there’s a picture in the kitchen of a boy Morgan doesn’t know.
in the picture, he’s standing next to her dad, and they’ve got their arms around each other. they seem so happy, but Dad seems so sad whenever he looks at it. it sits on a shelf next to other pictures of their family; her, Mom, Dad, Uncle Rhodey… so Morgan assumes he must be family too. He doesn’t look as old as Mom and Dad, so Morgan guesses that maybe he’s her brother.
there are little clues too; there are notes in the garage, on the dash of Dad’s car, stuck to the computer, all in handwriting she doesn’t recognize. there’s a box in the closet filled with a bunch of random stuff that her dad refuses to throw away, never touches.
she asked Dad about him, her brother, once. what his name is and when she can meet him. her father stumbles around the question, and eventually gets up and leaves to room, at a loss for words. later she could’ve sworn she heard him crying, and Dad never cried.
- tiny summary: Sebastian always noticed. The way your gaze would linger on him at the dinner table while he was pouring tea or serving seconds. How you’d always get flustered and attempt to compose yourself when he asked you if you needed anything before he walked away. So he decided to make a move.
- yes the title is beabadoobee lyrics i luv bea sm
- REALLY fluffy fic like this fic is literally a soft bunny TRUST 🙏🙏
- ok enjoy my really cringe ass writing ✌️
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You had lived in the Phantomhive manor for quite some time, being a close, older friend of Ciel’s had gotten you the privilege of living there. Despite the large age gap, you two got along really well, and the only time he was smiling would be when he’s around you.
And then there’s his butler, Sebastian. He’s a whole different story. You were so enamored by him, sometimes you’d get distracted while talking to Ciel when he walked in the room to deliver tea or chocolate cake to the Earl, and Ciel would have to snap his fingers in your face to get your attention back to him.
And Sebastian always noticed.
The way your gaze would linger on him at the dinner table while he was pouring tea or serving seconds. How you’d always get flustered and attempt to compose yourself when he asked you if you needed anything before he walked away.
𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི
Ciel watched you sit at your spot at the table, stirring your tea and zoning out while your food went cold. He somehow hadn’t caught on after all this time.
He moved and started to continuously snap his fingers in your face, startling you and making you jump, your spoon slipping out of your hand and clattering to the ground.
"Y/N! C’mon, get it together! I don’t get why you’re always doing this!" he exclaimed, an annoyed expression on his face.
"We have guests coming tomorrow. If you keep doing this, they’re not going to be pleased." he continued sternly, stirring his tea.
You sat there, staring at Ciel. How could he possibly not have caught onto why this was happening?
"I-yeah. Sorry. I’ll try to stop." you said dejectedly, staring at your hands that were now folded in your lap.
While you were distracted by your thoughts, you felt a tap on your shoulder, and looked behind you.
Sebastian was standing there, your spoon that you had previously dropped held loosely in his hand.
Looking at him intently, you slowly took the spoon from his hand, and turned away, a slight pink dusting your face.
𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི
You awoke to the blinding light of the sun flooding into your room from the window. It seems you had forgotten to close your curtains last night.
Or at least that’s what you had thought, before you heard a shuffle from the foot of your bed.
You instantly sat up, now completely alert. You had to admit, you were a bit scared.
You slowly crawled to the foot of your bed, peeking over the edge, being met with a familiar person bent down, looking like they were gathering something, before they looked up, causing you to jump back.
"Sebastian?! Wha-what are you doing in my room?!" you exclaimed loudly, a bit too loud, slapping a hand across your mouth in embarrassment before burying your face into the mattress and pulling the blanket over your head.
You knew that Sebastian had always went into Ciel’s room to assist him with dressing, but you were definitely not used to him coming into your room.
Sebastian simply looked up and smiled, seeming completely oblivious to what he had just done, though he knew exactly what he was doing.
