#Tower of Reconciliation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phantomdoofer · 7 months ago

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Tower Town, Chapter 33 - Burdens

Anita hissed and held her back as she stood up. At nine months now, the child felt like a ton of bricks. If this kid isn't at least ten pounds, I'll be shocked, she thought irritably.

She hadn't been sleeping much. Having a kid using your organs as a trampoline doesn't give you much time to rest. Anita smirked. Gotta give the kid one thing: they're not afraid to make themselves known. In fact, from their first kick, the baby had been almost hyperactive. Wonder how that'll translate into the outside world.

The night before, Peppino and Tony had come by to visit, and Tony, sitting beside her, had gently laid his head on her swollen belly, running his hands across it. “Bambino,” Tony had said, smiling. “Baby.”

Anita had looked up at Peppino. “God, he's learning fast.”

Peppino had nodded, smiling proudly. “He's-a still a bambino himself, yet he knows so many words! The medicos estimate that, mentally, he's-a closer to two than his-a actual age.”

Tony had lifted his head off her belly, smiling and making happy noises.

And Anita had been surprised to feel the baby respond. “Tony, are you talking to them?”

Tony had sat up and smiled. “T… talk. Talk! Baby!” He'd laid his head back down, gently caressing her skin.

It had been such a tender moment.

Anita sighed. Wish the little menace would go ahead and make their appearance, she thought ruefully. She was past her due date, and she'd been cloistered in their home for weeks now. It was my choice, but… she sighed again, it's damned boring. Having the kid here would give me something to do, at least.

For the thousandth time, she wandered down the wall. They'd only completed the renovations a month ago. It had taken them several months to expand her little cliffside home into a full house… but now it was set. We could have an entire squad of kids in this place, she thought wryly. It had been her idea.

Giuseppe had chuckled at her audacity. “You might feel a little different about a large famiglia once the child is bigger, amata moglie,” he'd said.

Anita smiled. Giuseppe had been nothing but attentive… until she'd shoo’d him away. “I'm not made of porcelain,” she'd said, a touch irritably. “Go on. I can handle myself.”

She stopped. One of the first things she'd put up was the picture of her, Giuseppe, and Gustavo, after Inferno. She gently caressed Gustavo's image… thinking of the heated falling-out that had happened between everyone and her old friend's clone. What a disaster that was.

In the heat of the moment, full of betrayal and hurt, she'd called and blessed him out so viciously she'd shocked herself. She'd hung up without another word. She'd discussed it with Giuseppe.

“I think we all got hurt by that,” Giuseppe had said.

“We all said some things we shouldn't have,” she'd grumbled. “He kind of deserved it, though.”

He'd sighed. “Credo. But… looking back on it, now…”

Anita had put her hand on his shoulder. “We can't just ignore what he did, Sepp. To Peppino, and to Tony, especially.” She'd leaned back on the couch. “If he wants forgiveness, he's gonna have to do it himself.”

Three months later, she wasn't as sure of her own words. Nobody's heard a peep from him, she'd thought.

Finally, she'd gone to her old friend Pepperman for advice.

Pepperman had lowered his glasses. “My dear, I imagine Mr. Farina is likely in the depths of depression. I saw him not long ago, in fact. He was putting on a brave face, but… the eyes. The eyes are the windows of the soul. And his were dark. Dead. I don't think he's capable of such courage as you think he is, right now.” Pepperman had sighed. “I understand your pain, I do. What he did was terrible. But I think…” he paused. “I think extending an olive branch would be quite welcome, right now.”

She blinked, coming back to the present, and she felt the baby kick irritably. They seemed to be very sensitive to her moods. “All right, all right, I copy,” she said, chuckling. She walked into the kitchen, grabbing some food. More for them than me, she thought. She'd struggled with anemia most of the pregnancy. Her doctor had suggested she eat significantly more.

Giuseppe had chuckled. “Anita, you can't eat like a bird like you normally do. You're eating for two.”

She'd grumbled, but started eating more. Thankfully, she hadn't gained much weight. Not an unexpected amount, anyway. A baby - and all the required extras - made it feel like she was wearing a weighted suit. She huffed as she sat back down. Should be any time now.

Giuseppe, as usual, was over at Peppino's. He'd been reluctant, and Peppino had even offered to bring Tony over to their own home. Anita had adamantly refused. “No offense, you two, but what I need right now is peace. And Tony is usually a little saint, I know, but…” she'd smirked at her hovering husband, “you can be a little… too attentive, Sepp.”

So she had the place to herself. More or less.

She stared into the middle distance. She didn't feel like sitting around. The baby bounced - apparently they were in the same mood. Like mother, like child, I guess, Anita thought wryly. Everything was ready.

She stood up, pacing irritably. Why am I so agitated?

The situation with Gustavo popped back into her mind. She tried to ignore it, but it floated back to the front of her mind like a persistent suitor.

Finally, she conceded to herself. Ok, fine. So what is it I want?

She turned it over in her mind, and only one response popped up: you want closure. And you're worried about him. Either reconnect, or break off entirely.

She put her hands on her hips, sighing, vexed with herself. Guess there's nothing for it.

~~~~

Anita climbed carefully out of her car. The bright facade of Gustavo's restaurant glowed brightly in late autumn sunlight. I hope I'm not making a huge mistake.

She carefully opened the door, and a young woman smiled brightly at her. “Hello, ma'am! Welcome to Peppino's! Just one, today?”

Anita smiled wanly, shaking her head. “I'm not actually here to eat, thanks. Could you pass word to Mr. Farina that he has a visitor?”

The young Pig's face fell noticeably. “I, er, I'll let the floor boss know, but, uh, Mr. Farina is… usually not too keen on visitors.”

Anita nodded. “Understood. But let's just give it a try. I think he might make an exception. Tell him Anita Morelli would like to speak to him.”

The young woman blinked, nodded, and went to speak to a distinguished-looking human, who looked surprised at the request. He looked at Anita, who waved amiably, and he disappeared into the back.

Shortly, the man came back out, looking even more surprised. “Mr. Farina asked me to bring you to his office, Signora,” he said. “Please, follow me.”

Shortly, the man was opening a dark wooden door, and she stepped in.

As the door closed behind her, she looked the gnome over. He didn't look up, at first - he was engrossed in a thick sheaf of paperwork. He looks bad. His skin was paler, and there were bags under his eyes. He looked up, and Anita felt a surge of pity well up. He looks so defeated.

“Anita,” he said, his tone leaden. “Decided to come castigate me personally this time?”

Anita felt her heart sink. “Gus…”

Gustavo held a hand up. “Before you say anything… you were right.” He sighed expressively, staring into the distance. “You were all right. I was an idiot. I deserve every bit of grief you've all given me. I had it in the palm of my hand… and I threw it away.” He sighed again, coming back to himself. “So… what did you want to tell me?”

Anita felt her anger - long cooled - transform into pity. “Gus… I'm sorry for how I treated you.”

“Why? You were right,” Gustavo said dully.

Anita growled. “Maybe. But we could have handled it… handled it better. Not - not tossed you out like a bag of trash.”

She hissed as a spike of pain shot through her. Gustavo's eyes went wide, and the first hint of real emotion appeared in them - concern. “Anita?”

She waved it off. “Been happening for days. Don't worry about it.” She leaned forward. “Gus… I know it doesn't mean much… but I've really been thinking about this. What you did… how you did it… was wrong. But… I’ve been worried about you.”

The gnome's eyes seemed to quiver for a moment. “I understand, Anita. But… I don't deserve your concern. I don't…” he paused. “I don't deserve to even be in your presence.”

Anita felt her anger starting to rise. “Gus, you can't be serious. You have a family - a son…”

“I betrayed them both, Anita,” he muttered. “I betrayed you all. If it wasn't for this place, I'd… I'd probably just…”

Anita felt her anger snap, and she slammed her hand down on the desktop. Gustavo jumped… and so did the baby. “Goddammit, Gus, cut it out with the pity party!!” she bellowed. “Yes, you made a mistake. Get the fuck over it. Own up to your mistake and correct it.”

Gustavo's eyes flared with their own anger. “COME OSI? I’ve given up everything - everything - to make amends for what I've done!”

“Bullshit,” Anita roared back. “What you've done is sit here waiting to die, instead of trying to fix it! That's what you want? To leave your son without one of his fathers? My God, Gus! Look at yourself!”

Gustavo sat back, his rage conflicting with the truth of her words. He held up his hands - he stared, truly seeing them for the first time in months. They're so papery, pale. He was pale, true, but he'd always been robust - now he looked halfway to being a walking corpse. He reached up and felt his face - his mustache was ragged and overlong, he could feel the puffy bags under his eyes.

The flame of rage had temporarily burned through the fog of depression… and let him see himself.

“Anita…” he muttered. “What… what am I…”

The woman sat back, a worrying twinge shooting through her. May have overdone it a bit. “Can you see, now, Gus?” She said. “I've been there. You're not living, you're waiting to die. I know you're lonely,” she said, much more kindly. “I lived for almost a decade… completely alone. I get it. I do. But… what you did… is even worse than my abandoning Sepp after your Original died. You can't make amends just sitting here, moldering. You have to rebuild. Be more.” She nodded. “Be a father to your son.”

Gustavo's eyes wobbled. “Do… do you think Peppino would let me be part of Tony's life? After how I hurt him?”

Anita grumbled. “It's not entirely his choice to make, Gus. Tony gets a say, too… and he misses you, Gus. Every time I see him, he's searching for you. Searching for his Little Papa.” She reached across the desk, her hand held palm-upwards. “Regardless of what happened, or happens, between you and Peppino… Tony deserves better.”

Gustavo sighed, deeply. “You're… you're right.” He leaned back, blowing out another breath. “I… don't know if Peppino will have me, though.”

Anita winced slightly as another twinge shot through her. “Won't know til you try, Gus - gah!”

She yelled as a much stronger stab of pain shot through her.

Followed by another.

Gus's eyes went wide, and he stood, quickly circling the desk. “Anita?”

She doubled over, another painful spasm making her clench her teeth. As it released, she gasped in surprise. “Ah, hell. Not now…” Then she felt the wetness between her legs. “Shit. My water’s broke.”

Gustavo's eyes went wide. He quickly flipped open his phone. At the same time, he helped her stand.

“What're you doing, Gus? I need to get to the hospITAL!” Her voice rose several octaves for a second as another painful spasm shot through her.

Gus shook his head. “An ambulance won't have time to get there before we'll have a kid on our hands. I'm driving you myself.” He hustled her through the restaurant - the maitre'd looked shocked. “Jackie, I'm taking her to the hospital! Close the doors, let the customers here finish their meals, then put up a temporarily closed sign! I don't know how long I'll be!”

The maitre'd spluttered. “But, but Signore Farina, what-”

“Baby, man, BABY!” He yelled. “Close up like normal! You can all have the rest of the night off with pay!”

That brightened everyone up. “Sì, Signore!”

As they hustled to Gustavo's car, Anita was having trouble keeping up… mainly due to the fiery spasms shooting through her constantly. “You sure.. we couldn't… have waited?”

As he sat next to her in the car, he felt her belly. “I had medical training too, remember? No. This kid's coming too fast.” He turned, threw the car in gear, and quickly left the lot. “I'm taking you to Boschetto-Verde Hospital.”

As they served through the town, she gasped. “My… doctor's… in Tower Town…”

Gus didn't turn. “If you want him there, you better call him and tell him to hustle, because this kid isn't waiting.” He was gritting his teeth. “Better call Giuseppe, too.”

The suggestion managed to punch through the pain. Yeah. Good point. She fumbled to retrieve her phone, dialed his number… and almost immediately he picked up. “Anita, what's up? It's the baby, isn't it?”

Anita grunted as another spasm made her feel like every muscle in her body was cramping. “Y-yeah. It's coming too fast. Gustavo's taking me to Boschetto-Verde Hospital.” She gasped as another wave tore through her.

“Wait, what? Gustavo?? What are you doing with Gustavo?” Giuseppe's voice was full of mixed panic and suspicion.

“It doesn't - HNGH - doesn't matter, right now, Sepp,” she growled. “If you want - ahah - to see your child born… get here… quick."

“Understood, mi amor. But… what do we do about Tony…?”

Gustavo leaned over. “Just bring him along! I can watch him!”

There was a noticeable pause before he replied. “Va bene, Gustavo. I'll be there il più velocemente possibile.”

“Hurry, Giuseppe, hurry,” Gustavo said. “The child is already turned! It'll be any moment!”

As the call was cut, Anita looked over at Gustavo. “You know there'll be a scene when Peppino gets there… and you have Tony.”

Gustavo's face was hard. “I know. But you're right. I need to face my fears, at least a little. And my… my son… needs me.”

Anita leaned back. Despite the agonizing spasms in her body, she felt pleased with herself. Maybe there's hope for him yet.

