#yes on sunny days i go out walking i end up on a tree lines street i look up at the gaps of sunlight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

merbear25 · 20 days ago

Note

Hi Meerr! It's Cami ☆

I thought your kinktober event had closed, so I'm happy it didn't! I wanted to ask you for something that's been on my mind for a while. I've been thinking about having sex in a cemetery (look, Idk where the thought came from, but it's eating me up) aaaand then I saw that the Day 19 seems free. So, I'd like to request something with Law (yk, my man) or Mihawk. Fem reader.

Thank you! I adore you and your work ♡

Cami!!! Girl, you KNOW how much I adore writing for you. Either of those men would've been great, but I couldn't resist writing for your man. Hope you like it 💜🧡

No one understood what you saw in him: the man who seemed to sulk at parties and stalk the grounds that housed the dead. Getting to know him was difficult, getting him alone even more so. There wasn’t a challenge you couldn’t overcome, so long as you wanted it enough—and Law was a challenge that you had your heart set on.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, public sex (cemetery), vaginal penetration, undefined relationship, somewhat rough, dirty talk

The dead don’t speak (Law)

The silent type. An air of mystery that had many gravitating to him, though next to none were kept in his orbit. With the intensity of the sun, he turned many away while completely shattering any ideas of having a future with him. Even when leaving a trail of broken hearts, you followed that path to him nonetheless.

His cold, deadpan stare didn’t phase you. In fact, it sparked further interest in you. The exterior he wore of stern bleakness began to show some cracks the more time you spent around him. Although his expressions remained relatively unchanged, there were bits of warmth in his attitude towards you: softened looks, a more relaxed stance, and allowing you to be physically closer to him. When you sat together, your legs brushed against each other, walking together led to your hands lightly grazing, and the eye contact you shared lingered more and more.

With no lines drawn to show the extent of your relationship, there was still an evident understanding of the mutual trust—a friendship that you cherished, and one that he wouldn’t trade for anything.

Sitting outside on the bench that you frequented together, the unusually sunny weather was coming to an end. The clouds were rolling in, thick gray that hung above without any threat of rain. The overcast set an ominous curtain over the town.

You took a deep breath, while closing your eyes. The smell of crisp leaves filled the air and their scent carried past you, the wind brushing through your locks.

His stare was locked on you. Unwavering from the gentleness held in your face, the intensity could be seen even through shut eyes.

“Yes?” You asked softly. You felt him shifting away from you. “You were staring again. Is there something on your mind?”

“I wasn’t staring.” His denial was unconvincing.

You hummed in understanding, guessing that this type of attention was making his lightly tanned cheeks burn.

“Would you…” he began, clearly embarrassed before he even spat out the question, “like to go for a stroll? There’s a place not far from here that is beautiful this time of year.”

Despite the slight hesitation in his tone, you saw through that—knowing that this was his way of wanting to connect.

“I’d love that.”

The twisting path passed over the road and through the tall trees; the changing colors of the leaves were breathtaking even under the gloomy sky. Approaching the knee high black metal bars, the perimeter they set was overgrown with weeds and wildflowers. Most of the headstones were illegible, unable to tell the stories of those to whom they were assigned.

“This cemetery has been lost to time it seems.” Law gestured to the faceless stone markers.

Your solemn nod could be felt even with his back turned.

“But they live on in other ways,” he continued. “And the life that surrounds them sinks into the earth and reaches them.” Leaning against one of them, his eyes burrowed into you, seemingly hanging on each way your facial muscles twitched.

“And how often do you come here?”

“Fairly often. Even those without names deserve visitors.”

The melancholic tone when paired with the grim audience should have sent chills down your spine, and yet you were left entranced by his dark charm. A faint smile played on your lips.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t deny them that.” You walked towards him, not sure what move you were playing at or how he’d react once you got there, but he had a pull on you, one which was growing stronger and stronger.

He unfolded his arms and his stern gaze softened. You positioned yourself between his legs, the uncertainty of how he would react caused your heart to pound like a drum. As you leaned in, his lips parted slightly and his eyes fell to your lips, giving you every reason to believe that he had the same idea.

Your first kiss started feverishly, but within the first few moments, the blanket that was covering your carnal interest was ripped off and left the both of you exposed to the elements. Desperate for warmth, you threw your arms around his neck. He snaked around your waist, pulling you tightly against him.

One of his hands traced the outline of your body. Each curve you offered him was a temptation in its own right: your hips, the subtle dip in your waist, and the soft curvature of your breast. Your sweet sounds were muffled against his lips. When his hand trailed along your jaw, his thumb gently gripped your chin, pulling it open. His own need to explore your mouth overwhelmed you, but you gladly drowned in the pools of your lust.

“Oh, Law,” you gasped in a shaky breath.

“What is it?” He breathed.

“I want more…”

He groaned from your admission. Pushing you against the cold stone, he hesitantly slipped his hand under your panties. The slick warmth waiting for him fueled his actions.

“Already so wet for me? Such an impatient little thing, aren’t you?” He growled against your ear, licking your earlobe to make you shudder.

Promptly, he picked you up and balanced you on the thick slab. The forceful tug of your pants and underwear left red marks along your hips and outer thighs.

The cool autumn wind grazed against the exposed skin, luring Law’s tattooed hands to roam your lower half. The firm squeeze of him on your hips made you gasp softly—his hands somehow being colder than the chilly air. Holding you closely, his touch was firm yet caring. Your legs were hooked over his forearms, leaving his hands to caress your back and hold you in place.

As the head of his length pressed into you, your body welcomed him eagerly. The spasms coursing through your lower half made your breath hitch, causing you to choke on your own moans. He pulled himself closer to you, his fingers digging into your back as he groaned from the sheer bliss of you wrapping around him.

“Hold onto my shoulders.”

When he began bucking into you, your fingers tore at his long-sleeved shirt. Your hot breath against his ear as you panted through the surges of bliss only fanned the flames of passion. His craving to feel you unravel fueled him—slamming into you became a necessity.

Chasing that high but wanting to enjoy each moment fogged his mind. He was getting lost in the moment: your legs trembling, your sloppy cunt coating him entirely, and your lewd sounds passing those soft lips of yours.

“So fucking good,” you moaned.

“Yeah, you like that? Like how I make you feel? Hm?” His thrusts grew more aggressive. That image he had of you screaming his name and losing your mind was going to become reality—he’d make sure of it.

You whimpered a meek ‘yes’ that was barely audible above the slapping of wet skin. His grip on you tightened. The sting of his nails in your back made you quake, practically shoving you over the edge right there and then.

He reached his breaking point, though. Unable to hold back from the intoxicating aroma flooding between you, his desperate drive bullied against your g-spot. Clawing at his shoulders, the convulsions of your orgasm sent him spiraling into the abyss.

Cries for each other fell on the ears that would never be able to gossip of your questionable deed. The sound of newfound lovers echoed in the woods, and your huffs of descending ecstasy tangled with the caws of the crows perched above.

The beads of sweat on his forehead began trickling down the sides of his face. You wiped it away with your thumb. Stroking him, your tenderness melted his harsh exterior like butter. Pressing his lips against yours, his body which was cool to the touch earlier had warmed up from the heat of the moment.

You weren’t sure where your relationship with Law would lead. However, for the time being, you sat next to him in contentment. The afterglow of your escapade was dimming, but the connection you had was burning brighter by the day.

#kinktober 2024 #one piece #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #op #one piece x you #one piece smut #op x reader #op x you #trafalgar law #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar d law x reader #law one piece

73 notes · View notes

mrsnancywheeler · 9 months ago

Note

This one is long, buckle up >:)

Finnick and his sweet girl are such “Francis Forever” by Mitski.

The specific lines I think of:

“ I don't know what to do without you

I don't know where to put my hands”

these lines just remind me of their more co-dependent side. Without his sweet girl Finnick needs to use rope to distract his hands, he’s described as longing to hold her (specifically after the capitol torture)

~~~~

“I don’t need the world to see

that I’ve been the best I can be”

honestly this line gives me both Finnick and his sweet girl vibes in different ways. They both have to put on their “golden” personas. The world has seen the “best” and “most luxurious” versions of them.

~~~~

“But I don’t think I could stand to be

where you don’t see me”

honestly this is Finnicks sweet girl to me. Cause she knew he loved her (at least until there rumors) he constantly looked for her.

~~~~

“On sunny days I go out walking

I end up on a tree-lined street

I look up at the gaps of sunlight

I miss you more than anything”

I think this could be either of them but this is such Finnick to me. Especially after the last chapter, god is this just his internal monologue

~~~~

So yeah. This song reminds me of Finnick and his sweet girl. The song of longing for something that is out of your grasp. The way Finnick loves his sweet girl is similar to when a man is trapped in a desert, using their hands as a cup for water, yet the water continues to slip out.

-🌾anon

I'm sat and buckled for this

11/10 absolutely correct, they're just so mitski coded overall

yes finnick has his rope, reader is described as constantly playing her her fingers and when she has a necklace on it's that.

also they've both put on the golden personas, but especially reader believes she's such a terrible person on the inside that she probably does see it as the best she can be. and she also is constantly putting on a brave face to hide the way things effect her on the inside at least until she's in district 13.

reader technically staying away from finnick but dating one of his fairweather friends so he's still watching, eyes on her, so she knows he's still around

literally finnick cannot look at anything, go a waking moment without thinking about his sweet girl. he just wants to be with her all the time, to see her, to hear her talk and laugh.

yes yes yes yes

just enough water to wet your lips, give you a taste before it's gone and you have to desperately try to cup more, so delicately try to keep it from slipping away

I love this so much 💋

#wanda 💋#🌾 anon #finnick odair x reader #the lakes #the river

26 notes · View notes

vhagarsflame · 2 years ago

Text

To Stitch a Wound (Part 1)

Summary: You are Rhaenyras eldest daughter sent to King's Landing to be taught the histories of your house. You see Aemond fighting and when he notices you he wants to teach you how. The next day you get hurt in the training, Aemond takes care of you and you start to admit how you feel about him to yourself. Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader (Rhaenyras daughter) Warnings: swearing, fighting, blood, injuries, stitching, uncle/niece, NSFW, spice goes a bit up at the end. Word count: 4,5 k (pt 1 + 2 combined)

The days in Kings Landing were always sunny and beautiful, not as windy as the days you spent on Dragonstone with your mother, Rhaenyra. She is the reason why you were here right now.

You were her oldest daughter, and therefore set to inherit the Iron Throne after her.

When your grandfather Viserys grew weaker and weaker your mother decided to send you to the Septa at the Red Keep to teach you the histories of your house.

"No ruling Targaryen can be caught unknowing of our legacy" she had said to you as she brushed your pale blonde hair behind your ears.

"Fare well, my darling. I am only a raven away" she whispered in your ear as she hugged you goodbye.

The trip to King's Landing had been pleasant. You had travelled there before for short visits, but now you were to stay.

When you woke up this morning there was a letter waiting for you at the small table next to your bed, telling you that you were expected at the Weirwood Tree for another lesson with the Septa and your aunt Helaena. You really liked Helaena, she was sweet, mellow and intelligent and you greatly enjoyed the discussions you had after the lessons.

You had not seen much of her husband, Aegon while you stayed here, you thought to yourself that it may be because Aegon frequently visited the Street of Silk to drown himself in his cups and whatever flesh he could find. This is why you decided to extend an invitation to Helaena to join you, you felt bad for her, being ignored by her husband. It soon became apparent to you that her great interest for history matched your own and you became friends quickly.

You grabbed your usual velvet dress from the chair you had left it on the day before. It fit you perfectly, it had tiny dragons embroidered on the neckline and it tied in the back, much like the corsets you had been the old ladies wear to court. The fabric hugged your figure and made you look more grown up. You were 19 now, it was time to dress like a lady your mother had said. You finished putting the dress on, struggling a bit with the ties in the back.

You stepped into your shoes, grabbed your books from the shelf by the mirror and frowned. You did not know which book to bring, so you decided to bring them all just in case. Walking up stairs in your dress had proved difficult if you were in a rush, so you'd better bring all of them and save yourself some trouble.

You were already running late when you quickly walked down the call from your rooms, you were not paying attention as you rounded a corner and collided with a tall wall of leather clad muscle. The books flew out of your hands and you looked up.

Your uncle, Prince Aemonds violet gaze looked down at you and one corner of his mouth tugged upward. He was dressed in armour, going to train in the yard.

"Where are you hurrying off to now, dear niece?" he asked grabbing several of the books off the floor and stacking them in your waiting arms.

"I am so sorry, my Prince" you said with cheeks flushing. "I am to meet the Septa for my lessons, and I am late"

"No need to apologise, dear niece." He touched your shoulder and nodded his head.

"Run along now, before the Septa makes you write lines, and be careful" he said and moved so you could pass him.

You smiled a thank you and continued on your way. You walked carefully down the stairs and out into the courtyard. To your surprise, you met Helaena.

"Are you late too?" she asked grabbing two of your books from your arms.

You nodded a yes and walked with her.

"Jaehaerys was fuzzy," she explained "He does not want me to leave him, I had to give him to my mother to calm him down". You knew the boy was very dependent on his mother and you smiled.

"I hope he calms down with the Queen"

You and Helaena reached the tree and was immediately met with the furrowed brow of Septa Marlow.

"Late, again" she stated and pointed to the bench in front of her. "Sit".

You did as instructed and opened the book she was holding. The Conquest. Again. You sighed. How many times would she have you retell it? It was the first story you ever knew, and you had heard it a thousand times before.

"Y/N, begin at the beginning" she said and took your book. From memory then. You took a breath and said

"Aegon I conquered Westeros in 1 AC, he came to King's Landing with his sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya and their three dragons. Balerion the Black Dread, Meraxes and Vhagar. He landed here," you pointed to the hill behind the tree and continued "It was called Aegons Hill at first, but then the name was changed to King's Landing as the city grew. He simultaneously settled Dragonstone again after the 100 years that had passed since Daenys had her dream about the Doom of Valyria." You took a breath, the book contained a multitude of extremely long sentences and you had learned them all.

"Good!, now, the Doom?" she said and pointed at Helaena.

Helaena explained about how Daenys the Dreamer knew to leave Valyria and make her family settle on Dragonstone. You knew this too, but you did not know what the Doom actually was, just that it was catastrophic.

The lesson went on with tales of Aegons reign, his wars with the lands refusing his ascent and how his sister Rhaenys passed, Visenya had a son called Maegor, dubbed Maegor the Cruel and he took the throne after Aegons son, Aenys, died.

You had not yet gotten into why he was 'Cruel', perhaps it was expected of you to already know it and you hoped Septa would not ask you questions about it. If she did, there would definitely be lines to write. You smirked. Had she made Aemond write lines too?

One more hour passed before the Septa decided that it was enough for the day. Helaena left quickly to tend to her fuzzy son and you were left with your stack of books. You meandered through the grass and past several benches before the sound of clanging steel met your ears.

Aemond was definitely fighting today. You had never really seen him fight, you knew he was ferocious and dangerous and this sparked your curiosity. You could leave your books and sneak to the courtyard to see him you thought. And so you did.

You left the books in a neat pile and walked off towards the sound.

You heard his growls before you saw him. He had his back to you as he was counterattacking Ser Criston Cole, blocking and parrying the blows with lethal ease. He stepped around the Commander and turned around so quickly that Ser Criston almost lost his step. Aemond pointed his Valyrian steel sword at the Commanders neck and smirked.

Ser Criston did not give him a moments respite as he charged again. You had never seen anyone fight like this. Aemond was almost just a flurry of pale hair, leather and steel. The swords clanged together rhythmically, almost like a song. Finally it looked like Ser Criston was spent and he dropped his hand.

"Well done, my Prince" he said, panting. "You will be winning tourneys in no time!"

Aemond just looked at him and said "I don't give a shit about tourneys."

Then his eye spotted you in the crowd and he turned to face you.

"Niece, have you come to train?" his hand moved, like he was about to extend his sword to you. You did not know what to do. No way you could fight him! You knew your way around a dagger, but not a sword. You were not even sure if you could manage to hold it. And you could definitely not fight in a dress!

"My books?" you half asked half stated and pointed to the place you left them.

He laughed.

"Someone fetch the Princess' books and then clear the yard. It's high time I taught my niece the ropes." he said in the general direction of Ser Criston.

