#midnights celebration

[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

[moghedien]

[pardonmydelays]

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

[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.)

[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.

[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

[jazzums]

my biggest W: today marks one year sober from alcohol

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

bigger than the whole sky - g.h

midnights masterlist | the great war | paris

summary: the one where you admit your feelings for Gale and then the world falls apart

wordcount: 4.0k

warnings: mass bombings, death, mass murder, the bombing of District 12 was similar to a genocide so beware of that

“Can I ask you a question?” You looked up at him, lifting your head up from his shoulder. 

He nodded and you were silent. How did you ask him if he still loved Katniss even if she was in the games again? How do you find out if he loves you back? You wished you could put up more of a fight, ask him the truth but you couldn’t do it. 

“Do you still wish you could-“ you stopped yourself, rewording again in your head. You couldn’t just ask him if he still loved her like that, “Do you think Katniss could make it out?” 

He nodded, “I do,” there was silence after that and to you, that answered both of your questions. 

If you could, you would spend your whole life sitting on that hill with Gale, watching the sun set across the meadows. He had asked you to run away with him only a year earlier and this part of you wished that you had gone with him when he asked. 

You never liked Gale. Throughout your entire time at school, he was the most annoying person to you and you only ever talked to him when Katnis did. 

She was your best friend, the other half of you and you two would go out into these woods whenever you could. She was good at hunting and you were relatively good at the dressing and then selling it. 

Around three years ago, she had invited Gale out into the woods with you and since the moment that he caught you from falling into the river, you had become inseparable; you’d learnt that he wasnt as annoying as you had always assumed. 

Before the 74th Hunger Games, you had realised your crush on Gale. You had ignored it, buried it down into your chest so that nobody else would know. You knew he had feelings for Katniss and so you left it alone. 

When she went into the games the first time, you had become inseparable with Gale, more so than ever before. Now, as she was in it again, you leant on one another. You don’t remember who you were before him. 

“We should go,” you said, stopping your reminicising as you looked at him. You were getting lost in situations and circumstances and the small chance that maybe he had feelings for you to. You couldn’t allow yourself to think like that. 

Since Katniss went into the 75th games, the peacekeeper prescience had increased and neither of you felt safe on the hill anymore. 

He nodded, standing up and offering his hand for you. He pulled you up and you stumbled a little bit, bracing yourself on his chest. 

You looked at him, eyes slightly wide. You were so close you could kiss him here, kiss him in the isolation of the meadow. A part of you wondered whether his eyes actually did just flick between your lips and your eyes or if your love was blinding you. 

You muttered a thank you before pulling yourself away. You knew where he stood, you knew he loved Katniss and you knew he wouldnt kiss you back if you did it. 

So instead, you looked away, tears burning behind your eyes as you thought of it. 

The walk back to the square was slow. The entirety of District Twelve were feeling the effects of the games. There were peacekeepers everywhere, they were blocking the black markets and people were starting to starve. 

You spotted Gales family in the crowd and the two of you walked over, his arm wrapped round you to keep you close - he knew how much you hated the crowds. 

Hazelle, his mother, gave you a warm smile as the two of you joined the crowds that were watching the games. It was mandatory at this point, to watch the games as it came to its end. The sun was setting over Twelve but within the games, it was pitch black. 

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the games unfold. Katniss had just been presumably attacked by Johanna in the woods and you gasped alongside all of the other members of Twelve. 

You looked up at Gale and you could see the fear in his eyes. You could feel your stomach sink; you hated the way that he looked at her. 

It was sick. You knew that it was wrong. You shouldn’t envy a girl who had been put into the games twice within two years but you wished he would look at you that way, with that adoration in his eyes. 

You reached down, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. He squeezed it back, a signal that you two had developed over the years to make sure that each other were okay when silence was mandatory. 

There was silence over District Twelve as they all watched the games on the big screen. The only noise that could be heard was the commotion of the games and the sound of Peacekeepers clicking their guns into place. 

It was silent as you all watched Katniss wrap the coil around her arrow and aim it at the sky. You could hear Gales breath hitch in his chest as she shot the arrow into the force field that surrounded the games. 

The lights cut out. 

Everyone looked at one another as they wondered why the feed in the games had cut out? What was going on? Why did Katniss do that? What was going to happen next? Every single thing she touched turned into ashes, it all fell apart in her hands and now she had taken control. If this was an act of rebellion, you would be proud of her. 

Everyone was asking themselves the same questions about the commotion in the games and so were the Peacekeepers as they looked at one another, all of them listening to some sort of comms message in their headsets.