~~~~

As they wheeled Anita into the birthing room, everyone jumped as a sonic boom rattled the whole building. One of the nurses screamed, and the ER doctor cursed. “What in the hell was that??” He cried.

Gustavo smirked. “That is the father, inbound.”

The doctor laughed. “Who is he, Peppino Spaghetti?”

Anita chuckled, then hissed. “Close… it's his brother, Giuseppe.”

The whole crowd went quiet. “I forgot they all lived so close,” the doctor said quietly.

Anita hissed as another spasm hit her. “Hero worship… later, Doc. Baby now.”

The doctor shook his head, and his face cleared. “Right. Let's get you set up, Ma'am…”

Gustavo turned just as Giuseppe trotted through the doors, Tony in his arms. “Where is she?” He said frantically.

Gustavo pointed. “Just took her in. Here, let me have him. You need to be in there.”

Giuseppe gave Gustavo a searching look… and then Tony leaned forward, reaching for Gus. “Papa,” he said, getting progressively more excited. “Papa!”

Gustavo felt his heart simultaneously leap and clench. He was afraid… afraid of holding my own son. He shook his head, reaching out to take the infant and the bag Giuseppe was holding. “Go, man, go!”

Giuseppe nodded, and ducked into the birthing room.

Tony wrapped his little arms around Gustavo's neck. “Papa,” he said happily. He snuggled under Gustavo's chin.

Gustavo awkwardly patted his son's back. For the first time in ages, he felt… warm.

He set the bag down beside a chair, then sat down himself. Now, we wait.

~~~~

Giuseppe was stopped at the verge but a nurse. “Sir, I assume you're the father? You'll need to put on some scrubs.” She held out a set. “Hurry, she's already almost fully dilated.”

Giuseppe tried not to let his frustration show, but he quickly donned the flimsy outfit, fitting the mask over his bulbous nose. Always some goddamn roadblock.

He was so anxious he accidentally used his speed to enter the room - to everyone else, he simply appeared. The same nurse screamed again.

Anita, even in her pained state, scowled at the nurse. “Jumpy, aren't you?” She growled.

Giuseppe clasped her hand, chuckling. “Don't chastise them, mi amor. They're not used to this sort of thing.”

Anita winced and arched her back a bit as another wave of pain shot through her. “Maybe… tch… but they should be… on the ball with - HNGH - this part. Where's that damn epidural they mentioned?”

On cue, the doctor reappeared, needle and catheter in hand. “Sorry, sorry, the anesthesiologist got a little confused,” he said. Giuseppe helped him sit Anita up, and he deftly inserted the needle. “Somehow he thought she had your powers, Mr. Spaghetti, he was assigning the wrong dosage.”

Giuseppe nodded. “Good thing you were paying attention.”

As the doctor slipped in the catheter, he winced. “Not every day we get a modern-day hero in here. Much less two of them.”

Anita sighed in relief as the anesthesia took effect. “With another sitting in the waiting area.”

“And another on the way,” Giuseppe mumbled.

Anita turned. “Huh?”

“I called Pino just before I came up here,” he said quietly. “He said he wanted to be here for the birth, if he could.”

Anita squeezed his hand as another contraction swam through her. While the pain was gone, it was still very uncomfortable. “I warned… him that… there'd probably be a… scene when Pep… got here,” she gasped out.

“And what did he say to that?” Giuseppe mumbled.

“He said… his son needed… him. And… he needed to… face his fears.”

Giuseppe reared back, then nodded. “There's hope for him, yet.”

“That was my… thought as well,” she said, gritting her teeth. “I just hope… Pep gives him… a chance to explain.”

The doctor, having assumed his customary position, looked up and gave a thumbs-up. “Everything looks to be ready to go, Mrs. Morelli. The baby's crowned nicely, and for a first-timer, you're moving along.”

Anita smiled, but it looked strained. “Here's hoping… it stays that way.”

~~~~

Peppino skidded to a stop outside the hospital. A swirl of debris surrounded him for a moment, and he paused to let it settle.

It matched the emotions in his head.

Giuseppe had let him know that Gustavo had brought Anita to the hospital… and was taking care of Tony. A faint sense of betrayal bled through him… but it was overwhelmed with a raging storm of other emotions. Why was he with Anita? Giuseppe wouldn't hand Tony over unless he had to.

After a quick check-in at the desk (“your brother and sister-in-law both indicated you were cleared to come in”), he followed the arrows to the maternity area. He heard cries from the birthing room. Probably off-limits, right now, anyway. He turned towards the waiting area…

Gustavo sat with Tony on his lap, trying to keep the little boy occupied. Tony was laughing and batting playfully at the gnome's face, and Peppino's heart clenched. Like nothing happened.

He coughed to get the gnome's attention.

Gustavo looked up, and his eyes went wide, jumping on his feet. Tony, being the empath he was, stopped laughing and turned to his father… then back to his other father.

For long moments, they locked eyes, a flood of feelings passing between them.

Peppino held out his hands. “Give him to me, per favore.”

Gustavo held the boy out…

Tony let out the loudest shriek he'd ever managed, and turned, bawling, to Gustavo. Instinctively, Gustavo pulled the bambino to him, patting his back and shushing him. “Tony, it's OK. You need… you need to go back to your Papa, now.”

The pain in his voice made Peppino hesitate.

Tony violently shook his head. “Papa!” He yelled, hugging the gnome's neck. “Papa!”

Peppino relented, his heart breaking as he did. “If-a he wants to stay with-a you, I won't-a stop him,” he said quietly.

Gustavo shook his head. “No. I don't deserve him. You need to have him.”

Suddenly Tony leaned back, locking eyes with Gustavo. Gently, he reached out, patting the gnome's face, then turning and holding out his arms to Peppino.

Wordlessly, Gustavo handed the child over to Peppino.

Immediately Tony locked eyes with Peppino, made the same gentle head-pat, then turned and reached for Gustavo.

Bemused, he started to hand the child back to the gnome.

As their hands touched, Tony gently grabbed both their arms, holding them together. He looked from one, to the other, whimpering gently.

The two men locked eyes again. “Dalla bocca dei bambini…” Peppino muttered.

Gustavo nodded. “Peppino… I'm so… so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, to hurt the others, so badly. Things happened, and then they couldn't be taken back…”

Peppino sighed. “I know. I saw it in your eyes, the day it-a happened. But I was-a hurting too much. It… it still-a hurts.”

Gustavo looked down.

Peppino reached out, gently touching the gnome's shoulder. “But… I should-a remember… people make-a mistakes. Tell me, Gustavo…” his face was serious, drawn. “If you could do it all over again… our joining together, conceiving a child… would-a you do it again?”

Gustavo looked up, and nodded. “Sì, assolutamente. My deepest regret for the last six months has been… has been… how much I hurt you. How much I gave up. I shouldn't even have considered doing what I did. I can't take back my actions, but… I want… I want to be part of your life, again. Of Tony's life. Of everyone's lives.” Gustavo looked up, tears of regret in his eyes. “Peppino… Can you find it in your heart… to forgive me?”

Peppino gave him a long, searching look, and Gustavo quailed. In that moment, his life, his entire existence, hung on what the Italian would say next. If he says no, life won't even be worth living.

After a long silence, Peppino sighed. “I… I don't know if I can fully forgive you, Gustavo, but… I'm-a willing to give you a chance to redeem yourself.”

Gustavo felt his eyes fill. “That's all I ask, Peppino.”

Tony patted Gustavo's arm. “Papa,” he said. Turning, he did the same to Peppino. “Papa,” he repeated.

Gustavo sat back down, holding the baby close. “What would we do without you, bambino?”

Tony gently slapped Gustavo's face, laughing as only a baby could laugh.

Peppino sat beside him. “I admit, I've… missed you, Gustavo. But… I- I don't-a know.” Peppino shook his head. “It still-a hurts.”

Gustavo nodded. “Sì. It still hurts.”