He bowed his head. "My Prince". He walked towards you and stopped.

"I will leave the books in your rooms, Princess." he said and bowed again.

"Thank you, Ser Criston" you said and smiled.

The courtyard was cleared alarmingly fast and your heart started thundering. Aemond was looking at you now, amused.

"You cannot fight or train in that," he said and pointed the sword at your dress. "There should be some breeches and a shirt in the armoury, please put them on. If it is not modest enough for you there is also a cloak."

You agreed. Reluctantly. As you left the armoury ten minutes later you scoffed. The shirt he had mentioned turned out to be more of a rag, full of holes and it smelled something terrible. The breeches were okay enough, you could move more freely and less hindered in them. You had had to tie the string two times around your waist to keep them from slipping off and exposing you.

Aemond waited with his sword, blade placed between his feet and hands resting on the pommel-stone.

"What do I do?" you asked as he extended his sword to you, holding the blade to make sure you didn't cut yourself.

"Feel the weight of it, lift it and think of it as an extension of your arm." he said and walked behind you. You did as instructed.

"No", he continued and corrected your bent elbow. "If someone were to strike you now, they would take your arm clean off. You have to keep your arms close to your body before you attack." he said stretching your arm out and keeping it still.

"Much better, Princess" he said as you adjusted your stance and looked at him. The title made you flush.

"What next?"

He was so close to you that you could smell him. He smelled like sweat, leather and steel, and something musty you could not place.

He moved to stand in front of you and brushed some fly-away hair away from your shoulders.

"Hmm" was all he said.

"Focus, Princess" your gaze had drifted down his body, looking at how he kept his weight over his knees, legs a little bent, but not too far apart. His left foot pointed a little outwards and you copied him.

"Good girl" he praised as you angled your body like he taught you before. The praise made your stomach flutter and tightened something in your spine.

"However," he moved behind you and put both his hands on your waist. You had no idea what happened. You could feel his strong hands and long fingers touching your skin through the thin shirt, warming it, and suddenly every thought escaped your head. He had touched you before, but not like this.

You did not realise you had moaned out loud, until he moved his hands away from you. You hoped he had not heard. As you turned you saw the rogueish glint in his violet eye and knew he had. You looked down and realised that if you moved he would be able to see your breasts. The fog that had crept into the keep was making your shirt see-through. You decided to keep your focus on Aemond and listen.

He moved his hands again and angled you correctly, knees slightly bent, the weight on your feet, waist twisted a tiny bit and stretched out your arm.

"Good, now, since you have my sword I shall use another". As he walked over to the table with the weapons you thought he walked a bit strange, as if something pained him. His hip?

When he came back he had a wooden sword in his hand and he engaged you. Making you parry and try to deflect his attacks. You were too occupied paying attention to where you kept your feet to really look at him, you just mirrored his movements to the best of your ability.

"Now, attack me!" he commanded and moved back a few steps.

You extended your arm, feeling the weight of the steel and charged. You kept your left hand behind your back and swung at him, swinging was easier than stabbing because your arm did not need to be pulled back and leave your side close and open for counterattacks.

You hit his sword and the force of it pushed it into his left shoulder.

"Excellent, Princess!" he exclaimed as he rubbed his sore arm.

"Thank you, my Prince" you said and bowed.

"I am Aemond to you, Princess" he said, the glint still in his eye.

He came to you and extended his hand for your sword. "I think this is enough for today, we can train more tomorrow if you'd like"

"Yes please!" you said, fast. Too fast.

Aemond raised his eyebrow at you and laughed.

"Now, go tend to your sore muscles and meet me here tomorrow at dawn."

Part 2

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon

120 notes · View notes

swiftllama · 1 year ago

Note

Omg im soo happy to be the first person to introduce you to Mitski!! Such a good artist— few other songs by her makes me think of Ian and Anthony, the lyrics is really heart achingly beautiful 😞..

- Francis forever: pov Ian ? Could be Anthony too

- Your best American girl: pov ANTHONY OOOH MY GOD when I first heard him describe Ian as the sun?? This what comes to mind instantly ( just one specific verse tho hehe)

Anyway thank you for the response!! Im so happy i can hyperfixate and share the fixation lol

Hey! Sorry only getting to this now!

Had a listen to both of the songs and oh yeah, very fitting!

Lyric analysis :-

Forever Francis

I know you said Ian’s pov for this, but it’s all Anthony to me. Some of it’s fitting for both but I just see Anthony.

“I don't know what to do without you / I don't know where to put my hands / I've been trying to lay my head down / But I'm writing this at three AM.”

- ‘But I’m writing this at three AM.’ Anthony’s letter! All can think about!

“I don't need the world to see / That I've been the best I can be, but / I don't think I could stand to be / Where you don't see me.”

- I see this from when he’d let go of the resentment towards Smosh/Ian and was wanting to reconnect. He was doing better than he ever had been before, but he doesn’t need the world to see that, only Ian.

“On sunny days I go out walking / I end up on a tree-lined street / I look up at the gaps of sunlight / I miss you more than anything.”

“And autumn comes when you're not yet done / With the summer passing by, but / I don't think I could stand to be / Where you don't see me.”

- So ☀️🔍 coded! Anthony looking up at the sun and thinking of and missing Ian! LITERALLY STOP!

Your Best American Girl

“You're the sun, you've never seen the night / But you hear its song from the morning birds / Well, I'm not the moon, I'm not even a star / But awake at night I'll be singing to the birds.”

- THIS ONE VERSE! YES! Definitely from Anthony’s pov. Also the parallels to the last song with being awake at night thinking about Ian.

“I've been trying to lay my head down / But I'm writing this at three AM.” // “But awake at night I'll be singing to the birds.”

Thank you so much for the recs!

#ianthony #☀️🔍#lyric analysis #asks

9 notes · View notes

skyler10fic · 2 years ago

Text

To Have and to Hold: Ch. 2 Venue Adventures

Carol and Daisy have three available locations in mind for their wedding. Join them as they find the one that is just right for them!

Read on Ao3

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

The first thing to decide on was the location, which would determine the exact weekend around “early June” as their timeframe. Unfortunately, they discovered, four months was cutting it close for most venues. Three spots on their list, however, still had openings, so Carol and Daisy rearranged their schedules to visit them as soon as possible on the last Saturday in February. At least it was a sunny, comparatively warm one for the season.

First up was a barn-style venue at a country club. The manager picked them up from the front office in a golf cart and drove them around the property for what seemed like ages. Despite the warmth of the sun when they were standing still, the biting wind made the ride seem longer.

“We’re so glad y’all could come out here!” the manager shouted over the noise of the motor and wind in a thick Tennesee accent. “It’s been busy busy busy. We are filling up with events left and right.”

They finally arrived at the end of the winding trail to a little walking path. Golfers in sweaters taking advantage of the rare sunny winter day waved as they walked passed, and gorgeous huge trees lined the green.

“This is nice,” Daisy said optimistically. “I like the landscaping and everyone seems friendly.”

“Oh yes,” the manager confirmed. “We all watch out for each other too.” She waved at some golfers who waited until they had passed to tee off. “It’s just around here now.”

She led them around a curve in the path and through some trees to reveal a rustic-chic barn and open lawn area.

“This is where we put the buffet area,” she said gesturing to a concrete slab with poles to support hanging lanterns. “And this is great for a photo booth!”

Carol wandered away a bit, drawn by the sound of a nearby creek.

“Oh no!” the manager shouted. “Honey, come back on this side of the fencing.” She frantically waved to the whitewashed wood, unfortunately missing a few sections, that lined the wedding area as a golf ball whizzed past Carol’s head.

Carol’s heart raced as she quickly and carefully made her way back to the manager and to Daisy’s side.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Daisy concluded. “What if one of our guests got hit by a ball?”

The manager pasted on a customer service smile. “We do have a teensy waver for them to sign, but we can always add some decorations or signage to help keep them in the reception area. Before you make any decisions, let’s see the inside!”

Carol and Daisy exchanged silent looks behind her back as she led them into the barn. They would be hypocritical to be disappointed, as it was exactly what it said on the tin. Artistically arranged horseshoes, branding iron marks, and taxidermied cattle heads decorated the painted gray walls, with knotted, uneven reclaimed wood flooring and a white wagon wheel table at the entrance “for the guest book!” as the manager explained in delight.

“The website was less…” Carol faltered. “Western?”

The manager tsked and waved dismissively. “Oh we haven’t updated that yet to reflect the redesign, but themed weddings are so popular these days, and did you know we’re the only Western aesthetic venue in the region?! Of course, you can always tone it down if cowgirl isn’t your style. The longhorns are removable, for an extra fee for labor, and we have some nice floral paintings or some ironwork light fixtures with electric candles, whatever your taste. The space is very adaptable.”

The tension hung in the air as they tried to find a way to politely refuse. Daisy walked around the barn to give it full consideration. They only had three choices, so if the others turned out to be worse, she wanted to make sure they could make this one work.

Unfortunately, she was distracted in this thought process by wall decor with “Live, Laugh, Love” underscored by hunting rifles under each word, and she tripped over a knot in the wood, knocking over a three-foot-tall metal silhouette of a cowboy and cowgirl in a romantic embrace.

“Sorry! Sorry.” She tried to right the artwork and noticed she’d chipped the paint on the cowboy’s hat where it hit the ground. She grimaced and whirled back around to rush to Carol’s side. “You know, we’d really better be going.”

Carol took the hint and looked at her watch. “Oh, yes, we have another appointment, and with the ride back, we better go now to not be late. This looks, it’s very… aesthetic, as you said!”

Daisy pressed her lips into a smile and nodded and hummed in agreement. The manager surrendered in disappointment and led them back to the golf cart.

“Oh, watch out!” She stopped them just in time as a golf ball flew overhead. “Clive’s been losing his sight, poor man, but we can’t tell him not to come. His father was one of the founders of the club! So we just have to be extra careful on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.”

Carol and Daisy sent each other another silent message with raised eyebrows. A Saturday wedding was their goal, assuming it would allow more guests to make it.

Back at their car after a long walk and golf cart ride, Daisy and Carol closed their doors and exhaled.

“So.” Daisy put the key in the ignition and started the car. “Safety seemed like a concern.”

“Right. And, as hot as cowgirls are, maybe not our ideal wedding aesthetic,” Carol emphasized and they both let out a giggle they’d been holding in.

“Okay, so we’re agreed. Not our scene.” Daisy backed out of the parking spot and drove on to the main road. “Though I will take note of the hot cowgirl comment for other activities.”

She glanced briefly over to Carol, who bit her lip as her imagination filled in the blanks.

“Yes, please. But next up is…” Carol announced as she programmed the address into her phone’s GPS app, “The Church of Love, a remodeled cathedral-style venue that doubles as a popular neighborhood bar, with live music, food, and drinks, drinks, drinks.” She paused, amused. “It says it three times like that. Drinks drinks drinks. There’s more information about the types of alcohol they offer than the space itself or the pricing or what’s included.”

Daisy sighed. “Yeah, I’m hoping they have more details in person. I mean, obviously, they are a bar, so that’s their business, but it would be good to know what ballpark we’re talking here budget-wise.”

Carol shrugged. “Probably standard to not have it on their website. Most places didn’t either. But like, do they work with caterers, do they provide a sound system…”

“It didn’t have many pictures either. Most of them were of the stained glass windows so I didn’t get a good sense of the space.”

They drove up to the steepled building with neon signs out front and beer ad banners flapping in the wind. It was only 2 p.m., so the parking lot was empty, save one car at the far end. They got out and knocked on the huge wooden doors, trying to avoid the judgmental gaze of the gargoyles and other creatures above and around them.

“Hey!” called a man with spiky white hair wearing a Hawaiian shirt in 40-degree weather. “That’s just for show. Entrance is over here.” He pointed to a normal-sized metal door on the side of the church and walked inside, so they followed. The entryway and lobby were dark, but the man flipped on lights and unlocked doors as he went, clearly in charge of the facility.

“Hi, hey,” Daisy greeted as they caught up with him. “We have an appointment to talk about having a wedding here? Are you Jack?”

“Jackie,” the man corrected, “Jack was my dad. And he’d be rolling over in his grave if he knew what I’d done to his church and hosting marriages between…” Jackie looked back at them, stopped himself, and had a wheezing coughing fit. “Sorry, nothing contagious, just believe ‘em when they say smoking’s bad for ya, kids.” He coughed again and Carol and Daisy tried not to visibly recoil.

He opened a final door and swept his arm around. “Here it is!” The first thing they noticed was the pride he took in it. The second as they stepped into the former sanctuary was the giant stained glass rose windows above with rows and rows of narrow panes of stained glass just below, throwing light all around them.

“Whoa,” Daisy smiled. “Okay, that’s cool.”

“Oh!” Carol lowered her gaze to see an equally huge bar counter under one of the windows. Neon lights lined the shelves full of tequila and vodka and beers of every variety and more. “Right here in the space.”

“Convenient, right?” Jackie waggled his eyebrows. “Wait ‘til you see this.” He pressed a remote and a disco ball descended from one of the archways. Then another. And another.

Daisy scrunched her nose in the way she did when she was trying not to be rude. “So, we were thinking the reception and the ceremony would be in different rooms. Is there anything like that?”

Jackie raised his hands in peace, “Okay, okay, I see where you’re coming from. We have these partitions built in for this.” He walked to one of the walls at the narrow midsection of the sanctuary and folded out hinged room dividers, and the other on the other side. “Back when this was a fancy church, they’d’ve had the choir up here, see, and the people in the back in what’s now the reception space.”

“Party in the back, got it,” Daisy confirmed. She followed Carol to the front where the altar still stood.

Jackie’s phone rang and he walked away for a moment.

Standing before the altar, Daisy followed Carol’s gaze up to the massive crucifix, complete with with Christ’s dying body carved in marble. Carol shivered. Daisy soothed her back. “You okay?”

Carol huffed out a half-laugh and turned to face the sanctuary. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s weird, though. I can’t decide if it’s too holy or not enough.”

Daisy noticed below the stained glass but above the party scene, another row of gargoyles and angels stared down at them. “On paper, it sounds so cool. But in reality, it just doesn’t feel right, does it?”

They noted the way Jackie’s voice carried as he ranted to someone on the phone, echoing throughout the sanctuary even though he was far on the other side.

Carol shrugged and gestured loosely to the marble bar counter with over a dozen marble stools and a whole wall of bottles. “It does seem like a cool bar concept. But maybe not for our wedding?”

“Nah.” Daisy waved to Jackie, who waved back. She wasn’t entirely sure if he understood that they were leaving, but it didn’t matter anyway. “On to lucky number three!”

The third venue had said to call first, so Carol talked to the receptionist who told them to come and reassured them that they would love the space, but that the venue’s manager was out dealing with an urgent situation and would meet them there as soon as she was available.

“Sounds like we have some time,” Carol said to Daisy after hanging up. “Wanna get coffee first?”

“God, yes.” Daisy pulled into a Starbucks and they went in for a rest stop and refreshments in their long afternoon.

Carol nibbled her thumbnail as they waited for their drinks. “What if this next one is another bust? What’s after that?”

Daisy blew out her lips. “We go back to the drawing board, I guess. Maybe some of the ones that said they were full have cancellations or a waiting list? Wedding venues must have cancellations all the time, right, with people changing their dates or whatever?”

The barista called Carol’s name and she stepped up to take her drink, thank them, and wait for Daisy’s. Then she had an idea. “We could get creative, maybe somewhere we’re not thinking of? Somewhere not on the usual lists.”

The barista called out a drink for Tracey. Carol made sure they didn’t accidentally mean Daisy, but no, a Tracey stepped up to get an iced coffee.

“Sorry, that’s mine,” Tracey said as Carol moved out of the way.

“Iced coffee in February,” Daisy remarked, “that’s something I would do.”

Tracey gave a little smile in response, then asked, “Hey, were you talking about wedding venues? I didn’t mean to overhear, just my wife and I got married last spring at a great place.”

With that sentence, Tracey had their attention. “We’d love any recommendations at this point,” Daisy confessed. “We’re aiming for June, and most places are booked already.”

