#midnights celebration

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

maroon - l.h

midnights masterlist | lavender haze | anti-hero

summary: the three times you said no to his marriage proposal and the one time you didn't

warnings: alcohol

wordcount: 2.4k

You were in your second year at college. Yale had been your dream school for as long as you could remember and the first year had been a dream and now you had the second year to get ready for.

You were at a party when you stumbled into some guy and he spilled a glass of alcohol all over your shirt.

You looked at him in shock, staring down at the way that the red of the alcohol had splashed all over your little white dress.

There was a moment of silence as you both looked at one another. The stain was splashed all over your abdomen and he felt awful for it.

Some other boy walked over, gasping at the mess that had been made as he stood next to the blonde boy.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing a stack of tissues and placing the red wine down.

You scoffed. You recognised Logan Huntzberger instantly and you could not believe that this had just happened to you.

“Wow Logan, that’s a mess,” his friend said, “Not you sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he teased and you just shook your head.

You tried to dab at the stain with the tissues he had handed you but it wasn't working so you abandoned the idea, instead looking at him annoyed.

”How can I make it up to you?” He asked and his friend leaned on his shoulder, looking at the mess.

“You can buy me a new dress,” you said, trying to ignore the maroon stain that was growing against your stomach, the fabric sticking to your stomach.

His friend that leaned against his shoulder smiled, “He could offer his hand in marriage, that normally does it for me,” he joked.

“Ignore Colin,” Logan said with a smile before he looked at you, “Do you wanna marry me?”

You could feel your face heating up at the proposition but you had to hide your embarrassment and act as nonchalant as possible.

“No way Huntzberger,” you said before looking at his friend, “Does that actually work for you?”

he shrugged, “Ask the missus,”

“He’s kidding,” Logan said with a smile, “Send me the dress,” he pulled out a pen before grabbing your hand and writing his address onto the back of your hand, “And then I'll try to clean it, if not, I'll buy you a new one,”

“Thank you,” you said before walking to the door.

Colin looked at his friend and he realised that he had never seen that look on his face before. His friend had just fallen head over heels with some mystery girl.

“You’re gonna marry her mate,” he said.

Logan turned to him, eyes slightly wide, “you’re crazy,” he said, turning back to watch you leave because it hid the blush on his cheeks.

You turned back as you opened the door and he realised just how red your white dress had been stained. You waved at him, shooting him a smile and he waved back a little too enthusiastically.

Little did you know that tonight was going to be the start of a crazy relationship for you.

You could feel your knee shaking up and down, your hand pressing against your thigh to get it to stop. You were so worried about Logan that you couldn't even function right.

He had been on the trip with Colin and Finn when their stunt had gone wrong and now you were sitting here in a hospital waiting room, hoping that he would be okay but there was no news.

“Mrs Huntzberger?” A voice called out.

You turned around at the sound of your boyfriend's last name and then your brain computed to what they had just said. You looked around and realised nobody knew any difference so you just walked up to the woman, accepting the responsibility, “Oh, um, yes?”

The nurse gave her a smile before she gestured to the room, “You can go in now,” she said.

You nodded and took a deep breath before opening the door. You gasped when you saw it, hand going to your mouth to quiet yourself.

He looked so broken, blood drying slightly on his hairline and he was hooked up to all of these monitors. It broke your heart to see him like this and you sat down next to his bed, unable to take your eyes off of him.

They said he would wake up soon but you didnt mind sitting with him as he slept. With shaky hands, you reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of his face, smiling at the way his head instinctively moved towards you.

You didn't know how long you had been sitting there and staring at him, just making sure that he was really there and alive and wasn't a dream before he started to stir.

His eyes fluttered open and you were met with his gorgeous eyes. You let out a sigh of relief and his lips started to curl into a smile as he looked at you.

“Morning,” he muttered and you chuckled at the words, heart pounding in his chest.

“How do you feel?” You asked, reaching for his hand.

He shrugged his shoulders as much as he could, “The way most people feel when they fall off a cliff,” he teased and you shook your head.

This was not a laughing matter to you. You had nearly lost the love of your life all because he was an idiot and wanted to go out on some dumb adventure and you were so mad at him.

You had been mad ever since you had left your apartment, furious as you drove into New York and absolutely seething as they told you that he had a collapsed lung and listed off all of his other ailments.

But now, as you looked at him, you were just grateful that you got to be mad at him. Grateful that he would stay alive long enough for you to tell him how mad you are. But not now.

”I’m glad you’re alive,” you said and he nodded.

“Me too,” he smiled at you, lips pulling into a smirk, “I’m glad I get to look at your beautiful face again,” he tilted his head to the side, “I thought you’d be more angry,”

You scoffed, “I’m furious,” you said with a small laugh before shaking your head, “No time for that now though, lets just make sure you’re better,”

He nodded, lifting his hand up slowly and touching his cheek. You laughed to yourself before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The nurse walked in and looked at the two of you, a smile on her face.

“Mrs Huntzberger?” She asked.

Logan looked up at the nurse with wide eyes. He had not expected her to say that to you and before he could question it, he watched you stand up.

“Yes,” you replied with little hesitation, forgetting that he was in the room and that you weren’t actually married.

The nurse looked between the couple for a second, “We need to take some tests, see you in a second,”

“One second, I just need to tell my wife something,” Logan said, giving you a teasing smile. Although he was joking, he couldn't deny that the words seemed so normal as they fell off his tongue, like he was meant to say them.

The nurse nodded her head before walking out of the room and Logan looked up at you.

“Are we getting married, Mrs Huntzberger?” He questioned that signature smirk painting his lips.

You could feel your face warming up at embarrassment that he had found out what had happened. You had never meant for him to find out the ways that you had gotten into the room.

“It's the only way they'd let me in,” you tried to explain, embarrassment seeping out of your pores.

Logan did not seem fazed at the idea, his hand reaching out to grab yours, “You want to get married to me?”

“Not today,” you leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, “One day,” you stood up and walked towards the door, stopping and turning back to him with your hand on the handle, “one day,”

you repeated the sentiment under your breath before walking out. He was left in that room, cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling at the idea of one day making you his wife.

You two were sitting on the hardwood floor, looking at one another. He was leaving for London soon and you made work of your last few days together by drinking that cheap rose that Colin had bought you a while ago.

You were both totally drunk, asking yourself how you had ended up in this position, your feet in his lap, your head tucked into his shoulder as he sucked a mark into your neck.

“Marry me,” he whispered against the skin on your neck, thumb brushing against the bruise that would blossom there soon.

You felt giddy but the words nearly made you sober up. Marriage was a big commitment and after what had happened with your parents, you didn't know if it was ever a good idea.