The two of them sat together, a mixture of sorrow and relief on their faces.

~~~~

Anita breathed heavily, then held it and pushed, her face in a ferocious grimace as she did so. People saying it was like trying to pass… an entire watermelon… weren't kidding!

Giuseppe sat by, holding her hand, gently wiping her face, trying not to leap out of his skin at every push. What exactly do you say at a time like this? He thought. Everything seemed either pointless or trite.

So he opted to hold her hand and just be present.

She paused between pushes to look up at him. “Were you…this enormous… when you were born?” She growled.

He chuckled. “To hear Mama tell it, yes. But from what I hear, it's like that for all women. Especially their first one.”

She paused to push agoan, scowling. “GnnnnnAHH. Hah. Are you sure there isn't some Gnome in your ancestry?”

The doctor chuckled and looked up. “You're almost there, Mrs. Morelli. I think one more good push should do it.”

Anita clamped her hand down with crushing force on Giuseppe's hand, and he clasped it in both of his. “One more, amore mio.”

Anita simply nodded, and focused all her being into a final effort.

Finally, a huge change rushed through her body, like a great weight had been lifted. She panted, glancing down towards the doctor.

For several tense moments, there was silence… and both of them felt their breath catch.

Then a strident wail broke through the silence, and both parents relaxed.

“Mr. Spaghetti, Mrs. Morelli, I believe you have a little girl,” the doctor said proudly.

The doctor took the child over to a table, and several nurses helped in cleaning the child up.

Anita turned to Giuseppe, and he gently kissed her on the forehead, smiling radiantly. “You did it, amore mio.”

Anita snorted. “We did it, Sepp.”

As the nurses cleaned Anita up and sat her up in the chair, the doctor proudly carried the little one over to her, setting them in her arms.

Giuseppe leaned over, his cheek touching his wife's.

The little girl looked up at them, looking annoyed and tired. She grunted, and looked around.

Anita chuckled. “Bet she's hungry,” she said.

Giuseppe did the same. “My daughter? Definitely.”

Anita gently let the child latch on, and Giuseppe carefully ran his hand across her head. He looked over, locking eyes with Anita. “I can't believe she's finally here.”

She laughed, a more genuine laugh than he'd heard from her in a while. “She's taken her sweet time. But she's here, she's ours, and we've got a whole life together ahead of us.” She looked over, then laughed again. “We have an audience, by the way.”

Peeping around the doorway, Peppino, Gustavo, and Tony looked like a trio of curious children, instead of two grown men and their son.

Anita looked at the doctor. “Think it'll be OK if they come in?”

The doctor shrugged. “As long as they're masked and don't touch the baby, I think we'll be fine."

A nurse obligingly handed the three masks. Peppino quickly slipped his on, and fitted the small one over Tony, who squirmed but didn't fight much.

Gustavo held his in his hand. “Is… is it OK for me to come in?” He said.

Anita snorted. “I'm saying it is. Get over here, short stack.”

Gustavo looked at Giuseppe… who nodded. “Come on, rock.”

As they approached, Giuseppe waved at Peppino. “You two come to blows?”

Peppino shook his head. “No. We came to… an agreement. We still have a lot to discuss, but…”

Giuseppe nodded. “All right. Well then, since everyone's here, we have an announcement to make.”

Anita nodded. “Yep. Everyone, we would like to formally introduce to you… Sofia Giovanna Spaghetti.”

Peppino's eyes went wide, and grew misty. “Ah,” he said quietly. He wiped a tear away. “How adatto.”

Gustavo looked confused. “It's a beautiful name, but… why ‘appropriate?”

Giuseppe looked down. “Oh, I forgot, you weren't there for that… Mama told us something a couple of months ago.”

Peppino nodded. “Sì. We… we were not Mama and Papa's first child.”

Gustavo felt his heart sink. “What happened?”

Giuseppe started. “When Mama and Papa came to La Crosta, Mama was pregnant. They had nothing to their names, so both of them had to work. Mama, being the powerhouse she'd always been, took a heavy labor job. One day, there was an accident, and Mama took a hard shot… right to the gut.” He sighed. “It caused a miscarriage. She was six months along, so they found out… it would have been a little girl.”

“Mama told us she named-a the child Sofia,” Peppino said quietly. “We had an older sister… and we never knew it.”

Anita nodded. “I can only imagine how hard it was on her.” Anita gently bounced the little child in her arms. “Now, the thought of losing this little nugget… I think I'd go mad.”

“So, we agreed: if it was a girl… we'd name her Sofia… after our lost sister.”

Gustavo nodded. “Sì. Very… very appropriate.”

Tony leaned forward in Peppino's arms, reaching towards the baby. Peppino gently took the boy's hand and pulled it away. “No, no, figlio,” he said gently, “it's not safe, yet.”

Tony looked confused, then suddenly seemed to understand. He stared at the smaller child. “So… Sofie,” he said. He waved at the child. “‘lo, Sofie.”

~~~~

As Anita was moved to Recovery, Gustavo, Peppino, and Giuseppe stood together. Tony had switched back to being in Gustavo's arms. He seemed to want to share them, as much as he could.

Peppino spoke up. “Seppe… Gustavo and I have… buried-a the hatchet, somewhat. Would you be willing to do the same? I think… I think he deserves it.”

Giuseppe looked down. “You… you hurt us bad, Gus. Real bad.”

Gustavo nodded sadly. “I know. I'll never really be able to make up for it, but… as I said to Peppino… I want to be part of your lives, again. Of Tony's life.” He sighed. “If you'll have me.”

Giuseppe gave him a long, searching look… then sighed himself. “Anita told me what she was doing with you… and what you said.” He held out a hand. “Thank you… for taking care of my wife… and child. You didn't have to.”

Gustavo took his hand in both of his. “Yes I did.”

Giuseppe nodded, a faint smile crossing his face. “Because that's what friends do, right?”

Gustavo nodded. “Sì. It is.”

Giuseppe took his hand away. “It'll take time, but… I think you're serious, little boulder.” He looked over this shoulder. “I gotta go. Got a wife and child to take care of.” He smiled goofily. “My daughter.”

As he left, Tony whined, reaching for Peppino, and Gustavo passed him up. “Gus…” Peppino started.

Gustavo held up his hands. “I think… we should go slowly, Peppino. I shouldn't just… reinsert myself into everyone's lives. Someday… maybe.”

Peppino looked at Tony. “There's… there's still a place for you, at my home,” he said quietly.

“I don't think I'm anywhere close to that, yet, Pep,” Gustavo said quietly. “I still… I still have a lot to work out. In my head.” He reached up and took Tony's hand. “That wantonness… it's still in me. I need to… to be better.” He grinned. “I can come visit, though.”

Peppino nodded. “If that's what-a you want, amico,” he said quietly.

“It is.”

Peppino was silent for several moments. “I… I have missed you… amico,” he whispered.

Gustavo nodded in agreement. “I've missed you, too. I've missed you all.”

The two men stood, apart and together, simply enjoying each others' company.

#pizza tower #my stuff #pizzatower #peppino spaghetti #pt #pizza tower au #peppino #tower town au #pizza tower fanfic #tt au #original characters #fanchild #childbirth #reconciliation

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ivorytowersdragqueen · 2 years ago

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National day for truth and reconciliation

Today is National day for truth and reconciliation. If anything, donate to a Indigenous cause you feel connected to! https://lnkd.in/gtHzdvJn I chose the HIP (Honouring Indigenous Peoples)

#ivory towers drag queen #ivory #towers #drag #queen #toronto #national #day #for #truth #and #reconciliation

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paracosmic-murdock · 1 month ago

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give you my wild, give you a child

john arrives at the tower with his son for the weekend thanks to the custody arrangements and is greeted with a last minute mission. as a favor, you helped him with taking care of his toddler while he was gone, which altered bucky's brain chemistry to the point of insanity. because it sure was insanity to look at you and picture you with one of those but that belonged to you and him; it was insanity because he believed he could never give you the peace you deserve. but there you were, of course, to kiss his insecurities goodbye.

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x new avenger!reader

warnings/tags: established relationship, insecure bucky barnes, reader is a speedster like the flash and quicksilver, i made up a name for john's son, his kid is younger here than he actually should be according to mcu timing but idgaf, bucky has baby fever he's fighting to end, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, breakup and reconciliation, reader is good with children, reader wants to be a mother in the future, both reader and bucky want to have a family, but it's more complicated than that, song: peace (taylor swift)

3.8K words

✰ becky's upsetting father's day card (unplanned part two)

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

It all started when John took a bullet for you. Now, you owed him your life and said you would do him a big favor as payback if he ever needed you.

That's how you ended up being the mediator between him and Olivia, his ex-wife, in the shared custody arrangements. You went with him to pick Nathan, his toddler son, spoke to Olivia on his behalf whenever he had a last minute mission and couldn't take care of the baby on his weekend, or just about anything because their relationship was appalling.

You used to tease him, saying he calculated the whole thing so you could owe him one. In reality, and when he would just bring your favorite dessert to thank you, you just tell him that you would have done that even if you didn't owe him your life. He laughs and thanks you again.

One time, Olivia was adamant that John had to keep Nathan for that weekend since, for the last two times, he had missions and couldn't have him.

And it happened again.

“Mel, I can't go,” John told Valentina's assistant. “I have my son for the weekend.”

“I get it, I'm sorry, but Val-”

You sighed. “I'll go in his place, let him stay.”

Mel shook his head. “Sorry, Val said-”

“I know it's not your fault, but can you please-”

“She said it had to be John because he knows the target already.” she told you.

“Okay,” John nodded. “I guess I'll talk to Olivia.”

“Great,” Mel smiled and continued detailing the mission, clearly in a nicer tone than Valentina's usual.

Once the meeting was over, you stopped John before he left the briefing room.

“John,” you called him. “I'll stay with Nathan, we'll figure it out later.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You must’ve your stuff.”

“Don't worry, it's just filling out some mission reports. I can do that while he naps,” You smiled. “And he's a little angel, you know he never gives problems.”

“God, I don't think I can accept that.”

You shook your head. “It's okay, remember what Olivia said.”

“Yeah, yeah, but-” He groaned tiredly. “Thank you for this.”

“You're welcome.” You curved your lips in a kind smile.

“You called me, doll?”

You looked up and hushed him softly to show him the baby was asleep in your arms. “Yeah, baby, thanks for coming. I need your help.”

“Is that John's kid? Why are you babysitting?” Bucky asked in a lower volume, taking a seat on the couch next to you in the rocking chair.

“Valentina had John go on a mission last minute, but if he called Olivia to ask her if she can have him again, she'll change the custody situation and he might not be able to see Nathan much. Or at all, so I offered to take care of him for the weekend and take him back on Monday… He's been working so hard for this and I wanna help him however I can.”

“You're telling Olivia?”

“Up to John,” You shrugged. “It's like a dad leaving their kid under the care of their auntie Y/N.”

Bucky nodded. “One wouldn't believe that's John's kid. So peaceful.”

You pouted. “Sure he is… my little baby.”

“What do you need me for, then, doll?” he asked, a soft expression on his face at the sight of you, there, acting as if you were in your natural habitat.

“I wanted to ask you for a favor, of course if it's okay with you… Could you take Nate's crib to our room for the weekend?”

“To our room? Why don't you use the camera thing?”

“He's still getting used to this new environment, not to mention that he doesn't come very often. I don't want him to feel alone in John's room without his dad.”

“What if he cries and all that?”

You sighed. “Buck, if it bothers you, I'll sleep in John's room with the baby.”

“No, no, it's fine,” Bucky replied. “I've never been so close to a baby, that's all.”

“Wanna carry him while I look for the diaper bag with his things? He's a little too heavy but I don't want him alone.”

He raised his eyebrow, hesitant to answer. “Something tells me you're too attached.”

You hushed him. “This is my baby for the weekend. All mine. Don't ever tell John I said that.”

