What? You’re tired already? I could keep this up for hours!”

His go-to pose for the ride photos is to flip off the camera

And yes, you guys end up buying a copy of all the pictures because he thinks it’s fucking hilarious

His favorite attraction to go on is Toy Story Midway Mania because he knows he’ll kick your ass and get a higher score than you; or Radiator Springs Racers, so he can win the race and kick other people’s ass

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

He’s such a child at heart that he was actually the one who asked you to go to Disneyland

Had already bought the tickets in advance because he already knew you’d say yes. You felt kind of bad that he had to spend all that money for both of your tickets

“E-eji, are you sure you don’t want me to pay you back? These tickets must have been so expensive!”

“Don’t worry about it babe, I’ve been saving my allowance to buy us these tickets. I wanted to take you out on a magical date at the happiest place on earth!”

He really was the sweetest boyfriend

On the days leading up to your date, you two start planning out matching outfits, what rides you guys for sure want to go on, and all the new foods you can’t want to try!

The night before, the two of you have a Disney movie marathon, snuggled up on the couch eating popcorn while watching all those childhood classics!

His favorite movie is The Little Mermaid because where else did you think he got the inspiration to dye his hair red? Princess Ariel

Day of, you guys are BEYOND excited

Kirishima wakes up extra early to start getting ready, letting you get in a few more minutes of sleep

Once you get there, the first thing you both do is take a picture in front of Main Street! He pretty much documents your entire trip on his phone, taking candid photos of you being the cutie you were

He makes it his new lockscreen wallpaper

While he was waiting in line to buy some food, you went to the shop and bought a matching pair of Mickey and Minnie ears, wanting to surprise him

Smothered you in smooches because he was so happy you guys were matching head to toe, literally

“Thanks babe! I’m never gonna take this off!”

And he never took his ears off. He wore it all day. How it didn’t fall of his head was a question you had no answer to

You two were the definition of cringey couple; matching outfits, constant PDA

Not that he cared what other people thought. He was happy and you were happy, that’s all that mattered to him

Go-to ride pose is leaning over next to you, grabbing your entire face, and giving you a big kiss on the cheek

Favorite ride is Hyperspace Mountain, loves the thrill of it plus, it makes his hair look extra spikey because the wind pushes it back up

KAMINARI DENKI

You guys are such kids, after you guys went the first time, you came back so often and ultimately decided that it would be better to buy annual passes

Your guy’s Disney trips were always very spontaneous, to say the least

Kaminari would be like, “Hey babe, what if we go to Disneyland tomorrow?”

“Come again? You want to go to Disneyland tomorrow?”

“Yeah, why not? We haven’t been in awhile” He says, nonchalantly

Giving in to his pouting, that’s how the two of you usually end up at the parks

You go so often you basically have a routine down

You two take turns doing everything; driving, paying for parking, paying for food, etc

During the drive there, you guys are singing non-stop. For some reason, he knows almost all the lyrics to every single song, making you wonder how he can memorize all those words and somehow still have no clue how to remember a simple math formula

You guys also try to Disney Bound (basically, it’s a lowkey cosplay) most of the time, but if not, you guys will always wear matching outfits

Unlike most people, he actually really enjoys wearing the Mickey ears, he thinks he looks extra cute in them. You agree

His ride pose often changes, from ‘hitting the woah’ to literally bringing a prop on the ride, he just does whatever he thinks is funny

But you often collaborate with each other while waiting in line to decide what pose you should do together; if no ideas come up, throwing up a peace sign is the standard move

Favorite ride to go on is Splash Mountain, hands down. He always asks to sit in the front. For some reason, he loves the feeling of getting absolutely fucking drenched

As a tradition, you two always make it your last ride of the night. Since it’s colder, there’s really not much of a wait, meaning you guys have an entire log to yourselves and can pretty much go on it as many times as your hearts desire

TODOROKI SHOUTO

You were aware that Todoroki had probably never been to Disneyland before, considering he spent most of his childhood training

So when you asked him if he’s ever actually gone to the parks, he was like, “Isn’t that the amusement park who has a rat as their mascot? His name is Mikey, right?”, “So, Elsa has an ice quirk too?”

You swore that this boy would be the death of you

You were quick to educate him on all things Disney, telling him stories of when you were younger and how they were some of your fondest memories as a kid

Wanting your boyfriend to share the same experience as you, you eagerly suggested that the two of you must go together one day, and he seemed just as eager with his response

He said, “Okay then, let’s go this Saturday. It’s the weekend so we most likely won’t be busy anyways.”

“Uh Shouto, honey, I’d love to go but I’m pretty broke right now, tickets are expensive so it’ll probably take me a few weeks to save up for —“ you complained

He cut you off right there and says that he’ll pay for everything, whipping out Endeavor’s credit card

Why did he have that on him??

Before you could protest and scold him for using someone else’s card, it was too late because he already bought them

Once in the parks, he seems to be quite fascinated by everything, but his focus tends to stay on you, watching how excited you get over every little thing

You guys get matching ears, but he’s not too keen on wearing them. At most, he’ll wear it for pictures, but that’s about it. But he also can’t help but admire how cute you look in them

Buys you literally anything you want. Overpriced merchandise? Done. Overpriced food? You bet. Overpriced everything? Abso-fucking-lutely. Doesn’t care about the price, as long as you’re happy

Even if he doesn’t explicitly show it, he’s actually having a lot of fun!

