#sappy fluffy letter instead of angsty sad letter

[oldfashionedmorphine]

🔀 Byler again lol!!

ps, i cheated with this one a tiny bit cause the first song shuffled was bubblegum bitch by marina and i wasn’t feeling creative enough to make that work lol… maybe if i’m feeling super silly someday, but not right now ;)

but with this second song, i present to you…

An au where Will has been holding back his feelings since he was fourteen, watching Mike through relationships that seem to only make him miserable—in another life he knows he could make him infinitely happier…

Except now that they’re about to embark on a new chapter in life—going off to college in different states—Will finds he can’t hold back the truth anymore…

Edit: A more polished version is now on ao3!!

————

we shouldn't wait another day

Dear Mike,

I feel like I’ve been lying to you for years now. How many times have you asked me if I have a crush on anyone or asked me if I ever loved someone and I’ve told you no? Because every time you asked me, I’ve lied to you.

The truth is, I do like someone. In fact, I’m in love with them. I have been for some time.

And it’s you.

I never planned to tell you. I expected to take that secret to my grave, but soon we’ll be moving on from this shitty town and what if I never see you again? I think I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I never once let you know how I’ve felt. The worst you can say is that you don’t feel the same. And then we can laugh about it later and move on with our lives.

But I just had to tell you one time and if there’s even the smallest chance you could feel the same, then meet me tonight at sunset near the fallen tree at Lover’s Lake.

If you don’t show, then I’ll know your answer and we can just forget about it. No hard feelings, I promise :)

Love,

Will

————

The final bell rang out—high school was officially over. And as they left their classroom for the last time, Will stops Mike before they reach the parking lot. He had kept the letter in his pocket the whole day, unable to give it to him until just now. Because it was now or never.

“Um…” Will sways nervously, knowing the moment he hands the letter to him everything changes, but he has to do it—he needs to, “This is for you,” he holds the sealed envelope out for Mike, “Just don’t read it yet… wait for me to walk away first.”

“Okay…” Mike takes the letter from him with furrowed brows.

“You’ll, uh… understand when you read it.”

Mike eyes the envelope curiously and nods his head, “I’ll see you later though, right?”

“We’ll have to see about that…” He can feel his face flushing, “I really gotta go.” Will spins on his heels and tries to walk away as fast as possible.

El was waiting for him by their car—he was more than happy to toss her the keys because there was no way in hell he could drive the damn thing home without crashing them into a pole because he was too flustered.

————

Ten minutes until sunset…

The air was warm and the sky was painted in vibrant orange and pinks and reflected perfectly on the still waters of the lake.

Maybe it was over the top—no, it definitely was. There was no guarantee Mike would even show up and yet Will had laid out a whole picnic a few feet away from the shore—a blanket with a basket of food and he even lit candles in jars and holy fucking shit what the hell was he thinking—this the stupidest idea he ever had.

And only time would tell if it was worth the money he shelled out—he’d been working at Melvald’s on the weekend with his mother, so he had a little to spare.

It was nearly sunset too and his heart was racing and he was pacing. This was a terrible idea. What was he thinking? He never should have said anything. This is so embarrassing. Mortifying. He’s never going to be able to look Mike in the eye again after this. It’s a good thing he’s heading off to college in two months because if he had to face Mike after this, he’d die on the spot.

Remember… worst case scenario is Mike doesn’t show up and you just have to avoid him and everyone else for the rest of the summer. No big deal—it’ll be fine.

It’ll be fine.

It’s fine.

He keeps pacing back and forth—carving his path in the sand.

This is so stupid, he’s not coming.

Will checks his watch again, five minutes to sunset—he’d be here by now. Will stops pacing, looking over at the setting sun and feeling that sting of rejection. He should’ve known better. Not allowing himself any sliver of hope…

“Hey.”

The word sent an electric shock through his body. He turns around to find Mike standing with his hands in his pockets. Will takes a shuddered breath, “H-Hey.”