Tracey searched in her phone for the information for the venue and showed them her screen. “Here, try this one. Gorgeous landscaping, right on this pond, there’s a wedding chapel and then an outdoor space and a reception hall with a kitchen. It’s owned by the city parks department, but as long as you bring in all your own people—photography, catering, deejay, whatever—and clean up when you’re done, it’s a good place to look into. We loved it.”

“Thank you!” Carol typed the name of the venue and the city parks website came up with a page for the park it was in.

“Good luck, and congratulations!” Tracey called as she left. Daisy's drink came just in time.

Carol saw Daisy was holding in a smile.

“What is it?” Carol asked as they walked out of the coffee shop and back to the car.

“Look at the next address on the list.”

“What?”

“Just do it!” Daisy urged with a laugh, getting out the keys as they reached the car.

“Wait. No.” Carol looked up over the car at her.

“Yup.” Daisy grinned and got in. When they were ready to go, she waited for Carol’s phone to bring up directions to the park. “Sounds like this is the one. Let’s go.”

“How did I not realize that I was calling the parks department earlier?” Carol asked herself. “She just answered with her name, I guess, and I assumed it was a business.”

Daisy stopped at a light and took a drink of her coffee. “I just showed you photos of this one, not the site, because honestly the web page sucked. City websites always suck, and I didn’t want you to hate it because of that or think it was run down or cheap or something just because it was a parks department venue.”

“Fair,” Carol replied, scrolling through the scant information on the park web page. It was poorly adapted for the mobile browser, so she had to scroll horizontally as well as vertically.

They arrived at the park just as a car with the parks department logo pulled in.

A woman in a maroon peacoat with a clipboard got out and rushed over to them at a speed her pumps would allow. “So sorry! I was running late because there was a raccoon at the playground…”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Daisy cringed that they had stopped for coffee after saying they were coming right over. “No rush. We just arrived.”

“Ah! Perfect timing then. I’m Anne.” She shook both of their hands and led the way up a wooden ramp to the wedding chapel. “Let’s see here.”

She pulled out a truly impressive ring of keys of every shape and variety and unlocked the door. An entryway with restrooms and a bulletin board of parks department activities opened up into a lobby area with a table, a few chairs, and carpet to prevent echoing. There was a simple wood stand for a guest book and a few windows for natural lighting.

“It was renovated a few years ago, so while it looks new, it has a long history,” Anne explained.

She opened the chapel doors to reveal a modern but simple chapel. One round stained glass window above the altar showed a rose surrounded by a rainbow of colors. Large plain glass panes in the front gave them a stunning view of the pond, surrounded by willows, oaks, and evergreens.

Anne apologized again, “It’s not the best view now but by June, I promise everything will be in bloom.” She pointed out which plants grew on which sides of the pond and the center where a fountain would be sparkling come spring but was off for the winter.

They turned to the inside. A wood podium stood at the front with various cables and plugs for the sound system. There was nothing particularly religious about the room, nor any other clear “aesthetic” or “theme.” Daisy did notice built-in hooks for floral arrangements or other decorations, and Carol pointed out the seating was movable pews, if they needed more or fewer.

“Yes,” Anne confirmed. “This is our standard spacing, but we have two more rows if needed or we can space them out a bit more to make the room look less empty for fewer guests. Or add a chair or two from the lobby.”

For every question and concern, Anne seemed to have an answer. She then walked them over to the outdoor and indoor reception area options, showed them the typical places buffet tables and gift tables and cake tables could go in each, the spots for speakers whether they decided to hire musicians or a deejay or a simple sound system, and a basic but functional kitchen.

Daisy’s heart raced. This was it. She looked to Carol, who took her hand and squeezed.

“Well,” Anne turned to them, checking off the last item on her clipboard. “That’s all I have, any more questions for me?”

“Just to confirm,” Daisy asked, trying not to get her hopes up too high yet, “you said this is available in June?”

Anne checked her clipboard as they waited with bated breath. “Mmhm. I have down that you want Saturday, June 4, is that correct? We put a temporary hold on that date for you, but I’m afraid if you don’t put down a deposit today, we’ll have to open it up again and we can’t guarantee it will stay open.”

Misinterpreting Carol and Daisy’s excited shared look as apprehension, she stepped back, “I’ll give you two a moment to talk it over. I’ll be out here.” She stepped outside and walked around the side of the building to remove some litter from a dormant flowerbed.

Carol’s smile bloomed as she saw Daisy’s. “Yes,” they both said at once. Daisy squealed. “I can’t believe it. We’re getting married. Here.”

“C’mon. Let’s test it out.” Carol led her back to the chapel. They hurried to the front and looked out at the pond, beginning to change color as the sun neared the horizon, just out of view. They stood facing each other, holding each other’s hands just as they would in the ceremony.

“I do,” Daisy teased.

“I do too,” Carol replied and winked. They kissed just as Anne found them. She waited politely until they noticed her.

“We’ll take it,” Carol confirmed.

“Please,” Daisy added.

She was tempted to add more pleases, but it was unnecessary as Anne replied, “Perfect! Let’s get the boring part over with, shall we?” She raised her clipboard to indicate she meant the paperwork.

She led them out into the lobby where there was a table to sit at, turned on a light as it was starting to get dark, pulled out the forms, and clarified the amount for the deposit.

As Daisy ran to the car for her checkbook, Anne confessed to Carol, “I’m glad it is a good fit for you two. Some people think it’s too plain or too small, but I’ve always loved this place.”

“It’s perfect for us,” Carol said, reading over the paperwork and signing where indicated.

“My parents were married here,” Anne said quietly, then put back on her cheerier parks department tone. “Of course, it’s been through two renovations since then. Wi-Fi, new appliances in the kitchen, and ADA accessible now.”

Carol finished her part of the paperwork as Daisy arrived back inside and sat down with them. She wrote the check and filled out her part of the paperwork as Carol asked Anne more about the park’s history, which Anne was all too happy to provide.

When they were done, they stood out front as Anne locked up, remarking on how it had gotten cold while they were inside. Carol and Daisy got out their gloves from their coat pockets, wrapped their scarves tighter, and took in the surrounding park.

“Call me if you have any questions,” Anne called out to them and waved goodbye. They waved and then turned back to the pond to watch the last of the sunset fade into twilight and the stars begin to appear. Daisy slipped her arm around Carol’s waist, and Carol laid her head against Daisy’s.

“June can’t come fast enough,” Carol sighed happily.

“I know what you mean, but, uh, we have a lot to do before then, missy.” Daisy pulled her away and back to the car as they started shivering in the February air. “Invitations, guest list, cake, food, drinks, a wedding website, registry, music, decorations, what we’re going to wear, what color we want so we know what to ask the wedding party to wear, honeymoon destination…”

“Okay, okay,” Carol laughed as Daisy started up the car. “I just meant, I’m excited to marry you right in there.” She pointed to the chapel.

“In our adorable wedding chapel! Aw, look at it.” They exhaled happily together, which made them laugh at their own cheesiness, and then Daisy drove them home where they could at least check off the biggest item on their list.

Who would come and what they would see and do and eat while at their wedding, well, that could wait for another day.

#daisy johnson #carol danvers #aos #agents of shield #captain marvel #daisy x carol #carol x daisy #wlw #sapphic fic #femslash #lesbian carol danvers #bisexual daisy johnson #skywriting #wedding au #aos au #captain marvel au #femslash february 2023

7 notes · View notes

thedisneychef · 1 year ago

Text

Spicy Sausage With Creamy Sweet Corn Polenta – Le Cellier And International Food And Wine Festival

One of the things about this blog is that it gives me the chance to not only explore Disney foods I’ve never gotten the chance to try in the parks, but that it gives me the chance to make something that I tried while on a vacation and loved. Like Remy describes (yes, I’m talking about the fictional rat from “Ratatouille”), good food comes together, like a symphony, and takes you on a journey, sometimes to an entirely different time and place. That is what this dish did for me. One bite and I was back in EPCOT, walking the World Showcase on a beautiful, sunny day, probably on my way to Soarin or the Japan Pavilion. More Delicious Recipes You Will Love: - Crispy Pork Belly with Cider Pickled Pears: Sweet-Savory Combo - Fall-Off-The-Bone Delicious: Savory Pork Ribs Recipe - Pork Schnitzel This meal has quite the background. It was one of the most popular dishes on Le Cellier’s appetizer menu. Served in a cast iron skillet, designed for family-style sharing, it was a great, fun, and unique appetizer option. When the restaurant changed their menu to reflect their new status as a signature dining option, despite its popularity, the dish was retired. Believe it or not, threads started popping up on various forums of people trying to figure out where it went, where else they can go in Disney to find it, even how to make it. When people talked about the reasons it was such a tragedy Le Cellier went to an all-day signature dining experience, the retiring of this dish was a complaint that came up frequently. Perhaps due to that popular demand, the following year at the EPCOT’s Food and Wine Festival a version of the dish appeared again at Canada’s kiosk, which is also where I had it for the first time. I mean seriously, who could pass up a booth that had both sausage and the famous Canadian Cheddar Cheese Soup? I vividly remember waiting in a long line, juggling multiple plates (two of each the soup and the sausage) while scrambling to find a spot to eat because every chair, bench, and table was full. Ben and I ended up finding a spot on the top of a covered trash can in a little area right next to the World Showcase Lagoon. We stood and ate, hunkered over this stupid garbage can, just relishing every single bite while enjoying a postcard perfect day at EPCOT. I still remember how the sky was so blue, it almost hurt to look at it, and all the trees and plants around the lake were a vivid, emerald green. It was warm, with a beautiful breeze that was strong enough that there were little waves rolling across the lagoon. Stunning. Peaceful. For sure a happy Disney moment. I can’t say how happy I am to have this recipe. This is really just a memory on a plate. Even with the slight changes I made (more on that in a minute), every moment of this recipe was an exciting Disney memory, a fantastic Disney smell… Not even joking when I say while I was making the polenta, I yelled out “This smells like Disney!” and all five people in the house huddled over the pot taking big, deep breaths. We all agreed, by the way, it does smell like Disney… It smells exactly like the buffet area of Tusker House. Just saying. Anyway, I did make some tweaks to the recipe. First off, I used frozen corn instead of cutting fresh corn off the cob and roasting it. We live in New Hampshire and it’s March… Fresh corn on the cob? Not happening. While I’m sure it would have been a deeper flavor if I’d used that roasted corn, the frozen corn was certainly a completely delicious, functional substitute. The other somewhat major change I made was I used spicy pork sausage. The recipe as written calls for chicken sausage, and while the version at Le Cellier did alternate between spicy pork and spicy chicken sausage, the Food and Wine version does use exclusively chicken sausage. My switch was purely personal preference and economics… I’m not a huge fan of the chicken sausage available at our grocery store, and regular sausage was on sale. The only other special notes I have about this recipe is that this recipe is the base to both the old Le Cellier appetizer, but also the Food and Wine Festival’s Canada offering. That said, both dishes are dressed slightly differently… One with a lot of greens, a little cheese, and the other with a sauteed pepper onion mixture. When I served this, I went just with the base recipe, the polenta and the sausage. Of all the dishes I’ve made in recent memory, this was one of my absolute favorite meals. Everybody loved it and we had absolutely no leftovers. I did stick with the creamy polenta as opposed to letting it cook up so that it was more firm (which is what they do at Disney too), and I think it was the absolute perfect compliment to that spicy sausage. I couldn’t get enough of this meal. I’m already dreaming about when I can make it again… Only one bite and I was back next to the World Showcase Lagoon enjoying an amazing meal on the top of a covered trash can, thinking about Soarin Fastpasses, sake tasting in Japan, and enjoying a perfect fall day at EPCOT. For those who prefer pork, the Pork Food category has a range of recipes that highlight the rich and savory flavors of this meat, from crispy pork belly to succulent pulled pork. And last but not least, the Chicken Food category offers a variety of recipes that showcase the versatility of this lean protein, from classic roasted chicken to spicy chicken wings. Read the full article

0 notes

canirove · 3 years ago

Text

The Lord in Blue | Chapter 6

Author’s note: This chapter was mainly inspired by these gifs of Mason and people’s comments 😁 And I don’t know how historically accurate the football part is, but oh well 🤷🏼‍♀️ Hope you like it and thank you for your support! 💜

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"How did you say this sport was called? Football?" I ask.

"And you say it's all about kicking a ball and making it cross a line?" I ask, trying to understand what she and Lord White are explaining to me. He's sitting next to us, though he's in the sun. I joke saying that he's like a cat, always finding the sunny spot to just lay there doing nothing.

"Yes, cousin. Foot," she says while putting one of her feet out of the water, "ball."

We are at the lake, trying to refresh ourselves a little. We are currently going through the worst of the summer, and the lake has always been the best place to be. Since my cousin became the Queen, she decided to basically move the whole court here during these days. There are tents all around the lake where people spend the night and have meetings during the day. Tables have been set under the trees, the perfect spot to eat or just chat. And every night a big fire is lit, lords and ladies gathering around it to tell stories, sing and dance.

It's been a couple of weeks since the engagement announcement, so it feels like we've been celebrating since then. And now, a game of this new sport men and women are loving so much at court, is going to be played in honor of the couple.

"You'll understand it when you see it, my lady" he says without opening his eyes.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

The day of the game is finally here, and they've turned one of the fields next to the palace grounds into the pitch. They've painted a big rectangle on it, which is where they men will be playing, and open tents have been set all around it so people can watch it and not get an insolation. Servants have also been invited, having their own tents.

The game starts, and everyone cheers with excitement. I try to focus on understanding what is going on, how this game is played. After a few missed opportunities by both teams, I think I finally know what is going on.

I'm sitting on one of the biggest ones with the Queen and some other ladies. When the players show up, everyone stars cheering. There are two teams, a mix of lords and servants who also like the game. Lord White and Lord Rice are on one of teams, Lord Mount on the other. Just seeing him makes my heart skip a bit.

We've kept seeing each other as usual since the day of the engagement announcement, not talking about what happened. But when we are on the same room, we look for each other, sharing a shy smile when our eyes meet. When we are out on our walks, he sometimes searches for my hand, just a little touch. And like that day in the garden, my whole body instantly reacts to it.

"My lady, which team are you supporting?" one of the ladies on our tent asks me.

"She supports Lord Mount's team, of course" my cousin smirks, making the other ladies whisper about it.

"Thank you for that" I mutter.

The game keeps going on, no one able to score a goal. When they make it to the half time break, they all are sweating, the white shirts they are wearing clinging to their bodies, giving us a little glimpse of their muscles. It definitely is a plus to the sport.

When the match resumes, I can see him running like his life depended on it. He's determined to score a goal. And even though he doesn't manage to do it, he assists two other players who do score, making the game end on a draw.

When the second half starts, Lord White's team scores a goal. People go crazy celebrating, my cousin among them. Not long after, they score another goal. I check on Lord Mount, who is kicking the grass in frustration.

"C'mon Lord Mount!" I cheer when he passes before our tent, forgetting where I am and the people around me. He looks at me, giving me one of those smiles I like so much.

While all the players go change and refresh themselves, we move back to the lake. More tables have been set with food and drinks so the servants can also keep enjoying the day. People are already around them, talking about the game, and we do the same. Not long after, Lord White joins us.

"So, tell me, my lady. Did you enjoy the game? What did you think about it?" he asks me.

"I have to admit it, you all were right. It is a very entertaining sport and I enjoyed it a lot."

"Thank you, my lady. I just wished I had been able to score to dedicate you a goal."

More people join us, and among them is Lord Mount, who is standing next to me.

"You played really well, my lord" I say to him.

"Next time" I say while blushing. We keep chatting for a while, but it's just small talk.

As it starts to get dark, the big fire from every day is ready to be lit. A little group of people has joined Lord Mount and I, keeping us apart. But even if he's talking with someone else, his eyes constantly are on me. I'm lost in conversation with one of the ladies, when he suddenly shows up next to me.

"Sorry to interrupt, my ladies. May I join you?" he says with his most charming smile.

"Of course, Lord Mount! You are always very welcome. Isn't he, my lady?"

"Uhm" I reply. His hand is in the low of my back, and I can feel his fingers going up little by little, playing with my hair. When he makes it to my neck, I feel like my body is melting. More people have joined our conversation, ignoring us. Suddenly he moves in front of me, hiding me from the others.