Being in such a magical place with his favorite person in the world makes him want to go back, reliving those childhood moments he didn’t really have

Inevitably, he ends up upgrading your tickets to an annual pass

“You bought us annual passes?! Why did you do that, and when?!”

“I did it on the app, while you were in that long line for the bathroom.” He said, feigning innocence

You two end up going at least twice a month, if not more. Pretty much going there to just hang out and walk around

His poses for the rides aren’t really poses per se, it’s really just his poker face. Occasionally, you’ll pinch his cheeks to give a little flare to your photos

Favorite ride is Soarin’ Around The World. He likes the visual appeal. Plus, the orange scent smells really good

MIDORIYA IZUKU

Both of you guys were equally excited to go!

You two had planned to go for some time now, saving up enough money to buy tickets and acknowledging the fact that you guys would spend a lot on food and other things

Izuku is such a nerd that he basically makes an entire schedule of your guy’s stay, morning until night

He grabs a copy of the park map and actually brings a pen to circle which rides you guys want to go on throughout the day

He will definitely download the app in order to keep track of wait times

Plans for which rides you guys should go on first, taking into account the the events that people would be watching instead of waiting in lines, making the most of your time

“Okay, if the wait time for Radiator Springs Racers is 90 minutes, by the time we’re done, we should make it just in time to use our fastpass for Grizzly River Run…”

It kind of amazes you how articulate he was about this whole thing

“Wow, babe. I can’t believe you planned for all of that, I thought we were just going with the flow.” You said, teasing him for being such a nerd. How cute

His hero costume basically had bunny ears on them, so he didn’t complain about wearing the Mickey ears

You two take lots of pictures, you guys even wait in that long line to take that cliché couple photo in front of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle

Go-to pose varies depending on the ride, usually the camera catches him by surprise, so in almost all of the pictures, he looks like he’s about to cry

Doesn’t really have a favorite ride but his absolute favorite thing to do is to watch the fireworks towards the end of the night

He enjoys just sitting there and holding you close in his arms while you two watch the show and sing along to the music

♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜

Hope you liked these! Thank you for reading~

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buferfliz · 4 years ago

Text

I Love You More

Satori Tendou is my favorite Haikyuu character and I love him. This is rather self-indulgent but hopefully some people will like it. This should have been posted around Christmas but oh well.

I made the banner.

Word count: 2663

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, Fluffy sweet fluff, some cheesy nicknames but i like them

Awakened by feathery touches all over your face, you flutter open your eyes and are greeted with the source of said touches. Your boyfriend continues to place light kisses all over your face before placing the final one on your lips.

“Good morning my paradise,” the red head lying next to you greets.

You smile at him.

“Good morning my love. To what do I owe this pleasant wakeup call?”

“I couldn’t help myself, you looked so cute and I just wanted to cover you in kisses. But I might also have had an ulterior motive.”

You raise an eyebrow at his response. Satori Tendou, your boyfriend of five years though you’d been friends since middle school, always was full of surprises big and small alike. It was part of the reason you loved him so much, life was never boring.

You give him a little peck on the lips.

“And what might this ulterior motive be?”

“Well, it snowed last night. It’s still snowing actually.” He animatedly tells you.

You smile at how excited he sounds over the snow.

“Well it is almost Christmas after all, perfect time for snow. I see you’re excited about it. Is there something you wanted to do?”

“Well I would like to snuggle under a blanket with you and drink hot cocoa, but first…” He trails off and gives you a mischievous little grin.

“But first what?” You cautiously ask.

Tendou clears his throat and begins to sing.

“Do you wanna build a snowman?”

“Oh no.”

“It doesn’t have to be a snowman.”

“Are you seriously singing Frozen to me right now?” You laugh.

“So what if I am? You know you love when I sing to you.” He gives you a flirty grin.

“Well you got me there. I do love your songs.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Do you wanna build a snowman?” He sings once more.

“Hmm, I don’t know.” You tease him.

He gives you a cute little pout.

“Aww, come on cupcake, please. I’ll make you some of my special homemade cocoa afterwards.”

Your eyes light up. Satori makes the best hot cocoa, you think as you smile.

“I would have said yes anyway but you promised me cocoa so now I’m going to hold you to it.” You give him a kiss on the lips before getting up to get dressed and ready for your outdoor playdate.

Ten minutes later you emerge from your bedroom. You walk through the twinkling glow of the lights on your decorated tree as you head to your front door. You take out all of the necessary outerwear from the closet and begin putting it on.

“Satori? I thought you wanted to build a snowman?” You call out when you don’t see him, having expected him to be all ready to go.

His voice rings out from the kitchen.

“Of course I do pumpkin. I was just getting everything out and set up for the cocoa later.”

He comes out of the kitchen with a couple of chocolates in his hand and pops one into his mouth before walking over to you.

“Do you want a piece?”

“Always. I love your chocolates but not as much as I love you.”

He smiles at you adoringly and puts the chocolate into your mouth before capturing your lips in a loving kiss.

