#this was just a scene in a long line of catastrophy

[candytuftgirl]

Somnia

A Secret Santa fic for Amylion! (My dumbass couldnt find your tumblr ashfg).

I hereby present this... mess. Probably not what you were asking for (definitely not; Im so sorry I just realized I didnt use the prompts they were going to come up later on RIP) and maybe a tinsy bit cringe-worthy.  There was supposed to be more, but yeah; here’s some good-natured kid Leia and Dad Vader, with a pinch of prophetic dreams for zest.

Well, I tried. 

(Also, this one shot was not beta’ed, I die like the horrible mess of a writer I am)

The hallways are dark.

The shadows that surround a few illuminated viewports create frightening monsters, if one had the right imagination for it. What was worse was that she was alone. There were no droids, white masks or suit-people in sight.

If she were younger, maybe she’d ask a droid to accompany her on this late night journey. But no; she was a big girl now (Seven! That was two fingers more than a whole hand) and besides, her daddy didn’t really like them much.

He didn’t like a lot of things, but there were some he disliked more than others. And she noticed, which was why she was walking alone, in the dark, the metal caging her in from the side. And she’s not scared. Not at all.

Still, if she squeezes Mr. Catty just a bit too tight that was just because he was shivering so much.

The big silver doors are in view soon enough, and she shuffles a bit faster when she notices them. It doesn’t even take a moment before they silently open. She walks in, the doors close and the familiar whirring noise echoes all around her.

“Leia.” Her daddy steps out of the dark, his breathing machine the only constant source of sound in the room. He’s tall, dark and shiny- just like he was when he put her to bed. It calms her; and Mr. Catty.

He absently waves a finger, turning the lights on as he steps closer to her small form. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead she walks over with her bare feet (she was going to get a scolding for that for sure), Mr. Catty firmly in hand and looks up at her father’s dark mask. The staring only lasts a moment.

There’s a small hitch in the constant whirring noise, like an exhausted little sound, and her father firmly picks her up and sits himself down on a nearby chair. She’s on his knee, one black gloved arm still around her while she makes herself comfortable, and now it’s just her father’s strange mask that stares down at her.

Leia doesn’t hesitate. “I had a strange dream daddy.”

She didn’t dream often, but when she did, she always dreamed of strange things. A cave filled with crystals, shining so brightly she swore she heard them sing. An underwater city, beautiful; but there were fish people standing on top of buildings, crying, screaming: “Traitor, traitor!”.

A moon made out of metal, with a heart that screeched in pain.

Everyone always said her dreams were silly, and she was making too much of a fuss about them. Overactive imagination, her retelling a version of a story she read somewhere; one suit-man even accused her of lying once! The more she talked about them, the less everyone who heard them believed her.

Sometimes, Leia thought that if it weren’t for her daddy, their gentle reprimands would turn scathing.  

She knew she shouldn’t have shared her dreams, knew most never believed her, but she couldn’t help herself; they all felt so real to her in a way. Why couldn’t other people understand that?

She knew better now. All the droids and suit-people dismissed her worries so she dismissed them as well; except for her daddy.

He never said she was making things up, and he always listened.

“It was a dry place.” Leia began, fumbling with Mr.Catty’s stuffed legs. She tried to remember. “Like, really dry. Everything was orange and the ground was bright and smooth; with all these little pebbles on them.” She shook her head lightly. “Oh no, they were even smaller than that: tiny, little pebbles. And there were no trees, or rivers, or-“

“A desert.” Her father stated, quickly cutting off her rambling. “You were dreaming of a desert.”

She scrunched her little button nose up at him. “A desert? Like, dessert?”

“No. A desert is a barren wasteland, largely inhospitable, dry and covered in sand; the tiny pebbles.” He explained, and she files away this new revelation in her mind. “I believe the chocolate waffles you had for breakfast this morning don’t fit the same description.”

Uh-oh. She cringed, fumbling her fingers around her stuffed toy. “Oh- you know about that?”