You leaned into him, hand on his chest as you looked up, getting lost in his eyes for a second before you remembered what you were going to say, “No,”

“I love you, I'm gonna marry you one day,” he repeated the sentiment again and you smiled to yourself.

Although you had been together for nearly two and a half years and had gone through hundreds of ordeals together, the thought of marriage still scared you.

But as you looked into his eyes, both of you a little tipsy as you cuddled on the floor of his apartment, the smell of incense burning throughout your apartment, you knew that maybe it wouldn't be too bad of an idea.

“Okay,” you muttered, not believing it to be real.

“I'm serious. I'm gonna marry you,” he held your face in his hands, not taking his eyes off of you, “I will be your husband,”

You scoffed, still not believing him, “Maybe,”

“Thanks Mrs Huntzberger,” he teased and you stood up, brushing the dust off of yourself before reaching your hand out.

He took your hand, flashing you his signature toothy grin. You could feel your cheeks heating up at the thought of walking down the aisle towards him, that smile looking back at you.

“Let's get you to bed,” you muttered, pulling him up clumsily and he collapsed into your arms and suddenly, the idea of marriage didn't seem too bad.

Two days until graduation. The time was supposed to be relaxing but as you stood in the park where you had gone on your first date with Logan, it was anything but that.

“Excuse me?” You questioned, taking a step back as you looked at him there on one knee in front of you, the box open to reveal a gorgeous ring.

“Marry me?” He asked, not repeating his speech again.

You could feel your heart speeding up and that fear of marriage bubbled back up again and you had to take a few steps back to try and escape that feeling, he noticed that was something wrong and instantly closed the box, shoving it into his jacket pocket before rushing over to you, hands coming to your shoulders to try and smooth you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, not even asking why you were freaking out.

You shook your head, “I need some time,” you managed to stutter out and he nodded his head.

You hated how patient he was with you. It would be easier for Logan to yell at you then for you to have to see that disappointed stare.

Before you even realised what you were doing, you were running in the opposite direction and you didn't stop until you could feel your lungs begging for air.

That was two days ago.

Now you were standing alone at your graduation. You hadnt talked since that day and you didnt know what you were going to do when you saw him but now he was standing there in front of you so you had very few choices.

You gave him a half hearted smile and walked over. He was holding a bouquet of roses in his hands and you didn't know what to say.

“Yours was better than my graduation, I was slightly tipsy an-” he started to say but you could not deal with the small talk.

“Stop,” you said.

He went silent instantly and you could see that similar look of disappointment in his eyes.

Logan reached his hand out, taking yours in his and holding it tight, “Please don't say no,” he begged.

You could feel tears pricking in your eyes, “Logan,” you muttered but he just shook your head before you could say anything.

He knew that he could convince you. You two were perfect together and he didnt know what he would do if he were to lose you.

“You said no when I asked you when I was drunk, you said no last night, you said n-” he started to say and you cut him off.

“Yes,” you stated.

His mouth clamped shut. He looked at you with those big wide eyes. Logan had believed that it would take longer to convince you but clearly this had been your answer the whole time.

“I wanna marry you,” you said, just to reinforce your promise.

He chuckled, that big pearly white grin that you loved appearing, “Serious?” He questioned.

“I want that avocado tree and I want that house and I've applied for some jobs I'm teaching in the Silicon Valley area,” you explained.

He didn't even hesitate to kiss you, dipping you slightly as he revelled in the amazing moment that was occurring. This was all he had ever wanted.

When you both pulled away from the kiss, smiling against each other's lips, he pulled the ring out from his pocket with shaky hands.

You grinned at him as he slipped the ring onto your finger, both of you taking a second to admire the look of it

You kissed him again, unable to stay away from him, “We're getting married,” you muttered against his lips.

“We are-” he kissed you again before pulling away, a smirk on his face, “-Mrs Huntzberger,”

[moghedien]

[k2-truther]

MIDNIGHT ALLEY HYPE!!!

...through Celestial Spear on the gameboy?

(So, fun fact, I started these shortly after Celestial spear dropped but unfortunately lost steam on em'. Then I saw Jacob doing pixel Drawtectives and, well. You know I had to finish up these bad boys! And when better to drop these bad boys than to celebrate SEASON 3 BAYBEE!!!!!!

Also if you saw me post and delete the wrong version of this post, no you didn't.)

[pardonmydelays]

this is the only correct way to listen to scaled and icy btw

[akiacia]

25th festivities! and the many occasions ahead 🎂🥂

[hits-differently]

[arttsuka]

Unnecessary... feelings?!?

[delta-piscium]

Steddie | 1.7k words it is (swedish) midsummer so I wrote this based on my favorite old tradition because I can and will make anything steddie, so like glad midsommar (happy midsummer)

“What are you doing?” Steve asks as he follows Eddie to the hallway where he’s frantically putting on his shoes. 

“I almost forgot,” he mutters under his breath not acknowledging Steve at all.

“Forgot what?” 

“I can’t believe I almost forgot.” 

“Eddie,” Steve says a little louder, more adamant.

He does look up at Steve then and almost looks surprised to see him. As if he’d forgotten he was there, as if they haven’t been hanging out for hours. 

“Oh,” he says. “Uhm,” he squints at Steve who waits for him to continue, to explain. He doesn’t.

“Yes?” Steve implores because he would really like an explanation. Eddie had just abruptly stood up halfway through telling Steve about some folklore he’s using in his new campaign, just cut himself off mid-sentence and walked off. Steve doesn’t think it’s especially weird or demanding of him to have questions. 

“Did you have other plans that you just now remembered?” Steve frowns, starting to feel unsure when Eddie still isn’t saying anything. It’s just past eleven at night and Steve doesn’t know what plans those would be but he had showed up unannounced earlier in the evening so it’s not impossible that Eddie had plans that Steve interrupted. 

“No, no, no,” Eddie assures him finally breaking his silence, “it’s- okay it’s a little silly but I read this thing researching and I want to try it.” 

And well, okay then.

Steve raises his eyebrows and waves his hand gesturing for Eddie to go on. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light pink and he resolutely looks somewhere above Steve’s shoulder instead of at him. 

“Midsummer, which is today, is supposed to be this magical night and there are all these traditions and old myths about it.” 

Eddie glances at Steve and he smiles. Tries to show he’s listening and wants to know whatever thing Eddie read about. 

“And well, okay so there’s this one tradition where you pick seven different kinds of flowers before you go to bed and then put them under your pillow and you’re supposed to dream about who you’re gonna spend your life with.” 

Steve blinks, wasn’t expecting that and doesn’t know what to say about it, so, he blinks again. 