“I love you more my paradise.” He says while looking at you as if you’re the only person in the world.

You smile at him. He was the sweetest person that you had ever met and you never did understand why people were always so mean to him when the two of you were younger. It pissed you off even just remembering it despite it being so long ago. Even now some people would occasionally look at him like he was some kind of freak and it pissed you off every time. Back in middle school you had been his only friend and you had ended up in quite a number of fights defending him from the bullies. You never regretted a single fight or the countless hours you’d spent in detention because of them. You’d never let anyone get away with being mean to the boy you loved. If you regretted anything it was the fact that it had taken until the first year of college for the two of you to become a couple. That didn’t matter now though because you were together and you’d never been happier.

“Are you ready?” You ask Tendou as you pull your hat on.

He finishes wrapping his unnecessarily long scarf around his neck and smiles.

“Yeah let’s go.”

You enter the front yard and spread out looking for the best place to build your snowman. As you scout the area, you glance up at the small house the two of you had moved into a couple of months prior and smile. It wasn’t anything big or fancy but it was warm and cozy and much bigger than the tiny one bedroom apartment you had moved into together after you graduated college a year and a half ago.

It looks pretty with the snow on the roof and the Christmas lights Satori outlined it in, you think as you admire the picture before you.

“I found the perfect spot pumpkin!” You hear your boyfriend excitedly call out.

You make your way over to his location and look around.

“You’re right, this is the perfect spot. Let’s get started.” You smile at him and begin forming the base of your snowman.

“It’s going to look great.” He enthusiastically replies before getting to work himself.

You finish shaping the head of your snowman and place it on top of the other two segments. You brush your gloves together to try and rid them of the excess snow before looking over at Tendou who is putting the head on top of the much taller snowman next to your own. He looks over at your snowman after he’s happy with the placement.

“Yours is missing something.” He says to you.

“Yeah, a face. So is yours.”

“No that’s not it. I mean yes they both need faces but yours is missing something else.”

You furrow your brow as you appraise your snowman. “What?”

He gives you a smirk before bending down and making two snowballs.

“You better not hit me with those.”

“No of course not cupcake. This is what yours is missing.”

He takes the two snowballs and affixes them next to each other on the middle segment of your snowman. You laugh as he smoothes them on.

“Seriously baby?”

“Yes. Yours is a snow woman.”

“Is that supposed to be me then? And this one is you, that’s why it’s so tall?”

“Exactly.” He smiles and kisses the tip of your nose.

“So it’s a snow couple of us. Cute.”

“Not just a snow couple.” Tendou quickly creates two smaller snowmen in front of the other two. “It’s a snow family.” He gives you a big smile.

“But we don’t have any kids.”

“Not yet but we will, right?”

“Yeah someday.”

“Hopefully someday soon.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Just how soon was he thinking? Though I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about us having a family of our own, you think to yourself.

“Hmm maybe but don’t you think we should at least be engaged first?”

“What are you talking about? We already are pumpkin.” He says with a smile.

You let out a laugh.

“Satori love, I don’t think you proposing when we were 12 counts, even if I did say yes. That candy ring was delicious though.”

He laughs.

“Only the best for my paradise.”

You laugh together as you reminisce on the fond memory,

“Ok. I’m going to go inside and get some stuff for the faces. You look for arm sticks.”

You nod your head and begin your search as he heads inside to get supplies.

Ten minutes later you have successfully found arm sticks for all the snowmen even some small ones for your snow children. Tendou still hasn’t come back outside and you begin to wonder what could be taking him so long. You decide to add a snow cat to your happy little snow family while you wait.

Ten minutes after that you were just about to go inside and see what was taking so long when he finally emerges from the house with a little box of assorted supplies. Buttons for the eyes, carrots for the noses.

“Is that red licorice?” You ask.

“Yeah it’s for the mouths and here’s some tinsel for your snow woman’s hair. And that’s not all.” With dramatic flair he presents to you a bag of red feathers.

“Oh I remember those. You had to have them when we were at the craft store. Is that what took you so long?”

“Yeah I had to look for them. I told you I’d use them.” He takes some of the longer ones out and begins placing them on the top of his snowman’s head, sticking straight up. You laugh.

“It really does look like your hair.”

He smiles at you and nods proudly as he continues decorating.

You pick up the buttons and get to work on your snow woman’s face as a shiver runs through you. Tendou notices.

“Why aren’t you wearing a scarf pumpkin?”

“Because I need a new one, I lost mine.”

“Well then come here.”

“What are you doing?”

“There’s a reason why I wear such a long scarf you know, it’s so I can share it with you.” He unwinds some of his unnecessarily long scarf from around his neck and wraps it around you.

You smile. “We’re going to have to stay close together then.”

“That’s just how I like it so no complaints from me.” He happily responds.

You stay close and finish up your snow family. You take a few pictures and then hurry inside out of the cold.

The two of you change out of your wet clothing and into something warm and dry before going into the kitchen.

You perch yourself on a barstool as Tendou gets to work making the hot cocoa. Before long he’s placing a steaming mug of it, complete with mini marshmallows, in front of you.

“Would you like a cupcake, cupcake?” He smiles.