"There is something on your hair, my lady" he says. One of his hands moves to it, trying to get whatever is on it. The other is on my neck, his fingers slowly going down, and I can feel my skin burning where he's touched me. He keeps moving down to my collarbone, to my shoulder, then following the neckline of my dress, making his way to my chest. And I can't breathe. When I look at him, he's eyes are focused on my skin, darker than I've ever seen them. He's mouth is half open, and I can see him playing with his tongue. "A child doesn't do the things he does with his tongue." My head is spinning, my skin is too hot... And suddenly, he stops.

"There, my lady. It was just a lost bug" he says, showing me the little insect while smiling at me, that damned dimple showing. After that, he just moves from in front of me and goes back to talking with everyone else as if nothing has happened. Though he knows what he's done to me. The little smirk on his face says it all.

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine

40 notes · View notes

sugar-quilled · 3 years ago

Text

when stars align

a/n: this is fluff wrapped in unnecessary plot. my bad.

summary: star gazing date

genre: fluff

word count: 1.8k

pronouns: she/her

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

Spring came very suddenly this year. Many students had feared that there wouldn't be sunny weather to look forward to after exams ended, but the clouds parted on the last day, and there was a great hurrying to the castle grounds and enjoy a well deserved break. Quite a few students had taken to soaring around the Quidditch pitch, throwing around a Quaffle and chatting about summer plans. As you made your way out to the courtyard, absolutely determined to forget about the entirety of your Astrology exam, a very handsome owl came swooping down from a tree nearby to land on your shoulder. You quickly accepted the very small square of parchment clamped in its beak, and recognized it as Draco's eagle owl. You smiled at the bird, gave it a quick pet on the head, and turned the parchment piece around. In very tidy writing, it read:

Meet me at the courtyard? 8 pm. Send an answer back - Draco

"Date night?" a voice behind you said. You swung around to see Daphne Evergreen's eyes peering over your unoccupied shoulder and grinned.

"Seems like you know the answer to that question already, Daph."

"Sure do. Will you let me do your hair? I saw a Ravenclaw with a really beautiful half up half down kind of look and it'll really be gorgeous on you. Pity I could never pull it off."

"Don't lie to yourself," you said, swinging your bag off your shoulder, "bangs do grow out you know. And yes, absolutely." The owl readjusted its footing and tugged on your hair, as if telling you that it didn't have all day to listen to two girls talk. You walked quickly off the path, said goodbye to Daphne with the promise of meeting her in the dormitory in a few minutes, and dug around your school bag for a quill and ink. Unscrewing the bottle, you sat down on the grass and wrote back,

Answer is yes, pretty boy.

Draco's owl immediately snatched the parchment out of your hand, and took off towards the owlery.

time skip to 7:50

"Daphne you're brushing too hard," you muttered as she tugged forcefully on your hair. You two had been planning your outfit for about 4 hours now, taking a 30 minute break at 5 to shovel down perhaps the fastest dinner you had ever eaten and running right back up to the dormitory.

"I've never ever seen your hair with this many knots. Have you been crawling around some underbrush? There's a twig in here. How could you have possibly gotten a twig in your hair?"

"I don't know? Maybe it was Draco's ow- OW! Daphne, please, my head's attached to the other end of those strands! Couldn't you just use some Sleekeazy's? There should be a bottle in my drawer."

"NO! It'll ruin your natural waves!" she cried, frantic. "It's 7:52 already! You're due in 8 minutes! And we've still got earrings to choose and you didn't say which shoes yet!"

"I'll do without earrings! And I thought I said the oxfords were fine!" you answered, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes as Daphne tugged harder still.

"Hang on, just give me one second, I'm nearly there, you've just got this big lump that I've been trying to get through this past half hour."

With the hardest tug yet, Daphne undid the knot, pulling out quite a few hairs in the process, and let out a very tired cheer. You stood up straight and turned back at her.

"Okay, well you've got your top," she said, dropping the brush and moving forward to tuck the black scoop neck into your jeans, "jeans, necklace looks fine, hair looks gorgeous, and do you want to borrow my purse? It'll fit th-"

"Daphne I'm just going to the courtyard! What do I need a bloody purse for?" You half-yelled, massaging a very sore spot on the back of your head.

"You're right, you're right," Daphne said as you stepped into your oxfords, "well then off you go! It's 7:56, you've got plenty of time. Tell me all about it when you get back!"

"Yes, of course. Bye, Daphne!" You shouted, already half-way out the door.

The trip out to the courtyard seemingly took less than a minute, but in your hurried state, there was no way you counted the seconds properly. It was almost completely empty, with only two or three pairs of students still playing gobstones. You spotted Draco, and immediately felt a rosy color creep over your cheeks.

Draco was wearing a white button down and some neatly pressed black pants, an attire that looked suspiciously like his school uniform without a cloak. No complaints were had though, as he looked impossibly handsome.

A large, grayish green picnic blanket had been set down on the floor. Several puffy pillows had been layered down on top of it, alongside a very big, very fluffy blanket.

He turned around, a very expensive looking bouquet of flowers in hand, and gave you a quick smile before striding towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

You blushed and placed a kiss below his jawline before entwining your hand in his. He gestured towards the blanket—"after you, dear"—and the two of you sat down.

"This set up looks lovely, Draco" you said, readjusting to face him.

"I'm glad you're impressed by my effort" he replied, handing you the bouquet. It was a darling little thing of daisies, baby's breath, and lavender. Pixie dust sparkled on each flower. "I'm sure you want to know what I have planned for today?"

You leaned closer to him, and answered mockingly, "What is it dear Draco? Do tell me!"

"Star gazing."

You leaned back and and noticed a small telescope placed beside a pillow to your right. Knowing his absolute disdain for Astrology, you smiled. "Why the sudden change in interest?"

He rolled his eyes. "It's supposed to be romantic. And anyways, stars are pretty when they aren't for analyzing. Come here, the sun's about to set." He pulled you fully onto his lap, facing away from him, and wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

The sky was indeed dimming, brilliant strokes of orange turned pink, then purple, and finally gave way to an inky night sky. You had settled very comfortably, head against his chest, as his chin rested on the top of your head. The big blanket covered you both, and as you sat up, reaching towards the telescope to get a closer look at what seemed to be Scorpius, a very sharp "Malfoy!" startled the both of you. Professor McGonagall was storming towards you.

"What do you two think you're doing? It's nearly a quarter past ten and I feel the need to remind you that that is past your curfew. 5 points from Slytherin, and you best both be hurrying back to your dormitories."

Completely abandoning the picnic things and apologizing briefly to McGonagall, you two ran back towards the Slytherin common room, slowing only when you reached a familiar stone wall.

"Serpentine," you muttered to the wall, which then rumbled and shifted so that a corridor that lead to the common room appeared. As you walked down the passage, you thanked Draco for the flowers and date.

"It did get cut short, but it was very enjoyable. Thank you for planning it." You gave him a smile, a peck on the cheek, and made to turn for the girls' dormitories, but Draco grabbed your hand and was dragging you towards the boys'.

"Dray, what are you doing?" You hissed, "Goyle, Crabbe, Theo, and Blaise are probably sleeping by now."

Draco looked back at you with a signature smirk and continued to drag you up the stairs, leaving you with no choice but to follow.

He opened the door to his dormitory to show it completely empty.

"They've got detention today. Convenient."

"Draco! You gave them detention?"

"Well, I didn't really give them detention, I just gave them the opportunity to be given det-"

"Alright, alright," you muttered, coming to the conclusion that one nights' worth of detention for the boys couldn't be that bad. You drew open the curtains next to Draco's bed, revealing a tall, arched window and the starry night sky, framed like a painting behind the glass.

"This view is incredible," you breathed, snuggling into Draco's bed, which smelt like cologne and mint, resting your head against the headboard, and watching Draco rest himself beside you and lay his head on your chest. He turned so that you both were facing the window, and then wrapped his arms securely around you. One hand tangled in his hair, the other resting on his lower back, you turned to look at the stars with him.

Each was dotted with precision into the inky background, looking nothing like a nature of the universe and everything like a craftsman's work of art. You'd heard so many people marvel at those that shone brighter, more captivating to the eye, but to you, it was the small little specks that were worth more. They filled the gaps that the larger ones couldn't, and made the skies irregular and breathtakingly beautiful. Stars move, so that no night sky is ever the same as the previous, and maybe it was that Draco was by your side, but no combination of stars had ever presented such a beautiful picture before.

"Draco, you see those four stars? How they're in a line?"

Draco looked up sleepily at the window, muttering "pretty" before slumping down again.

"Prettier than me?" You laughed, pushing a few strands of hair off his forehead.

"Nothing's prettier than you, baby, you know that." He muttered drowsily, rolling onto his back so that he could look straight up at you.

You leaned over and brushed the tip of your nose against his. He hummed softly in response and wrapped two arms around your neck, bringing you into a kiss.

"I love you," you whispered after breaking away, shifting yourself out from under Draco so that you two were now eye to eye.

He pulled you onto his chest. "I love you too baby. And I'll get you another bouquet tomorrow since todays' is probably wilting as we speak."

You giggled softly, and with the promise of, you both promptly fell asleep.

pov switch

When Goyle, Crabbe, Theo, and Blaise entered their dormitory after two hours worth of scrubbing the floor, they found Draco entwined with a certain girl, her hand in his hair, his wrapping her close and snug against his chest. The curtains next to Draco's bed were still drawn open, so that the uncountable stars winked down at the couple. The boys knew better than to wake them up, so Goyle drew the drapes around the four poster closed, and they headed off to bed.

95 notes · View notes

shoutaaizawas · 4 years ago

Text

↳ bakugou katsuki x reader → ❝wait for you❞ part one

summary: bakugou is your best friend, you both dream to become great heroes. when bakugou ends up in a coma most move on but you can’t leave your best friend behind. word count: 2k+ tags/warnings: romance, angst (with a happy ending eventually), a/n: im alive! sort of. finally finished one of my many wips in between watching greys anatomy. shoutout to the show for some inspiration for this. those background patient plot lines hurt sometimes.

Bakugou Katsuki was your best friend. That might be hard for a lot of people to believe considering how hostile he could be sometimes. Most would describe him as feisty and unfriendly but there was always something that drew you to him. From the first day at UA, you knew he was going to be your best friend even if he didn’t want to at first.

It didn’t take long for him to start liking you back even if he refused to admit it. It was impossible for him to deny that it was nice to be cared about and it was harder to deny that he cared about you. It was something he never expected, to care about someone so much that when you missed a meal he would be shoving food in front of you, or if you were staying up too late he would force you to go to bed early. Even the smallest things about you concerned him.

The two of you made the perfect pair, you helped each other train and study. When he went through his worse times you were there for him, through the nightmares, through the panic attacks, you helped him when he didn’t want anyone to see him.

Bakugou wasn’t your only friend but your relationship with him meant everything to you. Your friendship with him ran deep. He was your person. He was the first person you thought about every day, he was the first person you told good news to, the first person you went to when you were upset.

Your friendship was everything to you and you always imagined it meant a lot to him as well.

Throughout the school years, it only got deeper. It was finally your last year of high school and you and Bakugou were both on track to become amazing heroes. Both of you had worked so hard to be at the top of your class and it was almost time to go into the real hero world. You had even both secured spots at the top agency you had been eyeing for a long time.

You wondered if you would be partners at your agency? That would be too perfect. Both of you had bright futures ahead of you but one day took that away.

It was a normal day, you and Bakugou were working your intern patrol shift. It was sunny but not too hot and things were reasonably calm. There were a few crimes to keep things interesting but nothing too dangerous. It was a good day.

The two of you were eating lunch, you had gotten your favorite sushi for lunch despite the fact that Bakugou wanted to get ramen. But fair was fair and you had won your game of rock, paper, scissors.

That’s when the chaos broke out. A villain was attacking and you both sprung into action without a second thought. It was going well as it usually did, you worked together flawlessly. A perfect team. That was until Bakugou took a hit neither of you saw coming.

The sight of him tumbling across the pavement made you sick. You quickly subdued the villain before running to Bakugou’s side. He was laying on the ground face down. You turned him over, his face was covered in blood. Your heart sunk at the sight of him, eyes half open and face bruised.

Sirens alerted them to the arrival of the ambulances.

“Katsuki, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t move, help is here.” You said, hand brushing against his face.

“I-” He said, his voice hushed. “Sunshine I-”

Sunshine. The nickname started out condescending, an insult almost but somewhere along the line it became endearing. A pet name almost.

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t strain yourself, please.” You said, grabbing his hand squeezing it tight. “You’re going to be okay.”

Bakugou was put on a stretcher and rushed to an ambulance, you rode with them trying to stay calm as they helped him. You held back asking questions not wanting to interrupt.

Bakugou’s red eyes stayed focused on you as you held his hand while trying to stay out of the way.

“It’s going to be okay, you have to be okay. You’re my best friend.” You said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Katsuki I-”

Bakugou’s eyes slipped closed and it was hard not to tear up in fear. You wanted to tell him how you felt but you hesitated and now he couldn't hear you. Your heart raced in your chest. He would be fine, he always was. He was a fighter and he always pulled through.

Waiting was the worst thing anyone could sit through is the conclusion you came to. Sitting in the hospital’s waiting room staring at the patterned tile you were suffering. The thought of Bakugou in an operating room opened up hurt you to your core. The urge to sob was strong but you refused to. Bakugou would be okay and he would tease you endlessly if he found out that you cried over him.

Bakugou would be fine. You knew he would. He had to be.

Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou showed up, looking more scared than you had ever seen them before. You were familiar with his parents, they had invited you over many times for dinner and they always got along with you.

“What did they say?” Bakugou’s mother asked as she approached you, she grabbed your arms frantically.

“He’s in surgery, they aren’t saying much.” You told her. She let out a sigh sitting down next to you.

Time went by slowly as the three of you waited impatiently. Finally, the doctor appeared.

“Bakugou family?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s us.” Ms. Bakugou stood up along with you and her husband.

“The surgery went well, we were able to fix the trauma and bleeding in his brain. He’s patched up but there was swelling during the surgery.” The doctor said solemnly, his hands held together.

“What does that mean?” Mr. Bakugou questioned.

“The likelihood of him waking up is very low.” He said.

It felt like everything around you was falling apart.

“What do you mean he won’t wake up?” Mrs. Bakugou shouted. “If you fixed everything, what’s wrong with him?”

The doctor began to explain it but everything around you went fuzzy. You couldn’t hear anything, you felt sick. Before you could do anything else you ran outside of the hospital making it to a tree before throwing up.

Bakugou wouldn’t wake up. He was alive but he wasn’t going to wake up. The next year of your life was so clear in your mind, graduating, working beside Bakugou, climbing the ranks, becoming amazing heroes. Together. It was all gone, how were you supposed to go on without him? You couldn't picture your life without him.

You stood in front of his hospital room door still. If you stepped through that door you knew that it was over. The image of Bakugou standing strong next to you ready to face the world would be gone. The reality of what happened would set in and you could never go back.

It was easy to picture him, picture those moments with him. The first time you met him, you were both so young. He was so feisty and unwilling to befriend anyone. The memory of him yelling at everyone around you.

You could remember the day you had gotten through to him, had a heart to heart. His red eyes looked so soft for the first time and you knew that you would do anything to keep his trust in you so he would always feel safe enough to open up to you.

The memory of him in his dorm, scared and breathing quick after a nightmare. You had crawled into bed with him and held him. He protested at first but quickly realized you were more stubborn than him this time. Then he realized how nice it felt to be held by someone who cared about you, who wanted you to feel better. How safe he felt in your arms. The softness of his blond locks was unforgettable.

This morning was so clear, Bakugou in his hero costume laughing at a dumb joke you made. You would never see him stand tall again. You took a deep breath.

Softly you opened the door revealing the hospital bed. The sound of beeps filled the room. Walking up to the bed you took in a shaky breath.

Bakugou laid in the bed hooked up to wires. The side of his hair was shaved, where the surgery was. He was still, the steady rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life. He looked so peaceful.

You sat in the chair beside the bed, head in your hands, a broken sob coming out of you.

“You have to wake up.” You said looking up at him, taking his hand in yours. “I know you can pull through this, I can’t do this alone. What kind of hero would I be without you?”