“Maybe it’s dumb, but with all we’ve seen magic and folklore don’t seem so far-fetched and,” he shrugs, “I wanna try. And like, it’s close to midnight and I don’t know if that’s a rule but I don’t wanna risk messing it up.”

“It- huh,” Steve frowns slightly and looks at his shoes then back at Eddie. “Yeah alright, let’s do it. Can’t hurt right?” 

His voice is light, like it’s not a big deal and just a fun thing Eddie read about because that’s what it is, isn’t it? But something about it settles deep in Steve’s gut. Makes it feel important in a way he’s not sure he could explain if he tried. Maybe it’s just the fact that Eddie is getting so worked up about the possibility of dreaming about the person he’s gonna spend his life with when Steve maybe a little bit wishes it would be him, but like, only a little. 

Eddie looks at him with wide eyes like he didn’t expect Steve to want to join, like maybe he expected Steve to make fun of him for wanting to do it. But then something seems to switch in him and a slow smile spreads over his face and he gives Steve an exaggerated once over. 

“Looking to find your true love huh, Harrington?” 

“I thought you said it was the person you spend your life with, not the same as true love necessarily.” Steve quips back because technicalities are easier to argue over than answering that question, especially when Eddie is the one asking.

Eddie shrugs. “Different sources say different things, sometimes it’s true love sometimes it’s who you marry.” 

“Well, then I guess we’re both looking to find our true loves?” Steve hedges, drags Eddie down with him if they’re gonna go there. 

A soft look passes Eddie’s face before a responds, voice quieter. “Guess we are, yeah.” 

They pick their flowers in silence, something about the magic being broken if you speak. Walking around the edge of the woods behind Eddie’s trailer a couple of feet apart, every once in a while coming together or crossing paths. 

After, Steve stands in between Eddie’s trailer and his own car. Holding on to his bouquet of seven flowers unsure what to do. He could go home, he should go home, but he doesn’t want to. He did have some beers hours ago and if he was allowed to speak he’d use that as an excuse to not drive and ask Eddie to crash on his couch. Right now he can’t though so he sighs inwardly and turns to his car. 

He makes it about two steps before a hand reaches out and grips him around his free wrist stopping him. When he turns around Eddie is giving him a look that very clearly says ‘stop being stupid’ and jerks his head towards the trailer silently telling Steve to go with him. He doesn’t let go though and uses his grip on Steve to drag him along like he can’t be sure Steve will actually listen and follow. As if Steve would ever not follow Eddie. 

They quickly get ready for bed. And again when Steve walks toward the couch Eddie grabs him and shakes his head. He waves his arms around a bit like that’s supposed to explain anything but Steve isn’t too bothered about an explanation anyways and easily follows Eddie to his bedroom. 

They’ve shared a bed before but always when they’ve been drunk or high so this feels different. Steve is a little glad they can’t speak or he’s sure he’d blurt out something way too revealing about it all. 

He avoids looking at Eddie as he tucks his flowers in under his pillow, knows Eddie is doing the same next to him. Is aware of it only being an old myth from a region halfway across the world but there’s a weight to it. Something real and tangible. 

He expects it to take a while for him to fall asleep like it always does. For him to twist and turn and lay awake until the early morning. For once though, that doesn’t happen. With the weight of Eddie next to him and to the sounds of his soft breathing and small movements, Steve falls asleep.

And he dreams. He dreams of big brown eyes and bright laughter. Of wild hair and warm arms embracing him. He dreams of growing old next to someone and how every wrinkle on their face tells a story of their shared love. 

He wants to stay in the dream forever, desperately tries to hold onto it even as he floats into consciousness. He turns and groans, gets a mess of someone’s hair in his mouth and nose and that’s enough to startle him into full wakefulness. 

Eddie grumbles next to him, clearly also just waking up. Steve looks at him, with his wild hair and his big brown eyes that are slowly blinking open and of course. Of course, it was Eddie he dreamed about.

Their eyes meet and Eddie freezes. Eyes widening as he looks back at Steve. 

“Oh,” he says. 

And yeah, oh.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, unsure of how to bring it up, to ask about it. If he even should? 

He puts on a teasing smile, even though he feels like goo inside, but making it lighthearted is all he can think of because what if he’s taking this whole thing way too seriously? Jumping to conclusions? 

“Dream of anyone?” 

Eddie nods and looks away, “I did.” He says it simply, voice careful. 

And maybe it isn’t just Steve.

“Who?” He asks, dropping the teasing tone. 

Eddie swallows and looks back at Steve. “The person I wanted to dream of,” he says and it’s not really an answer but he’s looking at Steve so intently he thinks it still might be. 

He thinks about Eddie’s quiet but delighted surprise at Steve wanting to join him yesterday. About Eddie dragging him first into his trailer and then into his bed. How they’re so close on Steve’s side of the bed and Eddie must have drifted towards him in his sleep.

He bites his lip to stop his smile from spreading too wide, there’s still a chance he’s misinterpreting things, “yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And who would that be?” Steve asks, leaning in even closer until he feels Eddie’s small puffs of breath across his face. 

“You,” Eddie whispers but Steve hears it clearly. 

He takes a moment to bask in it, to let it wash over him before he responds.

“That’s good,” Steve tells him eventually and Eddie’s eyes are so wide and open, and so pretty, “because I dreamt of you.” 

He knows it’s cheesy so he doesn’t give Eddie time to respond, just leans in and closes the remaining gap between them. Slots their lips together. Eddie gasps into the kiss, grabs Steve by the hair, and pulls him in. Makes all these cute noises that make Steve want and want and want. 

He shifts, goes to put his leg in between Eddie’s to move on top of him and get a better angle. But he only gets halfway before Eddie grabs his hips and twists them around. Pushes Steve flat on his back and straddles him. 

He grins down at Steve. 

“You think the Scandinavian magic worked or was it just dream psychology and wishful thinking?” 

“Does it matter?” Steve asks, way too earnestly. But like, they’ve just spent this whole time doing some true love magic so he thinks it’s fine, “got what I wanted.” 

“It’s forever though,” Eddie points out, bending down to bite at Steve’s jaw, “if we believe the old Norse people.” 

Steve hears the question there, thinks this might be Eddie’s way of asking what this means to Steve. His way of telling Steve this isn’t just a hookup for him.

“God yeah,” Steve exhales, “I fucking hope so.” 

He feels Eddie smile into his neck and grabs his hair, uses it to pull him back and steer him into another kiss. 

[itsscottiesstark]

Wouldn't it be great if Tumblr had a feature like "3 years ago today" or something? Like, imagine waking up one morning, opening the app and there's a huge banner saying "Let's see what you were up to 5 years ago today!" and you click on it and it's the most unhinged, thirsty, shameful post about the same middle aged actor you are still obsessed with.