“When did you make cupcakes?”

“This morning before I woke you up. They’re your favorite.”

Your face lights up.

“Funfetti?”

“Of course.”

“You’re too good to me, my love.”

He hands you one of the cupcakes before taking one for himself. The two of you spend the next few minutes quietly eating cupcakes and drinking cocoa.

“Mmm, so good.” You say as you enjoy your sweets.

You tilt your head back a bit and place the last piece of cupcake into your mouth when you notice something hanging from the ceiling.

“Is that mistletoe?” You ask after swallowing what’s in your mouth.

You look over to see a smiling Tendou looking back at you.

“Maybe.”

You smile and lean over, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

“When did you even hang that?” You look back up at the mistletoe when you spot something attached to it.

“Is that a piece of paper?”

“Maybe.” He smirks. “You should grab it and see.”

“You know I can’t reach that.”

He grabs ahold of you and gives you a boost so you can reach the paper. You retrieve it and he puts you back down.

“Should I be worried?” You chuckle as you unfold the paper.

“Just read it.” He tells you with a chuckle of his own.

“Ok.” You fully unfold the paper and read aloud. “I am just the first of many hints to lead you on your search. To find clue number two, go to the place where you poo.”

You laugh out loud.

“Seriously love?”

“Yeah I couldn’t think of anything else that rhymed.” He says a bit sheepishly.

“Well I know where it is without question.” You lace your fingers with his and kiss the back of his hand before making your way to the bathroom.

You look up and see another mistletoe with another piece of paper.

“I’m going to need your help again, baby.”

“Not so fast pumpkin, where’s my kiss?”

You shake your head and go onto your tiptoes as he leans down. You give him another sweet kiss. He smiles at you and helps you to retrieve the next paper. You unfold it and read.

“Great job, you’re halfway there, now onto clue number three. I know what you’re thinking and it’s not a trap just go to the place where you like to nap.”

You smile and take hold of his hand again and head into the living room.

“You couldn’t put it over the couch so I could reach it?”

“Now where would be the fun in that? You know what to do.”

You put your arms around his neck as his hands make their way onto your hips. You give him a more passionate kiss this time before breaking away. He gives you another boost and you grab the next clue.

“Only one more left so don’t get feisty, go to the place where we make things spicy.”

You look over at your boyfriend who is wearing a teasing little smirk.

“Well I know where this is leading.” You give him a peck on the cheek. “This is fun. Thank you baby.”

Taking his hand once more, you head into the bedroom. You spot the mistletoe above the bed.

“Ah finally one I can reach on my own.” You look at Tendou. “You put all these up when you came in here to get the stuff for our snow family, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, you caught me. I wanted to surprise you so I couldn’t let you see them before I was ready.”

“You’re so freakin’ cute.” You smile and then climb onto the bed and retrieve the last paper.

“It seems you’ve come to the end of the line, now turn around cupcake and look me in the eye.”

You do as the note says and face Tendou. He helps you down off the bed before getting down on one knee in front of you. He holds your left hand as your right one goes to your mouth, eyes widening in surprise.

“I love you my paradise. I have ever since I proposed to you when we were 12. You’re the only one who has always been there for me, the only one who stuck up for me when I was being called monster and freak. You’ve always made me feel like a person and that I was loved, loved by you. I’m not sure how I got lucky enough to have someone as amazing as you love me but I’m so grateful that I do. You’re my everything. All I could ever ask for and more. I promise to always take care of you and love you with all I have from now until the rest of forever. Will you marry me?”

Your eyes well up with happy tears, a few escaping down your cheeks and you smile.

“I said yes then and I’m saying yes now. Of course I’ll marry you Satori, I love you so much, ever since we were 12. Always have, always will.”

He stands up and pulls you to him. You share a loving kiss as you hug each other tightly.

“I even got you a real ring this time.” He slips the ring onto your finger.

You let out a little chuckle and look at it.

“It’s beautiful my love.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

“You’re the sweetest and I love it! Even if I can’t eat it this time.”

Tendou laughs and pulls you against him more tightly. He gives you another sweet kiss.

“I love you my miracle boy.”

“I love you more my paradise.”

#satori tendou #tendou satori #tendou #satori tendo #hq tendou #haikyuu!!#haikyu #tendou fluff

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remus-moonyylupin · 4 years ago

Text

Traitor Traitor Traitor

Remus trekked across the snowy lane, dragging his feet slightly as he went. He wasn’t entirely sure he should be going to their graves in the first place but he knew deep down he owed it to them. Before he knew it, he arrived at the quaint row their polished headstone sat in.

He looked down upon it with an empty stare. There were their names, James and Lily Potter, etched into the smooth stone. Proof they were actually gone.

Remus sank to his knees and took a deep rasping breath. He’d been having a lot of those rasping breaths lately. He had to keep reminding himself to breathe, the war was over. But the war wasn’t over. Not really. Not for Remus. He was still in the rubble, grasping at the broken pieces. a war raged inside him. A raging, despair filled war.

The snow soaked through the knees of his trousers as he kneeled there, staring. He reached out and traced James’ name with a gloved finger. He was shaking, he realized. He hadn’t shaken quite so hard in a while.