There was no reply to your cries.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let this happen." You cried. "I'm sorry we didn't get what you wanted for lunch. If I could go back, if I could do everything different I would. I wish it was me."

Tears streamed down your face as sobs wracked your body.

"You're my best friend, you're my everything." You cried.

Everything felt empty. Time passed, life moved on. Your friends, your fellow students tried to console you while they grappled with the fact that Bakugou wasn’t around anymore. Your teachers looked at you with sad eyes, knowing that these things came with hero work but you were far too young to be dealing with it.

Graduating, something you had looked forward to for so long tasted like ash in your mouth. Standing there with your classmates taking pictures, everything was numb. All you could see was Bakugou laying in that hospital bed unmoving.

Life moved on but you felt like you stood still. You started working at the agency and you worked hard doing your best. The only thing you could do was be the best hero you could be to prevent people from getting hurt like Bakugou did. Even as you progressed and life moved on you felt like time was frozen.

After every shift you visited him, you would bring your dinner with you and eat in his room. You would tell him about your day. On good days you could convince yourself he could hear you.

Time moved on and less people visited. Your fellow students got busy with their hero careers. His parents visited on the weekends, Aizawa would visit once a month. Sometimes you ran into him. The two of you would sit there in silence.

“Do you visit him a lot?” Aizawa asked.

“Everyday.” You answered. “Almost every single day.”

“Why?” He asked, his gaze not moving from his former student.

“He’s my best friend. I can’t stand the thought of him sitting here alone.” You answered, a tear dripping down your cheek. “If he was awake I know we would see each other every day, it feels wrong to not see him. Even if he is asleep, even if he doesn’t know I’m here. I can't go without him, even if he's just laying here.”

“I understand.” He said.

Aizawa didn’t explain but you knew deep down he understood how you felt.

It took time, you had a lot of time to think when you weren't talking out loud to Bakugou's unconscious body. It took time but you finally realized something.

You loved Bakugou Katsuki.

Not just the way someone loves their friend, no something deeper than that. Why else would someone spend every day with their unconscious friend? Even as years passed.

Looking back it all made sense, how validating it felt to tell Bakugou about the highs and lows of your life. How much you focused on the small touches between you and him. How the thought of not spending the rest of your life with him tore you apart.

How had it taken you so long to realize?

Everything about him made you feel alive. His shining qualities, his flaws, his quirks, everything about him made you happy. You loved him so deeply, how had you never known?

You loved Bakugou Katsuki and it was too late to do anything about it.

Years passed. Your career progressed, you climbed the hero charts and you became the hero you and Bakugou always aimed to be. Even if you had made it to the thing you wanted more than anything else in life it felt empty.

All you wanted was your best friend there with you. You wanted to tell him how you felt. Not just his unconscious body. You felt like a ghost, all of your friends lived their lives but you couldn’t enjoy it. You didn’t go out with them, you spent all your time with Bakugou at his bedside.

Every day you hoped, prayed he would wake up.

Time was an odd thing, getting old felt wrong. You looked older and so did Bakugou even if he laid there unmoving all this time. His hair was longer than it had been but you kept up with it. The nurses let you trim his hair, shave his facial hair when you had the time. It made you feel a little less helpless.

It had been a long day, a bad day. People died, people, you should have saved. You should have been fast enough, you should have been a better hero.

Sitting next to Bakugou you told him about your day.

“I moved, I reached to grab them but I wasn’t fast enough.” You said. “They died because I wasn’t fast enough.”

The tears streamed down your face. You reached forward grabbing his hand.

“You're here in this bed because I wasn’t fast enough, I was a bad partner I should have saved you. I should have taken the hit for you. I wish it was me in this bed, I wish I was dead.” You sobbed, breaths heavy it felt like you were suffocating. You were drowning, you had been since that day.

The sounds of your sobs were loud, your hand limply grasping at his. Your breathing stopped at the movement under your hand.

“Katsuki?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you looked up at him. His eyes fluttered under his eyelids.

part two

taglist: @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis-but-more-otaku @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bkghatesyou @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @ourladyofseijoh @x0doodlebug0x @katsushimaa @mooncademia @moon-write @todominica @why-so-red @kvichisaki @curiouslilbeast @izukukozume @susceptible-but-siriusexual @swankiifiied

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki

298 notes · View notes

apr1cots · 3 years ago

Text

bookshop babies

MY VERY LATE FIC for the most lovely @orange-peony

idek what happened here but i miss going to bookshops and i miss my boys.

ty to my loves @moonstruckwytch @phoebedelia and @starlitsilvereyes for helping me always and listening to me whine you complete me

ok what gives here we go....

it was a tuesday when harry realized he was in love. he was sitting in a coffee shop he’d never been to before. he could only assume that the wallpaper had been cheery once, but it peeled a bit at the edges, and a tear poorly hidden behind a photograph of john lennon revealed the greying drywall beneath. he was six chapters into some fantasy novel draco had given him the day before when a bookmark fell out from page 217. with a sigh edging too close to overdramatic, he set down the sipping caramel that the barista had chosen for him when he’d asked for something extra sweet, and reached for the floor without looking. consequently, he bumped his temple directly against the corner of the table and swore out loud.

one side of the neon green bookmark advertised an upcoming book exchange in the east village. the back had a note written in draco’s signature scrawl underlined three times.

potter, if you spill even a drop of coffee or whatever concoction you force one of those damned baristas to create on a single page of this book i will make absolutely certain that you never read another word again!

harry laughed and then blushed and realized he was done for.

he took his time walking to the bookshop, relishing in the anonymity of muggle london and staring into the windows of cafes he had yet to visit. the bell above the weathered blue door jingled when harry stepped inside and draco looked up from where he was reading at the counter. he’d just cut his hair, (merlin, harry, muggles have to do this so often i’m in the shop every two weeks, i never knew!) and the sides were shaved close to his head, the top all long and soft and begging harry to run a hand through it.

their eyes met. draco fought a smile but harry laughed before either of them could say anything.

“you like this one then?”

“yeah, it’s wicked.”

he didn’t say anything else, instead settling into an armchair in his favorite corner, valiantly trying not to look up from his book to where he knew draco was sitting. a few customers came in and harry used draco’s distraction to watch unnoticed until draco caught his eye as the pretty girl in the sweater ducked her head to dig through her bag.

harry hoped draco couldn't see his blush from across the room and stared intently at the same paragraph for at least three minutes.

later, when the afternoon sun was just moments away from casting blinding, golden light in through the window near the door, draco asked harry to fetch him a spare copy of the latest gaiman novel from a high shelf. harry summoned it wandlessly without looking.

“potter! what’s wrong with you?” draco hissed, eyes ablaze with a malice harry hated inciting.

“draco, relax. we are the only people in here. no one is hiding ‘round the cookbooks, i checked,” harry smirked cheekily, but it didn’t have the desired effect.

“you are NOT to do magic here, i mean it. i… i really don’t want that to be part of my life here.”

he read between the lines of draco’s pleas and heard the desperation. draco wanted his place here, in this shop, on this street, in muggle london, to be apart. he wanted it to mean something even if it wasn’t what he had always imagined. harry longed to reach out and touch the worry pinching draco’s face.

instead, harry handed him the book.

“would you like to come ‘round for dinner?”

hermione and ron came as the sun set and after they had eaten, they all sat around the fire. harry watched the easy way that hermione sat on the floor in front of ron’s armchair, leaning into his legs while mouthing the words to the book she was reading. she tucked her hair behind her ears repeatedly as it fell onto the pages filled with tiny print and harry noticed that draco had sat all the way at the other end of the sofa. hermione said ron’s name and he passed her his drink without asking, hand hovering near her head to take it back after just a sip. draco watched the fire when harry caught his eye.

when they all said goodnight, hermione and ron stepped through the floo, and draco left out the front door just giving harry a little wave. harry went to bed alone.

a week later, draco sat in the park on a soft blue blanket that he had produced from a wicker basket, clinking the wine glasses against the bottle.

harry joined him, settling a bit awkwardly on the ground, hands full with two oily packets of steaming fish and chips and draco rolled his eyes.

“you live like a normal person, you can eat like one too,” harry quipped, bumping their shoulders together. it was an unusually warm day for the fall and draco had called harry on his mobile, insisting that they take advantage. harry told him no one else had been available to come, but truthfully, he hadn’t really asked.

draco wore black trousers and a crisp white shirt under a dark grey sweater that looked so soft it might just melt right off. harry wore jeans and a navy sweater that molly had knit him, the paw prints climbing from his right hip to his left shoulder charmed not to trace wandering paths across his torso.

the breeze played in the grass and the trees groaned with the anticipation of coming storms, but the sun cut through the clouds, warming harry’s face and tickling the white blond tips of draco’s hair. when harry rested his head by draco’s hip, close, but not touching, he noticed the subtlest of dark grey pinstripes on draco’s trousers. he smelled intoxicating and harry wanted to press his nose into draco’s thigh, but he picked up his book instead.

“i’m not interesting enough for you, is that it?”

“you’ve been staring at the clouds in silence for at least five minutes. i think you’ll survive. i’ve only got a chapter left. then i’m all yours.”

draco looked at him sharply, then away again.

three paragraphs later, draco’s hand brushed a curl off of his forehead, then began to play with his hair.

harry froze. he had to read the word “dichotomy” thirteen times before it registered in his brain. then he sped to finish the page he had been stuck on for far too long in an effort to avoid suspicion. draco was still looking ahead, not at harry, but now his perfect, pale, aristocratic wrist was right there and harry knew that that was where draco sprayed his cologne and he still smelled so absolutely divine that harry couldn’t be expected to function platonically, like a normal human being. he floundered for a moment, knowing that draco would ask him questions about the ending, so he couldn’t very well fake finishing, but deciding that it was too strange to just set down his book moments after defending his right to read.

before he could come to any sort of conclusion, draco looked down to find harry’s eyes on him and smiled so softly that harry had to sit up. draco's hand fell away then and harry kissed him without a word.

there, on that pretty blue blanket, on that sunny fall day, harry’s heart pounded harder than it had in the forest on the most fateful of days. and when draco pulled away to blink his long eyelashes right against harry’s neck, harry grinned, not caring who was watching.

the following tuesday harry carefully avoided familiar cracks in the sidewalk, walking to the bookshop. he’d finished yet another book, though he didn’t really need an excuse to see draco anymore.

draco was busy at the counter. harry fell back against the door as he closed it, watching without hiding. he moved out of the way when draco was finished, walking behind the counter and hopping up to sit in front of draco.

“hi.”

“hello.”

they just stared at one another for a moment, the softest of silences buzzing between them. then draco touched harry’s thigh, still marveling just a bit that he was allowed and they kissed.

“do you have a new recommendation for me?”

“what?”

“i finished my book.”

“oh. oh, yes i actually- here,” he pulled out a book he’d placed under the counter and blushed.

“you set this aside?”

draco shrugged, smiled, and ducked his head. “for you, yes.”

a year later on a saturday in september, draco promised never to run out of recommendations and harry promised to read every single one. harry admitted that the first time he’d entered the bookshop had been an accident and draco laughed and told him he’d known. everyone left with a book in hand and when harry and draco got home they added a new book to the table beside their bed- their story.

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #books books books #im so sorry this is so late #i just want my babies to fall in love and get married over and over again

55 notes · View notes

latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

Text

𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑺𝒏𝒐𝒘 (𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒏)

Tag: @seacottons

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧)/ 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝐷𝑎𝑑! 𝐴𝑈.

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 2𝐾

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑, 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟.......𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑦 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑗𝑜𝑦.

ღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღ

~December 5th~

Y/N hurried towards her friends who were already settled at the very top of the mountain, their snowboards and skiis all lined up in a perfect row.

"Last one down pays for dinner." One of them suggested to which they all unanimously agreed to.

"3, 2, Go!"

The racers all started sloping down the snowy mountain, some going to different directions, but ultimately they were all headed south. Y/N shifted her weight to keep balance on her snowboard. Usually she'd show off and do a trick, but right now she was focused on getting down as fast as possible.

"Pick up the pace Y/N!" Her friend teased as they swooped right past her.

Y/N let out a snort as she leaned forward to get more speed and traction. She also decided to move more to the right, where she knew a shortcut that none of the others knew about. She let out a small chuckle at the thought of their faces when they saw her all the way down there.

Her smile faded fast when she saw someone step out right in front of her, a dark haired male that seemed preoccupied with taking a picture he didn't notice she was coming.

"Look out!" She shouted, finally getting his attention.

The boy froze and seemed unable to move. Y/N swerved to the left, a little too fast and ended up falling off her board, tumbling down a few feet before landing on a bed of snow. She groomed softly as she lifted her head, already feeling the aching of her muscles.

"Are you ok?!" The same man who had inadvertently caused her accident ran over and helped her sit up.

"I...think so?" She asked rather than answered.

She quickly stood up, taking off her googles and winter hat to try and inspect what damage had been done not only to her body but to her board. She dusted some of the snow off her and looked up to find the mystery man looking at her intently.

"What? Am I bleeding?" She touched her face and forehead, not a stranger to bleeding due to some of the accidents she'd been through.

"No! Not at all!! Just......"

He smiled shyly, dimples clearly shown on his cheeks as his eyes formed small crescents.

"You're really pretty..." He confessed awkwardly, leaving her baffled and speechless.

"Th-thank you....you're pretty handsome yourself..." She tucked some hair behind her ear.

"I'm San." He introduced himself, holding out a hand for her to take, which she promptly did.

"I'm Y/N."

You were sad that you had to pay for your friend's dinner because you lost, but you weren't to sad because San asked you out for a date the next day.

ღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღ

~January 12, One Year Later~

"Brrr. It's freezing out there."

San shook the snow off him, placing his boots on the corner.

"I told you it was going to snow, but you don't listen." She rolled her eyes at him.

Adding marshmallows to the hot chocolate, she picked them up and set them down on the table in front of the fireplace, then proceeded to wrap one of the blankets around herself. San wasted no time in cuddling up next to her and taking one of the mugs in his hand, sipping slowly so as to not burn himself. Smiling sweetly at her, he scooted closer to her, his head resting on her shoulder.

"Remember when we met last year?" He suddenly spoke.

Y/N nearly spat her chocolate back into the mug.

"Ahhh yes. You mean when I nearly killed you?"

San laughed softly at that.

"Never in my life did I think I'd actually end up dating my almost murderer."

She rolled her eyes at that.

"You were the idiot that wasn't paying attention." She reminded him.

"I was trying to take a picture of a bunny that was nearby thank you. Which you scared off by the way."

They began reminiscing about their times after a year of dating, laughing about their first fight, their first kiss and the times they met each other's respective parents.

"You looked terrified of my dad."

"How was I supposed to be calm? Especially after he said he wanted to talk to me in private?" San defended himself.

Y/N hummed softly.

"What did he talk to you about anyway?"

San shrugged softly.

"The usual...like...if I broke your heart, he was going to break my balls."

Y/N actually slapped her knee at that one, knowing fully well her father would really be the type to say such things.

San scratched the back of his head as he wondered if he should say the next part.

"He.....also asked....... if I loved you...."

Y/N felt her heart drop at that word. Even though they had been dating for a year, they had never said the L word. She wanted to change the subject, afraid of his answer, but curiosity got the better of her and she had to ask.

"What....what did you tell him?" She fidgeted with the ends of her hoodie.

San shifted so he sat in front of her. Taking her hands in his, he confessed:

"I told him I loved you with all my heart and that.....I hoped you felt the same way..."

He looked at her with hopeful eyes, gulping slightly, afraid that his feelings weren't reciprocated. When Y/N didn't respond for a minute, he let out a defeated sigh.

"All right. I understand." He made move to get up, but Y/N made him stay in place.

"No silly. I was just shocked you actually told my father that." She explained.

"Well I wasn't going to lie. I do love you Y/N, truly I do." His voice sounded desperate at this point.

Y/N teared up and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Oh Sannie.....I love you too."

San widened his eyes at her words, he felt himself tearing up as well, but he was filled with warmth at the thought that she felt the same, it was not a one sided love. He couldn't help himself as he cupped her face and began pecking her lips repeatedly.

"I love you. I love you with all my heart."

He giggled as he intensified his kisses, turning them from small pecks into more heated and passionate lip locks that had her craving for more. San ended up pushing her onto the floor, his hands placed on either side of her face. They both looked at each other, both wanting to ask the same question but too shy to actually speak out about having their first time right then.