“Did you really mean everything you wrote? It’s… it’s not a lie—not a joke?”

He nods, “I meant it. Every word.”

“And you’re sure?” Mike didn’t seem convinced.

And then it occurs to him that maybe Mike doesn’t believe him since he did tell him in the letter how he lied for years about who he liked, “Yes… I promise… I wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

Mike nods, taking a breath, “Okay…” and then he watches him remove his hands from his pockets and walk towards him with purpose and a fire in his eyes.

It could have been from the shock of it all, but Will stayed as still as a statue as Mike approached him until he was no more than two inches away—so close he could feel the warmth of his body. Will didn’t even flinch a single muscle as Mike placed his hands on the sides of his face so he could lean in for a kiss. But then Will melted into it and he wrapped his arms around Mike, he didn’t want to let him go.

He was kissing Mike—how was this possible?

Deep down Will really thought that nothing would actually come of the letter. That Mike wouldn’t show up and he’d simply sit all alone at the edge of the lake until the candles burned out and then he’d have to learn to let his feelings die along with the flames. That’s what he was truly prepared for…

Only that didn’t happen. And now Mike was kissing him. And he was kissing Mike—his heart wanted to burst out of his chest.

Mike was first to break away from their kiss, resting their foreheads together. But when he moves his head back a bit, Will can see tears trailing from his eyes.

“I lied to you too, Will…”

“What?”

“I never told you how I really felt either.”

Will’s eyes go wide.

“I never thought I could actually tell you the truth… ‘cause I thought it was just me who felt like this and that it’d make things too weird if I said anything… so I settled for saying it every other way instead… but I’ve always wanted to tell you…”

“Really?”

“Yeah… you’ve always made me the happiest—more than anyone.”

They share another kiss, nearly losing themselves in it this time, but eventually they come up for air and by then the sun had completely set and the only light left was provided by the small candles flickering away inside the glass jars.

Will takes Mike by the hand, pulling him over to sit upon the blanket, and then they talk and laugh as they enjoy the sandwiches, snacks, and sodas he packed. And in the end, they find themselves laying down, gazing up at the stars while they hold each other close and staying this way until dawn…

————

tagging:

@daydreams-in-the-moonlight @magentamee @boahey

(might actually post this one to ao3)

#byler #byler ficlet #got carried away with this maybe #sappy fluffy letter instead of angsty sad letter #and sorry cause ​i didn’t give it a proper edit

[weasleyimaginewheezes]

George x reader / Now or never (Part 2)

Original Request: This might be really specific but I’ve just had this idea for a while and I suck at writing but can you do an imagine where reader is Sirius black’s daughter and is the same year as Fred and George and her personality is exactly like Sirius and she falls in love with George but the war is going on and death eaters are coming after them but they protect each other and can it just be really angsty and fluffy? I’m sorry I just love your writing so much you’re so good at it (From anon)

Request: NOW OR NEVER WAS SO GOOD AND I LOVE IT PLS MAKE A PART 2 (From anon)

A/n: Here you go anon! Beware this part is pretty angsty. Set in HBP and I did do the death eater scene from the movie but not the part when they burn the burrow down because that scene annoys me and is pretty pointless. Gif not mine. As always I’m a sucker for a sappy fluff ending. Anyway, enjoy 😊

Word Count: 2.3k+

Warnings: Mentions of grieving. Angst and hurt. 

Part 1 | Part 2 

He was gone. Well and truly gone.

When Harry had told you, you didn’t believe him. Because your father had just come back into your life less than a year ago. He couldn’t be dead. Harry tried to comfort you but he was dealing with the grief himself, you told him to just go and he abided, not wanting to upset you further. You held back your screams of anger and sadness that bubbled up inside you until you were alone. You couldn’t hold back any longer as you got tangled up in your own thoughts. You needed George, the one person who had left. Your screaming dissolved into tears as a gentle tap sounded on your window.