[lamortwrites]

HAPPY TWENTIETH BABY 💖💖💖

[transgenderuwo]

STOP: it's not the goddamn year of the dragon yet

Hold on posting your goddamn culturally Christian ass solar new year greetings that clumsily use east Asian lunar new year elements. We gotta do this song and dance every single time because y'all still refuse to do any research. Lunar new year is never on January 1; it is ALWAYS after solar new year. Lunar new year 2024 is on February 10th – save yourself some embarrassment please you're better than this

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

snow on the beach - c.x

anti-hero | you're on your own kid | midnights

summary: the one where you realise that there will be a change in your whole life and you have to leave to behind with someone you don't like

wordcount: 2.1k

Professor Cornelius was one of Miraz’s most trusted advisors. He had trusted him to raise his nephew, Cassian the tenth after the death of his brother, Caspians father. What Mirza was unaware of that was during Caspians joint lessons with the Professor and one of the ladies of the Telmarine court, that he was being taught all about Narnia history.

Caspian couldn't stand the girl who he worked alongside in his lessons with Professor Cornelius. She was stuck up, arrogant and downright annoying. He didn't care if she was the daughter of Lord Sopespian, he did not enjoy her company.

What he liked least about her was that his uncle was trying to propose for there to be a marriage alliance between the two teenagers. Caspian knew that his uncle needed alliances but there was no way he would ever want to marry you.

You felt the same way. There was no way you would marry someone as naive and ignorant as Caspian. You could see all the other ladies in the court fawning over him and even though you felt a little sick picturing him in love with these other women, you knew they would be better fit for the role; there was no way you could tolerate the Telmarine heir. Your whole life was to be unglued, all thanks to him.

He was insufferable but you would never wish harm on him. As you drifted in and out of sleep, you were unaware of the plot against his life. It was one night that would change your life, the moon high above your heads.

The professor that you shared with Caspian did though. As soon as he heard news of Prunaprismia and the child that she had given birth to earlier in the evening, he raced to Caspians bedchambers.

In the cover of night, he crept into the room and drew back the curtains on his bed to reveal the sleeping prince. He looked so peaceful and Cornelius knew that it was all going to change in a few minutes.

He shook Caspian awake and the young boy stirred for a second before squinting up at him in confusion, “Five more minutes,” he mumbled out, reaching a hand out to push his Professor away.

“We must hurry,” he said and when Caspian heard the urgency in his voice, he sat up and looked at the man he trusted most. He would not be making this up if it wasn’t urgent. “The baby is a son,” His eyes went wide at the realisation of what Cornelius meant, “Come, you must grab the duchess and leave,”

Caspian stood up, wrapping a jacket around himself before he followed Professor Cornelius down the steps. They split off for a second and he rushed into your bedroom.

He’d never seen you so peaceful. You were just lying there asleep, no furrowed brow, no condescending look on your face. He could feel his breath hitch in his throat as he looked at you. You were beautiful.

he shook off that weird feeling in his chest as he reached forward and shook you awake.

You were a light sleeper and when you opened your eyes to see him standing above you, you instantly pulled the covers over yourself.

“What's wrong with you Caspian?” you exclaimed as you reached for the dagger on your bedside table.

He grabbed your wrist, stopping you from brandishing a weapon at him. He looked down at you and he knew that you wouldn't believe him, “Shh, they're coming for me,”

He was right. You didn't believe him, not even for a second. Who was coming for him? You sat up in your bed, looking at him like he was a crazy man.

“You're insane,” you shook your head at him and he gave you that look hee used to give you when you were kids, the one that begged for you to trust him. You were teenagers now, not some starry eyes kids - he had finally gone insane, “Get away,”

Caspian knew that this must have felt like some scene from a book to you and he began to curse Cornelius for not taking this job, “Now that my cousin has been born, my uncle has sent people to kill me,”

That got your attention, “Your uncle is a good leader, he would never-”

You stopped talking when you heard the sounds of yelling outside and a lice that you recognised as General Glozelles voice. He was telling the truth.

Your eyes went wide at the thought and you pushed the blankets off of yourself. His eyes grew wider as well at the sight of you in your nightgown, the slightly sheer fabric flowing off of your body.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” You asked him, turning your head over your shoulder to look at him as you grabbed a bag, stuffing your dagger inside.

“Come with me. If you challenge him he will surely catch you too,” he suggested and you scoffed, slinging your satchel over your shoulder.

“What does it look like I’m doing, of course I’m coming with you,”

Without any hesitation, you followed Caspian down the steps to the stables where your professor was waiting.

He handed you your sword and then Caspian his. You suddenly realised how real this all was and that she was going to have to leave all of this behind for a life that she didn't know.

You hated your father. You hated him more than anyone else in the world and even though he was physically and emotionally abusive to you, his only child, you felt weird at the idea of leaving all you’ve ever known behind.

You took a deep breath before putting the sword into a holster that you strapped round your waist. You pulled a jacket on and looked at Caspian as he sat up on his horse.

He reached a hand out for you and you grasped it tightly, allowing him to pull you up so that you were sitting behind him.

When you saw Professor Cornelius standing there, you realised that he wouldn't be able to come with you. It would look too suspicious.

“You must make for the woods, they won't follow you there,” he said and you both nodded in response.

There was a chill that ran down your spine at the thought. You weren’t superstitious but you knew that there were stories of Narnians who lived in that forest, of trees that came to life and of centaurs and fauns.

The professor dug into his satchel before passing her a conch horn. She looked at it for a second, unsure what this was.

“Do not use this unless at your greatest need,” he stated and though she didn't understand why, she put it into her satchel and nodded her head.

Caspian sat there for a second, silent, “Will I ever see you again?” You had never felt sorry for him until this moment. He sounded like a little boy who was being separated from a parent and your heart broke a little.

“I hope so my prince, I still have so much to tell you both. Be careful. Look after one another,” he said.

Professor Cornelius placed a hand on your shoulder, shooting you both a sad smile before opening the gates

Without any hesitation, Caspian whipped the reins and the two of you started to travel out. You turned around when you got to the gates, a sad expression on your face as you looked at the castle.

This was all you had ever known. You had never travelled outside of the palace walls without a chaperone and now you were starting to wonder if you would ever get to come home.

The ride was bumpy but as you turned around, hands secure on Caspians shoulders, you knew that the two of you would be okay.

You could hear the fireworks and then you turned your head around again, watching the colours explode over the castle as they celebrated the birth of Miraz’s son. It was ironic that the happiest day of his life would be the worst of yours.

What was more important was that you could see the soldiers on their horses chasing after you and Caspian.

”They’re coming, and quickly,” you exclaimed.

You could feel a slight tug of hesitation in Caspian when you reached the border of the forests but he sped through the woods.