Hazelle grabbed the boys tight, Rory was about thirteen and Vick ten but it didnt stop her from being worried about them. She looked over at the two of you, wondering if there was some plan that you knew about and she didn’t.

gale just shook his head. None of them knew what was going on.

Posy, his five year old sister, tugged onto his trouser leg and he looked down at her. She was so young to have to watch this all unfold and now something was really wrong, he didnt want her getting caught up in anything. He picked her up, holding her against his chest, her head tucked into his shoulder.��

You reached over, brushing a hand over her hair and she looked at you with a smile. She had no clue what was going on, only that something was clearly wrong. 

“What are we going to do?” You said quietly as you leaned over, looking up at him. 

He shrugged. Gale was so confused, “She’s rebelled, we’re all in trouble,” he replied, pursing his lips when he saw a Peacekeeper walk past. 

The commotion was starting to turn to chaos. The members of District twelve were beginning to yell and ask for answers, wondering why their heroic Katniss would do something like this. They needed answers or this would soon become a mob.

Thats when he walked on stage, Head Peacekeeper Thread. 

You could see Gale visibly tense up at the sight of him. You would never be able to remove the image of him tied up to that post, getting whipped over and over again out of your head. It was the worst thing you had ever seen and it had happened to the man you loved. Now the man responsible for it was parading around town, destroying the soul of your beloved district. 

He tapped the microphone before speaking into it with his gruff and unkind voice, “Everyone back to your house!” He yelled out.

The crowd went silent at the mans demand. This was proof that something had gone wrong in the arena and everyone had a guess what it was; an uprising. 

���Now” he commanded and everyone started to disperse. 

You followed Gale and his family home, Hazelle didn't want you to be alone in that hostel you were staying at with all of those people in the dodgy side of town. 

Everyone was silent as they walked towards their houses. There was an air of something and you could tell that there was a tension. Nobody had any answers and the Peacekeepers basically locking them in their houses made people anxious. 

She sat in the living room of Gales house, unable to sit down. Your best friend was in that arena and nobody had any clue what was going on and it made you sick to the stomach. Then the thought of Gale worrying about her made her ill too and she grabbed onto the mantelpiece, looking at the only ever picture of their full family before the mining accident. 

“You okay darling?” Hazelle asked and you turned around, putting on a smile. 

“Just stressed, but everyone is,” you shrugged, trying to seem positive. 

She nodded, “This is bad, isn’t it?” You could hear the fear in her voice and you wished that there was something that you could say to calm her nerves but this was really bad. 

With hesitance, you nodded your head, “Let’s just wait, we dont need to jump to conclusions,” you said before excusing yourself. 

You walked into Gales room and sat down on his bed. A smile came to your face as you looked at the picture that rested on his bedside table. It was the only picture that the two of you shared and it was from the party thrown for all nineteen year olds when they aged out of the games. You both had the widest grins on your faces. 

“Thats my favourite picture in the world,” he stated. 

A bitter feeling soaked through your chest as you put it back, eyes landing of the one of him and Katniss and Prim, “I thought that was,”

Gale didnt seem to get the hint because he just shrugged it off, sitting down nect to you, “Nah, you’re too pretty in that one,” he teased. 

“Gale,” you chastised. He knew that you hated it when he complimented you but he always did it anyway. 

He always assumed that you must have been self conscious and didnt like the compliments for that reason. It was actually because it hurt too much when he would compliment you, like the words burnt a hole in your chest because you knew that he didnt love you like you wanted him to. 

It was wrong to be thinking about that, to be jealous of your best friend just because of some guy, especially in the situation you were in right now but you couldn’t help the way it bubbled up in your chest. He made it worse as he placed his hand on your shoulder, trying to reassure you it was okay.

“If she rebelled-“ you started to say. 

He cut you off nearly immediately, “She did, she finally rebelled,” there was a sense of pride in his words and there it came again, that wave of bile in your throat.

”Fine,” you spat the words out and he instantly noticed how cold you were being, “This is bad Gale. She’s got us in trouble. They might kill us for knowing her,” 

Like any best friend would, he sensed your worry and reached down, grabbing your hand and squeezing it once just like he had when you were watching the attack. It would normally calm you down but all of your emotions were heightened and you didnt even realise what you were doing before you tugged your hand away. 

He muttered your name and you stood up, hands covering your stomach like you were trying to fight away the sickening feeling. 

“What’s going on?” He asked. 