A small unrecognisable owl was perched with a letter tied to its leg, waiting expectantly. You wiped away some of your tears and grabbed the letter, ignoring the pestering owl looking for a treat. You tore it open and your spirits were lifted as you read the letter from George. His kind words of sorrow and comfort weren’t enough to stop the welling up of tears behind your eyes however.

You packed quickly for the end of the year and went to eat early hoping that you could avoid the sympathies from most. Unfortunately for you it was the end of term feast which meant that the food wasn’t laid out until dinner actually begun so you sat and waited. As you did so, you reread your boyfriend’s letter and thought about penning one back until you remembered that you would see him the next day on the platform where he had promised to meet you. You tried your best to smile happily at the thought but it was soon overpowered by your grief.

Students piled in for the feast and although you were sat at the Ravenclaw table, Harry and his friends still came over to say hi and check you were okay before sitting at their own table. You nodded blankly before becoming quite surprised as Luna Lovegood sat with you smiling sympathetically. Dumbledore said a few words and finally the food was set out. Luna cheered happily as she dished herself some pudding, not even looking at the main course platter. Normally you would have smiled with her, laughed with her and you other friends but today you just wanted to eat and be out of the great hall as quickly as possible.

Sleeping didn’t come easy, your mind kept you awake reliving Harry’s words or your last moment with your father. It had been at Christmas, he gave you a small present which was a picture frame of him and you when you were younger. You both looked happy. You remembered his watchful eye whenever you were sat with George and his little jokes. How you wish you could hear one of those again. 

*****

The train ride back was long. Your friends tried their best to talk to you and distract you but it didn’t work. You missed the twins so much, they always had a magical way of cheering you up which never seemed to fail. Your heart felt heavy as you listened to the laughter and cheer of the compartment you sat in, it almost seemed impossible to feel that way right now. The only thing that made you feel hopeful was the thought of George’s arms being tightly wrapped around you and his lips on yours. So, when the train stopped you were the first one out of the door. Your eyes scanned the platform for George’s ginger locks and as soon as you spotted his towering figure behind Molly, you ran without a care towards him.

He grinned as you leapt into his open arms. Your head nuzzled into his shoulder as you breathed in his scent. His arms snaked around your waist and lifted you up before pulling back and smiling down at you, it became more saddened as he watched tears fall down your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s alright, love.” George kissed away the tears before he gently met your lips with a swift kiss. “I’m here.” And that was all you needed in that moment. George kissed your hands as he held them tightly, following his family as they led the way out of the train station.

The burrow seemed a good distraction, with all of its inhabitants there was never nothing going on. As soon as you got there, you realised someone was missing and turned towards George. “Where’s Fred?” At your question George began to look sheepish and avoided your gaze.

“Oh well – you see,” George stammered and your eyes narrowed in on his own.

“You haven’t told her?” Molly who was already making preparations for dinner, scolded her son with a stern look. George shook his head lowly.

“Told me what?” You looked between Molly and George with a frown.

“Me and Fred aren’t technically living her anymore.” Your brows furrowed together in confusion as you questioned him. “With the business and everything we’re living above the shop. It will be easier.” He shrugged with a worried look that you might be mad at him for not saying anything.

“Oh.” Your voice was quiet as you realised you wouldn’t be able to sneak into George’s room to cuddle with him.

“But hey, why don’t you stay with us for the summer?” George smiled hopefully and your hopes picked up with his suggestion. “It will be a bit of a tight squeeze but-“ He shrugged again and his smile grew wider. “Anything for you, my love.”

“Really? Fred won’t mind?” Your lips raised higher into a more defined smile as George laughed.

“He’s gonna have to deal with it because I’m not spending any more time apart from you.” He pulled you closer and your arms automatically swung around his neck, your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He smiled widely as he kissed you tenderly.