There was a chill that ran down your spine as you entered the woods. Everyone claimed they were haunted by the ghosts of the Narnians and even though your professor would always guarantee there was nothing dangerous about it, you couldn't help but feel fear of the Telmarine folk tales.

They crossed a river and you could feel the water resistance, “Hold on,” Caspian said as you reached a particularly deep section of the crossing.

Begrudgingly, you reached an arm around Caspians waist and held on tight, the side of your face pressed into his back.

There was an intimacy about the whole thing and you could feel a weird emotion in the pit of your stomach as you held onto him close. He would be lying if he didnt feel the same thing as you wrapped your arms around him.

Even when you crossed the river, you didn't let go of him and neither of you mentioned it. Him wanting you felt impossible, like some sort of dream. This can’t be the real thing. Can it?

“Are you okay?” He asked after a second, turning back to check on you. The question vanished from your head as you looked at him. There was no sound, only him.

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. Before you could answer him, the horse ran into a branch and you watched as he was knocked off of the horse.

Within a second, he was knocked off, his foot caught in the stirrups. You leaned down, trying to untangle him from the straps but as you did so, you fell off, hitting your head on a boulder.

Caspian watched as the horse sped off without either of you and when he turned to see you lying there in the middle of the clearing, he felt his heart speed up.

Although he hated you, he never imagined a life without you in it to annoy him. He instantly crawled over despite the pain in his head from having been dragged along the forest floor and he knelt by your side.

He could hear the Telmarine soldiers getting nearer and he knew that he had to make a decision. Run away and leave you there or stay and fight for you both.

He couldn't leave you.

“Wake up, wake up,” he muttered to himself as he tried to shake you awake.

He reached one hand out to grab his sword but it was too far. Before he could get up and grab it to make his final stand, he looked up to see two dwarves emerging from a hut.

He looked at them with wide eyes and instantly pushed you behind him. He wasn't going to let these creatures get you both.

One of the dwarves ran right past him and into the fight. He was confused as to why this dwarf would be so willing to fight against the Telmarines but did not question it.

When Caspian saw the other dwarf heading towards him, he knew what he had to do. He grabbed the conch from your satchel and blew it. The entire woods shook at the sound and he wondered what strange powers this conch had.

He looked down at you, a hand on your face as he realised that this dwarf would probably kill you both at the first chance. As he looked at you, he realised all of his feelings. They bubbled up in his chest and he realised that he wasn't going to be able to leave you.

Caspian reached over for his sword but before he could, the dwarf hit him over the head, knocking him unconscious.

The badger emerged from the hut and looked at the two of you lying there, Caspians hand still on your cheek, your faces turned to look at one another. He knew then that he couldn't let either of you die and that there was something special about the two Telmarine teenagers.

“Help me get them Nikabrik, we must help them,” he said and begrudgingly the dwarf helped to drag the two of you inside.

Little did they know what they had gotten themselves involved in

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Midnight Rain

“I broke his heart because he was nice. He was Sunshine, I was Midnight Rain…”

Request from ao3- "ok but imagine a grumpy/sunshine fic with sam but the reader is the grumpy one 🤷" For one of my fave readers, @/badasswithafatass I hope you enjoy! 💛

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader Sam Wilson Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Anon's 1K Celebration

“You know, for a smart guy, you’re pretty fucking dense," Bucky mutters, taking another swig of his beer.

“Aw… you think I’m smart?” Sam sarcastically awes from the bar stool beside Bucky.

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “Do you honestly think she had any real interest in me?”

Bucky doesn't miss the tick in Sam's jaw at the mention of you. Months had passed since the last time Sam saw you, and he wasn’t too keen on remembering that dreaded last night. Just the memory of you leaning over the bar counter, hand resting on Bucky’s chest, whispering something in Bucky's ear, was enough to make Sam's stomach twist into a knot.

Even before that night, he could tell that you were pulling away from him, but there it was, that night, the final nail in the coffin. That was the last time he’d seen or heard from you. You walked out of his life without so much as a goodbye.

Sam rolls his shoulders back, his mouth twisting in distaste, “Sure seemed like it to me.”

“See? Dense,” Bucky declares, tipping his beer in Sam's direction.

“Alright, I’ll bite. How does any of that make me dense?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you going to keep insulting me or are you going to actually explain?”

“Sam, she’s a spy, an assassin," Bucky explains like it should be obvious. "She knew you were standing there. She knew you were watching.”

"So maybe she wanted to make a point. It’s not like she was one for talking or communicating, maybe that was her way of letting me know how she actually felt. Trust me, I got the message loud and clear. That doesn’t make me dense."

"Sam..." Bucky takes a long breath. "We're a lot alike, me and her. And people like us, we cut and run, it's what we do. We don't wait for things to go bad, we live with the expectation that things will always go bad."

Sam tosses the rest of his whiskey back, flagging down the bartender for another one. "That's a depressing way to live."

“It keeps us alive.”

“We weren’t on a battlefield!" Sam spits through gritted teeth. "We were done with the fight, remember? We won, for Christ’s sake!”

“And where did that leave her, Sam? With a conditional pardon? People watching us 24/7?”

“With me!” Sam snaps, slamming his glass down on the bar. “It left her with me. We were good, Bucky! We were happy together. At least, I thought we were happy together. I even- I told her that after everything, that I would take her back home, meet my family, maybe settle down a little.”

"And while you're thinking about taking her home to meet your family, she's probably thinking how a family like yours is going to react to you bringing an actual assassin home."

"I... didn't think about it like that,” Sam confesses, faltering for a moment. He shakes his head. No. He refuses to accept that. It didn't excuse that he'd found you flirting with his best friend. It didn't change that you told him he meant nothing to you. “Because I don't think about her like that. And you know what? She could've talked to me, she could've told me she felt like that, Bucky, but she didn't."

"Sam, can I be honest?"

"Shoot."

"I don't think you two will ever work."

"That's a shitty thing to say to me," Sam spits.

"I don't," Bucky admits with a languid shrug. "Honest truth, I don't see it."

"You don't have to see it, I do,” Sam firmly states. “I see it working out."

Bucky claps a hand on Sam's shoulder with a tight lipped smile, "That's my point, Sam. That's the difference between you and us. You, you live for the hope of it all. She doesn't know how to do that. I don't know how to do that. We're broken, haunted people, Sam. We hurt people that get too close."

"You're wrong."

"Why else-"

"Because she was bored!" Sam angrily shouts, not caring at the stares his outburst brings. "She only wanted me because I was there."

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Yes. I do believe that,” Sam hisses. “Unlike you guys, I believe the words that come out of people’s mouth. She was bored... She was bored and I was there.”