So she might have eaten sweets for breakfast this morning. Really, though, it hadn’t been her fault! She was alone with the droid in the kitchen, and it did ask her what she wanted for breakfast. And she really didn’t want to eat porridge filled with fruits, vitamins and all the “healthy necessities her body required to grow”. Besides, she was sure chocolate waffles made her grow more than that mush anyway.

“We will discuss your punishment tomorrow.” Leia made a face at that; she really didn’t want to scrub her room clean. Again. Her father’s mask turned towards her wriggling feet. “Where are your socks?”

“-So anyway.” She continued undeterred. “I was in a desert. But I wasn’t alone. There was a boy there too.”

Her father straightened a bit more at that. He always did, whenever she dreamed of someone. “What kind of boy?”

She shrugged. “A boy. I guess he was like me- except, well, he’s a boy.” Leia thought about him for a bit; the boy that inexplicably drew her attention more than any scary dream ever had. “He was blonde, with blue eyes- and his clothes were too big.”

She furrowed her eyebrows in concentration, trying to recall the image of a boy in large white sleeves chasing furry creatures across the ground. “He was kinda scruffy looking.”

“Language.” Her father quietly added, though it was more of an automatic response than anything. “Is that all?”

“Umm, he was chasing some weird rat; I guess he was playing a game and-“

“I mean, was there anyone else in the dream?”

Leia shook her head, expression serious as she looked up at her daddy. With her chubby cheeks and button nose, she looked far too adorable to emulate any kind of sobering face but that hardly stopped her from trying. Like a little queen waiting for her adviser’s opinion, she stared at her father while he thought about her dream.

Her father’s mask stared off in a vague direction, head tilted as he considered what she said. The longer he remained in that position, the more Leia’s heartbeat echoed in her head. This is important then. Daddy must think so too.

It didn’t scare her; it made her strangely giddy. Like that boy was a puzzle piece, something she unknowingly needed to complete the distorted picture in her life.

“It’s nothing like your… usual visions.” His rough voice brought her back from her daydreams. Black mask meeting her large chocolate eyes, her father stated his final judgment. “No. I do not believe it really means anything, angel. Maybe it really was just a dream.”

Mr.Catty made a straining nose from the pressure of her tiny fingers.

In hindsight, this information was wonderful. She often came to her father, crying her eyes out because she hated all the scary dreams she was having, and she didn’t want them anymore. The fact that this dream might have been just that; a dream, not a nightmare, not reality…

Leia hated it.

“No daddy!” She yelled suddenly, wiggling free and sliding down to the floor. It caught her father off guard, too surprised to stop her.

With red cheeks she stared up at him, and all his black glory. “He was real. I know he was.”

“Leia…”

“No!” She threw Mr. Catty to the floor, angry tears appearing in her narrowed eyes. “You think I’m making things up! Like everyone else!”

“Leia.”

Her father got up, voice cold as the atmosphere in the room shifted. No longer approachable, but massive; He stared down at her in the oppressive silence, hands on his hips, looking like a mountain that would break the earth before it would bend.

A scary sight, one that many feared. Leia was no match for that; small, with her chin trembling, and wet, sloppy tears already rolling down her cheeks. She couldn’t even compare.

Still, she refused to back down.

She knew her daddy was angry, and he was probably going to be even angrier the more she continued this staring contest; but- I’m angry too!

After all, out of all the people in her life, it was her father who was supposed to believe her no matter what. The fact that he didn’t, that he thought it was all a dream…

That hurt her.

The staring continued. The tension rose. Before she knew it, the temperature in the room dropped some more. She vaguely wondered if she was going to freeze up. Like those poor people in the vacuum of space, ones that fell under fire and drifted out of reach into an asteroid field. No one went back for them. Nobody even tried.

Would her father leave her like that, all alone? Here in this room, like a sculpture? Would she be able to see? Move? Become a statue for eternity?

It was a daunting thought, the coldness seeping through her jammies and into her skin now. She couldn’t stop shaking; the fear was swallowing her, but she wouldn’t-

It wasn’t until she glanced at Mr. Catty laying on the floor that realization set it and the fear stilled. Eyes straying away from the black void of her father, she took a few steps to her fallen toy, the coldness subsiding as well.