"Good morning, miss. Did you have a good sleep?" he asked softly, before hesitantly moving to pull the blanket off from over your head so he could properly look at you.
You felt him gently grip the blanket in his hand, before you harshly pulled it back down onto your head, breathing heavily.
You heard him laugh under his breath, before he sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.
"C’mon, Y/N, we have guests arriving soon, you’ll need to start to get dressed." he said quietly, tugging on the blanket again, attempting to get it off of you.
You finally oblige, letting him pull the blanket off of your head, his fingers slightly grazing the top of your head.
You still had your face buried in the mattress, your body curled into a ball. You had hesitated to unfurl yourself before you felt Sebastian tap your shoulder lightly, causing you to sit up.
After you had sat up, you leaned back, your head hitting something unknown with a soft thump.
You then realized it was Sebastian’s lap.
Your face went completely red, and you instantly tried to sit up. The only problem was that Sebastian was holding your shoulders down.
𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི
"..sebastian..? what.. what are you doing..?" you stuttered out, a nervous expression on your face. The first time this ever happened, what followed was not very pleasant.
"Stay. Please." he replied softly, his eyes gazing into yours, a soft, pleading expression on his face.
"..oh. I-I suppose so.." you whispered back, a slight pink still dusting your face.
You’d never seen Sebastian so vulnerable. His eyes were intently focused on your face, analyzing every twitch of your half-lidded eyes that were gazing up at him in adoration.
His hand hesitated, before slowly moving to take your hand in his. his fingers lacing with yours, all while he was still looking at you with an expression similar to that of a cat begging for attention.
His skin felt like a silk pillowcase. Not to mention, his hand fit exactly right against your hand, and his fingers laced perfectly with yours.
Like your hands belonged together.
You began to get more comfortable as your eyes closed. You slowly grew sleepier, your head lolling against his thigh, before you felt a hand nudge against your cheek.
"Hey, don’t fall asleep on me. You still have to get ready, the guests are almost here." Sebastian whispered.
I don’t think pride and humiliation are incompatible, really. humans are beings of contradiction, and our job is to chisel these contradictions, sculpt them into something beautiful, devoted, deadly.
yes, she is not a human anymore. yes, she gets passed around by the crew, serves as a stress relief to anyone who would deign to indulge — and many see that to be beneath their dignity, which is a sting on its own. it would be a mistake to think that she does not understand this humiliation or does not really feel it. she might revel in it, especially if it isn’t framed as a punishment, but years of life as a human left their mark. she might think she deserves such treatment, but she knows exactly what it is — a sign that in any hierarchy, she is at the very bottom.
and yet this alone would make for a poor hound. shame is inadequate as motivation. on the battlefield, we want to see a hound that believes in herself, knows herself to be strong and powerful. she needs to run into battle knowing that she will win.
so at the same time a hound needs to have pride. why wouldn’t she? she is the highest priest of a goddess walking the earth, Her best weapon and most prized possession. in purely material terms, hounds are expensive. making one requires a good pilot, close personal attention from a rare specialist, and endless political battles to keep the program afloat. a hound is, in all likelihood, one the most valuable assets on the base. is is proper to ensure that she understands it.
so once in a while, when her performance was outstanding, or on her birthday (that being, of course, the day she knelt and spoke the vow; the birth date of her body is immaterial), she gets a very special treat. she gets to pick a person — maybe someone who was mean to her or her Handler — and have them delivered to her, bound and gagged. some hounds prefer to use their hands and teeth, but my current pet usually also requests a set of knives. it takes some political power to explain away the sudden disappearances, but that’s well within the privileges of Hounds Corps.