“Okay, not in the kitchen come on.” Molly ushered you both out of the room with a kind laugh. George was happy to oblige as he pulled you upstairs to his and Fred’s old room. He pulled you onto his bed to cuddle and you laughed happily, forgetting everything that had been troubling you. George spooned you on his small single bed as he whispered excitedly about the shop. But before you knew it, your brain was blocking out his words as you thought back to the previous summer, seeing your father for the first time in 14 years and knowing now that you’d never see him again.

There was silence as George asked a question but you didn’t hear him. He became confused until he looked over to see you crying quietly. He immediately turned you around and held you closer, you cried onto his shoulder as he whispered words of comfort to you softly.

“It’s gonna be okay, you know when my dad-“ George’s voice was quiet as he held you but you soon pulled away to look at him with a tense expression.

“What? That’s not the same thing George.” You said, a quiet anger filling your voice. George hurried to backtrack on his words with a shake of his head.

“That’s not what I was saying, I just meant that it was hard for me too but-“

“But he came back.” You cut him off again, untangling yourself from his arms fully. He looked confused as you got up. He went to protest that that wasn’t what he meant before you beat him. “At least you’ve had your dad all your life George! Mine was in prison for half of mine and then when I finally got him back- he- he…” Your chest heaved with a loud sob as you broke down onto the adjacent bed. George hurriedly went over to you but you shoved him away. “Just leave please.” Your voice was full of hurt and constricted by the overwhelming emotion you felt. George didn’t try to argue and instead left with a promise of seeing you at dinner.

You calmed yourself down enough to move to sit on the small window sill. You observed the bright blue summer sky with the occasional cloud passing by with a sense of sadness. The outside atmosphere was serene and it would have made anybody happy but not you and not today. Your mind replayed the brash argument with your boyfriend and you had the overwhelming sense that everything was falling to pieces right in front of you.

Downstairs a forlorn George sat with his head in his hands as his mother gave him some words of advice. “Georgie, she’s just lost her father.”

“I know that Mum! I feel like she’s pushing me away and I don’t know what to do.” George sighed sadly as he looked towards the stairs, wishing that (y/n) was wrapped up his arms, protected from this cruel world.

“All you can do is be there for her. She needs you, she might not realise it now but she does.” Molly rubbed her son’s shoulder comfortingly with a sad smile before she went to serve up dinner. “Would you let (y/n) know dinner’s ready?” George nodded, happy for the excuse to see if his girlfriend was okay.

Your head rested against the window as you thought more about everything. George peered in through the door with a small knock and you had never been more grateful to see his face. You didn’t like fighting with George even if it was a small argument and more one sided. He smiled unsurely as he entered the room, gaining confidence as your smile lifted. You both went to apologise at the same time before giggling at each other.

“I am truly sorry, love.” George sat down on his bed still tentative towards you. You bit your lip as you hopped down from your spot and crossed the room to him, sitting in his lap with an apology of your own. He stroked your hair sweetly and kissed your temple as you snuggled up further into his warmth. “I was supposed to come and get you for dinner.” He laughed as you defiantly curled more into him.

“You know, I’m not actually that hungry.” You smiled up at George from where your head was rested on his chest and he laughed again, leaning down to kiss your lips passionately without objection.

*****

The summer that followed was brilliant. You stayed with Fred and George above their shop and helped them with the business. It was amazing as you witnessed their dream brought to life and all through their own hard work. You also took up some shifts at St mungo’s to start your own dream of becoming a healer and George was so proud. The pain of your loss tended to cloud most of your days but with George there to cheer you up it was hard to stay sad for long and if you didn’t feel like being cheered up, George was happy to let you cry on his shoulder and fall asleep in his arms.

Soon enough Christmas came and you agreed to spend it at the burrow. It was cosy and warm, the smell of mince pies greeted you as soon as you entered the home and everything was perfect. Most nights you spent in George’s arms laughing about the budding romance between the younger teens of the family and a good amount of time not talking as well which caused some protests from other members of the house especially when Fred was eating.