Gingerly picking him up, she muttered a quick apology to her favorite friend, facing her father as the tears roamed unchecked now.

“I-I’m sorry Daddy…” The hiccuping made it harder to speak. “But, but-“

She was full on sobbing now, and just like that, the atmosphere in the room shifted back to normal. The coldness subsided, the warmth came back and she couldn’t stop crying.

Her father made that whirring exhausted little noise, before slowly bending his knees in a crouch so they were more at eye level (Leia didn’t like how he towered over her so much, so piggybacks were still an often occasion).

It was a bit comical to see her tall and menacing father lost as to what to do, his tiny daughter shaking and desperately trying to rub away all the evidence of her uncontrollable tears.

“Oh no, angel not your-“ The warning was too late, as she blew her nose into her sleeves. They were icky already, but she kept smearing her tears in them. Her father quickly battered her attempts away. He looked around, his shoulders slumping some more. 

Soon enough, she was blowing into a soft and leathery like material; her father sacrificing his shiny black gloves, gently wiping away the grime and the snot from her small face.

He was probably going to make that sad little whirring noise about that later, but for now, he remained composed.

“Calm down, angel.” He spoke as gently as he could with his distorted voice, his own version of Sssh, sssh- don’t cry now. 

“I’m sorry, daddy.” Leia stared at his black, droid like mask with her puffy eyes. She made a few more hiccuping noises, before croaking out the truth she knew in her heart. “But… but he’s important.”

“The boy from your dream?” She nodded. “How so?”

“Be-because!” She wiped the remains of her tears away, frantically trying to explain to her father the underlining importance of it all. It was so clear to her, didn’t he understand? “I saw him, daddy. I saw him jump around rocks, kick rats; fix- or maybe he was breaking- droids-!“

Another memory appeared in her head, one that makes her smile. “And he stares at the sunset daddy! Like you stare out the viewport. He must be real.”

This knowledge didn’t seem to appease her father; if anything, it seemed to do the opposite. The coldness in the room came back with alarming ferocity, before it changed into something incredibly hot, like a blazing sun- and then she could breathe again.

Her father’s shoulders slumped lightly, before he started to reach out his hand to her. He stopped, probably remembering the sobbing incident, and pried his gloves off, gently laying his hands down on her small shoulders. Leia tried her best to not shiver from the cold metal prosthetics. They glinted in the light, fake fingers squeezing her softly.

(Once, a long time ago, when she was still curious about her father’s strange suit, she had asked him if he was a droid. She couldn’t see it, but she just knew her daddy became very sad, and she instantly felt bad about it.

“No, not completely” he said.

She never asked again.)

“Leia.” He had her complete undivided attention. “The dream you had was real. But it was only a vision of the past.”

“The past?” She repeated, blinking as her father retracted his hands from her. But that would mean… “Really?”

“Really.”

The boy she dreamed about was real, as real as her heart in her chest. But it was a boy from before, not now. A boy from the past.

She felt an uncomfortable weight settle inside her.

“How do you know?” It couldn’t be true- the boy she saw was here, now, like she was- and he was important. She just knew it. “Did you… know him?”

“Once.” Her father looked away, like when he looked through viewports at the stars; like the boy. “I knew him, once.”

Her father was many things, but he wasn’t a liar.

She sagged with that newfound knowledge, tired and sad all at once, Mr.Catty limp in her hold. A boy from the past- it hurt her in a way she couldn’t explain, like a goal she could see as plain as day evaporated just beyond her reach. He had seemed so real (was he still real?), and now…

Just a boy from before. It felt like the truth.

And yet, there was still a part of her that believed differently.

There was shuffling in the background, her father’s loud stomps echoing in the room. Looking up, she saw him searching for something in his sleek metal closet. He only had one in his room.

Or was it an office- that term would perhaps better serve to describe his room (he didn’t even have a bed; sometimes Leia thought the plush chairs and sofa were there only for her benefit).

Most would have called it an office- if it wasn’t for the large bacta tank standing at the other end.

She opened her mouth when he walked back to her, but he stopped her new bouts of questions by deftly picking her up- new and shiny, clean black gloves in place.