"Y/N.....if you don't want to, we can-"

She silenced him by pulling him on top of her and resuming their makeout session.

"I want to. Go ahead." She assured him.

San kissed her forehead.

"I love you so much."

ღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღ

~December 25, 3 years later~

All of the boys gathered around the tree, already ecstatic at the thought of opening their presents.

"I'm really looking forward to Yeosang's gift for me." Mingi bounced in his seat.

"I told you. I got you socks." Yeosang repeated for the thousandth time, making everybody burst out laughing.

"You know you're just joking Sangie." Wooyoung pinched his cheek, much to Yeosang's dismay.

The clock struck midnight, signaling that it was now time to open presents. There was a lot of noises, squealing and rustling of paper heard, the latter all discarded near the floor, soon picked up by Seonghwa, who hated seeing litter scattered about.

"Perfect for you Hwa. I actually got you a broom and dustpan set." Hongjoong snickered as he held out the cleaning supplies from the house to his friend.

"Shut up." Seonghwa groaned, not at all amused by the joke.

"Calm down. I actually got you something else." Hongjoong held out the actual gift, which turned out to be Toothless slippers and bathrobe set. It made Seonghwa burst out laughing, donning his infamous awkward smile.

"Yah! What is this Kang Yeosang?!" Mingi held out a box full of assorted socks.

Yeosang merely shrugged.

"What? You all laughed and joked that I wasn't serious. Jokes on you bitches. I was dead serious." Yeosang sipped his tea as he stared Mingi down, who merely pouted.

"Look on the bright side Mingi. Yunho might stop complaining about you stealing his socks." Seonghwa patted his shoulder.

"It's not me!" Mingi retorted.

"No one else's feet but yours fit in them!" Yunho accused him.

Y/N and San just laughed and decided to just enjoy the presents they got for each other. Y/N was happy that San liked his presents, but she was saving the best for last, knowing he was going to go wild about it.

Pulling him outside, she closed the door behind them both, ignoring the chaos going on inside.

"If it's another mistletoe trick, I won't mind." San was already puckering his lips.

"No silly....there's another present I wanted to give you."

"Oh?" San tilted his head.

She pulled out a small and thin white box that had a purple ribbon wrapped around it. San shook it near his ear, trying to guess what was in it, but had no clue. He carefully unwrapped the ribbon and opened the box. He had to do a double take as he peered into the contents. He looked at his lover with wide eyes.

"Is this....?" He asked for confirmation.

She nodded and chuckled happily. San's face lit up and he picked her up, spinning her around as he kissed the side of her head.

"Oh my God! This is the best Christmas present ever my love! Thank you!"

Tears of joy started streaming down his face as he embraced the love of his life for a long time. He wasted no time in speeding back inside the house and wave the object around for everyone to see.

"Guys! We're having a baby! You're all gonna be uncles!"

ღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღ

~December 5, Present Day~

San and Y/N made sure the carrier was covered fully by the long and thick blanket. After making sure it was sunny, San opened the door and allowed his sweetheart to walk out. Y/N carefully walked down the steps of the cabin they always stayed in since the day they met. San followed after her, one step behind her, ready to help if she needed anything.

They both looked at each other and smiled. Y/N put the carrier gently down on the blanket of snow as San took out his camera.

"Ready." San gave her the ok sign.

Y/N peeled back the blanket covering the carrier, revealing their tiny 4 month old baby daughter, who was now wide awake and observing her surroundings.

"Smile snowflake." San took a picture of her.

Light snow started to fall around them and the tiny baby reached her hand out to touch this new object that was foreign to her. A tiny snowflake fell on her nose and she sneezed softly when it made contact with her skin.

Her parents couldn't help but coo at how lovely and adorable she was. Picking her up along with several blankets, Y/N showed off the view to her.

"Look darling. This is the exact spot daddy and I met years ago."

San chuckled as he kept taking photos of his two most precious treasures in his life. After getting his fill, he walked up next to Y/N, poking his daughter's cheek.

"Even though you were born in summer, I'm sure you'll learn to love the winter just as much as we do."

The baby continued to be fascinated by the falling snow around her, her arms flailing into the air, trying to catch it, only to fall in confusion every time it melted in her tiny hand.

"I say she already loves it." Y/N noticed her reactions.

"I'm glad she does. I can't wait to bring her here every year to watch the first snow fall every time." San kissed her tiny head before looking back at his wife and repeating the action on her forehead.

"I love you. And I love our precious snowflake too."

ღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღღ¸.✻´`✻.¸¸ღ

369 notes · View notes

blueskrugs · 4 years ago

Text

The Best Day | Sammy Blais

(it’s a @powerblais gif! and a very smiley sammy!)

we’re back with another fluffy fic! this one’s a tiny bit different, but I had both this song and dad!sammy on my list for a while, so when I started planning this series, they seemed perfect together. anyway, someone might need to check on erin after this. no beta from Sarah on this one...because I just finished it like five minutes ago.

tagging: @marcostandella @stlbluesbrat @dembenchboys @poltoncarayko @robthomissed @letmeplaytheblues @troubatrain @ayohockeycheck @blackwidowrising @zinka8 @aria253264 @antoineroussel@starswin @glassdanse @ch-ristiane @majdoline @braydenschenn @nazdaddy

length: 2.3k words. this is a kid fic, but there’s no real talk of pregnancy or birth, just some scenes from growing up.

You’d always known Sammy would make a good dad one day. He’d grown up a lot in the years you’d known him, though you’d never forget the look of pure terror and awe in his eyes when he held your little girl for the first time.

“Mon petit ange,” he called her, my little angel, whispered for the first time just for her little ears to hear.

Sammy loved you, you knew, but he loved Lily more than anything in the world.

I hear your laughter and look up smiling at you, I run and run Past the pumpkin patch and the tractor rides, look now the sky is gold

It had been Sammy’s idea to go to Eckert’s for apple and pumpkin picking, just before Halloween. You weren’t sure Lily quite understood the concept of carving pumpkins just yet, since she was only three, but Sammy had insisted “for the experience.”

You were pretty sure Sammy just wanted to go for himself, but you were hardly going to fight him on it.

So the three of you bundled up against the blustery St. Louis fall day and into the car– with only minimal fussing from Lily, because that was a thing now– on a day off in late October. It wasn’t really too cold, and it was sunny, just a hint of late summer still lingering in the air.

Sammy was excited, singing loudly and off-key to every song that came on the radio. He’d turn to grin at you every time you groaned, big and happy, and you loved him so much. You turned up the radio.

Sammy beat you to the back of the car after he parked, sweeping Lily out of her car seat and up into his arms. She giggled excitedly, wrapping her arms around his neck as he dashed off with her. You just laughed fondly and followed after them.

It was a little late in the season for most of the apples, but you took the tractor ride into the orchard anyway. Sammy did most of the picking, quickly filling up the little basket you’d been given, though whenever Lily tugged on his jeans, he would scoop her up and hold her up to the trees so she could grab an apple, too.

She only dropped a few of them. Well, some of them. They still went into the basket, just a little bruised now.

Next came the pumpkin patch, which you think Sammy was more excited about. Actually, you knew Sammy was more excited about the pumpkin patch, you thought, as you watched him run ahead of you and Lily.

“Alright, we need three pumpkins,” Sammy said when you caught up to him.

“Three?”

Sammy made a face at you. “Me, you, and Lily,” he said, slowly, like you were missing something obvious.

“Our daughter is not carving a pumpkin by herself,” you laughed. You’d really been planning on doing one with her while Sammy did whatever he wanted to do.

“Why not?”

“You are not giving our toddler a sharp object.”

“The knives that come in those carving kits aren’t that sharp,” Sammy reasoned.

“Oh my God,” you said. You weren’t winning this argument.

The pumpkin patch was pretty picked over, as close to Halloween as it was, but there were still enough pumpkins that Sammy could be extremely particular about it. It was all “too small,” “too big,” “too bumpy,” “too smooth,” which. What.

“Sammy,” you warned when Sammy hefted a giant pumpkin that probably weighed more than Lily. He whined at you, but put the pumpkin down again, so you were going to count it as a win.

Eventually, you settled on three– because Sammy had, in fact, won the argument that all three of you needed your own pumpkins– pumpkins that had passed Sammy’s test, along with a full basket of fresh apples.

“Good day?” you asked.

Sammy slung an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple. Lily was running ahead of you, but she looked back every few steps to smile at you and Sammy.

“The best,” Sammy replied.

But I know I had the best day with you today

Game days had always been your favorite, and they’d only gotten more fun since you’d had Lily. She got caught up in all the energy of home games at Enterprise, yelling and cheering with everyone else in the arena, even under those giant baby headphones she used to wear and she didn’t really know what was going on down on the ice.

Today was no different, Lily clad in her tiny Blais jersey, bouncing excitedly in her carseat, the special pregame playlist Sammy had made for her playing over the car’s speakers. She was still bouncing as she stood carefully next to you on the boards during warmups. She banged happily on the glass as players skated past. Vince shot you a grin as he went by before Sammy came crashing into him.

“Daddy!” Lily yelled.

Sammy smiled and waved before carefully balancing a puck on his stick and flipping it over the glass to you. Lily clutched that puck all night long.

And I didn’t know if you knew, so I’m taking this chance to say

There was no greater place in St. Louis than Forest Park on a warm spring day. It was late in the season, and the Blues had a rare day completely off. You were all itching to get out of the house, so the Zoo it was.

Well, after Sammy spent a few minutes complaining about the parking lot, that is.

“Okay, where to first?” Sammy asked, clapping his hands together as you walked into the atrium. Lily was busy pointing up at the giant squid and sharks hanging from the ceiling.

“Train!” she called.

You raised your eyebrows at Sammy. “Train it is, then.”

“Then the carousel?” Sammy asked, turning those big eyes Lily had gotten on you. They both knew you were powerless against them.

“Yes, oh my God, you’re as much of a child as our daughter sometimes,” you said.

“Yeah, but you love me,” he said. “We can go see the seals and the penguins after, I promise,” he added, because he knew they were your favorites.

You held Lily while Sammy bought tickets for the train, but she sat on Sammy’s lap in the cramped train car. She giggled and chattered the entire way around the Zoo, often waving at other zoo-goers you passed at the crossings. After a while, she poked Sammy enough times that he was waving, too.

“Where to next?” Sammy asked as the three of you clambered off the train at the end of the line, but it was token, because he was already scooping up Lily again and heading towards the carousel.

You got double puppy-dog eyed into joining the two of them on the carousel, which is how you ended up on the back of a polar bear next to your daughter, who was astride a giraffe, with Sammy hovering behind her. His hand was on the back of the giraffe, as if he was worried Lily would fall. You took a picture of them like that, twin grins on their faces.

After the carousel came the polar bears and the penguins– Lily laughed in delight when she got splashed by one of the penguins, though she wrinkled her nose at the smell– then towards the sea lions and seals. You tagged Sammy back towards you by his hood as you emerged back into the humid air.

“This was a good idea,” you said.

“Yeah?” Sammy said, but he was beaming at you. He pulled you close for a quick kiss, and you both laughed when Lily made a face at the two of you.

I come home crying, and you hold me tight and grab the keys And we drive and drive until we found a town far enough away

Growing up was hard. Middle school was even harder. You’d been there before, but it didn’t mean your heart broke any less when Lily came home from school one day and burst into tears when you asked her how her day had been.

You and Sammy shared a look over the kitchen island as she made her way to her bedroom.

“I’ll handle this,” Sammy said, snagging a bag of cookies out of the pantry and following Lily upstairs.

You couldn’t make out much of their conversation from where you were, not that you didn’t try. Sammy had left Lily’s bedroom door open behind him, but you had never quite mastered French, much less French that’s coming to you through tears and down a flight of stairs.

Sammy came downstairs ten minutes later and winked at you as he put what was left of the cookies away, Lily trailing after him, calmer now. He mouthed, “I’ll tell you later,” at you over her head as you hugged her, except it was forgotten in the rush to get ready for that night’s game. (Not living with Vince anymore did not make Sammy any more punctual.)

It wasn’t until Saturday, when both Lily and Sammy were up bright and early on their day off, that you even remembered he’d never told you.

“Where are you two off to?” you asked as you watched Sammy hunt for his keys.

“An adventure!” Lily said.

“Oh boy,” you replied, but Sammy just shot you a grin and shoved a hat on his head.

An “adventure” turned out to be a breakfast date, then a hike out at Castlewood State Park, ending with a drive out to Kimmswick for an apple pie from Blue Owl, which you fully intended to eat at least half of yourself.

“Good job,” you murmured to Sammy as you listened to Lily talk about their day after dinner.

“She failed a test and got in a fight with her best friend,” Sammy whispered back.

“Remember when those were the biggest things we had to worry about?”

Sammy just laughed softly, pressed a kiss to your temple, and went to get the pie for dessert.

I have an excellent father, his strength is making me stronger

You were never more thankful that Lily had chosen not to play hockey than when you had to watch Sammy get injured. It was hard enough to watch the man you loved go down; you weren’t sure you could ever handle your baby girl getting injured.

The Blues were on the road when it happened. You didn’t even see it happen, just a late hit from a Minnesota player behind the play, but then Panger was pointing out that Sammy was still down on the ice, and the play was being blown dead.

“Shit,” you said.

“Language,” Lily said absently, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

“He’ll be fine,” you assured her, assured yourself.

Sammy was already sitting up on the ice, talking to the trainer, but you didn’t let out the breath you were holding until he was up and skating off the ice on his own. He didn’t return to the game, but he did text you that he was okay sometime before the end of the third. So there was that.

They were flying home right after the game, and you and Lily were both asleep on the couch when Sammy came through the door around 2 AM. Lilly stirred when Sammy hit his bag against the doorway and cursed at it. His left arm was in a sling.

“Dad!”

“Why aren’t you in bed? You have school tomorrow,” Sammy said as Lily stretched and bounded over to carefully hug him.

“Oh my God, Dad, I’m 16,” Lily said from under Sammy’s uninjured arm.

“He has a point, though,” you said. You hadn’t been able to say no when Lily had asked if she could stay up with you until Sammy came home, but he was home now. So: “Good night, love you,” you told her.

Lily sighed and rolled her eyes, but went upstairs without complaint. You grabbed Sammy’s bag from where he’d dropped it and followed him upstairs yourself.

“How bad is it?” you asked once the bedroom door was closed behind you.

Sammy smiled tiredly at you. “Just dislocated. They’ll do some tests tomorrow to make sure there’s no damage, but they think it’ll be fine.”

“She worries about you, you know,” you said. You did, too, obviously, but Lily watched Sammy’s every move on the ice extra closely as she got older. Sammy wasn’t as young as he used to be, and you worried that his next injury would be his last every day.

Sammy sighed. “I know.”

“She gets her stubbornness from you,” you said pointedly when Sammy winced trying to take off his shirt.

Sammy laughed quietly. “I know.”

And I love you for giving me your eyes, for staying back and watching me shine

Sammy was crying, and you were laughing at him.

It was Lily’s graduation day, and he’d been emotional about it all day. He’d barely made it through pictures that morning, but he’d been fine at the start of the ceremony, though you had a feeling that was going to change once they started calling names.

“Keep it together, babe,” you teased, but you passed him a tissue from your purse.

“Shut up,” he hissed. “That’s our little girl!”

Your little girl wasn’t so little anymore, and she was walking across the stage to collect her diploma, confident and beautiful in her cap, gown and high heels. She’d grown up so much, but she would always be Sammy’s mini-me. Same brown hair, same eyes that could never quite decide if they were blue or green. Soft spoken but stubborn as hell.

“I’m so proud of you,” Sammy would whisper to her later, and you’d both hug her a little tighter.

#cait writes things #the swift series #sammy blais #sammy blais fic #sammy blais imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine

122 notes · View notes

ikwhatyouaremikewheeler · 2 years ago

Text

Francis Forever: Pt 2. fourth of July

Warning: angst, breakdowns maybe? It's just sad

Summary: a continuing of PT 1. enjoy!!

'I don't know what to do without you, I don't know where to put my hands, I've been trying to lay my head down, but I'm writing this sf three AM.'