“Remus? Can we talk?” James’ timid voice had come from outside the bathroom door.

Remus finished brushing his teeth quickly and pulled on his pajamas. “Mm?” he hummed from inside, still fiddling with his night shirt, attempting to hide his scars as much as possible. He pushed open the door to find the other 3 marauders standing in a solemn group, staring him down.

“Umm… everything all right lads?” he asked timidly. He could sense the tension, smell peter’s fear, practically taste james’ adrenaline. He shook his head slightly as if to shake away the tiny remnants of the wolf. The full moon was only two nights before and he still felt a bit animal-like.

James cleared his throat. “We wanted to ask you a question, er. Actually more of a statement? What i’m trying to say is-“

“Remus, are you a werewolf?” Sirius cut him off.

“A- am I a wha- no pfft of course not how would you, er- uhm” Remus spluttered helplessly. He saw the look on their faces and knew they knew. His hesitation, his inability to keep cool had given it all away. They knew. He felt his knees buckle and sat down hard on his bed, his head in his hands.

“So I suppose I’ll be leaving school then. Sorry for lying to you, lads. I’ll start packing.” He stood up abruptly and began grabbing his things and throwing them in his trunk.

“Whoa whoa what’re you doing?! you can’t leave!” Sirius said.

“Well of course I can. I’m dangerous. I’m- I’m a monster!” Remus exclaimed, throwing a thick jumper into his trunk.

James snatched up the jumper and placed his hands on Remus’ shoulders, shaking him lightly. “You’re not a monster, Remus.”

Remus shot james a look that said ‘don’t test me’ and grabbed the jumper back.

“Oh come off it, mate. You can’t leave! Who’ll do my charms notes?” Peter looked exasperated.

Remus folded his arms across his chest defensively, refusing to believe they were being serious. When had anyone ever been okay with his condition? His own father wasn’t okay with it for Godric’s sake! “So you’re telling me you aren’t the least bit afraid of me? You lot are completely okay with a literal monster sleeping in your dorm every night?”

Sirius burst out laughing. “Remus, you fold your socks. You have your books alphabetized on your shelf. I am not the least bit afraid of you.”

Remus looked around at the three of them all nodding fiercely in agreement, an incredulous look on his face. Were they really okay with it?

“Yes mate, we’re serious. We’re sure. We promise.” James said with a firm nod as if he could read Remus’ mind.

“Literally,” Sirius grinned.

Remus smiled. They accepted him. They actually accepted him.

He looked at the small array of flowers laying at the base of the cold, smooth stone and smiled sadly. Lilies. James had always made sure Lily had her flower on Valentine’s day. Remus took out his wand and conjured a small bouquet of lilies. He laid them gently beneath Lily’s name. Lily. The first girl to be friends with him without trying to snog him. Lily. Wonderful, smiling Lily.

“Oi! Evans!”

Lily rolled her eyes and ducked her head behind the open book in her lap. “What d’you want, Potter?” she sighed.

James grinned and stood up, dusting off his robes as he did so. “Oh c’mon Evans. Can’t even bother to look at me anymore?” he teased.

She snapped the book shut and flashed him a smile before returning her features to her usual ‘I’m so done with your shit’ face that she used when addressing James.

He smiled even wider and ruffled his hair. “Will you go out with me?”

She laughed and stood up. “Eow not even a pick up line this time! How charming, but unfortunately I’m going to have to decline. Again.”

James’ shoulders slouched and he flopped down onto the sofa in front of the common room fireplace next to Sirius. Sirius threw an arm around James’ shoulders and patted his back. “Next time mate,” he said with a solemn nod. James grumbled something that sounded like “fat chance.”

“Remus are we still going to the library? I need to look at a few books for that transfiguration essay,” Lily asked, snapping back to business as usual.

“Yeah sounds great.” Remus said, jumping up from his spot in the comfy chair adjacent to the couch James was now sulking on. “I’ll bring my notes so you can look off of those too. I need to look at some things for Care of Magical Creatures. Trying to get a head start on revisions this year,” he said as he grabbed various scraps of parchment and shoved them into his bag.

He slung the strap onto his shoulder and smiled at Lily. “All set?” she asked.

Remus nodded and they set off to the library. He snuck a look back at the others and saw a flabbergasted James staring after him. “How? Bloody how?” James said, shaking his head. Remus chuckled and kept walking.

Lily and Remus walked side by side for a while until Lily broke the silence. “Dunno what you see in those dorks.”

Remus bumped his shoulder against hers playfully. “Aw they’re not so bad. A bit immature but they’re family you know?”

She smiled. “yeah I know. That's sorta how it is with Mary and Marls. I love ‘em to death but I can only take so much girl talk.”

“It’s not just the girls! Bloody hell, all I hear about is ‘what’s all the fuss about snogging, Sirius?’ and ‘well once you get the hang of it, it’s great James. you’ll get there, mate, don’t worry.’ it’s all any of them talk about!”

Lily smirked. “Good to hear I'm not the only one getting an earful.”

They laughed and then were quiet for a moment. “It’s not so bad, though,” Remus said thoughtfully. “You know James really likes you?”