And then one night as you were beating George at a rematch of wizards’ chess a loud bang sounded outside and you jumped up terrified. “Georgie?” You turned around to meet his eyes and saw the fear behind them, that must have mirrored your own. He walked to you and held your hand tightly, walking with you to the front door. You watched as harry ran out to chase after Bellatrix and then Ginny followed. George became tense as he watched his sister run through the surrounding fire. Your anger burned fiercely, the woman who killed him was within your grasp.

You went to run but George’s strong grip pulled you back. You resisted, hitting him in your anger but he only held you closer. You screamed into his chest and Molly insisted that George take you back inside. You resisted more, tears falling heavily as you were taken upstairs and sat on George’s bed, your chest rose with panic and fear. George sat beside you and pulled you into his side with peppered kisses all over your face to calm you. His calming efforts began to settle you down as the commotion outside continued.

George kept his promise of protection as he held you tightly until he knew it was safe and everything outside had been handled. He moved to let you go but before he could he realised you were asleep, cutely snuggled in his arms. He relaxed himself as Molly came to check that you were both okay, George nodded surely before falling into a calm sleep himself.

It was a while as you both slept before you disrupted the peace, sitting up in a panic. You had a vivid flashback of everything that had happened and you screamed. George panicked himself before attempting to calm you again and holding you closer.

“Georgie, I- I- Can’t-“ You panted through your unsteady breathing as he held you close to his chest.

“Shhh, love it’s okay, I’m here and I always will be.” You nodded with the inkling of a smile and George just kissed your tears away before kissing your lips and cupping your face. And however, ridden with doubt and grief you were, you knew his words were true. 

Taglist: @blue-andbrxnze @queengirl56 @spinspinspin-spin-to-forget @rochelle-the-ravenclaw @justalovertoall @beaaa-banana @harrypotterlifejamesphelps @a9yearoldboy @miss-tipton-is-beautiful @shutupweatherby

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#Harry Potter #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george x reader #angst #fluff #George imagine #fred and george #weasley twins #reader insert #my fic #part 2 #Sirius black #hbp #hp imagine

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ for @teamengineering’s Fitz Wish List, celebrating the birthday of our favourite engineer! This one is for the prompt, “a picture of space”, and looks through this lens at Fitz growing up, from the known past to the near future. It gets a little angsty in the middle but is pretty sappy fluffy either side, so enjoy!

Cosmos is a Greek word for the order of the universe... It implies the deep interconnectedness of all things. It conveys awe for the intricate and subtle way in which the universe is put together. - Carl Sagan.

tw: some canon compatible internalised ableism in part iii

Read on AO3 (~2800wd)

-

Something Magnificent

i –

Despite all the troubles in his household of late, ten-year-old Leo Fitz was still young enough that Christmas was a snow-shrouded wonderland of peace, happiness and joy. In socked feet, he raced across the cold wood floors to the carpeted lounge and dived for the tree, thrilled by mystery, excitement, and the sense of reward that came from tearing the packaging off his gifts.

This particular Christmas, his father was absent, but his mother was side-stepping through a litter of toys to bring them each a cup of hot chocolate. As always, she was there for him – although, today, she pressed her lips closed, her smile disappearing for a moment as Fitz ripped open the biggest package at the back, and cried out in delight.

“Mum!” he yelped, because of course he assumed that she had not yet seen it. “It’s space! Look, look, it’s the Milky Way –“

He stumbled, trying to drag the relatively large frame over toward her. She picked it up to help, and a letter slipped out from where it had been wedged into the back of the frame. Fitz saw it straight away, his eyes caught by the movement, and scooped it up with a curious frown. His mother already knew what it held, but held her tongue as he read out the words.

Dear Leo,

I am sorry to tell you that I was unable to arrange for you to go to Space Camp with the older boys and girls next year. I hope you will accept this picture for your wall as a placeholder and a promise that I will do my best to get it for you next Christmas instead. Also, remember that sometimes things do not always work out how we might want them to, but might come to us in unexpected ways.  