“Okay, give it to me,” Bucky opened his arms to carry Nathan.

“It?”

“You know what I mean.”

A soft laugh left your lips and you gave him the kid. Nathan stirred a little, and Bucky made a panicked grin at the thought of the baby waking up and crying in his arms. “Uncle Bucky is gonna take care of you while I get your stuff… Will you take care of Uncle Bucky for me, too, my baby?”

“He's asleep and doesn't understand what you're saying.”

“Shut up,” You rolled your eyes.

You wouldn't lie: seeing Bucky carrying Nathan made your uterus explode. You were probably ovulating because your mind was plagued with ideas you wouldn't entertain otherwise.

Either way, his faux reluctance was almost ridiculous… It was clear that he was carrying the two-year-old with a tenderness rare to watch in a man his size, and it was making you melt.

“What am I seeing?” Ava asked, appearing suddenly from the wall. You flinched.

“We're-” you began talking, trying to say you're babysitting John's child as you said before.

Instead, Yelena spoke from the other side of the room while eating cereal. “They're clearly playing house.”

“We're not,” Bucky declared, irritated, giving you the baby back. “I'll do what you asked.”

You smiled and held Nathan tighter, rushing to John's room where Bucky would be to pick the crib.

“Yeah, John, he's doing great,” you said through the phone, watching The Backyardigans with Nathan on your lap. “Don't worry.”

“This is killing me, I need to get back,”

“I need you to be at peace with this,” you replied after letting out a frustrated sigh. “I had Bucky move Nate's crib to my room so he wouldn't be alone at night. I spend every passing second with him, I take speedy showers while he sleeps, and I'm back to him in like a millisecond. He's never alone, I think he's not used to this place yet and I don't want him-”

“I appreciate so much what you're doing, but you're making him consume you completely and that's not good for you,” John noted. “Also, you're making him codependent.”

You scoffed. “Come on, don't be like that!”

“I'm sorry. I am so grateful for this but I just don't want to stop your life for a favor you're doing,”

“Think of it as an appetizer to motherhood for when I have my own children.”

John chuckled. “Oh, tell that to Bucky.”

“Not telling Bucky is a better one.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Don't even mention it, dad,” You smirked.

You heard him groan in annoyance. You could even feel him rolling his eyes. “Could you send some pics of Nate so I know he's safe and sound?”

“Yeah, sure,” you agreed. “Now go to work, you're making me miss the pizzeria in the ancient Mexico episode.”

“You're not serious,”

“I so am.” You hung up the call and straightened Nate's position.

You looked up and spotted Bucky staring at you from afar.

“Why are you staring at me?”

Bucky frowned and walked to you. “I can't look at you now? You're my girlfriend, may I remind you.”

“Well, you can look every once in a while, not stare like you're a lioness plotting how to kill your prey, me, and feed me to your family.”

“I can't do that because we're sharing our room now, but I will on Monday right after you drop the baby with his mother.”

“After we drop him. You're driving, sir.” You smiled, already excited to see him with the baby, acting like a whole dad in front of you. It's important for you to see how well he plays the role, since you do want to be a mother and you don't really want your baby's father to be someone that's not Bucky.

“I don't owe John my life unlike you, it's better if you leave that to him when he's back. Or at least leave me out of it.”

“Well, I said I'd do it. Nathan has to be with his mom before she goes to work in the morning, and I don't know if John will be here by then,” you replied.

“Aren't you doing a little too much? That's not your child.”

You sighed. “I know he's not my child, but he is my responsibility for the weekend. It won't kill me to take him back home.”

“I know, but I think it's too much.”

“I'm taking care of him as if he were mine, so whatever I do is the bare minimum, Bucky, not too much. This is like… an introduction to motherhood.” You looked at the kid fondly and then back at Bucky. “And I'm lov-”

“Doll, you're not a mom and you won't-”

You rolled your eyes before he finished the sentence, genuinely dreading the end of it. “You know what, Bucky? Just go. I'll call an Uber or whatever. And I'll be taking the crib back to John's room and I'll sleep there if it bothers you so fucking much. If you won't help, at least don't get in my goddamn way.”

“That's not what I meant, doll,”

“But sure it is what it sounded like.”

Before he could say anything more, you turned off the TV and rushed to John's room with the baby. Nathan laughed once he saw himself somewhere else that suddenly.

It made you smile warmly and wonder whether or not it would be a good idea for your future kids to be speedsters like yourself. A small part of you stopped worrying about the supersoldier part, which you hated to see happening.

To clear your mind, you took the pictures of Nathan that John asked for and sent them to him.

You: He's the cutest!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You: I love him sm 🥹

John: He is

John: Thanks for this

You: Don't worry ab that

You: I'll put him to sleep for his afternoon nap :)) Take care

John: Thank you ❤️

“What if we go to sleep now?”

Nathan frowned.

“You know you have no choice. It's nap time.”

Bucky was in the kitchen, watching a food tutorial on his phone that explained step by step how to make apple compote for Nathan as an attempt to make it up to you.

He wasn't meaning to be rude at all, he just wanted to see you with the baby the least possible because he was getting weird ideas. You truly looked the happiest you've been in a while, at ease. The baby got along with you very well, as if you were his mother, and his laughter mixed with yours always lit up the room. He even catches himself smiling fondly at the sight, imagining you with one that belongs to you and him.

But that couldn't be.

He would be lying if he said he didn't want a family with you, but he knows that there must be peace to have a family.

And peace? He doesn't have it in himself to give you peace. In his perspective, you were always the one to give, and him the one to take. And he can't spend the rest of your lives taking so much from you without giving anything back at all.

“Let me know when you're done in the kitchen,” Bucky heard you say as you saw him and then tried to leave, clearly not wanting to share space after what happened.

“I- uh… I'm about to finish,” he replied before you left. “I'm making Nate an apple compote. Wanna try it?”

You frowned, surprised, but approached Bucky.

He smiled softly and offered you a new spoon filled with the food; you accepted it, taking a hesitant taste of the compote.

“It's good,” you curved your lips weakly. “He'll like it, thanks. I can take it from here, though, so you don't have to do more.”

“No, look, I-” Bucky exhaled tiredly, turning the stove off. “I'm sorry. I wasn't meaning to be rude or upset you, I just chose the wrong words.”

“An honest mistake, I guess.”

He nodded slightly. “I think we have to talk about this.”

“Can we leave this conversation for later? I am exhausted and the last thing I need right now is for you to keep choosing the wrong words.”

“Yeah, sorry,” He sighed and covered the pot. “Here's the compote.”

“Thanks.”

As you finished dressing Nathan to take him back to his mom, you couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of not having him for a while. Like, two weeks.

Bucky was right: you got too attached.

John was right: you are now codependent.

And you also got too involved. You even got a potty for him and started training him.

“I'll miss you so much,” You kissed his forehead and carried him in one arm and the diaper bag in the other. “But your dad is gonna bring you back soon and we'll play again, and watch cartoons…”

You noticed the Uber was already outside, so you left John's room.

“Where're you going?” Bucky asked as he saw you pressing the elevator's button.

“I told you I'd take Nate to his mom's today,” you answered, your voice serious. A bit passive-aggressive if anything.

He pursed his lips. “Alright, let's go, I'll take you.”

“There's a car waiting, Bucky,” you explained. “And you already said you wouldn't take us, so why do you care all of the sudden, huh? You don't have to get involved in any of this.”

“I just want to help, come on,”

“No, you don't wanna help, you just want to be on my good side again,” you accused him, seeing the elevator door open. “We'll talk when I get back.”

“Doll-”

“Don't call me that, Bucky. Not now.”

He nodded and took a step back, giving you space.

And knowing he had cosmically fucked up.

You spent the whole day out: ran some errands, had lunch with Mel, visited Pepper and Morgan in the afternoon, and then went back home.

When you returned to the Avengers Tower, everyone was gathered. John and Alexei had arrived from the mission not too long ago.

“Hey,” John stood up to receive you. “There's nothing I can do to thank you enough for this.”

You smiled. “It's okay, John. That's what friends are for.”

“Not at all,”

“Of course, Yelena would've done it.”

“No, I wouldn't have.”

John shrugged. “See? Just tell me what I can do.”

“I'll let you know when I come up with something,” You took a seat between Bob and Ava. Everyone was surprised you were away from Bucky but said nothing. “How was the mission, boys?”

Alexei began recounting everything that happened like a Greek epic, telling every detail and exaggerating much of it. To this day, you all were used to it, even entertained by it.

Bob hushed at you softly to get your attention meanwhile. “Hey.”

“Hey, Bob,”

“Are you alright?”

You nodded. “Yeah, you?”

“Well, I did the dishes today.”

“Attaboy,” You smiled widely.

Bob turned around so he could sit as if you were in front of him. “You're sitting a mile from Bucky and he looks more like Grumpy Bear than ever. What happened?”

“We just have a… pending conversation.”

“A bad one?” he inquired.

“I think so, yeah,”

“Are you breaking up?”

You shrugged.

“Oh,” Bob grinned sadly. “I really hope you talk it out. Let me know how it goes?”

“Yeah, Bobby,” You squeezed his forearm. “Thanks.”

The rest of the conversation went between your efforts to ignore Bucky's stare and to understand Alexei's oral mission report. You could hear, but not actually listen, not when Bucky's piercing eyes were so uncomfortably fixated on you.

You didn't notice when Alexei finished his story, nor when everyone started drinking, much less when they all left and you and Bucky were the only ones staying there.

But he did.

“Hey,”

You looked up silently, then all around, then back at him. “Hey.”

“Is it time to talk?”

“I guess so,”

Bucky nodded and sat beside you now.

“I wanna apologize for what I said,” he began. “I know that choosing the wrong words isn't an excuse, but I guess that's what I meant to say. What… you thought.”

“What I thought?” You frowned. “What did I think, according to you?”

“You thought I didn't care about children.”

“So, you don't care about children?”

He stayed silent.

“You mean to tell me that you don't want children now or in the long term?”

More silence received you, but he nodded.

“And you didn't care to tell me before, why? You've known I wanted children for ages, Bucky. I told you multiple times, even in Wakanda before we were together. You knew this, and you knew you didn't want children all this time and still got in a relationship with me. And you waited until I was so in love with you to come clean and say so.”

“I'm sorry, I-”

You groaned. “You're sorry?! So what? What are we gonna do now? Because I don't know how much we're willing to compromise here.”

“That's the thing, you shouldn't have to compromise or give up on your dream of having a family one day.”

“Are you doing what I think you're doing, Bucky? You're breaking up with me?”

And he was silent again.

“Oh, my God!” you yelled at him and stood up. “What the actual fuck?! I- I've been beside you through every-fucking-thing, Bucky! I looked for you for years with Sam, I protected you and fought for you despite what you did, I went to Wakanda with you, I was beside you when Steve left… I had given up on fighting but came back for you when you needed me, I'm here because of you! And is this how you pay me? By… making me believe we'd be a family one day? By lying to me whenever I mentioned marriage and kids?”