You shrugged, turning away from him. You couldn’t even look at him. There was some part of you that could see the end coming and it was trying to tell him how you felt. You had to use all of your strength to push those words down. 

You shook your head, “I’m scared,”

You couldn’t see him but you knew that he had stood up because there was a loud noise of a spring creaking that always came from standing up off of his old bed. 

“What’s going on?” He repeated the question, this time more forcefully. 

The tension was rising in the room and you could feel your head pounding. You couldnt bring yourself to turn around and look at him, have a normal conversation like a civilised human. You knew that if you turned around and looked into his gorgeous eyes that you would fall apart, spewing out all of the feelings that you had been burying in the last year. 

“Leave it Gale, its not worth it,” your voice was less aggressive now, just quiet. You had a lot to pine about, all of these years you pined over him and now knowing you could tell him was breaking your heart. 

“If we’re gonna die then you might as well tell me,” he stated. 

He was right and you hated that. This might be your last time to ever tell him and even then you couldnt bring yourself to say it. You felt the shame of cowardice bubbling up in your chest. 

You could live without saying those words. You’ve got a lot that you’ve lived without over the years but something in you told you that you should say it. You couldn’t spend the rest of your life, however short it is, wondering what should’ve been. And if it’s not meant to be, then it’ll be over anyway, 

“Don’t make me do it,”

He placed a hand on your shoulder, “Just tell me,” he spun you around and you squeezed your eyes shut so you didn’t have to look at him. 

He could see the tear that had slipped down your cheek and he knew that this was big. He muttered a please, soft and begging compared to your argument. You could only imagine what his family was thinking as you yelled - you two always argued but never yelled. 

You opened your eyes hesitantly, watching as his eyes softened, “I love you,” you whispered, so only he could hear. 

The Peacekeepers may be planning the end for them. They may be planning to round everyone up and shoot them, you didn't know. But at least you would die knowing that he knew how you truly felt. 

His hand recoiled, and his eyes went wide. Horror washed over you. He didn't feel the same. This is what you had been fearing this whole time, that you would tell him how you felt, and he wouldn't reciprocate your feelings. 

There was silence in the village, no sound of children crying, couples arguing. Silence. All that you could hear was the blood rushing to your head as you realised what mistake you’d made. 

You closed your eyes shut, arms wrapping around yourself as you tried to hide away from his gaze as he worked out what to say next. 

“Say it again,” he asked. 

Your eyes fluttered open, confused. When you looked at him, he had a smile on his face, and you were confused. 

With a shake of your head, you looked down at your feet, blinking back tears, “Don’t mock me,” 

you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone in your life. Your heart was shattering at the idea that you might die and this would be the last thing that had ever happened to you. 

He walked over and you could see his feet appear in your vision. His hand came out, two fingers under your chin to tilt your head up so that you were looking at him. His eyes softened when he saw the tears spill down your cheeks. 

He repeated the sentiment again, “Say it again,” 

“I love you,” you whispered, even more quiet than before. 

There was silence in the room and he broke it with a laugh, “I love you,” he replied before you could scolded him for laughing, “Thats what you were so scared of saying?” He laughed again, “I thought it was obvious that I was madly in love with you,” 

Your eyes widened and you hit his chest, hand staying there, “Obvious? No, I thought you loved Katniss?” 

He shook his head, “Back then. But she’s got Peeta, and she doesnt love me. Never will. You’re not my second choice, I just didnt see it back then. You’re all Ive ever wanted,”

You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning up and smashing your lips against his. His hands moved to your back, holding you close against his. One hand trailed up your spine, nestling in the back of your head as he manoeuvred your head slightly so that the kiss could be deepened. 

For a second, you forgot all about the awful things that might happen and the fears for the rest of your life now that Katniss had destroyed the Games. You just stayed in this moment, allowing yourself to hold him tight. 

You pulled away from him, the moment having been interrupted by the loud noise that ricocheted throughout the village as all of the engines pulled out at once. The sound of the truck engines all igniting at the same time made you both look at one another in panic. 

There was a sinking feeling in your gut that had been getting progressively worse throughout the evening and now, as you rushed to the window and drew back the curtain to see the armoured trucks vanishing into the distance, it got worse. 

The fear for your best friend was still echoing in the back of your mind but now, as you realised that they were all leaving, the panic set in. 

You and Gale shared a worried look, “They’re leaving,” you mumbled, almost to yourself. 

He nodded. There was a silence in the room as you both stood by the window. You both knew what was going on and what this all meant and the adrenaline started to pump through your body. 