Merry Christmas. Love, Santa.

Fitz frowned down at the page. Sadness and anger flooded through him briefly but he stayed still, letting the tears fill his eyes and repeating to himself that it was important to stay still and not throw things when he was mad. Especially when people meant well. He didn’t want to be ungrateful, even though he was.

His mother pulled Fitz in for a hug, and took the paper from between his fingers so that he’d focus on her instead.

“I’m sorry, love,” she murmured. “How about we go out to the hill this weekend and you can tell me some of the things you know about space?”

“Okay,” Fitz agreed reluctantly.

“This is a nice picture too, isn’t it?” his mother reminded him. “And I know just where to put it. Just by your door there, don’t you think? Then you can always look at it and remember where you want your life to go.”

“I want to go to space,” Fitz declared.

“Do you want to be an astronaut?” his mother asked.

“Hmm.” Fitz pouted thoughtfully. “No.”

Apparently satisfied with that answer, Fitz cast his eyes to the next package, which turned out to be a kit for the assembly of a clockwork spider. Proud and confused – which was a common combination when it came to her son – Fitz’s mother settled for watching him play, and trying to follow along with the instructions while Fitz tipped out the box’s content and raced ahead with the construction, free-hand.

ii –

The dormitory was small, but its paint and bed linen were fresh and it smelled, if a little dusty, like success. Fitz beamed as he set his bag down inside the door. It was nothing special to look at, but he was a poor boy from Scotland with a fistful of the biggest burrito he had ever seen, and an MIT acceptance letter burning a hole in his backpack. He felt more special and more proud than he could remember feeling in his life. And it helped that, as the youngest student here by a good few years, he had this room all to himself.

(It helped even more, the privacy, when the pride faded and he realised that while he’d never made it to Space Camp, the United States felt just as far from home. He and his mother had scraped together every penny they could muster to get him here. There was no going back. There was probably no seeing his mother again either, not before he started earning real money – and who knew how long that would take).

Gangly, baby-faced teenage Fitz curled up on his bed and cried for a while, as all of that sunk in - but then he remembered the picture of space. Blessings in unexpected places. A reminder of where he wanted his life to be going. And now, a piece of home that he could carry with him into the unknown. He took a deep breath, and unfurled to look for it.

His suitcase had been brought in already, by a well-meaning RA. It sat in the corner waiting for him. The picture of space was rolled up in a cardboard container inside, with its frame carefully deconstructed to save space. With love, and meticulous care, Fitz put his precious picture back together and searched for the best place around the room that he could keep it. In the end, since he was not allowed to screw or stick anything to the walls themselves, he settled for propping it on top of a low bookshelf, where he could see it well from the kitchenette if not the bed. He leaned back against the small bench and smiled at it. The room was barely two meters wide, and everything in it was a kettle, a picture of space, two small bags and a small boy, but it was his, and it was him, and here they all were.

“One day,” he said, turning the words over on his tongue and in his mind. “I’m going to go to space.”

It had been a strange, abstract dream of his, ever since he was a kid. Now he was living in the hallowed halls walked by some of the greatest minds the world had ever seen. Maybe he was foreign, maybe he was young, but something about him belonged here. Something about him was taking the first steps to turning his abstraction into a reality. Maybe he wouldn’t go to space after all – he was scared of heights, and was not a fan of high G-forces or terrible food – but maybe he could send a part of himself. A piece of his work: a rocket, or a satellite, or a space station.

The possibilities seemed endless, now that he was on his way.

iii -

“Have you seen – have you seen my – “

Fitz turned this way and that, but most of the others had been taught to ignore him. His hands flapped desperately, stress and exasperation rising and rising at the ceaseless movement and invisible words around him. He tried to gesture what he meant, but a square could mean anything. Where was his – why were they touching his things? Where were they going? Where was space? Space! The picture of space. That’s what it was called. Picture, picture.