“Enough. It’s late.” That was his order-voice now. The one that didn’t allow protests. She slumped a little in his hold.

The walk back through the shadowed corridors wasn’t as scary as before, and Leia rested her cheek on her father’s broad shoulder as he swallowed the distance between their rooms in short time.

He put her back to bed, exchanging her star shirt for a clean one with lothcats, and tucked her in. Opening her closet, he made sure to look inside before closing it again. A nightly ritual for checking monsters. No matter how many times he assured her that there was nothing scarier than him around, Leia insisted. That late-night holo she saw still made her shiver.

Besides, her daddy wasn’t that scary.

Smoothing down the hair on her head, Mr.Catty snuggled up beside her, he straightened and pointed a finger at her in warning (like he did at the suit-people, though his voice wasn’t so cold): “Now, sleep.”

He left. She shifted to find a more comfortable position, obeying the silent order and closing her eyes. Before drifting off, she repeated the words she knew rang true in her head; her heart.

The boy is real. Like me. I know it.

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Muse

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve’s little art hobby wasn’t necessarily a secret, but how good he was at it? That part was.

Word Count: 1552

Warnings: Fluff, eluded angst and insecurity from Steve

A/N: This is for a writing challenge by @jbbuckybarnes​. I truly tried my best to make this my absolute most inclusive piece of writing, so if you have any constructive criticism on how I can do that better please message me.

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs welcome and highly appreciated. 

Bright sunlight pranced throughout the small Brooklyn apartment, flittering and flickering through the air. A few tea light candles were strewn around on flat surfaces, emanating a soft vanilla scent that enhanced the sweetness that lingered from the nights dessert, a rare thing but a necessity with what was bound to happen in the next few weeks. Soft blankets and a peaceful quiet, comfortable silence that only made the warmth of the moment stronger. 

Your eyes flickered from the book in your hand to your sweet boyfriend sitting opposite of the room in his favorite chair. A colorful pallete and a dirty cup of water sat on the table next to him, his hand moving in thoughtful flicks as his teeth nibbled at his lip in concentration. A few pieces of his blonde hair had fallen into his face, occasionally shaking his head to move it from his view and causing a smile to spread across your lips.

Steve has always painted. A fun little hobby to fill the time. Sometimes it'd just be a drawing, a simple sketch with charcoal. But lately, since meeting Dr.Eskrine late last week he's been specifically painting more and more. The colors on his pallete have even become brighter and move varied, but he never showed you the pictures. You assumed they were just personal little doodles, nothing big and extravagant, maybe something that would be somehow embarrassing for him. 

However, you did know why he had been painting more. Steve had been recruited, kind of. He'd be the subject of an experiment called Project Rebirth. Neither of you knew too much about it, but you did know that within the next week or to Steve would be receiving his letter for him to be wisped away. 

At first, Steve was excited. He finally had managed to find a way to get what he wanted, a way to serve his country. And you were excited for him as well, how couldn't you be? His blue eyes lit up so bright when he told you, so excited and talking so fast he was practically reminiscent of a puppy. He nearly gave himself an asthma attack with how much energy was coursing through him. 

But the reality quickly set in for the both of you. He'd be leaving. Your Stevie, your perfect gentleman of a boyfriend, your number one supporter would have to leave you, and there was a good chance he may not come home. You two cried that night, a whirlwind of emotions laying catastrophy to your bliss, and vowed that every moment between then and him leaving would be the most special time you could imagine. 

Some would argue that there wasn't anything special about this; About sitting feet apart, in the most peaceful quiet only slightly disturbed by the sounds of people going home after a long days work outside, doing your own thing. But you couldn't have this with anyone else, this comfort and feeling of home was something you never felt until Steve. Everyone was shocked when the two of you moved in together, but you hadn't wanted to let this feeling slip through your fingers, and you were even more grateful now that you had made the decision to do so. 

Without thinking much of it, you sat your book down and stood up, moving to Steve. After pressing a kiss to his forehead you grabbed the dirty cup of water and moved to the kitchen just feet away to refresh it for him. 