I remember the day she requested a senior officer as her toy, her eyes lit with uncharacteristic defiance. he was inspecting our base the day earlier and had made some rather unflattering comments about the hounds program and its Handler, saying that “a brothel has no place on the frontlines, and a madam wearing uniform is an insult to the army”. she expected, I think, that this request would be denied. to be a hound is to search constantly for your place in the hierarchy, which means always testing for its upper bound. I just smiled and nodded, though, and a few days later he had an unfortunate accident. he lasted almost half a year in her care, my hound being careful with an expensive gift.
her fervor in battle was unparalleled ever since. she knows without doubt the contradiction of her station: she’s below everyone else, not even a human; but she’s second only to me, being my beloved weapon.
Okay but Sirius and Lily who had an extremely close sibling-like bond? Like, full on big brother-little sister dynamic between them.
Sirius and Lily who are mean to each other, calling each other names and picking arguments over the stupidest most insignificant things, only to turn around and be laughing and joking together not even twenty minutes later. People will genuinely think they can't stand each other, but really they're best friends who will always have each others backs no matter what.
Sirius and Lily who can be open and vulnerable with each other in a way they can't be with their other friends, because they're the only ones who know what it's like to watch your relationship with your blood sibling crumble right in front of you. They're the only ones who understand the grief of that, the anger and regret, how it feels to have so much love for someone who won't accept it anymore.
Sirius and Lily who give that love to each other instead. Who help each other move on, who listen to each others thoughts — no matter how cruel or selfish they might sound — without judgement. Who remind each other that it's okay to hate them, or miss them, or wish they'd never been brothers/sisters at all.
Sirius and Lily who both understand that blood isn't always thicker than water. Sirius and Lily who help each other learn to be okay with that, because chosen family can be more loyal than the one you're born into.
->warnings; I think there's literally one curse word, but besides that it's a tiny bit of heart break and a lot more of the heart being whole again.
-> summary; y/n and Sirius have broken up, but there’s a lack of answers and an overflow of pain. Why did he walk away? Could he come back? Would you let him?
->a/n; Hi my loves! So, this is my first fic for the 'dream life' masterlist. I have edited it time and time again, never feeling like it was finished or good enough, assumably because it has been so long since I last posted any work of mine. So please enjoy this attempt at a short second chance romance fic, with my favorite fluffy Sirius.
You watch as the water ebbs and flows over the grass lining of the lake. The liquid leaves barely a trace of itself after leaving each time, except for subtle drops lining the green strands. Like tears running down the grass stems missing their everflowing home.
The leaves of the willow touching your back softly move with small gusts of wind. The birds have gone silent and the frogs have come out to make themselves known again. Fireflies grace you with their presence as you keep your attention steadily on the water.
Up and down. Over and under. Coming and leaving whenever it pleases. You have no other choice but to accept its rhythm, just as the water can do no else but follow the moon's rhythm.
Your back is leaning against an old willow tree, the rough feeling of its bark on your back keeping you grounded. It keeps you from letting your thoughts drift to other places you might not come back from.
At one point, the salt water from your eyes joins the soft drops on the grass, becoming one. You can’t see what comes from you and what was already left there by the lake. Quietly crying without any thought has some comfort to it; your body feels the emotional relief with no stress added to the situation. You should try doing it more often.
But of course there are reasons for it. Reasons you are far too aware of. Even when you are not actively thinking about it, your body feels them. Needs to find a way around them or with them. Now, it’s releasing them for a temporary amount of time. The stars and the meadow’s inhabitants are the only witnesses to it. They are watching you twist a piece of paper in your hand. It has visibly been crumpled up and straightened back out numerous times, your eyes drifting back to the parchment every now and then, reminding you why you wanted to run, to hide yourself from everyone on these grounds. Reminding you how he left with no trace left of himself, except for what is in your hand.
However, that loneliness you searched seemed to be coming to an end. The sound of crunching leaves coming from behind you. Interrupting the natural music surrounding you with a life of its own.
“You enchanted the lake again?” A hoarse voice speaks close to you. The boy clears his throat seemingly all too aware of the gratiness of it. His smoking habit got picked up again sometime last month, but you didn’t stay around to witness it. The scraping of his voice told you enough to know the habit hadn’t been put back to rest.