“This one?” Skye offered it to him like a treat to distract a dog, but it worked. She was a familiar voice in an unfamiliar sea, and for once, her eyes were keenly focused on him. Bright and shining, hopeful – perhaps a little too hopeful, putting on a show for him - but curse it, it worked. Fitz noticed her body unclench with relief as he took the picture from her, and she led him away from the crowd of technicians and troops, who were marching all of their belongings out of the Bus in endless streams.

Hugging the picture of space to himself as best he could, Fitz whined.

“Why?”

“Well, we live here now,” Skye explained, gesturing around the base. “It would be silly to go all the way in there and back out again every time you wanted to go to your room, wouldn’t it?”

I’m not five, he wanted to remind her, but there were so many more important things. Like why, and why, and why had Jemma left and not taken her things and not said goodbye and not been here to build their lab and fill it how she liked and why did everything hurt? And why, and why, and why?

“Why.”

He whispered it this time, and Skye thought he must mean something that she did not understand. She pursed her lips. Should she move away?

“I’m sorry, Fitz,” she said, hating that neither of them could find the words when they needed them most. “This is how it is now. But it’ll be okay.”

Fitz took a deep breath and looked down at the picture of space. Usually, it brought light to his dark thoughts, expanded his mind, helped him to see his own possibilities. Now all he saw was a fading canvas, purchased years ago by a well-intentioned but under-resourced single mother who had thrown everything she could into making her son’s dreams come true, and he’d wasted that. He’d wasted his possibilities by trusting someone who should not have been trusted, and by going and getting himself blown up, so that his brain stopped working and everyone stopped listening and he’d never get anywhere now. He’d stalled mid-flight and was falling backwards, and there was nothing he, or anyone, could do to stop it.

“Hey, Fitz?” this time, it was genuine concern in Skye’s voice. Real softness, real heart, for the friend she’d once known. “Are you alright? Do you want some help?”

“You can’t help me,” Fitz growled, and before Skye could think of how to react, he stormed off to the room they’d given him, and shoved the canvas into that thin gap between the desk and the wall. Like him, it was worthless now. A faded, battered, hollow version of itself. It deserved to go unseen, unheard, and as far as he was concerned, it could rot in the dust and darkness forever.

iv -

Fortunately, the cosmos had other plans for Fitz and his picture of space. He found new friends, and a new sense of self. A new set of possibilities. He was different now, and didn’t want all of the same things he once had, but not because he felt like he didn’t deserve them. He simply had to accept how much he’d changed now, not just since the Pod, but over the course of his whole life. His eyes were not set to the stars anymore but rather, on the things that rained down from said stars every day. He wanted to help – people, Shield, the planet, the world - space or no. And so the picture became, to him, a symbol of the expansion of the mind. Of discovery. Of aspiration. He pulled it out of hiding and it presided over the steps he took toward other dreams in his life.

Like toward Jemma.

She’d always liked space, even more than he had. She’d continued with stargazing and constellation studies into adulthood, and still kept up with news from NASA and the Bureau of Meteorology in what spare time she had. She’d even had a go at studying solar and stellar patterns on Maveth and that, Fitz thought, was dedication. Plus, he still liked to think of her as a light in the darkness of his life. Perhaps not his only light – that he’d had to realise the hard way – but a light nonetheless; radiant and inspirational and breathtaking. She was his star.

(Funny, he thought, the way these things lined up.)

And they’d sat before the picture of space any number of times before. It had hung above the television in their shared flat during their Academy years. It had been propped up in a bookshelf on the Bus that had become filled with mementos of Peru and Beijing and Manila and them, them, them expanding their horizons together, just as Jemma had promised. It had been hidden when she had gone, and it had risen again in time for her return, and now it shone its wisdom and blessings down upon them and Fitz bumbled over the many ways he’d failed to tell her how he’d felt, and she kissed him. She kissed him with a smile on her lips, and a promise in her hands and her eyes and her heart, that this time she was here to stay. That here, now, this was their best first kiss. Their real first kiss. The start of something.