Gale leaned over, pressing one more kiss against your lips like it would be the last time that he would ever get to do it. 

 “We have to go, now,” he said and you agreed. You both knew what was gong to happen. 

You rushed into his little sisters room, shaking Posey awake, “What’s wrong?” She asked, mumbling through sleep. 

You didnt know how to explain it to her, “We’re just going on a little walk, grab your favourite teddy,” you said and she nodded, picking up the little teddy bear her father had given her.

“I’m sleepy,” she mumbled, holding her arms out. You couldn’t deny her and so you picked her up, hauling her into your arms. 

When you walked out into the kitchen, you could see Hazelle packing some backpacks full of all of the food that they owned with canisters of water attached. The boys were helping; they were at the age where they could realise what was going on in the world, and they knew what would happen if they weren't fast. 

“Where’s Gale?” You questioned, looking around. 

“Him and some of the other men are trying to pull everyone out of bed and to the forest,” she explained, walking over and pressing a kiss to Poseys head, “You should help him,”

You nodded your head in agreement, settling the little girl down onto the sofa before promising to come back. You started to rush through the village, knocking on all of the doors that werent closed. 

A lot of them had already started packing, but there were a few who weren't. She could see Mr and Mrs Wentworth closing their door, telling one of Gales friends from the mines that he did not want to go. 

You looked around and noticed just how many people were refusing to leave, and that’s when you realised that if everyone did not get out soon and start heading to the forest, then there would be nobody left. 

In the far corner of the village, she could see Gale arguing with a young woman with a baby. You rushed over, a hand on his shoulder. 

“Please tell this man that I will not leave. The Capitol will not kill us, hes crazy,” she demanded, her baby screaming now. 

“Miss, we have to leave, they will kill us,” you tried to reason. 

She scoffed before turning around and shutting the door to her house. 

You looked up at Gale and checked your watch. It had been 5 minutes since the trucks pulled out, “We need to go,”

he nodded. You both knew that this was going to be bad if they stayed for too long. The other men from the mines were rounding up as many people as they could but some didn’t believe and some were too scared of the forest to go with them there. 

“I’ll go grab the last group over there, and I’ll meet you out there at our spot,” he promised. 

You shook your head, “We’re not splitting up,” 

”We have to,” he said, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, “I love you,” he rushed off into the distance, and you knew this was it. You had to go now. 

You spotted Katniss’ mother and Prim in the distance and you rushed over to them, “Let’s go,” you said. 

“Will they really bomb us?” Prim asked. 

“I think so, kid,” you replied. 

You watched as Gales family came out of their house with some supplies, and then you knew you had everyone you needed. You stood up on a box and looked out at the group. 

“Everyone, please follow me to the forest. Don’t be scared, we will be safe out there,” you called out and as you walked, you looked behind you. 

You were disappointed at the lack of people there, maybe only four hundred or so. There were so many people in Dsitrict Twelve that werent coming. 

It was chaos. Your group were heading towards the forest and everyone else to the main road, thinking they could find help there. You knew the Captiol would let everyone die. There would be no survivors if they got caught. 

You and your group reached the border, and that’s when you saw the bombers flying over. You escorted everyone out, helping the young girl and her baby sister through the cracks through, lending a hand to the elderly couple.

the group walked up to the hill, and your heart was pounding as you watched them start to bomb the Distirct. Then you looked around. 

Gale was missing. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you realised that he was gone. He was gone, and you didn't know where he was. He might still be in there. 

You were about to start panicking when you saw another group head up the hill, and you ran into his arms, holding him tight. You flinched at the sound of the bombs, but it was safe here, they didnt know they were here. 

“I thought you were dead,” you muttered, helping him up the hill to his family. 

He chuckled, “Coudnt get rid of me that easily,” he joked. 

You shook your head, grabbing his hand and holdng it as you stood at the top of the hill. He squeezed it when he felt you tense up at the sound of the bombs. 

Everyone watched as the bombers circled around, bombing down the main road at those that were trying to run to safety. 

A tear slipped down your cheek as you watched them all die in the explosions. None of you could have done anything to help them and bring them back. You looked up at Gale, and he pulled you into his side. You watched a tear slip down his cheek at the sight of all of those who died. There were no words in the aftermath of the bombing. The knowledge that everyone had died weighed heavy on their hearts. 

915 from District Twelve. You were the only ones who made it out alive. The war had just begun. 

[anonymityisfunwriter]

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

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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)

[tolerateit]

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[naelmasn]

"Midnight Waltz"