Steve had resorted to writing letters, the sight of Eddie's grave had become to much for him, after he had stopped appearing in the night. Usually all they contained were something along the lines of 'please come back I need you.' or 'The kids really miss you.' He knew this was sad, how pathetic it had to be, begging a ghost, or whatever people became in the upside down, to cold back. Simply for his own selfish wants- no, needs. He couldn't help it, Steve hadn't been able to move on yet, nor did he think he ever would.

'i don't need the world to see that I've been the best I can be, but I don't think I can stand to be where you don't see me.'

Steve had started taking walks, one because his car was broken, and two, he needed to clear his head. To think, about Eddie, and everything that had happened that night. The way his head laid in Steve's lap, like he was sleeping. But he wasn't, he was dead. Gone. Body still, except for when Steve had begun to shake him, his own body trembling in fear. He was trying to wake him up.. In a sense. "Ed's.. hey ed's! Wake up! C'mon don't do this, you're fine- you're gonna be fine, well get you a doctor I promise.." They couldn't get a doctor, they couldn't even get his body out of the upside down, that night; Steve had went home and sat in his room, curled up in his vest, refusing to go to a doctor yet.

That memory still made Panic rise in Steve's chest, making him want to simply dunk his head underwater, to relieve the pressure. But he didn't, he went on walks, to clear his head that way instead.

'on Sunny days I go out walking, I end up on a tree lined Street, I look up at the gaps of sunlight, I miss you more then anything.'

Steve stopped when he saw his surroundings, he was near the skull Rock, the infamous make out spot, where Steve and Eddie spent their nights talking, chucking rocks in the water and yes- sometimes making out. If he focused hard enough and closed his eyes, he could still hear Eddie blasting 'Crazy train' from his van as they sat under the rock, cuddling and enjoying each other's presence, it was a calm night, and the moonlight had been shining through, it was beautiful.

'i don't need the world to see that I've been the best i can be. But I don't think I could stand to be where you don't see me.'

After what seemed like hours, Steve stumbled back home, the sun now peeking through the trees, illuminating the forest, Eddie's jacket wrapped tightly around him as a cold Autumn breeze passed by Steve, but with the jacket wrapped around him, everything seemed warm.

'And autumn comes when you're not yet done with the summer passing by, but I don't think I could stand to be where you don't see me.'

THE END, I think this might be the end of the series, who knows. But if you have suggestions go ahead and tell me if I should continue this!

#steve harrington #st4 #eddie munson #steddie #eddie munson fanfiction #gay #fanfic #eddie stranger things #stranger things angst #stranger things fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

thedistrictsleepsalonetonight · 4 years ago

Text

A goddamn blaze in the dark

The first time Emily sees Sue, the first thing she does is drop a cup of steaming hot coffee onto the floor, slip on it and land flat on her back behind the counter. And then she thinks — Oh. Found you.

To be fair, even without the pesky niggling at the back of her head, very helpfully pointing out that this was the girl, her soulmate, the love of her life, her forever and beyond, the sight of Sue would have knocked her down anyways. What else are you supposed to do when a pretty girl, dressed in tweed, with her hair tied up in a braid, walks into the coffee shop where you work with that smile on her face? That damned smile that doesn’t ask you so as much as inform you that you’re going to be haunted by it in your dreams tonight? With 10 am sunlight filtering in through the sides, casting half of her features in sharp, glorious light, Emily might as well have just signed away her breath for eternity.

Lavinia bends, looks her right in her eye from above her. “You’re in love, aren’t you?”

She wants to open her mouth to say something along the lines of – It's her! It’s her! What comes out, however is a garbled groan.

“Emily, buddy,” Austin rollerblades over to her, bends over her from the other side. “You gotta get up before there are complaints of unprofessionalism in the workplace.”

“Oh, because you’re the pinnacle of workplace niceties, I assume,” Lavinia shoots him a contemptuous look. “Only last week, wasn’t it? Those two young ladies in here fighting over who you were going to take to the mixer—”

“Guys,” she manages, before Austin can respond with something equally snarky, or god forbid, lascivious. “Is anyone minding the counter?”

And for exactly thirty seconds, the amount of time it takes Austin to slide over and ask for the orders of the disgruntled customers, and before she stretches out her arm and lets herself get pulled up to her feet, she hears a sweet voice enquire if everything’s quite alright back there. Emily closes her eyes, breathes it in, and wishes, not for the first time that hour, that she had her notepad near her to scribble a snippet of a poem that is now rapidly forming in her head.

*****

It is only sometimes that Sue looks at Emily and thinks that if Emily were to say the word, she would get down on her knees and hand over the entire world to her. Most of the time what she is thinking is goddamn it, Emily.

That’s what is going through her head as they’re kicked out of the lecture of the old man droning on about volcanoes. She can hear Emily giggling from behind her, and though her heart’s beating loud — the result of embarrassment and pure adrenaline — the sound makes her want to turn around and regard the idiot making it. So she does.

They’re alone in the deserted staircase; all the students, she guesses, are probably in that abysmally monotonous lecture. Emily leans against the banister, bent over at the waist from the sheer force of her mirth, and Sue takes it all in — her laugh, her gentle hands clutching at the wooden surface, and those intense, sparkling eyes looking right into hers. The next Goddamn it, Emily isn’t exasperated. It stays right there in her throat, accompanied by other, tender platitudes she’s never been brave enough to let herself say.

You’re beautiful. You make me ache inside.

(At night, Emily would talk to her about pressure, an acute force that demands to be released within her, and unable to help herself, the words — I think I know what a volcano feels like — would bubble up from her lips. And when Emily moves against her, a writhing mass of soft, bundled up wanting, Sue thinks she understands Pompeii a lot better as well; understands being frozen in time, brought to your knees by the sheer majesty of beauty and violence.)

*****

Listen, Emily has never claimed to be an expert on love.

(Austin has, on several occasions. Sauntered into the café, placed his elbow on the counter, and grinned roguishly. “Emily,” he’d started, once. “You know what the”—

“Is it that time of the month again?” Lavinia, who had been mopping up the floor, drawled. “Too much time since your last breakup but not quite enough that you can start going out with another girl and still maintain that image of the soft, sensitive manchild you’ve carefully cultivated. So you’re stuck in that weird limbo of no dates to go on, and subsequently are here to bore us.”

He’d chucked a tissue in her direction, continued smoothly. “As I was saying, do you, my dear Emily know what girls like best?”

“My sunny disposition?” she’d asked.

“No,” he replied flatly. “What girls want is someone who is cool. Indifferent. Somebody who displays absolutely zero interest in them. In fact—”

“That is horseshit,” Lavinia cut in.

Emily faux-gasped, continued leaning the espresso machine.

“Don’t you listen to him, Em. Girls like sweet, sensitive people who express an interest in wanting to get to know them.”

“I am an expert on women.”

“I am a woman!”

Emily half-listened to the sound of their bickering, and wished that she were a cat)

She considers both approaches briefly as she faces the girl, wondering why time hasn’t at least done them the decency of slowing down. It’s only polite, isn’t it, for the universe to cooperate when two eternal lovers meet. Emily has no justification as to why the universe should be so invested in the meeting of her and this woman who she’d decided was her intended, except it just makes sense.

(Intended. The word feels like it bears the weight of a hundred years. Like a woman back in the 19th century was whispering it to another woman she was in love with, as they lay in bed playing with each other’s hands.)

(It fits. She doesn’t care to find out why)

The girl opens her mouth. Emily holds her breath.

“You’ve got foam in your hair.”

The words — “It makes them bounce” — are out of her mouth before she can think. And then she wishes she’d picked up another cup of coffee in her hand so she could drop it on her head again.

Thankfully, the girl laughs. Rests both her elbows on the counter and assesses the menu above Emily’s head. Emily doesn’t mind the reprieve from eye-contact. There’s something about looking right at this.... angel, for lack of a better word, that makes breathing cumbersome. And yet there’s another part of her that wants to raise her arms above her head and bounce like a little child, all “Hey! Look at me! It’s me!”.

(It’s a very strange day)

“What would you recommend?”

“Me?” Emily startles a little. Turns back to the menu, then back to the girl. Blinks. “That depends on your name.”

“How does my coffee order depend on my name?” the girl sounds amused.

Emily shrugs. “Eh. It’s a process. Can’t give away all my secrets.”

There’s prolonged eye contact, again, before the answer comes. “Sue.”

It rings in her head. Sue. Sue. Sue. There’s no prettier word in the English language. Saying it over and over in her head feels like a prayer. She tells Sue to wait a moment, and then turns to make her a caramel freakshow, all the while acutely aware of eyes on her. Her clothes are drenched in coffee, and she’d picked out the most faded of her t-shirts to wear today. God only knows what she looks like from behind.

The drink is her very best effort, though. Topped with the best slices of fresh fruit, and she’s made the swirls on the cream topping extra carefully. “Coffee for,” she pauses, pushes at the glass gently till it’s on Sue’s side, “Sue.”

“Can I ask what’s in this.... concoction?”

“My hear—” Emily knows she’s turning red, and desperately look away. “Um, coffee?”

Sue fumbles in her bag, and she wrestles with the urge to say — “Nevermind, it’s on me!” — which would not be the wisest. Emily hates the idea of taking money from Sue, that too, for something as measly as a coffee. Probably because she knows that if Sue were only to ask once, she would make her coffee every day, unprompted.

(She cannot reiterate enough – It's a very strange day)

When Sue steps away, Emily feels loss. It’s an unusual nudge to her sternum, a tingle in her hands that wants her to call Sue back. Before she has the time to dwell on it too much, Sue does.

“Do I,” she starts, frowning a little “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Yes.

I can’t explain it but we know each other somehow, the same way artists know their muses, and flowers know their bees, and my hands know how to write poems — and maybe a hundred years ago you and I were neighboring trees in the woods, or two seeds in the same tangerine; I’m pretty sure my knowledge of your existence was probably coded in my blood.

“Do you?”

Sue seems to consider that for a while before shaking her head, and then walking over to take a seat by the window.

(And if she catches Emily stealing a glance every five minutes, she’s nice enough to not mention it)

*****

The day of her wedding is the happiest day of her life so far, and yet, the wedding has very little to do with it.

It’s a tiny, foolish fact that this is the first smile she sees on Emily after Ben’s tragic death, and yet, it makes her feel unreasonably pleased with herself. If her life were split into days she could see and touch Emily, and dreary days — the former were made significantly better if Emily smiled in them. Not to be dramatic, but the sun shines better, the skies glow prettier, and the ground is a little easier to run on.

Emily points out somewhere in the middle of their frolicking, for back of a better word, in the woods, that her dress is getting ruined. And then flings a flower onto her face. Goddamn it, Emily, she says, and then is struck dumb by the sound of her loud, exuberant laugh.

(And even quieter still when she holds the magnifying glass over the tiny piece of paper Emily had handed her earlier, the words washing over her like some tidal wave, drowning her in emotions too terrifying to admit. I held her hand the tighter, she reads and she smiles; Still in her Eye, the Violets lie, she reads and punctuates with a deep breath and when she reaches the end, the Sue – Forevermore, she’s aware of an awful keening in her throat, of the sob waiting to make its way out. Emily, Emily, her heart sings, and she is sure it will never shut up again)

She thinks of Emily the whole time, through the vows and the subsequent cheers, as they make their way into the house; thinks of her when Austin holds her tight and tells her that he loves her. A quiet voice, the sound of her guilt crawls up from inside her to tell him that she loves him too. She may be his in name, but her heart isn’t hers to give away anymore.

*****

Seven. That’s how many days she steals glances at Sue in the library before they talk again.

Monday, 9 am: The librarian’s just gotten started with her morning coffee, which means that Emily can sneak her own breakfast past her bleary eyes without being detected. She gets the books that she wants off the shelf, makes her way to her usual chair at the very back of the room and settles in. Her bag gets hooked to her chair by the straps, the tiny diary, her faithful companion, finds a place beside the humongous book, and the coffee sits next to her breakfast burrito. After the entire process is done, she stretches her legs, leans back, looks up and freezes.

Sue is seated on a nearby desk, staring at her.

Emily looks away, on reflex. Her heartrate’s up, and her palms suddenly feel clammy. She takes a deep breath, takes in the floor, and tells herself she’s seeing things. Surely, there’s no way the girl of her dreams also goes to her college and it absolutely isn’t possible that she’s sitting in front of her, in the flesh. She readies herself, looks again.

Sue’s still looking at her, now amused as well.

Well. There go her studies.

Tuesday, 8:50 am: Her plan is foolproof. There is no way she will be caught off guard again. She will be first to the library this time, and she will be prepared when Sue walks in, ready to impress her with her overall charm and chill-ness. There will — not — be a repeat of yesterday when she’d spent the better part of two hours hyperventilating, stealing secret looks or straight up going red every time Sue caught her eye and smiled at her.

The librarian hasn’t even started eating yet. Her head’s resting on the desk, and her eyes are tiny slits, when Emily runs in, makes her way to her own seat. Sue’s seat is empty, thankfully.

(Emily totally does not punch the air in celebration, startling a few other sleepy students)

She stretches out her arms, places them behind her head and waits.

And then jumps about a feet in the air when a hand brushes her shoulder.

There are multiple things happening all at once — the gentle hand resting on her shoulder for a moment, a hand whose warmth she instinctively recognizes as being a familiar one, despite never having felt it before (she knows it’s her. There’s no other option. Nothing else could make the skin at the back of her neck prickle in anticipation), a faint, teasing whisper of “I thought we weren’t allowed to eat in here”, and the realization that her plan has woefully failed.

(Why, then, does she feel so happy about it?)

Sue passes by, turning back once to shoot her a quick grin, and then settles into her usual chair, opening the book already present on the desk in front of her.

Emily’s jaw stays on the floor. The state of her heart stays up in the air.

Wednesday, 9:00 am: Sue opens the note Emily’s just chucked her, reads it, and smirks.

Emily waits. It had been an impetuous decision to scribble “Waffle?” onto a scrap of paper she’d torn out of her notebook, when Sue had looked at her earlier, but it’s alright. These are matters of the heart, and matters of the heart require at least 25 percent an attitude of ‘Ah, fuck it’, another 25 percent of run-of-the-mill stupidity, and 45 percent the ability to laugh at your own shenanigans.

Oh, and about 6 percent bad math.

She catches the crumpled-up note that comes sailing through the air in return and opens it up. “I was taught not to accept food from strangers”, is written in beautiful cursive, along with a smiley face.

(A smiley face. A smiley face!)

Thursday, 9:10 am: She writes — “You know, I am named after one of the best American poets, and your name coincides with the name of her ultimate love and muse. Some would say we’ve known each other a long time” — and slides it over to Sue, heart in her throat.

Twenty seconds later, the sound of Sue’s clear laughter rings out in the otherwise quiet place, and Emily is so enchanted she nearly falls off her chair.

(She hands off half of the breakfast burrito to Sue when she passes by to grab another book, and Sue’s grateful smile just about makes her day)

Friday, 9:00 am: The book she usually grabs to pore over is already sitting on the desk in front of her usual chair. After Emily’s done waving hi to Sue, and has settled down, she notices the tiny flap of paper poking out of the first page. Tucked in the corner is a tiny note.

“As an English major, this is your game, isn’t it? Using words to impress people? :P”

It doesn’t take her long to compose a reply.

“First of all, how dare you? Second, is it working?”

Sue covers her face with her hands when she opens it. Emily counts it as a win.

Saturday, 8:50 am: The poor boy who has been sitting in the next row all week finally loses it after they’ve exchanged their fifteenth et of notes for the day.

“Can you people, like, just text like the rest of us, for fuck’s sake?”

When the rest of the people surrounding them nod in agreement, Emily sinks into her chair, catches Sue’s equally embarrassed gaze from across the room, and resists the urge to laugh like an idiot.

Sunday, 10 am: The morning’s been hell.

Austin had been panicking about some test he had on Monday, and so she’d come in to help out at the café, early morning. Between quizzing him on his flashcards and making sure every customer had a full cup in front of them, Emily completely lost track of time until Lavinia dragged her apron off her.

“What?” she’d asked, bewildered.

The clock was pointed out to her.