(“Though I suppose you have been to space now after all, haven’t you?” Jemma pointed out not long after this, and elbowed Fitz playfully. Fitz frowned at the fading canvas, as if studying it carefully, and then turned a sappy smile on Jemma.

“Didn’t do much for me, to be honest,” he replied. “I’ve got everything I need right here on the ground.”

Jemma rolled her eyes, but for the rest of the night they worked with their hands linked together under the sheets of the bed they shared).

v –

“… Happy Birthday to you!”  

Obligingly, Fitz leaned forward and blew out the candles. The audience applauded and snapped their pictures, and cheered; Happy Birthday-slash-housewarming! But it was Jemma who stepped up for the first gift-giving.

Her parcel was long and tall and laid flat, and Fitz frowned at it curiously. Today was not Fitz’s actual birthday; that day, Jemma had already blocked out with him to go somewhere special. Anywhere away from here, he’d assumed. He hadn’t been expecting a second gift from her, especially not with the costs of moving on their minds (and wallets). Perhaps it was a gag gift? If so, the mature plain-silver wrapping was a little misleading.

The sound of Elena’s huff of amused frustration alerted Fitz to the fact that he was taking his sweet time to open the present. He smiled at her and Mack, and ripped the paper obligingly, and then his jaw dropped at the beauty of the picture frame beneath. It was not a gag gift at all, but a wedding photo. Was it one of the professionals? He couldn’t remember having it taken, but it certainly looked the part.

It was a beach scene. At night; calm dark water reflected the stars above and around them. Two figures sat on the end of a jetty, their feet dangling over the edge, looking out over the ocean: one being himself, and the other Jemma, in her wedding dress, leaning against him as the long day and the chill of the evening sunk in. They’d been eating chips, if he remembered correctly.

“Okay everybody, party’s over,” Daisy declared, choking up a little. “Jemma wins the gift game, thanks for your entries but it looks like we can all go home.”

“No, no,” Fitz shook his head, and wiped his eyes just in case he had teared up too. “It’s beautiful Jemma. I love you.”

“I thought it was a bit of a risk,” she confessed. “I thought it could hang above the mantle or… maybe by the dresser? But I didn’t want you to think I was trying to replace… “

He shook his head again. “Jemma, it’s perfect.”

For a moment, everyone in the room disappeared but the two of them. They kissed; a soft and sweet and lingering kiss that made the world seem to spin around them. When they parted, it was to smiles and admiration, and even tears in the eyes of a few onlookers. Coulson raised his glass of champagne in a toast to them.

“I couldn’t be prouder of these two,” he declared. “And I couldn’t be happier that through all that they have endured, these fine young agents came out the other side to be here today. So even though the Daisy in me is telling me to say ‘get a room’, I’m reminded that well… they have, and that’s why we’re here. So, happy birthday-slash-housewarming, FitzSimmonses, and – hey, I couldn’t get the moon to shine just right on a Kodak moment, but I did get you one of those fancy blender things, and hopefully that’s pretty close.”

He gestured to a large, irregularly-shaped contraption that was very conspicuously wrapped, and Fitz and Simmons laughed along with the crowd. The gifts that came down the line after that were somewhat more mundane, but they received each with joy and gratitude. Just like the original picture of space, Fitz thought, Jemma’s represented a galaxy of love and commitment and opportunities in his life that was only possible because of everybody who was here today. Though a humble toaster and a spanner and an iron didn’t seem like much on their own, his friends were helping him build a life with a woman he loved, and really, he couldn’t have dreamt of anything better.

#leo fitz #fitzsimmons #thefitzwishlist #engineering vs biochem #aospositivitynet #fsfic #thefitzsimmonsnetwork #team engineering #clara's fic tag