Lily looked up, surprised. “Remus you know I-“

“No I know, Lils. Ijust thought you should know he’s not teasing. He really likes you. Talks about you all the time. And of course you don’t have to feel the same but-“

Lily cut him off by grabbing his hand and swinging it between them. “It's okay, Rem. I like James too.”

Remus looked at her and grinned. “Lily! That’s brilliant!”

“Mm yes… but I’m going to mess with him a bit. Now that I know he’s smitten,” she smirked.

Remus smiled and they walked into the library together, still hand in hand.

Remus looked at the headstone in front of him and then glanced about at the others. He realized how many people had died. He wondered how many had died young and unfairly like Lily and james. He wondered how many had had their chance at life ripped away from them so quickly it felt like the world itself was against them. He thought of James and Lily and Marlene and Dorcas and Peter. Poor, nervous Peter. He'd tried so hard to help out in the war. And now he was gone too. Killed by sirius.

Sirius. Remus clenched and unclenched his fist at his side. Sirius. He couldn’t help but feel a squeeze around his heart at the thought of Sirius. stupid, buggering Sirius. Remus hated that he’d trusted him. He hated that Sirius had been the spy all along. He hated that he didn’t see it coming. But most of all Remus hated that he couldn’t stop loving him. No matter how much he cursed his name and couldn’t stand what he’d done, he still loved him.

“He’s a traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor,” he whispered and shook himself slightly. Every memory together was tainted, every happy moment shared, every argument and smile and laugh. All tainted by Sirius’ betrayal. And yet Remus still loved him.

Remus supported a very drunk Sirius, one of Sirius’ hands gripping Remus’ shoulder tightly.

“Sirius,” Remus said, taking the sloshing cup from the smaller boy’s free hand, “You’re drunk.”

Sirius smiled benignly and reached for the cup. “No ‘m not, Moony. You’re drunk!” he said thickly.

Remus smiled. “Sure, Padfoot. I’m so drunk I just fell into my best friend.”

Sirius laughed and slumped into Remus a bit more. Remus guided them both to a large armchair and they sat down, smushed up against one another.

Sirius laid his head against Remus’ shoulder absently. “Remus?”

“Mm?” He looked sideways at the top of Sirius’ head, but Sirius didn’t look up. Drunk wanker.

“You’re so… you’re just so great.”

“Are you attempting to compliment me?”

“I’m just saying,” he said quietly. “You’re so cool Remus. You’re… you’re beautiful.”

Remus tilted his head back to get a look at Sirius who was wearing a dopey look. “Sirius… you’re drunk.”

“Maybe. But i’m right.”

“Remus?”

“Mm?”

“D’you think my family hates me?”

Remus curled his arm around Sirius more protectively. “Course they don’t hate you. They just can’t see all your greatest qualities. But I can” Remus smiled into Sirius’ hair.

Sirius curled up and made himself small against the other boy. “Just can’t shake the feeling they hate me. I know I shouldn’t care what they think after what they did to me but-“

“It’s okay, Sirius. They’re your family. It’s their fault what happened when you were little. And it’s their loss that they can’t see how amazing you are.”

Sirius rolled over and searched Remus’ eyes for the truth. He smiled slightly and said, Thanks, Rem.”

Remus hugged Sirius close to him and they just laid there like that for a while, curling into one another. It was comforting to be held like that.

“Hey Remus?” Sirius spoke into Remus’ chest. Remus could feel his warm breath against his bare skin.

“Mm?”

“I’m mental about you.”

Remus felt a blush creep up his neck. “I’m mental about you too.”

Sirius came bursting through the portrait hole with such a clatter remus thought he must’ve been chased by a pack of elephants.

“Moony!”

Remus looked up from his book and nearly fell out of his chair. Sirius was standing there wearing one of Mary's mini skirts and one of remus’ jumpers. And bloody hell he looked hot. Sirius smirked, apparently happy with the reaction he’d received and sauntered over to the chair Remus was seated in.

“Heya there, Moony. How’s your book?”

Remus laughed and slammed the book shut. “Hiya Padfoot. I see you’ve been raiding closets again.” The words came out easily once he’d recovered from the initial shock.

“I look just stunning, don't I?” Sirius laughed.

“You always look stunning, Pads.”

Sirius looked momentarily taken aback but then straightened up and flipped his beautiful hair over one shoulder. “I know.”

Remus laughed and scooted over, pulling Sirius by the waist into the large chair to sit with him.

A brown barn owl swooped through the open window in the common room Remus was smoking through and dropped an envelope into his lap.

“Got mail, Moony?” Peter asked from the floor without looking away from his chess board.

Remus puffed smoke and picked up the envelope. “Yeah from mum.”

Peter didn’t respond. Remus could tell without looking he was planning the perfect winning strategy. Peter was a god at wizard chess.

The werewolf stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill and ripped open the envelope. Inside were two sheets of parchment. One with his mother’s neat cursive dancing across the page and the other with his father’s messy, scribbly writing sprawled across it. He picked up the sheet with his mum’s writing first.