You felt his gaze follow you, as it always did when you moved about. He tried not to admit it but he was truly shocked as to how he got so lucky to be with you. Someone so caring, driven, and open minded. Someone who's inner beauty matched their appearance, who was definitely way out of his league in his opinion and didn't have a care in the world for how small he was. A girl who was almost too ambitious and too determined for her own good. You inspired him, way more than you knew at this point. 

"Whatcha painting, dear?" Your voice cut through his thoughts as you came back with the fresh water, only trying to peak at the pad of paint paper a little. 

The flush that covered his skin was far too obvious for him to play off, and he tripped over his words as he talked, "it's uh, nothing - really - I mean it's not nothing but-"

The light laugh that fell from your lips caused him to blush even darker. Steve watched as you leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before kneeling beside him. The look you gave him was too pure and sweet and he knew he wouldn't be able to resist whatever you requested of him next. 

"Can you please show me some of your paintings, Stevie? You paint so much and I feel like this is a piece of you I don't know much about." The sweetness and curiosity had him cliff diving head first into falling in love with you all over again. 

"Uh, s-sure." Steve did well of hiding the one he had been working on, sitting it aside and out of view as he flipped through a few pages of his painting paper and showed you a picture he painted of a garden. 

Your breath was practically stolen as your gaze danced across the intricate detail of the picture he was showing you. Variants of almost every shade in the rainbow were whisped across the paper, creating a beautiful scene of blooming flowers and bushes, caged in by a white picket. 

"You can paint? Like, really paint?" The statement came as more of a question, almost in disbelief with what you were seeing. You had sworn painting was just a pass-time type of hobbie for Steve, but you were wrong, way wrong. It wasn't a hobbie, it was a talent. 

"A little bit, yeah, I guess," he mumbled, bashful and still not use to any type of praise. "I had- I had painted that one night after we had talked about buying a house one day. You said you wanted a little cottage with a white picket fence and a huge garden. I figured, if I couldn't give the real thing to you, I could at least paint you something close to it."

Your heart practically broke and swelled all at once. The sincerity of this man never ceased to baffle you. "Stevie! You call this a little bit?" You exclaimed. "This is beautiful. Can you show me another?"

He smiled, shy but hopeful and nodded. Steve moved down to sit on the floor with you, pulling a few of the papers out to lay across the floor, all different scenes of things you had talked about wanting to do together. A little bakery, a blue cottage, a cabin and lake. Your eyes scanned across every one, seeing every little detail and color, feeling like you were seeing a scene out of a movie, feeling like you could have actually been there. 

"Steve, love, these are amazing," you breathed out, voice soft and quiet. 

"I painted them for you," he admitted, voice just as hushed. He avoided looking at you, but you couldn't help but look at him after that admittance. "When I found out about getting recruited I starting painting everything we ever wanted to do together so you could hang them up or keep them to remember me, so you wouldn't forget me."

"Forget you?" The little pang of hurt was evident in your voice. "Stevie," you leaned over, cupping his face with your hand and making him look at you. A quiet exchange of sad smiles before you pressed a kiss to his lips, a promise, "I'll never forget you. I love you."

Steve smiled a little more brightly. "I love you too, doll."

"But," you voice had a tease, trying to keep the mood light and happy. It wasn't time for tears, not yet. You wanted as many happy moments with him as possible before he left, "you have to promise not to forget me."

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head, "I couldn't if I tried."

And little did you know, the painting he set aside was his way of making sure he didn't forget you. That he wouldn't forget the way your hair sat against your skin, or the bridge of your nose, or any freckle and smile line. The warmth that emanated from you or the curve of your lips in a resting smile.

No picture could do any of that, any piece of you justice. So, Steve didn't rely on a picture, instead he just painted his favorite muse. After a moment of hesitation he moved to grab it. It wasn't quite finished, but almost there and done enough to show you. 

"I painted those for you, but I'm painting this one for me, to keep with me while I'm away."

Steve sat back down, showing you the all too realistic portrait of you reading a book, in the position you'd taken comfort in over the last week. Your breath had truly caught in your throat this time, times welling as emotions bubble in you. "See, doll, I can't forget something I've painted."

Tags: @lokilvrr​ @hurricanerin​ @kcd15​