Bucky takes a long pull from his beer, rising from his seat with a defeated sigh. He turns to Sam to offer one last piece of insight, “All I’m saying is I wouldn’t go on the run with someone for two years because I was bored. Not unless I really gave a shit about them. Not unless I loved them, like really loved them.”

"Do you mean that?" Sam asks over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I mean that."

--

3 Years Earlier - Somewhere in Scotland

“Just let me do the talking, okay?”

Sam raises up his hands, “No arguments from me.”

The doorknob rattles for a moment, opening just enough for you to stand before them. You look at them and immediately try to snap the door shut, “No.”

Nat extends out her hand to stop the door from swinging shut. “Just hear us-“

“No.”

"You don't even know why we're here," Nat argues. “It’s important. Please.”

You relent, allowing the door to fling open. Standing tall in the doorway, your eyes rake over each of them, “Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov or whatever name you’re going by now, and Sam Wilson, all in the flesh, all the most wanted fugitives on Earth. So I don’t care how important it is, my answer is no.”

Sam’s eyes comically widen, his voice taking a slightly bewildered, high pitched tone, “How did - Do you happen to know the names of all strangers that show up at your door?”

Your eyes dart over to Sam with a grimace, “Strangers that show up at my door end up dead. Consider yourself lucky.”

“I want you to know I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” Sam quips, placing his hand over his heart. 

“Don’t worry, Sam," Natasha smirks over her shoulder. "She’s more bark than bite. And this is me calling in a favor.”

Your eyes narrow at Natasha, "Which favor?"

"Budapest."

Your mouth narrows into a thin line as you glare at her. You hated that favor.

You look back at the three of them. Even dressed in street clothes they all stuck out like sore thumbs. They’re all disheveled, clearly exhausted, and you did owe Natasha. You convince yourself that there is no good in this deed, it’s just a repayment. Even as your eyes linger back to Sam for a second too long. You tell yourself you don't care what happens to any of them. It's just paying a debt. “Fine. Just keep me out of it.”

Natasha nods, offering a small grateful smile, “Thank you.”

You turn on your heels without another word, striding down to your room. You slam your bedroom door shut, leaving the others on their own.

“It was nice meeting you,” Sam calls after you.

You don’t bother to reply.

After a few hours, the sun sets and your safe house returns back to its normal quiet state except for the soft snores of Steve Rogers in your spare bedroom. You’re certain that they’ve all gone off to get some rest. That is, everyone, except Sam Wilson.

“Have a good nap?” Sam greets you, sitting on the small couch in the middle of your living room.

Your eyes snap over to Sam, lightly scoffing, “Actually, I was avoiding you.”

Your brutal honestly doesn’t phase Sam. The corner of his mouth twitches up as he playfully tugs on the collar of his t-shirt, “I tend to have that effect on the ladies… That sounded better in my head.”

“For you and me both,” you quip.

“You know, you’re kind of a jackass.”

“I know. Thanks.” That's the only conversation you plan on having with Sam Wilson. You continue walking to the kitchen without saying anything else.

"So how long have you and Nat been friends?" Sam asks, trailing you as you walk to your kitchen, clearly not taking the hint that you don't want to talk to him.

You scoff over your shoulder, "Who said we were friends?"

"So you're not friends? Because the whole letting us hide out here, housing us, letting us eat your food, not turning us in, sorta gave me a different idea."

"We're not friends."

In truth, your relationship to Natasha was much more complex than that. At one point, you were like sisters. In the Red Room, she was all you had. Your only friend. Your confidante. And still, you could never quite live up to her, always second to her. You knew all her secrets, all the blood spilt, all the skeletons in her closet, and she knew all of yours.

The night before your graduation, you ran. As far away and as quickly as your legs could carry you.

You were never quite sure if it was irony or simply Dreykov’s own cruelty, but she was the one tasked to find you and collect you. You never stood much of a chance against the person that spent almost two decades besting you. She found you in Budapest. It would’ve taken a single shot. And still, it never came.

But you weren’t going to tell that to Sam.

"You're not friends?”

"No."

After that, your paths crossed only once in a blue moon. Once Natasha left Dreykov, she never sought you out. And you didn’t bother to either. You weren’t friends. You weren’t enemies. She was the sister that became little more than a stranger.

"Do you help all your not friends run from the law?"

"Natalia and I have an agreement of ... mutually assured destruction."

"Mutually assured destruction?" he dubiously repeats, quirking an eyebrow. "...So best friends."

In spite of your best efforts, your outwardly stoic expression gives way as a chuckle bubbles out of your mouth.

"Did anyone see that?” Sam proudly announces to the empty house. “I want it on the record that I made a Black Widow laugh!"

"Don't push it," you warn, though the hint of a smile that pulls at the corner of your mouth dampens the threatening undertone of your words.

"You've got a nice smile," Sam compliments.

You wipe the smile off your face, but there's nothing you can do to tame the slight blush creeping up your face, so you say the first thing that comes to mind, "Fuck off."

--

That's how it went between you and him. Push and pull.

Their time at your safe house in Scotland was short lived. No more than a few weeks. And even in those few short weeks, he saw it, saw the good that you desperately tried to keep hidden. Even then he knew, he knew you cared so much more than you would ever let on. Cooped up in your little cottage, he found that behind your barbed words and tough exterior, was a person that he really liked. You didn't let him see very much of it. Most of the time, it was in little slip ups, little cracks in your armor, but he saw it. He swore he did.

Sam ambles alone through the streets of New York, the pavement is still damp from the midnight rain, the noisy cityscape is the only thing keeping Sam from fixating on the endless loop of memories playing in his head.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t think about you anymore. He did. All the time.

He thinks about how good it used to be. How even on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, it was good. He'd like to think you were as happy as he was.

In truth, he wasn't sure how or when it happened. You weren't very nice to him - to any of them really. You kept them at arm's length. He had to earn every glimpse of the person behind the armor. He had to earn every smile, every laugh, but he found each one was worth it. To him, you were worth it. You were worth all of it. 

And when that time came, when that safe house wasn't safe anymore, you stayed by his side, you became his home. 

--

You simply walked up to the breakfast table and announced that it wasn't safe to stay much longer. "You have to leave."

"What?"

"We've been here too long. People in town are beginning to talk."

Natasha didn't miss a beat. "How long?"

"Tonight."

Sam watches the interaction closely. You refuse to look at him. For a moment, Natasha's eyes look at you, imploring. She utters a quiet question in Russian.

You don't respond, only shaking your head once.

"I understand." She softly inhales, her shoulders slumping slightly, "Thank you."

You nod, turning on your heels and heading to your room. You didn't expect Sam to follow after you.