Dearest Remus,

My dear baby boy. You’ve known I've been sick for some time. It’s a muggle disease, one with no cure. You’ve known this from the start. I'm so sorry everything was so sudden, my starshine. I'm afraid things have gotten worse since you’ve been at school. I regret not writing more often, I miss seeing your lovely notes and hearing the stories of you and your friends. I don’t have much time, my love. They’re moving me to hospice tomorrow. Your father says he can arrange a visit with Mcgonagall soon. I love you, my starshine. You make every day a gift. See you soon, love.

Love,

Mum

Remus set down the letter with trembling hands. No. No this couldn’t be happening. He attempted to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat and picked up the second sheet, feeling shakier than he ever had before.

Dear Remus,

Your mother has passed away. I'm sorry you couldn’t say goodbye, she died in her sleep the night they moved her into hospice and I didn't have a chance to post her letter. I'm very sorry, my dear boy. The funeral will be this friday. Mcgonagall has been contacted and plans will be made. I love you, son.

See you soon,

Dad

Remus stared down at the piece of parchment blankly. His mum was dead? So suddenly? It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real.

He suddenly felt a surge of anger at his father. He didn’t have time to post her letter?! She was dying and he knew it! I’m her son! I had a right to say goodbye! Remus’ cheeks grew hot and he was in danger of breaking down right there on the windowsill.

The portrait hole opened and sirius stepped through, his face lighting up in a radiant smile when he saw Remus.

“Moony!” Remus looked at Sirius, panic and pain written all over his face. “Oh moony, what’s happened?” Sirius rushed over but the tears had already begun to fall. Sirius glanced around at the half-full common room and helped Remus down from the windowsill, gathering the letters and guiding him upstairs.

Remus was glad. He hated breaking down like this. Hardly anyone ever saw his emotions. anyone except Sirius.

“Moony…” Sirius searched his face but all he found was sorrow. “Oh Moony you poor love, what’s happened?” he asked softly.

Remus shook his head and pointed to the parchment clutched in Sirius’ hands. He read through the first one quickly and looked up at Remus. “Oh love, it’s gonna be okay. We can go talk to Mcgonagall and-“

“Read the second letter.” Remus’ voice sounded hollow.

Sirius gulped and bowed his head to read the second letter, his dark hair falling forward in silky sheets.

When he finished he silently set down the parchment and crawled onto Remus’ bed. He reached out his arms and pulled the werewolf close.

“It’s going to be okay, love. It’s going to be okay,” Sirius whispered into his ear, stroking his honey colored curls.

Remus curled into himself, making himself small. He rarely curled up like that, but right then it felt nice to be held so tightly. He made himself small and cried. His mum was gone. He'd never felt such sorrow.

“Hey Remus?” Sirius said quietly. “I love you”

“I love you too,” Remus croaked in response.

Remus stared blankly at the etched words in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. I'm sorry James and Lily, I can't stop loving him. I want to but I can't. I hate myself for it. I just-“ he took a heaving breath, tears threatening to spill over. “I need time. And I'm so so sorry. I wish you guys were here.”

Remus stood up and brushed his trousers off with his hands. The snow left two dark wet marks on his knees. He wiped his eyes and left the way he came. He knew he shouldn’t have visited. He knew it was a bad idea.

They’re really gone. And he’s really a traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. stop loving him, Remus. Stop loving him. Traitor traitor traitor.

#marauders #hogwarts #sirius orion black #remus john lupin #wolfstar #james peter remus sirius #james potter #lily evans #lily potter #jily fanfiction #jily angst #wolfstar angst #oneshot #flashback #fiction #fanfiction

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roxa-sos · 4 years ago

Text

before you go - jj maybank

jj maybank x ex-pogue!reader

tw; it’s a lil angsty (n o, it’s pretty angsty) mention of sex. sad sad. v sad.

request: “can you write an imagine with jj based on the song before you go by lewis capaldi”

a/n -- i don’t listen to lewis capaldi but this song is really good?? like i listened to it once and just. damn. i LOVE writing song fics bc i can’t write unless i have music playing, so plsplspls send more requests for songs :)

i fell by the wayside like everyone else i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, but i was just kidding myself our every moment, i start to replace ‘cause not that they’re gone, all i hear are the words that i needed to say

you grew up in the outer banks. an only child, the pogue’s golden girl, best friends with jj maybank since you were ten. you were the golden girl of the outer banks. cool enough to hang around the pogues and be one yourself, but hot enough to have some kook eyes on you. peaceful, funny, but you always declined when people chased after you.

jj maybank had a shitty dad. a deadbeat mom. but he was your best friend. you had millions of memories of you two at the beach, him teaching you to surf when you were twelve, the two of you being the worst and best things that had ever happened to your side of the island.

when you were fifteen, you could’ve sworn you knew love. your love for your best friend, your love for the dumb boy that woke you up at six in the morning so he could sneak out before your parents found out he spent the night. the boy who made you a pothead. the boy who consumed all of your free time.

but you’d always been too scared to pursue him.

so, you fell into the hands of another guy. he was kind of an ass to your friends, but you thought he really cared about you. he brought you flowers, took you to the drive in, spent nights with you, and kissed you until your lips were swollen.

jj hated you for it. he always thought you were replacing him with your boyfriend, and he didn’t like you focusing on someone other than him. he wanted to be the guy who held you on his lap when he was driving the boat, he wanted to be the guy you clung onto at movies, he wanted to be the guy who kissed you until you were out of breath.