Without looking back at him, you answer. “I felt like this place could use some more magic.”
“You wanted to live here, you know. Magicless.”
“That’s not why I wanted to live here, and you know it.” You respond before looking back at him. Sirius is standing a few feet away from you, his hands in his pockets and shoulders clad in the signature leather jacket. The intensity of his stare as you finally meet his eyes is unexpected. How weird it is to finally gaze into them once more, after having done so every day for the past two years. What a few weeks can change for two people.
The boy standing before you averts his eyes and lets them drift downward to your hands. You feel the burn of them lingering on the letter. His letter.
His voice comes out softly when he looks back up into your eyes and asks, “why?”
The sound of it is so fragile and delicate, it hurts when it fully reaches you. You stand up and put the parchment filled with his messy writing in your back pocket.
“Don’t leave, please.” He moves a step toward you when he abruptly stops as he notices your posture stiffening. You stand there, awkwardly, with your arms crossed. Your skin feels itself warming up but you still feel the need to keep your arms close. Whenever he’s around, you seem to forget how to keep your distance. That can not happen this time. Not when he is the one who left.
“Okay.” You answer cautiously. There’s no fear other than the one for your heart. The pieces of it are still not healed yet, “what do you mean, “why”, Sirius?”
His expression is pained as he hears his own name leave your mouth. You never called him that anymore, but maybe it is for the better that you do. Distance, right.
“I mean, why are you sitting here with my words crumpled up in your hands?”
“Because they’re the only ones I have left. Because you left, remember?”
The question hangs in the air between you, surrounded by others. Emotions accompanying them. Nothing had been simple these past few months, but seeing him now? The most complicated of all.
Sirius is fidgeting anxiously with his rings. There’s a new tattoo on the right side of his hand, roman numbers of some kind. His hair is a mess of raven black curls slowly falling over his face as he looks down at the jewellery turning on his fingers.
“I didn’t mean to, y/n.” He says while keeping his gaze fixed onto the silver.
You laugh sarcastically in response, “didn’t mean to? So someone made you grab this piece of old brown parchment,” you grab the letter from your pocket and hold it up, slowly becoming angry, “forced you to hold a quill and write these words! Of course. I forgot to think of that myself.”
“Not like that, obviously! I just didn’t mean for it to become… this.” He looks back up and gestures at the air between you.
“Well this,” you respond while waving frantically at the same air “is a direct consequence of breaking up with someone after a year of dating and a year of… something else. On fucking paper”
“I did that because I couldn’t do it any other way! Y/n, do you really think that I could leave you if we were standing there like this?”
“Most people can, so presumably yes.” You respond with a loud sigh, dragging your hands over your face agitatedly.
“Well, I couldn’t have. Because most people aren’t us, y/n.”
Sirius moves toward you at a quick pace. There’s a certain haste, a need in his step. Before you can get a good breath in, his grey eyes are right in front of you. The stormy eyes you once looked into from the comfort of your softest pillow, touching his cheeks and tracing the lines of his chest tattoos. There is no mistaking the same longing in his eyes. You can feel his breath subtly on your skin as he speaks.
“When I’m here, with you, I am utterly powerless, y/n. I could never have left if I had to look into these beautiful eyes and see the heart underneath breaking in them.”
You gulp as his hand gently touches your cheek. The feeling radiating all over your skin. A comfort you hadn’t known for a while now. The feeling of your skin touching, with the rough feel of his fingers from all the years playing guitar, such a familiar feeling, replaces the anger you feel with the nostalgic love you had been trying to suppress since he left.
“I had to leave, okay? But I felt no pleasure in doing so. I promise”
“But why did you have to leave me?” You respond while a tear rolls down your cheek.
“You had every chance to tell me and go, without either of our hearts ending up broken. There was no need for it to go like it did, Siri.”
Sirius shivers at the mention of his nickname. The memories blow into him like a cold wind.