“I didn't know for sure until now.”

You exhaled, visibly upset. Well, upset was the understatement of the century. “Fuck you, Barnes. Truly, fuck you.”

That very same night, you thanked God for your powers more than ever. Not spending more than thirty seconds packing up every single one of your belongings came in handy considering that Bucky was right there.

Once you finished, you went to Bob's room and told him everything that happened. You told him you would leave, but that he could still call you and you would answer. Whenever.

Soon, you were at Mel's place to spend the night, telling her what had happened.

“Okay, but are you sure that this wasn't something that came from an insecurity of his? Like, maybe he's scared to mess things up with you and decided to let you go,” she theorized. “I'm not saying you should forgive him and get back together with him, just to… give him the benefit of the doubt. As far as I know, he really loves you and isn't the type to do something like this.”

“Maybe that's right, but he still did it,” You exhaled heavily. “And now I can't help but feel that he made me waste all this time.”

Mel nodded. “Why don't you get some sleep? Maybe tomorrow morning we can think of all this with a clearer mind.”

“Bucky, you dick.”

He sighed. “Good night to you, too, Mel.”

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of your favorite breakfast, and it surprised you that Mel even knew, considering you haven't been friends for that long. You know about her daddy issues, she knows about your PTSD, but your favorite food or colors are off-limits.

However, instead of seeing her, Bucky was the one waiting for you on the dining table.

You rolled your eyes. “What did you come for, Bucky? To break me again? Let me remind you that I did nothing but love you all these years, and you're-”

“Can you let me speak?” You stayed silent. “I… thought it all through last night. Well, I had thought it through before talking to you yesterday, but I then realized that I took that choice away from you, and I shouldn't have. The truth is that I want everything with you, I honestly can't live with the thought of your future children having someone else's eyes, but I know that a family needs peace, and I don't have any of it to give you. I know this is your dream and I couldn't live with myself knowing that I took that away from you, or that you'll wake up one day and regret us. I'd rather miss you my whole life than make you let go of what you want.”

You frowned. “Bucky, you've given me peace since the moment you let me in when we were in Wakanda. You make me feel safe and loved, and if that isn't peace, I don't know what the hell it is. I just need you to stop pushing me away when it gets hard and fight for us.”

“That's what I'm trying to do,” He sighed and took your hands in his. “I try my best to not be intimidated by you, by your integrity, your beliefs, and everyday I feel like I do it all wrong and I'm just wasting your honor. I… I'd do anything for you, I always give you the best of me, but is it enough if I can't give you peace? Will… my love be enough?”

“Bucky, you've always been more than enough for me,” you muttered. “Your best is all that I need, but I need your best to include staying and communicating when something like this happens. We have been together for a while, and I must know if you're committed to this. To me. To us.”

“I am, and I'm sorry I got scared,” he replied. “I only want you to be happy no matter what.”

“Buck, I could never be happy with anybody that's not you. You are my peace and my happiness, and your love is all that I need.”

He curved his lips slightly and approached you hesitantly, not knowing what your reaction might be but not wanting to let the fear of rejection get the best of him.

But you kissed him, and he knew it was all worth it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts #john walker

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theodorenmyth · 3 months ago

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A Sky Without You II.

Pairings ; Theodore Nott x M!reader

Summary ; After the heartbreak, you and Theodore slowly find your way back to each other—late-night talks under the stars, genuine apologies, and quiet moments that show how much he’s changed. He’s patient, gentle, and clearly hurting too. You’re hesitant, but his sincerity breaks through your walls. You begin to laugh again, smile again, and bit by bit, let him in. Hogwarts watches in quiet awe as you return to your kind, radiant self—waving at portraits, helping first years, and becoming the bright star everyone missed so dearly.

A/N ; thank you so much for being patient and waiting for the last part, aka this one. I love you all so much and thank you for supporting my fics 🥹 it literally makes my heart flutter everytime you guys comment on my silly lil fics :3 Please, enjoy!

Warnings ; Heavy emotional angst, past emotional manipulation, mentions of depression, slow healing, soft reconciliation

Word count ; 6.5k+

You found a letter two days later.

Slipped into your astronomy journal, right between your sketched diagrams of Orion’s Belt and a list of new star names you made up when sleep wouldn’t come. You stared at the parchment for a long time, hesitant fingers brushing the edge.

The letter was written in careful, trembling ink. Like every word had been rewritten a dozen times and still didn’t feel like enough. There were faint smudges at the corner of the page—maybe from rushed hands or maybe from tears. You didn’t know which made your chest ache more.

You unfolded it slowly.

'I don’t expect you to ever forgive me.'

'But I want you to know that I stopped letting them laugh.'

'I told them what they did. I told them who you are.'

I told them how I fell in love with the boy who named 'constellations after freckles and believed in second chances like they were science."

'They said sorry. But I don’t think that’s enough.'

'So I’ll say it too. As many times as you need.'

'I’m sorry.'

–Theodore

You read it once.

Twice.

A third time.

And then you held it to your chest like it was a heartbeat you’d forgotten belonged to you. You didn’t cry. Not yet. But something cracked under your ribs, something that had been ice-cold for weeks.

And in that stillness—somewhere between heartbreak and healing—you folded the letter and slid it gently back into the pages.

Not thrown away. Not forgiven. But kept.

Because even the stars needed time to burn before they shined.

The Astronomy Tower felt warmer now.

Maybe it was the season shifting into spring. Or maybe it was just that for the first time in weeks, you weren’t the only one trying to heal.

You could hear the wind rustling before you even pushed open the heavy door. The night air was crisp, scented with damp stone and starlight. That familiar ache pulsed in your chest the moment you stepped inside.

Theodore was already there.

He stood at the far edge of the tower, facing away, his silhouette half-drenched in moonlight. The hem of his cloak fluttered in the breeze, but he didn’t move. Not even when the door creaked behind you. Not even when your soft footsteps echoed faintly across the stone floor.

He looked like he hadn’t moved in hours.

You took him in quietly for a moment. How his posture was rigid and tight, like even standing there was a punishment he welcomed. His head tilted just slightly upward—toward the stars. Toward the sky you used to teach him to love.

You hadn’t planned to speak.

You hadn’t planned to come.

But your feet had carried you here anyway. Like gravity. Like a force older than reason.

He finally turned when you stepped closer.

The way his eyes widened—it almost broke you. As if he hadn’t truly believed you’d come. As if he’d seen a ghost. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His fingers curled tightly into the edge of the stone railing to steady himself.

You stopped a few feet away. Not too close. But not far, either.

“I got your letter,” you said softly.

His breath hitched.

You reached into your pocket and pulled it out, a little crumpled from how many times you’d opened and read it. You placed it gently into his hand without touching him.

“It’s not enough,” you said, the words trembling but honest. “But I don’t think you’re lying.”

Theodore stared at the letter like it weighed more than it should.

“I’m not,” he whispered. “Every word was real.”

You looked up at him.

“Then tell me one truth. Just one. Something real. Something that isn’t a lie or an apology.”

He swallowed hard, eyes never leaving yours.

“I loved you before the kiss,” he said. “Before the bet ended. I loved you when you started talking about constellations like they were people. Like they had hearts. Like they were home.”

You froze.

He took a small step closer, careful not to spook you. “You told me Altair reminded you of me. You said it pulled its match across the sky no matter the distance.”

You nodded faintly, unable to speak.

“You were so excited,” Theodore murmured, voice tight with emotion. “You pointed and smiled and your eyes lit up like magic. And I—” His voice cracked. “I remember thinking, 'Gods, he’s beautiful. He’s too good for this.' And I kissed you.”

Your chest tightened.

“I kissed you because I couldn’t hold it in anymore,” he said. “And then I went and ruined it. Because I was weak. Because I let them laugh. Because I didn’t know how to be good enough for something so bright.”

He looked down, blinking quickly.

“I know I don’t deserve a second chance,” he whispered. “But I swear, I never wanted to hurt you.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Raw.

You let the words hang there. Let them settle into the cold stone of the tower. Let the wind carry them into the sky—into the stars you used to name together.

“I didn’t think you were listening,” you finally said, your voice low.

Theodore met your eyes again.

“I always listened,” he said, softer than before. “I just didn’t know what to do with everything I heard.”

You turned to the sky again, unable to bear the weight of his gaze.

The stars were painfully bright tonight.

“I still come here,” you said. “Not for you. For me. Because it’s mine. It was always mine. I’m not giving it up just because you’re in every memory.”

Theodore nodded slowly.

“I wouldn’t ask you to.”

You stared at the constellations, tracing invisible lines in the air.

“You see that one?” you whispered. “That’s Lyra. It’s where Altair’s match lives. They only get one night together each year—when the bridge of magpies forms between them.”

He nodded.

Your voice dropped. “I always hated that story. But… maybe I understand it better now.”

He said nothing.

But when you turned your head slightly, you saw it—his expression cracked open, bare and fragile. Regret carved deep into every line of his face. But beneath it… something else. Something desperate. Human. Hopeful.

“I haven’t forgiven you,” you said, almost gently. “Not even close.”

“I know.”

“But I came back,” you whispered. “And I don’t know what that means yet.”

Theodore blinked rapidly.

“Maybe it means I’m not done with the sky,” you added. “And maybe it means you’re not completely dead to me.”

He let out a shaky breath that was almost a laugh.

“Can I stay?” he asked. “Just here. Just with you. For a little while.”

You hesitated.

Then—without looking—nodded.

“Fine,” you murmured. “But don’t talk. I don’t want to ruin the sky with your voice.”

A soft breath of relief left him, almost a smile.

He leaned beside you, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat of him.

You both tilted your heads upward.

And for a few minutes—quiet and slow—the two of you watched the stars.

No lies. No jokes. No forgiveness.

Just space.

And maybe, just maybe, the start of something new.

The air, still crisp, wrapped itself around your shoulders as you slowly took a seat on the familiar ledge of the Astronomy Tower. You didn't offer Theodore a place beside you—not at first. You simply sat there, hugging your knees to your chest, eyes turned toward the sky as if you were bracing yourself.

And maybe you were.

Theodore hovered at a distance. Silent. Unsure.

The stars were scattered across the inky black canvas above you, constellations whispering your name, waiting to be noticed again. You could feel them calling. You could feel the sky exhale when you looked up—like it had missed you.

You finally spoke. “That’s Vega.”

He blinked. “What?”

You pointed, barely lifting your hand. “There. That bright one. She’s part of the Lyra constellation.”

Theodore followed your gaze.

“Vega is one of the most luminous stars in the night sky. They say it burns blue and white—like it's always on the edge of something. Like it’s never really settled.”

Your voice sounded different. Softer. Older, somehow. Like someone who had lived through a galaxy of hurt and was learning how to speak again.