but he wasn’t.

after six months with your boyfriend, you dad delivered the worst news you’d ever heard. a relocation to upstate new york. and all of the sudden, time slipped through your hands.

when you hurt under the surface like troubled water running cold well, time can heal but this won’t

you told all of the pogues except for jj.

he hadn’t talked to you unless he had to in months.

he found out through john b, and he cried. cried angrily after storming out of the chateau, sitting down on the bank next to the lake. he didn’t have any more time with you.

so, before you go was there something i could’ve said to make your heart beat better? if only i’d known you had a storm to weather

you knew you had three months left in the outer banks. you made the most of your time left with your boyfriend, but jj slowly started coming back to you for company.

you still hadn’t told him. but he was back.

you were spending your days and nights with your friends and your boyfriend, and every moment you spent packing was time spent crying your eyes out.

you were leaving everything you’d ever known.

but you had jj back, and that made everything seem a little bittersweet. he was coming back to you after all this time, and he didn’t even know you didn’t have any time left together. or so you thought.

was there something i could’ve said to make it all stop hurting? it kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless so, before you go

“i’m leaving in a month” was how you told jj. it was almost like he already knew, but he had to leave when you told him. and he cried again, the damn boy cried right outside the room you were standing in, breaking your heart. he muttered things to himself, talking about how he was wasting time, but you pretended like you didn’t hear.

and then, a week before you left, you were spending the night with your boyfriend while your parents were hanging out with friends. jj was at your door, and you had to step outside to talk to him.

“i’m fucking in love with you.”

you didn’t know what to say to him.

“i have been. for years. and you just... got with him. and i couldn’t say anything, because i want you to be happy, but i can’t keep it to myself knowing that i’m... i’m fucking losing you.”

you never said anything to him, but you hugged him. and he left.

when you went inside, your boyfriend broke it off with you. you both knew it was coming, seeing as neither of you could do long distance like that, and he knew you wouldn’t be able to stay committed to someone that you couldn’t have.

and you were alone. you were alone until you had twenty four hours left in paradise on earth.

your last night there, you got drunk as hell. you smoked, and the pogues held their little goodbye party for you. at the end of it, when kie had to go home, and pope’s dad picked him up, and john b left you and jj to have your bittersweet ending, you kissed jj. you kissed him hard, and he kissed you back.

you’d probably remember every bit of that night for the rest of your life.

his hands started on your face, pulling yours into his, then they slid down to hold your waist to make sure you didn’t get away from him in those last hours you had. he hated himself for letting you get away from him for all of those months. he hated you for getting a boyfriend. but he couldn’t spend the rest of that time hating things.

so he loved you instead. it could be classified as a hookup, but it meant more to both of you. by the time you two were laying next to each other in his bed at the chateau, looking up at the ceiling, sweaty and with marks forming on your neck, you were crying. sobbing, you had a breakdown. you couldn’t get those months back. neither could he, but all he could do was hold you and try to make you feel better.

you agreed to stay in contact before you left. you two were going to try to make long distance stuff work. the pogues were all outside your house the day you were supposed to put your suitcase in your dad’s car and drive to the ferries.

you leaned out the car window, watching them get smaller and smaller as the car drove. jj followed the car for a little bit until he knew it was hopeless, keeping his eyes on you until your dad told you to sit down.

was never the right time, whenever you called went little by little until there was nothing at all our every moment, i start to replay but all i can think about is seeing that look on your face

you and jj left it off on a bad note. you didn’t get your awkward morning after having sex across the hall from john b. you didn’t get a sweet first kiss. it all hurt. but you both tried to get over it as you started off with facetimes once you settled down in your new home.

it always hurt to see him, though. he agreed. you switched to phone calls, scheduled them so you could get ready to hear him.

he missed half of them. in your heart, somewhere, you knew he was moving on.

so were you.

back home, he was beating himself up when he flirted with other people. when he spent his time with someone that wasn’t you. but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to hear your voice, much less see your face. he was trying to replace every bad feeling thinking of you gave him, but that meant replacing every moment you two had.

you were doing the same. finding new people. none of them would ever match jj and the pogues, but you were trying. you held onto everything you had left of jj, but you knew his time in your life was over, or coming to an end.

would we be better off by now if i’d have let my walls come down? maybe, i guess we’ll never know you know, you know

the last phone call you two shared ended with tears, but you both knew it was for the best.

you confided in each other. it hurt, and you told him. he told you the same.

“i should’ve said something.” he practically shouted, frustrated with himself.

“i should’ve said something, too.” you laughed halfheartedly, choking back another sob. it had been a few months since you’d called, but you needed to have a clean cut. not let things linger.

“i miss you.” all he ever had to say was that he regretted everything he did. all he ever had to say was that he missed you.

“i miss you too, but you know we’re over, j. i love you.”

“i love you too.” and then the static of the connection cut, and you knew he was gone from you for good.

a/n -- i just realized that anon probably wanted this song request to be about mental health issues but this made me just as sad as that would’ve so like asldnlanwegvbolande holy FUCK this made my heart hurt.

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