“I just.. I was so scared. We were living together and suddenly we would have these discussions we normally wouldn’t have, sometimes you would cry without me knowing why and you wouldn’t tell me and then.. I don’t know. I figured you deserved better than what I was giving you”
“You broke us up because we were an actual couple?”
“I have never gotten to this point of a relationship, not even remotely close. I thought the crying was because you didn’t feel loved or just couldn’t deal with me, and the discussions that just randomly came sometimes got me to think that, yes, this couldn’t be enough for you.” The boy answers sadly. A soft blush rises on his cheeks as he remembers the reasons he had for causing his own pain and heartbreak.
“My lovely Sirius, that’s all part of a relationship. It can’t be perfect all the time or we wouldn’t cherish it so much as we did. We go through rough patches and fix them together. That doesn’t mean you are doing anything wrong.”
Sirius smiles softly to himself, “I got scared, I’m so sorry y/n. I went to stay at a friend’s place and then I had to go on tour for weeks.”
“But you came back a while ago,” you remember the pain when you first saw him walking across the path to the main house two weeks ago. He had grown a short beard and his messy hair was tied back in a small bun, a cigarette in his hand as he walked between the falling red leaves “you didn’t even look at me when we were having dinner with everyone that night.”
“Because these tours are going to keep coming, which means I still won’t be able to give you all my time, and I still think you deserve better than that.”
“I love watching you tour.. I knew what I was signing up for the second we started dating, with you blasting your guitar in the common room while I was trying to study. You were my rockstar and I was so proud of that.”
“But how am I enough? I’m just winging it. My parents never taught me this stuff.”
“We’re all just winging it,” you smile at him as his fingers tip your chin up “and you make me feel so loved. You write songs about me, comfort me so perfectly when I’m sad, buy my favourite snacks for me when I’ve had a long day and read books I once said I liked so we can talk about them. I love you, you’re far more than just ‘enough’.”
“I have no idea how I survived these last few months without you,” he simply responds while gazing at you “so please, for Merlin’s sake, take me back.”
“How can I know you won’t run out on me again?”
“Because I am telling you right here, right now, that the only thing this time apart did for me was showing me how much I want you in my life. That one day we will get married, have a future and eventually die together, intertwined in our bed. I am forever amazed by you and your strength, your passions and everything that makes you, you. As long as I know that I am enough for you, that you feel my love for you and never have a second of doubting it, I can guarantee that this is it.”
As you light up with a smile, Sirius dips his head down slowly. His lips softly touch yours in a tender kiss, his wild curls falling onto your face. The love in his kiss is tangible, all too real. And it’s perfect. It’s home. Something both of you will finally have, for an exceeding amount of time.
When the two of you finally break apart, with his hands still holding onto your supple skin, you glance at the tattoo again in the corner of your eye. Sirius traces your gaze, grinning when you look back up at his stormy eyes.
“What is that, mister Black?” you ask teasingly.
“It’s the day we met at James’ party. Remember?”
You smile fondly at the memory, “September 25th, 1977.”
“And even though I got this when we were separated, this is just one more confirmation that I don’t want this life without you or a constant reminder of us. Of our love and the moment my universe shifted when I first laid eyes on you.” You trace your fingers over the tattoo as his gaze remains on you, trying to pinpoint your reaction. “IX·XXV·MCMLXXVII,” you read aloud. “I just might get one too.” You smile as you look back up at the love of your life, finally back where both of you belong. Together.
I (30M) can't tell if my friend (35X) wants to be more. (Friends at the Table, PALISADE)
Brnine/Jesset, Teen+, ~1.2k.
s/relationships · 12 hr. ago
throwaway244202148690283
Throwaway for reasons, don't ask.
I (30M) have a friend (35X) who I met about 7 years ago through work.
you ever poke through your WIPs folder and discover you have an entire redditfic in there that you just never posted? well, here's this. enjoy!