You didn’t look at him as you said, “She used to be the North Star.”

Theodore stepped closer, slow and hesitant, until he was standing beside you. You didn’t move away.

“Used to?” he asked, voice careful.

You nodded. “Stars shift over time. The Earth wobbles, and the stars follow. They don’t stay fixed forever. What used to guide us might change.” You looked down. “Even the stars move on.”

He sat beside you. A safe distance. Just enough to feel his presence, but not his touch.

“I was never your North Star,” he said quietly.

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

The silence between you was louder than any answer.

For a while, you both just sat there.

Quiet. Looking up.

Breathing the same air.

Grieving the same heartbreak.

Theodore broke the silence first. “After I left you that night—after the Hall—I couldn’t breathe.”

You didn’t look at him.

“But I told myself it was fine. That I did what I had to. That it was over. That it was just… a bet.”

He laughed—short, bitter.

“And then I started seeing your smile when I closed my eyes. Hearing your voice when I walked past the library. I’d catch myself turning toward the Gryffindor table just to see if you’d laugh when Granger said something annoying. I waited for your notes under my door. For your rambling about planets. For anything.”

Still, you said nothing.

“Then the notes stopped. Your smile disappeared. You vanished. And I realized… I hadn’t just lost a bet. I’d lost the best thing I ever had.”

You inhaled shakily.

“The worst part?” he added. “You still look beautiful when you're broken.”

You finally turned toward him. Eyes shining—not with hope. But with honesty.

“That’s not a compliment, Theo.”

“I know,” he said. “I know it’s not. I just— I don’t know how to talk to you without falling apart.”

You looked down at your lap.

The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t cruel this time.

It was heavy. Tired. Familiar.

“Tell me about the stars again,” Theodore said, almost a whisper.

You blinked.

“What?”

“Tell me what you used to tell me. About the sky. About the way it burns.”

You stared at him, unsure if you should. Unsure if your words could ever be just words again—not pieces of you you’d regret giving away.

But still, you turned your eyes upward.

“There’s a constellation called Scorpius,” you murmured. “Greek myth says it chased Orion, the hunter, across the sky. When Orion died, the gods placed them on opposite sides of the heavens, so they’d never meet again.”

Theodore looked up too.

“That’s sad.”

You shrugged. “Not really. They’re still in the same sky. Just… far apart.”

You felt him shift slightly beside you.

Closer.

Not close enough to touch—but enough for the warmth of his body to reach you.

“I’m not asking to be Orion again,” he said.

You glanced at him.

“I just want to stay in the same sky.”

You swallowed hard.

It wasn’t an apology. Not yet. It wasn’t forgiveness either.

But it was honest.

And that meant something.

You tilted your head back again.

“…That’s Andromeda,” you whispered. “It's named after the mythical princess Andromeda, daughter of King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia, who was chained to a rock as a sacrifice to appease a sea monster, Cetus, and later saved by Perseus, who married her and placed her among the stars.”

Theodore looked where you pointed.

“It's kinda romantic if you ask me.”

You didn’t know why you told him that.

Maybe it was for him.

Maybe it was for yourself.

But when he looked at you—really looked at you—his eyes weren’t sharp anymore. They were soft. Ashamed. Full of something broken but beautiful.

Hope.

Slowly, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled paper.

He handed it to you.

You opened it.

It was a sketch—shaky and rough, but unmistakably drawn with care.

A boy, sitting on a tower. Reaching up to the stars.

The boy looked like you.

He had a soft smile.

Your chest ached.

“I started drawing after you stopped talking to me,” Theodore admitted. “It was the only way I could hold onto the parts of you I didn’t deserve.”

You stared at the paper, your hands trembling.

Then—without saying a word—you leaned your shoulder into his.

Just barely.

Just enough to say, I’m still hurt. But I’m still here.

Theodore closed his eyes.

And for the first time in months, both of you breathed under the same stars, under the same sky, and let the weight of the past drift into the silence.

Just a little.

Just enough.

The sun begins to rise over Hogwarts in hues of gold and soft lavender, painting the sky with delicate strokes of warmth. And for the first time in what feels like years, you don’t dread the light.

You blink slowly, the soft morning chill curling around your frame. A coat—his coat—is wrapped snugly around your shoulders. The Astronomy Tower is quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the occasional rustle of the wind, brushing through your hair like invisible fingers.

And then you look beside you.

Theodore.

Asleep.

His head leans slightly to the side, lips parted just enough for soft breaths to escape. His lashes fan over his cheeks like ink against parchment. The light is hitting his face perfectly—like even the sun couldn’t help but adore him in that moment.

He looks younger like this.

Softer.

And despite everything, your heart aches with something other than pain.

You reach into your pocket, pulling out a small Polaroid camera—one you haven’t touched since before the heartbreak. You used to take pictures of the stars. The moon. Even his sleepy expression during Astronomy class when he nodded off against your shoulder.

You hesitate for a moment… then lift the lens.

Click.

The camera hums, and the photo slides out with a quiet snap.

You shake it gently as it develops. The image forms slowly—Theodore in the golden morning light, his chest rising and falling softly, lips faintly curved like he’s dreaming something sweet.

You tuck the photo into your coat pocket with a tenderness you didn’t know you still had in you.

And then he stirs.

His eyes flutter open, squinting at the sun before they land on you. The world slows for a second. He blinks once, then smiles—sleepy, crooked, real.

“Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He stretches, arms lazily reaching above his head before slumping back down, hair even messier than usual. “Did we fall asleep here?”

You nod. “You drooled on my sleeve.”

He groans dramatically and rubs his face. “Gods, I’m disgusting.”

“You always have been,” you say, but your smile is warm. Teasing.

He laughs under his breath, and the sound is so familiar—so him—that it loosens something tight in your chest.

“I didn’t want to leave,” he says softly, gaze fixed on your face. “Even in my sleep, I think I knew that.”

You glance away, the early sun making you squint. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I wanted to,” he says immediately.

You don’t know what to say to that.

But your silence doesn’t push him away.

Instead, he reaches out and brushes your knuckles with the back of his fingers—just a light touch, as if asking for permission.

You don’t pull away.

Not today.

────────────────

Later, in the Great Hall

When you walk into breakfast, everything looks the same.

Sunlight pours through the enchanted ceiling. Owls swoop between tables with letters clutched in their claws. First years chatter about a pop quiz in Transfiguration, and someone at the Ravenclaw table knocks over a goblet of pumpkin juice.

But something’s different.

You feel lighter. A quiet warmth sits in your chest, like stardust still clinging to your ribs.

You slide into your usual seat at the Gryffindor table, still wearing Theodore’s coat, your hair a bit messier than usual.

Hermione spots you first.

“Y/N,” she says slowly, brows knitting. “Where were you last night?”

Harry peers up from his plate. “Didn’t come back to the dorms.”

“I checked the Map,” Ron says with a mouth full of toast. “You were in the Astronomy Tower. What were you doing—stargazing alone?”

Neville furrows his brow, concern soft on his face. “You’re okay, right?”

Dean leans forward. “Do I need to hex someone?”

Seamus already has his wand halfway out.

Even Lavender and Ginny pause their whispered gossip session to glance your way. Fred and George are suspiciously quiet, exchanging a look before Fred raises a single brow.

You open your mouth—trying to explain, trying to deflect—but you’re saved by the doors of the Great Hall opening with a slow, purposeful creak.

Theodore walks in.

He looks sharper than usual. Uniform pressed. Hair slightly tousled but intentional. His eyes scan the tables until they find you.

He walks—no, strides—across the hall without hesitation, every Slytherin head turning to follow him.

He stops right in front of you.

In front of your entire friend group.

The hall goes quiet. Not dead silent, but noticeably hushed.

You stare at him, breath stuck in your throat.

He says nothing.

Just pulls a folded paper from inside his coat.

And places it gently on your plate.

You slowly open it—hands trembling just slightly. Inside is a carefully hand-drawn star map. Your favorite constellations. Every corner is scribbled with tiny notes.

'This one’s your favorite. You always smiled when you pointed it out.'

'I stayed awake last night trying to remember them all. Did I get it right?'

'For what it’s worth… I still see you in every single one.'

Your heart clenches.

You can feel every single one of your friends staring at you, speechless.

Theodore leans down, his voice low, only for you.

“You said you wanted something real,” he murmurs. “I’m trying.”

And just like that, he straightens—and walks away.

You blink, stunned. The map still in your hands.

And then the questions come.

“What the HELL just happened?!” Seamus blurts.

“Did he—was that—WAS THAT A STAR MAP?” Dean chokes.

“He gave you a gift?” Ginny stares, eyes wide. “Did we slip into an alternate universe?”

“Are you two… are you talking again?” Hermione whispers.

Fred leans in with a dangerous grin. “Do we need to have a word with him?”

“Did he kiss you again?” Lavender asks, not even pretending to be subtle.

Neville frowns with gentle confusion. “He looked… different.”

You don’t say anything. You just slide the map into your bag and take a bite of your eggs, pretending not to smile when everyone keeps staring.

Then, across the hall—

At the Slytherin Table

Theodore slides back into his seat next to Mattheo, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who just publicly walked across enemy lines.

The second he sits, Mattheo elbows him hard in the ribs.

“What. The fuck. Was that?” he hisses.

Draco’s jaw is practically on the floor. “You gave him a star chart? Have you lost your bloody mind?!”

Pansy leans across the table with a devilish glint. “Was it enchanted? Wait—did you write little notes?” she gasps. “Oh my god, you wrote little notes.”

“Was this some kind of poetic grand gesture?” Astoria snorts. “Who are you?”

Blaise raises a brow. “You’re smiling like an idiot. I don’t like it.”

Theodore leans back in his chair, stretching casually, completely unfazed.

“I like him,” he says simply.

The table explodes.

“YOU—WHAT?!”

“You can’t just like him, Theo!” Mattheo says, dragging a hand down his face.

“That wasn’t the deal!” Draco mutters.

“The deal’s off,” Theodore replies, calm, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I fucked up. I’m fixing it.”

Pansy stares at him, stunned. “You really mean it.”

Theodore gives a slow, lopsided grin as he steals a piece of toast off Blaise’s plate.

“I do.”

And far away, at the Gryffindor table, you glance over your shoulder—

And catch him looking at you.

This time, you don’t look away.

────────────────

After Charms Class

The corridor spills open with students pouring out like water—laughing, groaning about homework, some still half-asleep from Professor Flitwick’s monotonous lecture.

You’re one of the last to leave, your bag slung lazily over your shoulder, your feet dragging just slightly.

You don’t expect anyone to be there.

But he is.

Theodore stands across the hallway, leaning casually against the wall, his hands in his pockets, tie still slightly crooked despite the morning’s neatness. When his eyes find yours, something in them softens—like it always does now.

You raise an eyebrow. “Waiting for someone?”