There's some part of you that's unsettled by how easily Sam fits into your life. You don't like how he speaks to you like you're friends. You don't like that there's a part of you that would love to know what being in Sam's life would feel like. And you most certainly don't like that Sam has no problem questioning you. Prying into your life. He won't like what he finds. He'll run the moment he sees the number of skeletons in your closet. No, you don't like that at all. 

And you definitely don't like that he feels comfortable enough to follow you back to your bedroom. He wedges himself into your doorway, leaning against the wall, "So what about you?"

You don't turn to look at him as you pack your duffle bag, "What about me?"

"Where you gonna go?"

"I have other places."

"By yourself?"

"Typically."

"Why don't you stay with us?"

You pretend like you're surprised by the offer. As though Natasha didn't offer the same thing two minutes ago. You just didn't expect Sam's kindness to extend past his need for your safe house. "What?"

He takes a step off the wall. Even turned away from him, you can practically hear the grin he wears in his words. "We could always use the help. You seem like kind of a pro at being a fugitive."

"I don't think your team would appreciate my presence."

"I would. I want you to come." Sam turns back at the doorframe. He pauses for a moment, looking back at you. "You should come with us."

--

You never told him why you ended up joining them. It was the one question he couldn't ever get a straight answer for.

He couldn't really remember how or when you ended up in his bed - or more accurately, when he ended up in your bed.

All he knew was that for two years, you were his sanctuary. Each and every night. He held you. Kissed away your fears. You allowed him to see parts of you that you buried long ago. 

It made the moment you walked away hurt even more. 

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing here. He's pacing through the streets of New York in the middle of the night. It won't bring you back. It won't change what happened. You still left him.

It was easier believing that you left him because you didn't love him. 

The other option hurts. It hurts too much. His heart almost shatters at the though of you leaving him because you didn't see it working out, because you thought you would hurt him. 

That's the worst part - he believes Bucky. He believes that no one, not even someone as prone to finding trouble as you are, would ever go on the run with someone for the hell of it. Not unless you cared. Not unless you loved him. 

He should've seen it. The panic in your eyes when he suggested going back to Louisiana. The pain when you lost Natasha, the last person you considered family. 

It eats at him. He didn't even try. Not really. Yeah, you walked away, but he could've gone after you. He could've believed in the love he knew you shared. 

He reaches for his phone, tucking into the crook of his neck as he hails a cab, and calls the one person that could possibly help him, "I need your help. Can you find someone for me?"

--

1 Year Earlier - Somewhere in Eastern Europe

“Stop watching me sleep.”

Sam kisses your bare shoulder, resting his chin on your arm, “It’s the only time you’re not frowning. Except when you’re with me, of course.”

You sleepily sigh, trying to suppress the smile that Sam so effortlessly puts on your face. You halfheartedly push him away, rolling further away from him, “I’m going back to sleep.”

Sam’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him, “No, come back.”

“We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, we should get the rest while we can.”

“I miss you,” Sam whines.

“I’m right here.”

“But we’re always talking about work, about the world ending, I just - I just want a minute, just me and you.”

You finally turn around to face him with a cheeky grin, “You had me to yourself all night, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

You settle against him, resting your head on his chest, “So why couldn’t you sleep?”

He smiles down at you, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, “I was thinking.”

“About?” you urge.

“What comes next. After the fight, after everything, about going home, finally seeing my family again. My sister would love you. I can't wait to introduce you."

Your smile slips from your face. "What?"

"I mean, I know we're on the run and everything, but I'm still holding onto hope," Sam confesses. "You'd love Louisiana."

A sinking feeling overtakes you. Those survival instincts you've spent your entire life cultivating bubble up. You could see Sam's family picture where he left it on the dresser. His picture perfect, shiny family.

That wasn't you. Not even in your wildest dreams could that be you. The closest thing you had to a family was the Black Widow sitting in the other room cleaning her knives. You weren't meant for domesticity. You weren't built for the happy ending that Sam deserved. The happy ending he wanted. 

Sure, he loved you now, but would he love you when his family looks at you with disdain? Would he love you when Sarah refuses to let you anywhere near his nephews? 

Or even worse, what if he did? What if he loved you through it all and you broke him in return? What if he loved you and he lost everything else because of it?

You could tell Sam. Right here and now. Tell him that you weren't built for that life. He would listen. He would hear you. Like all of your other scars and imperfections, Sam would take it in stride. You knew he would. 

But could you really do that to him? Doom him to a life tethered to someone so tainted.

He was perfect. In every conceivable way. He was Sunshine. And though you'd done unspeakable things, there would be nothing quite as vile as dragging him down to the dim, murky depths of the wasteland you called home.

He deserved more. More than you would ever be. 

--

6 Months Ago - A Bar in New York City

"You don't have to do this."

You bitterly chuckle. It was too late. You'd made up your mind. You gave yourself until the war against Thanos was won. You gave yourself that time to say your silent goodbyes, to memorize the one and only love you would ever allow yourself to have. You were selfish in that way.

Now was the time to save Sam while you still could, to finally set him free. Even if you had to break his heart to do it. You rest your hand on Bucky's chest, the furthest you could allow yourself to go without making your stomach turn. "Do what?"

Bucky's jaw ticks, "He's a good man."

"I know." It's the only time your voice reveals even an ounce of your pain. Your eyes flicker to over Bucky's shoulder. It's too late. Sam stands a few feet from you, watching you with anguish in his eyes. For good measure, you lean in closer, whispering in Bucky's ear, "But I never did well with sunshine."

"Can I talk to you outside?" Sam demands. 

You roll your eyes and snort, "If we have to."

"We do."

Sam doesn't waste a single moment. The second you step outside, he points back to the bar, "What the hell was that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding me? I saw you. You were all over him. He's my friend!"

"I was just having a little fun, Sam."

"A little fun?" Sam scoffs. "Are you kidding me?"

You don't allow a single ounce of remorse to show. You don't allow him to see the regret. Your face is purposely blank, cold and uncaring. You were good at this part. You were good at hurting people. It's exactly why you have to let him go. "I don't see what the big deal is, Sam."

"You don't see what the big deal is?" Sam's voice wavers. "You were just coming onto my friend! What about us?"

"What about us?" you scoff. "I was bored, Sam, we had our fun but it's done now. We're not on the run anymore. It's not a big deal."

"Just like that, we're just done?"

"You were there, Sam," you lie through your teeth. Acid churns in your stomach, rising up through your esophagus and coating your every word. "There's nothing more to it, nothing more to us."

You'd done a lot of bad things in your life, but nothing made you feel quite as wretched as watching Sam's heart shatter before you. It was better this way. He didn't know it, but it was for the best. You couldn't ruin his life anymore. You couldn't hurt him if you walked away right now. Those were the last words you ever said to him. 