(No, she does not leave an outline of her body behind when she dashes out of the café. There is, however, a mad moment when she’s pretty sure her legs are scrambling with her body still at rest. It is pretty comical nonetheless)

From the entrance she sees a couple of things on her desk, and is a little miffed. Clearly, somebody else has claimed this prime spot with a vantage point from where she could stare at the most interesting woman in the world all day. And yet, she approaches it, because the chair is empty.

The book catches her eye first. It’s a copy of Hope is the thing with feathers by her namesake, and it’s got a note with a familiar handwriting peeking out of the top. She reads, delighted, a haiku about fruit and tenderness that’s been scribbled on it. And then she gets to what’s lying next to the book — what seems to be a sandwich, wrapped carefully in foil. She touches it. It’s cold, as though it’s been waiting there a while.

The smile on her face is definitely a permanent fixture now, she decides, as she walks over to where Sue is sitting and pretending to not look over. Her heart’s tripping over with delight, with gratitude with something tender that she’s absolutely sure she hasn’t felt before. Hope is the thing with feathers, indeed and it is perched in her soul. She pulls out the chair next to hers, and sits down.

“Thank you,” she says, quietly, and swears to god she can hear the entire table go Fucking finally — before Sue shoots her a small smile.

*****

“Only you would show up at a party looking like a raccoon,” she tells Emily, exasperated.

(And enamored. And besotted. Emily makes an adorable raccoon)

“I’m not here for the party — I’m here for you,” Emily shoots back, defiant. “As long as I can still see, I wanna look at you.”

And oh, there it is. There’s the Emily she knows, saying words that slide into her chest as easily as their hands go together. Words are Emily’s deadliest weapons, and she wields them to inflict sheer havoc.

Isn’t that just it, though? Emily has no idea. No idea what it does to her to have her this close — with their foreheads pressed to each other’s, their noses a whisper away, with Emily surrounding her, taking every one of her senses and carving her name on them. Sue feels a hand on her hair, then on her cheek, and knows she’s this close to losing any bit of self-control she might have had.

She steps away, composes herself, and thinks, Shakespeare was right. Parting is such sweet sorrow.

*****

“You might as well have ditched us,” Lavinia grumps.

“What?” Emily blinks, momentarily distracted from whatever text she was in the middle of shooting off to Sue. “Oh.”

“Not cool, dude,” Austin chimes in from the other side. They’re smushed into the couch together, planted in front of the screen where some 80s movie is on. It’s a weekend, which means movie nights filled with chicken wings and some dreadful drink that Austin’s invented that he calls the Faustinator, because.... reasons, apparently. And Emily’s just now realizing that she has no idea what the movie even is because she’s spent most of her time texting Sue. “You’re texting your sweetheart lameass cringy shit.”

“How do you know what I’m texti— Austin, stop reading over my shoulder!”

(She conveniently ignores the sweetheart thing. It’s easier than the alternative, which would be to dwell too much on the possibility of Sue being her sweetheart, and Emily being Sue’s and oh — she can feel herself smiling again.)

“Believe me, it isn’t easy on me,” he snarks. “Two months of talking our heads off about Sue, Sue, Sue and free drinks for Sue, Sue, Sue and pining over—”

“It has not been that long!”

“Lavinia?” he asks.

“Two months, two weeks and four days,” Lavinia tells her, flatly. “That’s how long we’ve had to hear about how you know her and that you’re convinced she is the love of your life.”

“I do.... know her,” she trails off, uncertain. It’s one matter to think it and feel it, like she’s felt the absurd familiarity in her bones every time she hears Sue’s voice, or Sue touches her skin, and sets it on fire. Another matter entirely to set about explaining it. Plus, other, unrelated things, like how reading Emily Dickinson’s poems feel like a friendly little nudge someone’s giving her, an inside joke, or why sometimes she feels so, so much that she would burst if she didn’t write that very moment.

“She walks you to class most days from the library.”

“And she’s been coming to the café every other day, and listening to you rant about random things,” Austin chimes in.

“Didn’t she write Emily a couple of poems as well?”

“Hey, that’s,” she starts, pauses, smiles. “Yeah. I, uh, told her nobody had ever written me anything before, and she — she’s really sweet.”

“Honey,” Lavinia says, gently, “the woman’s in love with you.”

“Oh-kay!” Emily jumps up from the couch and announces her intention to get more popcorn. And the pokes her head out from around the corner, and asks, in the tiniest voice.

“Really?”

Two chips come flying in her direction, and then they can’t stop laughing.

*****

There’s a kind of truth in the life she lives when she’s alone; no one to defer to, no one to explain to why she doesn’t want children or why, even after a couple of months of a blissful wedlock with Amherst’s most eligible ex-bachelor, the smile slides off her face as easily as the fruit punch in her parties off the plates. And then there’s the second kind that has to be dragged out of her — with heaving breath and shaking hands and salt dripped out of her eyes. Honesty that scalds and tears up her inside as it makes its way out of her.

(It’s a particular bit of irony in the fact that Emily is both the cause, and the only one who ever gets to witness the fallout, of the second one)

“Emily, I love you.” she says, like Emily’s put her arms down her throat and is ripping the words out of her. “I love you, and, and I felt you in the library — because you’re always with me.”

There’s a moment of complete, utter silence, when she stares at Emily and Emily stares back at her and the space between them is filled with the distance of lies and fury — and then they crash together. It’s an impossible push and pull, and Sue feels, for the first time in weeks, this complete surrender, abandon of all inhibition. Love tastes like Emily, and it feels like drowning and sounds like the tiny noise Emily makes when they part, like she can’t stand to be away even a second longer. All of what she knows about love is Emily.

If Sue could write, this is what she’d put down on paper: the feel of Emily’s neck beneath her hand, the way she melts when Sue wraps an arm around her. This yearning to be closer, the hunger to consume and the reluctance towards stopping. She wants, so badly to do Emily the same honor of immortalizing her in the form of words — she deserves it. The world deserves to know how she felt about this.... miracle, this angel in her arms. More than anything else, Emily deserves to know how Sue feels about her.

She turns to her side, kisses Emily’s hand once, twice. “I will never let go of you again.”

*****

Life is an endless sea of pain.

“Emily, she’s just a girl,” Austin tells her, then immediately flinches as Lavinia whacks him on the head.

Emily wipes away the moisture from her face with the sleeve of her favorite oversized hoodie, sniffles, and sticks her spoon in the tub of ice-cream again.

“Not to pry,” Lavinia starts, hesitantly, “but we still have no idea what happened. You came running into my room a week ago and haven’t stopped crying since. I guess — I guess we just want to know what’s up.”

Emily sighs. “It’s Sue.”

Austin blinks at her. “Yeah I — I mean, we know that.”

She thinks back to Sunday morning when she’d come upon her favorite restaurant while out on a run. The sight of Sue, sitting there with some.... dude. It was a cozy booth, and the way the guy seemed to be smiling in Sue’s direction couldn’t be construed as anything but romantic.

“A date?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re telling us this is because you thought Sue was on a date?”

What wasn’t clicking? “Sue was on a date. There were flowers on the table and everything.”

“And that’s why you haven’t been returning her calls or texts? And have expressly forbidden us to tell her where you are when she comes into the café, like, everyday?”

Emily shifts. “Yes?”

Lavinia whacks her on the head.

“Ow,” Emily groans. “What’s with all the violence?”

“Oh, stop it, you big baby. Now,” she took a deep breath, and Emily knew instinctively a huge lecture was incoming, “let’s examine the facts, shall we?”

“Is there any point in refus—”

“No. So, you like this girl, and it seems like she likes you too. But you refuse to do anything about it, like, you know, maybe admitting it to her. Then, you come upon her having lunch with some random dude and you assume it’s a date, and then freak out about it and cut her off.”

“But I’m pretty sure it was a date!”

“Fine! Okay! It was a date! So what? You expect her to hang around waiting for you to get your shit together, what, forever? And what if she doesn’t like you, god, Emily! I—”

“Okay, okay, wait!” she cuts in, holds up a hand to gather her thoughts. “I — I get what you’re saying, okay? I really do.”

“I know I have no right to be angry. She doesn’t owe me anything — I just. I dunno. I thought we had something. But even if that wasn’t the case,” she scrambles to add, “I guess I’m just taking pre-emptive action. To not get hurt. I can’t stick around and watch her fall in love with someone else, okay? I just. I can’t.”

Austin pats her on the back, and she sinks into his arm. This, of all things, is true. There are a multitude of things in life she has had to bear, and that she has borne, but this — watching Sue slowly fall in love with someone else, would be unbearable.

She has another spoonful of ice cream. “I’m being an asshole, aren’t I?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Lavinia agrees. “But give yourself a break — you’re in love. It turns everyone a little bonkers.”

“It’s fucked.”

“No!” Austin and Lavinia tell her, together, before Lavinia continues, “Listen, I think you should talk to Sue.”

“Pretty sure she hates me now.”

“If she does, then go and face it. Honestly, though, I think you owe it to her, and also to yourself, to explain your side of things.”

“I’d literally rather die.”

“Then go do your dying in the fucking library. It’s almost ten, anyways.”

*****

She can still feel Emily’s teeth on her collarbone, can still wrap an arm around herself and trace the marks Emily’s fingers have left on her, when Sue announces that she’s trying to write a poem.

Emily throws off the sheets from her body, and turns so their heads are close. Sue’s sitting at the end of the bed, wrapped in sheets herself, eyes closed. She opens them when Emily’s nose nudges against her cheek.

“You are?” she asks, hand already playing with Sue’s hair, and Sue nods. “What’s it about?”

Sue cannot stop herself rolling her eyes. “Guess.”

“Is it,” Emily asks, teasingly, “about me?”

“Maybe.”

There’s a delighted gasp from her paramour, and she can feel a small kiss pressed to her temple. “I want to read it.”

“Only when it’s done.”

“And when will it be done?”

She turns to look right at Emily now. “I’m not sure it ever will.”

When Emily kisses her — every time Emily kisses her, Sue adds a line to the poem in her head. She’s running out of words to express joy, passion and beauty, at this point.

“The romance of it all,” Emily remarks, pretending to swoon. “This way I will live on through your words as well, after I die.”

Sue frowns, feels her lips automatically pull down at the corners. “No talking about death.”

“But we will die, darling,” Emily explains, patiently. “I can only hope that I die first.”

“How — how dare you?” she asks, indignant. “I’m going to try my very best to be the one to go.”

(That one spurs an argument that goes on four rounds before either of the participants admit defeat)

“How about,” Emily starts, ponderously. “Whoever dies first comes back around the next time and finds the other?”

Sue can’t stop the smile. The thought is so whimsical, it drives their previous non-argument right out of her head.

“You think we’ll come back someday, years after our deaths?”

“Try and stop me,” Emily declares, fondly. “Susan Gilbert, I will always — always find you.”

Sue closes her eyes, feels Emily’s lips ghost over her cheek and tries to imagine the thought of the two of them, years from now, sitting side by side, hand in hand. Breathes deeply to stop the sudden onslaught of tears the image evokes.

“My foolish sweetheart,” she says, after she’s composed herself. “I love you.”

This is what she’ll put in words — Emily next to her, head tilted downwards, turned towards her. In about a minute, she’ll start complaining of the blood rushing to her brain, and Sue, exasperated, will tell her to sit straight. She’ll write about the light that falls on the edge of Emily’s nose, the one crooked tooth all the way in the corner, the tiny scar on her brow. About the way their hands lock into each other’s, how there’s a space on her neck made perfectly in the mould of Emily’s head — two girls, sitting next to each other, together into an eternity, and beyond.

*****

The first time Emily sees Sue after a week-long absence, she’s just run into the library and crashed into a nearby bench, thus bringing down a student, two books, and herself. She gets up almost immediately, sees Sue staring at the sight of her, wide-eyed, and thinks — Oh. Found you.

There’s an empty seat next to Sue, and on the desk lies an apple. Emily approaches her, and touches the back of her shoulder lightly.

“Can I sit here?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” Sue answers, not looking at her. “Can you?”

Emily has to bite at her lip to keep in the wild laughter that threatens to erupt. It’s not just the quip, either. It’s Sue — seeing her after these many days of zero contact feels like a drug, and she breathes it in, greedily. She pulls the chair out, and sits down on it.

“So,” she starts, then trails off.

“So,” Sue mimics, not unkindly.

“It may have been brought to my attention that I’ve been a bit of an idiot.”

“Only a bit?” Sue raises an eyebrow, leans back where she’s sitting.

Well. “More than a bit,” she amends. “I’ve been an idiot. A dumbass. An utter fool. A rake. A rogue of the highest order.”

Sue tells her she agrees. Then — “You wanna tell me why?”

“I saw you and, um, some guy. On your date that day over at the Plantain Leaf?”

Sue stares. For the longest time. “You ghosted me for a week because you saw me out to lunch with a guy? Emily that is so—”

“I know!” she says, then gets shushed by the people sitting around them. She consciously lowers her voice when she speaks next. “I know, Sue. I was being an asshole, I just — felt complicated about.... things.”

“Things?”

“Yeah. Like — feelings. And stuff.”

She sees Sue stifle a smile, and feels a little bit of life come back into her hands.

“What about your feelings?”

“Well,” Emily says, pauses, then comes out with a masterpiece of an explanation, “I have them.”

Then covers her face with her hands, because why? It hasn’t even been ten minutes, and she’s already started messing things up.

“I mean — I have feelings. For you.”

She chances a look up at Sue, after a minute of that incredibly earth-shattering revelation, and stays held in place by the intensity of her gaze. Sue’s eyes are soft, large, and Emily wants to do something stupid, like bury her face in her hands again.

“You do?” Sue asks her, in the tiniest voice possible. Like she can’t believe it. Like Emily has done an awful job of wearing her whole heart out on her sleeve the past couple of months.

“Yeah,” she replies, and finds her voice is equally tiny. “Good ones.” The kind that have me convinced we knew each other a couple decades ago, that I have heard your voice in my dreams all my life, that I’ve been waiting for you for turn a corner and walk into my life this whole while. And if not this time, I’ll wait a couple decades more for you to love me back. “And it’s okay if you’re dating that guy, I just — I thought you should know. That’s all.”

Sue lets out a shuddering breath. “I’m not dating Sam.”

Oh.

So turns out Emily had been holding her breath.

Ants are crawling all over her body. To combat them, Emily picks up the object nearest to her, which happens to be the apple.

“Is that for me?”

Sue nods. “You owe me the six sandwiches I got you this entire week,” she adds, teasingly.

Elation fills Emily until she imagines she’s probably floating a few inches above the ground, buoyed by this tiny admission of caring on Sue’s part. Whoever had said all those things about love had been right. It really was.... something different altogether.

“You’re telling me you sat here and read Emily Dickinson all week, waiting for a girl to show up?”

A light blush lights up Sue, and she leans forward a little bit. “Not just a girl,” she tells her, seriously. “I waited for Emily, who was named after this poet whose work I’ve really come to like. Emily, who I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with.”

Oh dear God.

They’re closer together now, their heads almost touching; Emily imagines them in a world of their own, separate from the rest of this library. She pretends to scoff.

“What? You don’t think a lot of Emily?”

“I think I can write better,” she declares.

“You think you can—” Sue starts, then lets out a laugh. “Emily, shut up.”

And then they’re suddenly kissing, and each and every cell in Emily gathers somewhere near her chest to rejoice together, every beat of her heart falls and arranges in the shape of a song, and time just kind of. Slows down. Pauses. Stops.

Emily thinks she knows what a volcano feels like, now. When she’ll go home, later, she’ll sit at her writing desk, pen down a poem about lovers and hands and two women sitting with their heads close together; maybe put in a fruit or two. And tiny pieces will come together in her head, just like the ones in her chest that crumble every time Sue looks at her.

But right now, she closes her eyes, feels poetry on her lips, and it is good enough.

#dickinson #emily dickinson #emisue #fanfiction #dickinson fanfic #i'm done! finished it!#now - do i feel weird about writing about two real people wo existed albeit a long time ago? yes #but i'm justifying it in my head somehow because the show is just so whack #either way - here's 6k words of dickinson brainrot that i had promised myself i would finish before my birthday #and i did it with a few days to spare #so yeah #happy reading?????#also - i have a dickinson playlist that i listened to while writing this #so if youre somehow reading the tags and wanna check that out lemme know :)

113 notes · View notes