He shrugs, walking toward you with an easy pace. “Yeah. You.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile pulling at your lips betrays you. “Bit clingy for someone who dumped me in front of the whole school.”

“Making up for lost time,” he replies without missing a beat.

You huff a quiet laugh, brushing past him as you walk down the corridor. He falls into step beside you, shoulders brushing lightly.

It’s… natural.

Surreal, but natural.

From behind you, soft footsteps falter. Then you hear it.

“Was that Theodore Nott?”

You glance back—just slightly.

Cedric Diggory is standing by the archway with a few of his Hufflepuff friends. All of them are watching the two of you like you’ve grown second heads.

“Wait—are they… talking?” someone whispers.

Cedric tilts his head. “I thought they weren’t even speaking anymore?”

“I thought he hated Nott,” another mutters, clearly confused. “Didn’t he cry for a week straight after—?”

“Shh!” Cedric cuts in, nudging his friend with his elbow. “Look at his face.”

You don’t hear the rest.

But if you had, you would’ve caught Cedric’s small, hopeful smile and his quiet murmur.

“Good. He’s smiling again.”

You and Theodore keep walking, unaware of the stares behind you.

Neither of you speaks. You don’t need to.

The silence between you now is different—comforting, not empty.

When your fingers brush his, neither of you flinch away.

And just for a moment, it feels like the stars might be aligning again.

────────────────

The library has never been this quiet.

And it’s not the usual kind of quiet—the strict, uptight silence enforced by Madam Pince’s hawk eyes. This silence is gentle. Comfortable. Laced with warmth and slow breaths and pages turning softly under candlelight.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor in the Astronomy section, surrounded by open books and star charts, fingers trailing along hand-drawn constellations. The tower windows are misted with fog, the evening sun just barely casting golden streaks across the floor.

Theodore sits beside you. Not too close. Not too far.

The distance between you is filled with unsaid things—but it’s softer now. No longer heavy. No longer laced with betrayal.

You don’t talk much.

And yet, he keeps passing you books. Ones he found on your favorite stars. One with a fold-out map of lunar phases. Another annotated with old notes in your handwriting—he must’ve borrowed it from your side of the shelf.

He says nothing.

You say nothing.

But when your fingertips brush as he passes you a book, and he doesn’t flinch—

You feel something shift.

Like stardust settling.

Like gravity pulling you toward him again.

────────────────

Later that night.

It’s past curfew when you sneak out to the Astronomy Tower.

Again.

But you’re not surprised when you hear footsteps behind you halfway up the spiral staircase.

“You’re predictable,” Theodore says softly.

“So are you,” you mutter, not turning around.

When you step onto the tower platform, the night air kisses your cheeks and the stars blink patiently overhead.

You sit. He follows.

You both lean back against the stone railing, knees pulled to your chests, gazes lifted skyward.

The silence stretches—but it’s never awkward anymore. Not with the stars watching.

“You know,” you whisper eventually, “when I was younger, I used to think stars were the souls of people who died.”

Theodore turns to look at you, intrigued.

“I thought the brighter ones were people who left behind love,” you continue. “The dimmer ones… left pain.”

“And what about the ones that flicker?”

You glance sideways at him.

“Those are the ones who regret things.”

He doesn’t say anything after that.

But he moves closer.

Just an inch.

Then another.

Until your shoulders touch.

He reaches into his coat pocket, pulls out something wrapped in a handkerchief, and silently places it in your hands.

You unwrap it slowly.

It’s a tiny brass telescope.

Old, a little rusty, clearly secondhand—but beautifully cared for.

“Found it in Hogsmeade,” he murmurs. “Figured you’d like it.”

You stare at it for a second—then up at him.

Theodore’s not looking at you. He’s staring straight ahead, jaw clenched like he’s afraid of your reaction.

“I love it,” you say, voice quieter than the wind.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours.

Three Days Later — The Moment

It happens in the library again.

Theodore sits beside you with a cup of tea he smuggled in, sugar, no milk—just the way you like it, while you flip through a book on star clusters.

There’s a footnote in the corner of one page, faded and scribbled in messy ink.

'That one looks like a bowtie.'

'It’s a nebula, Theo.'

'Whatever. Bowtie.'

You snort softly.

Then you giggle.

Then—before you know it—you’re laughing.

Not the fake kind. Not bitter or tired or forced.

Real.

Bright.

Sharp.

Alive.

Theodore’s head snaps up like he can’t believe it.

Your laugh echoes through the aisles, bouncing off the shelves, cutting through the heavy quiet that’s followed you for weeks.

And it feels like breathing for the first time.

He’s just staring at you, lips parted, eyes wide.

You freeze mid-laugh. “What?”

He shakes his head slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he whispers.

And for once, you don’t shrink away.

You just smile—soft, small.

Still healing.

But smiling.

────────────────

Later That Evening — Back at the Tower

You stargaze together again. This time, lying side by side on an old blanket Theodore transfigured out of his robe.

He lets you talk again—about planets and black holes and why Betelgeuse is your favorite star name. He hums at all the right moments. He even repeats some of the facts back to you later, like he’s actually memorizing them just to impress you.

“You know,” he says after a while, voice barely above a whisper, “I think I used to be a flickering star.”

You glance over at him.

He meets your eyes.

“But now… I think I’m starting to burn brighter.”

You stare at him.

And for the first time in weeks—months, maybe—

You reach out.

And lace your fingers with his.

No words. No promises.

Just light.

And warmth.

And the slow return of something that feels like hope.

It began with a smile.

Not a grand one. Not the radiant grin you were once known for. Just a small, fragile curve of your lips when Neville offered you a piece of chocolate during Herbology and told you, “You don’t have to be okay yet. But… we missed you.”

You smiled.

And it cracked something open.

The next day, you nodded at Nearly Headless Nick as he passed by in the corridor. He paused midair, looked back in astonishment, and whispered, “Welcome back, dear boy…”

On your way to the Astronomy Tower that night, you waved at the Fat Lady.

She gasped.

“Oh!” she said, clutching her pearls. “My darling! You’ve returned!”

────────────────

Then a laugh.

Just one.

You didn’t even notice it at first.

It slipped out of your throat during Charms class when Seamus accidentally enchanted his quill to start tap dancing on the table. You were scribbling notes when it happened, and the sound caught you so off guard—you laughed.

Bright. Clear. Unapologetic.

And the whole class turned to look at you.

Eyes wide.

Seamus froze. Lavender gasped. Professor Flitwick dropped his chalk. Hermione covered her mouth, and even Harry and Ron stared like they’d seen a ghost.

And then Harry smiled.

“Merlin,” Ron whispered, stunned. “He’s really laughing.”

You blinked, confused. “...What?”

Hermione’s voice cracked when she spoke. “You’re laughing, Y/N.”

And that’s when you realized…

You were.

And for the first time in weeks, it felt real.

────────────────

From that moment, it was like the floodgates opened.

Suddenly, you weren’t just alive.

You were present.

You started waving to portraits again—the Fat Lady practically shrieked in delight when you greeted her one morning with a bright “Hello, love!”

You helped a pair of nervous first-years find their Herbology class and walked them all the way there, smiling the whole time.

You enchanted a Hufflepuff’s broken quill so it would write smoother.

You gave Luna your last chocolate frog because “The stars say you’ll need something sweet today.”

You told Professor Sinistra she looked radiant under moonlight after an evening class, and she turned to hide the way her face flushed.

You were back.

And everyone felt it.

The air in Hogwarts had changed.

The silence that had haunted the castle for weeks—the hole that your absence had created—was slowly, sweetly, joyfully filling back up with you.

────────────────

By the end of the week, the entire school was buzzing.

“Did you hear him laughing again today?”

“He helped a fifth-year with their Transfiguration without being asked.”

“He waved at every portrait on the third floor—EVEN the one that hates Gryffindors!”

“He complimented Snape’s robes, I swear to Merlin, and Snape didn’t even insult him back—just blinked.”

“It’s like Hogwarts is breathing again.”

────────────────

It wasn’t just your house that noticed.

The professors did too. Professor Sprout nearly cried when you complimented her newest Devil’s Snare. Flitwick paused mid-lecture to smile at you when you corrected a charm with your usual, “Only if you want to avoid spontaneous explosions.”

You returned to the front row in Astronomy class, hand flying up at every question, excitedly correcting Professor Sinistra with a “Well, actually, Betelgeuse’s diameter is over a thousand times that of our sun—”

She stopped. Blinked.

And smiled with tears in her eyes.

“…That’s absolutely right, Mr. L/N.”

────────────────

The Slytherins?

They noticed too.

They noticed everything.

The way the air shifted when you walked past. The way other students lit up like lanterns in your presence. The way your laugh—genuine, golden, infectious—echoed through the stone halls like it had never been gone.

And it haunted them.

Because they remembered.

They remembered how they laughed when Theodore dumped you in the Great Hall.

They remembered the way you stood frozen, the light draining from your eyes like the last flicker of a dying star.

They remembered what they took from you—and what they had cost Hogwarts itself.

They missed your ridiculous facts about galaxies over dinner.

They missed your voice humming on the Astronomy Tower wind.

They missed your jokes, your stories, the way you’d scold them gently if they cheated off someone else's parchment—“That’s not how learning works, darling.”

They missed you.

Astoria caught you laughing with Draco one day—just a small, harmless thing—and her stomach twisted in guilt.

Mattheo muttered under his breath, “We ruined him.”

Lorenzo couldn’t look you in the eye.

Even Blaise… apologized. To Theodore, at first. But eventually, with his eyes low, to you.

“I didn’t know we were breaking the sun,” he said.

You didn’t respond. But you smiled politely.

And that, somehow, was worse.

────────────────

You returned to Astronomy Tower like you never left it.

Blankets, books, starlight.

And Theodore.

He waited for you every night, letting you lead. Letting you be.

He brought snacks you liked. Held your hand when you let him. Sat silently through your excited rants about black holes and nova cycles and how Saturn’s rings might vanish someday.

He didn’t speak much.

He didn’t have to.

You felt him there.

One night, you caught him asleep under the stars, his head tilted slightly, lips parted in a breath.

And without thinking, you pulled out your Polaroid and snapped a picture.

The photo developed in your hands—soft, shadowed, perfect.

You laughed—quiet, heartfelt—for the first time in weeks.

────────────────

The whole castle rejoiced.

Peeves burst into spontaneous poems about you.

The Fat Lady played your favorite tune on her lute every time you passed.

House elves left your favorite desserts in the common room.

Even Snape stopped deducting points from Gryffindor every time you sneezed.

Students passed by you in the corridors just to wave.

Others slipped you folded notes.

'We missed your laugh.'

'Thank you for helping me with Potions last year.'

'Hogwarts is brighter with you in it.'

And one from a tiny second year.

'You're my favorite star!'

────────────────

But nothing hit harder than the moment it all clicked—when the entire school realized just how much they’d missed you.

It was a snowy afternoon.