--

He did it. He couldn't believe it. He'd found you. There you were, standing out on a rooftop, out in the pouring midnight rain. He almost laughs because of course you wouldn't even realize how theatrical this whole scene was. "Do you realize how dramatic it is to be standing out in the pouring rain all by yourself? And without an umbrella?"

"I'm working, Sam."

"Shooting your next romantic comedy? Is this the breakup scene?"

You don't even turn to look at him. “You shouldn’t be here, Sam.”

Sam scoffs, “That’s all you have to say? That I shouldn’t be here?”

“Go home, Sam," you demand. "I don’t want you here.”

“You’re such a jackass, you know that?”

It pisses him off that you still refuse to even look at him. If you were going to break his heart all over again, the least you could do was look him in the eye. You speak through clenched teeth, "I know."

He storms around, planting himself in front of you, forcing you to look at him. "No, I mean that, I really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, I mean that. You're such an asshole. You're one of the most difficult, abrasive, cold, and selfish people I've ever met."

You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. You look just past him, mustering every ounce of your training to stay stone faced, "I know."

"Do you know how hard it was to find you?"

"I didn't ask you to come here," you spit at him. "I didn't want you to come looking for me. You knew that."

"And you're a liar!" Sam exclaims, a bitter laugh bubbling up from his chest. "A damned good one, too."

"I never lied to you about who or what I was."

"But you did lie, didn't you? You've lied to me before."

“Yes, I have," you softly admit. You catch yourself, reminding yourself of why you're being so harsh with Sam. You force yourself to speak with that venomous tone you know all too well, "Many times, so if you’re done insulting me, I have to go.”

"God, you're so selfish, and- and you're mean! You brood way too much. You're so fucking angsty all the time. You act like the tortured character in every shitty teen movie every made. You're inconsiderate. You don't listen. I swear, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall. And sometimes - sometimes, I want to hate you so much."

It takes everything in you to sound as unaffected as you do. You quirk an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest, "Is that why you came here? Because you're upset?"

"Upset?" Sam incredulously repeats, taking a step toward you. He's still several feet away from you, still far out of your reach, "No, I'm not upset. I was upset six months ago. Now, I'm angry. I'm pissed off - with you. I have never been so mad at another human being in my entire life."

"I didn't do anything to you. You knew who I was - who I am."

"You think that's why I'm pissed? I'm pissed because you made me like you. I'm pissed that you made me fall so hopelessly in love with you."

For the first time in six months, your eyes find his. His warm eyes, the ones that grounded you through storms of midnight rain. He'd never said he loved you before - there's no taking that back. You suck in a breath, "Sam."

"I'm pissed because I believed you when you said you were bored. But mostly, I'm pissed that I let you go, that I let you walk away without fighting for you."

You try to warn him, beg him to stop before he says something that'll make it too hard to walk away from him. "Sam."

"Because I'm in love with you."

Your voice wavers as you beg him, "Don't do this, Sam."

"I'm in love with you," Sam announces again to his audience of one. "And I know you don't think you're good for me. And I know that it won't be easy, but I am. I am in love with you. Every part of you. Especially the parts you don't like. I like that you're mean, I like that you're tougher than any other person I've ever met, I like that you're grumpy. I like that you don't see how dramatic it is to stand in the pouring rain all by yourself! I love you. I love all of you."

"Sam..." His name leaves your mouth in a whisper. It's too late. You're not strong enough to survive walking away from him. He's doomed himself.

He takes a step closer to you. "And maybe it wasn't real... but I think it was. I think you feel the same." And then another step. And yet another. Until you're face to face, close enough that you could reach out and touch him for the first time in months. The rain beats down on the two of you. The dampness on your cheeks has nothing to do with the rain. "Tell me that you don't love me and I'll leave. Tell me and I won't bother you again, I promise."

You can't. You can't bring yourself to say any of it. "Sam, it'll never work for us. You have to know that."

"We're not at war anymore." His hand skates across your cheek. "We don't have to hide. We don't have to run."

"I'm not - I'm not good, Sam." And you are, you want to say.

“No, no, you’re not good. You’re great. You’re amazing. And it’s a damn shame you haven’t stepped into the daylight long enough to see how incredible you are.”

You jerk your face away from his hand, “And what if I can’t give you what you want? What if I can’t be what you want?”

“What do you know about what I want?”

“You want a bride. You want someone to bring home to your family - that’s not me, Sam. I don’t think that’ll ever be me.”

“I want you." Sam takes your face in between both hands, begging you to see the sincerity in his eyes. "I want you in whatever way you’ll have me.”

“I’m not worth it," you softly exhale. "You have to know that I’m not worth the trouble and the heartache I’ll put you through.”

“Break my heart," Sam offers without hesitation. "Do it over and over again. Do it for the rest of our lives. It’s all yours. You’re worth it.”

“Sam…” You didn’t have any other defense. He’d broken down each and every argument you spent years cultivating. You didn’t know where to go from here.

“Do you love me?” Your lips press into a thin line, eyes squeezing shut to keep the tears welling in your eyes from falling. The rain slows to a halt. His thumb and pointer finger grip your chin, forcing you to meet his warm brown eyes. “Do you love me?”

“I love you.” You don't think you've ever said those words before. You don't think you've ever seen the daylight until you saw him. It'll take time for your eyes to adjust, but he's worth it. "I love you so much it hurts, so much that I let you go."

“You don't have to let me go anymore. We'll figure the rest out together."

Sam Wilson Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[tiddygame]

do you think that when mary read the paper celebrating that arthur was likely dead that she combed new hanover, desperately trying to find a gang member who could tell her that it was a lie and arthur was fine

do you think she ran around saint denis, intentionally putting herself in danger to try to find a lead. that she saw charles and recognized him from the papers as one of the gang and despite being scared, asked him about arthur and pressed when he refused to answer

do you think she had to tell stories of their time together to prove she was who she said. and that she couldn’t take it when charles offered to show her where he’d been buried.

do you think they sat on that mountain and talked about arthur like he was there, both reminiscing on the love of their life, no jealousy to be had, just solace in being able to grieve with someone who understood.

do you think they kept in touch, an odd friendship formed over the shared love of a dead man.

because i do. i think that for as long as they could, they sent letters back and forth, making sure someone was always there maintaining the area around the grave marker and ensuring that there was always something there. be it a bouquet of flowers that arthur would have said he wasn’t a good enough man for or one of those cigarette cards that he swore he only collected for the money (even though he never turned in the completed sets).

i think they would work together to make sure that the last remaining piece of the best man they’d ever met never went forgotten

(i think mary moved to live closer to the grave, put as much love she had left in each petal of each flower on each bouquet. a belated way of apologizing to him that would never be enough)