You were in the courtyard, surrounded by a group of first-years who were trying and failing to make enchanted snowflakes that glittered mid-air. You crouched beside them, smile wide, showing them how to hold their wands steady and how to whisper the incantation with just the right breath.

“You don’t force it,” you said, guiding one small hand with your own. “You invite the magic.”

The snowflake burst from her wand—delicate, shimmering, perfect.

She squealed. The other kids cheered. And just like that—you laughed.

Loud.

Joyful.

Unburdened.

It echoed off the castle walls.

And nearly everyone nearby stopped.

Across the courtyard, Theodore looked up from where he stood under the arches. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t even smile.

But his eyes lit up.

As if the stars had returned to the sky.

That night, you returned to the Astronomy Tower.

With Theodore beside you.

He let you ramble about Sirius and Rigel and the lifespan of red giants. He nodded, absorbing every word, even repeating one or two back when you forgot where you left off. He pulled his cloak tighter around your shoulders when the wind picked up and didn’t say a thing when you leaned against him—quiet, content, finally at peace.

And before either of you could fall asleep, you pulled out your old Polaroid camera and snapped a photo of him, eyes closed, mouth parted, asleep beneath the stars.

The camera clicked softly.

And you stared at the photo as it developed—Theodore’s face framed by constellations.

You smiled.

And whispered, “Perfect.”

The school was right.

Hogwarts had missed you.

Its portraits missed your daily waves. The ghosts missed your “good mornings.” The professors missed your endless questions. The halls missed the echo of your laughter. The students missed the quiet kindness you offered like it cost you nothing.

And now, with every word, every smile, every act of warmth—

They got it all back.

You weren’t just returning to yourself.

You were healing.

You were whole.

You were still the same boy who kissed stars into the air with his voice and brought life to even the coldest corners of the castle.

Y/N L/N—the boy who remembered every portrait’s name, who stayed after class to help clean cauldrons, who corrected professors gently and helped students kindly—Hogwarts’ brightest star—had returned.

BONUS SCENE.

The fire had burned low, crackling softly and casting flickering golden light across the Gryffindor common room floor.

It was well past curfew. The castle slept. But you didn’t.

You were curled on Theodore’s lap, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, face tucked into the crook of it like you were trying to mold yourself into him. His back was pressed against the base of the couch, legs stretched out across the floor. Your entire body was clinging to him—like if you let go, he’d slip away into smoke and shadows.

“You’re still worried I’ll vanish, huh?” he whispered, barely a breath.

You mumbled something incomprehensible into his neck. Maybe his name. Maybe “don’t leave.”

Theodore tightened his hold instantly.

“Not going anywhere,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss on top of your head. “I swear."

You sighed against his throat, finally shifting just enough to nuzzle deeper into the hollow of his shoulder. Your arms looped tighter. You were completely wrapped around him like he was gravity and you were scared of floating away.

And Theodore?

He’d sit like this forever if you wanted.

A sudden click echoed across the room.

He flinched slightly, just as a soft flash lit up the space.

You stirred groggily.

Theodore slowly turned his head—and there was Harry Potter, standing near the staircase, holding your beloved Polaroid camera like it was Excalibur. A smug grin was plastered on his face. Hermione stood beside him with both hands pressed to her mouth, visibly vibrating from the sheer adorableness of it all.

“Oh my Merlin,” she gasped in a whisper-shriek. “I can’t—it’s—it’s too precious!”

“Potter,” Theodore said flatly, not bothering to move. “Why do you have his camera?”

Harry just shrugged, shaking the developed photo between his fingers. “Maybe I borrowed it. Maybe I saw the two of you snuggling like sappy lovebirds and thought, this is going in the scrapbook.”

“Give me that—” Theodore reached, but Harry danced back, holding the picture out of reach.

“Too late. It’s canon now,” he grinned, backing toward the stairs.

Hermione lingered just a second longer, eyes soft, practically squealing. “He looks so safe with you,” she whispered. “Thank you, Theo.”

Theodore blinked. He wasn't used to people thanking him like that. Not fondly.

He looked down at you again—your lips slightly parted, your arms still clinging, one leg tucked around his waist as if to anchor yourself. Your hair was mussed. Your brow relaxed. You looked like you belonged there.

You did.

He ran his fingers through your hair again, slower this time.

"You're safe," he whispered, for you and for himself. "I’ve got you."

The fire crackled.

The camera whirred again—Harry, upstairs now, clearly taking another shot through the stair rails before disappearing upstairs with Ron and Hermione following him from behind, their laughs fading.

Theodore groaned but didn’t bother moving you. He just kissed your temple, rested his head back against the couch, and whispered.

“Sleep, starboy. Let them take their stupid photos. I’m not letting go.”

Not tonight.

Not ever.

He stayed like that.

All night.

Holding his brightest star.

422 notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 7 days ago

Note

Can I request for Dan Heng, Aventurine and Sunday and Jing Yuan when they accidentally made their child cry and sulk at them for days and readers has to step in to stop them from sulking at their father? (Imagine Sunday's child crying and sulking when Sunday teaches them piano and accidentally give his child Asian parent look💔)

The Silence After Tears

Synopsis: A quiet storm brews in the hearts of fathers when a fleeting moment of sternness leads to unexpected tears. With hours or even days of sulking stretching on, it's up to you—their steady anchor—to guide both parent and child back to understanding, forgiveness, and the warmth of home.

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Dad Fluff, Emotional Reconciliation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Angst, Parenting Moments, Domestic Life, Soft Dad Moments, Light Humor.

Warnings: Minor emotional distress (child crying/sulking), Mentions of parental guilt, Brief moments of tension.

Dan Heng had always approached parenting like he did everything else—with quiet reverence and studied caution. But even the calmest waters can ripple under pressure.

It started when your child—eager to help with a maintenance check—dropped Dan Heng’s datapad, the one he meticulously customized over years. His voice was sharper than he intended.

"Please be careful," he had said, cold and clipped.

Their lower lip trembled. The tears came quickly.

They'd barely spoken to him in three days.

Dan Heng had tried. He’d left their favorite illustrated codex by their bedside, even prepared their snack just the way they liked. But every time he entered the room, they’d burrow deeper into their blanket fort.

You found him that evening, standing just outside their door like a sentinel.

“They’re still mad at me,” he murmured.

“They’re not mad, Dan,” you said, brushing your fingers against his. “They’re just hurt.”

“I never wanted to frighten them.”

You guided him in. Sat beside the fort.

“They miss you. They told me.”

Dan Heng lowered himself beside you, fingers curling in silent hesitation.

You lifted the flap of the blanket. “Hey. There’s someone here who wants to say something.”

From beneath the covers, two tear-glossed eyes peeked out. Dan Heng bent forward.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I wasn’t angry with you. I was—afraid. That you’d been hurt. I didn’t... express it well.”

The child crawled into his lap in seconds.

Dan Heng held them like porcelain—fragile but precious. “I’ll do better.”

You smiled softly, heart warmed by the quiet reunion.

Aventurine had always believed in high-stakes parenting—just enough charm and challenge to keep things interesting.

But this time, he’d pushed too far.

“You call that a card throw?” he’d teased during a game of Star Suit. “Come on, sweetheart. Even the dealer bots are laughing.”

He hadn’t expected the tears. Or the storm-off. Or the little handwritten note left on his desk that read: ‘I don’t want to play with you anymore.’

You found him sprawled on the couch, a deck of cards untouched on his chest, staring up at the ceiling.

“Wow,” he muttered. “I actually lost the game I care about most.”

“Aven,” you sat beside him, nudging his foot. “They’re sulking because they want to play with you. Not because they don’t.”

He peeked at you through his glasses. “What if I go in there and make it worse? I don’t exactly have a stellar record with... feelings.”

“Then let your actions talk.”

An hour later, your child opened their door to find a glittering tower of snack chips and an apology note stacked like playing cards:

‘I fold. Come back to the table?’

Behind it stood Aventurine, offering their lucky chip.

They tackled him in a hug.

“You’re not mad at me anymore?” he asked softly.

“I’m mad you didn’t teach me how to win.”

He laughed, scooping them up. “Now that’s my kid.”

The piano room was quiet—too quiet.

Sunday sat on the bench alone, fingers suspended above the keys, golden halo faintly dim.

He hadn’t meant to do it. He’d only raised a brow. Perhaps tightened his jaw. But the moment his child missed the seventh chord progression—for the third time—his gaze had gone still. Cold. That look.

The “Asian parent disappointment face,” you later joked gently. Sunday hadn’t laughed.

“They won’t even hum with me anymore,” he said now, melancholic.

“They said you looked at them like they weren’t good enough,” you told him, running a hand through his hair. “They don’t understand your silence yet, love.”

He looked toward the practice room. “I should have praised their hands. Their ear. I only focused on the mistake.”

“Then focus on them now.”

He returned to the piano later that night. The child peeked from the hallway, arms crossed.

Sunday patted the bench beside him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said gently, wings fluttering. “You are not your mistakes. You are music in motion.”

The child hesitated... then sat beside him.

He began with a slow, simple tune. One they used to hum together. As the notes bloomed, the child rested their head against his shoulder.

“I missed you, papa.”

His smile was faint, but real. “I never left.”

You found Jing Yuan standing still as stone in the courtyard, arms folded, gaze low.

“He’s sulking,” you whispered to your child. “Just like you.”

The incident had been minor, at least in your eyes. Jing Yuan had accidentally canceled your child’s playdate with Yanqing because of a surprise inspection. His reason had been logical—safety, timing, military protocols.

But logic doesn’t soothe a child’s disappointment.

Especially not when their lion-hearted father forgets to say he’s sorry.

“I told them it was necessary,” Jing Yuan said to you later. “But their eyes... they looked like I’d betrayed them.”

“You didn’t, honey. But they needed your heart more than your mind.”

He finally knocked on the door.

“I made a grave error,” he said, kneeling before his child like a general before a monarch. “I forgot that honor means nothing if it wounds those we love.”

The child frowned. “You said I needed to learn ‘sacrifice.’”

“And I was wrong. At least, in how I said it.” Jing Yuan opened his arms. “May I have the chance to try again?”

“Fine,” the child grumbled, smiling.

Jing Yuan grinned. “Then let the next battle be—extra dessert after dinner.”

367 notes · View notes

tinyshyteacup · 3 months ago

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Taglist: @jozzieblood @buckysteveloki-me @dragonoftheshadows @plaidconvers @kateawolf13 @keira-kaz2y5 @frog-fans-unite @doilooklikeagiveafrack @verynormalsstuff @nynxtea @iminyourceiling @seventeen-x @mgchaser @y0urgirl @lovely-seb @laughterafter @mysuperlaserpissnumber1fan @irasciblemogwai @svtbpbts @vivalas-vega

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A/N: their where a number of people that asked to be tagged in this story, if you have not been tagged but asked, please let me know and I'll add you.

💙

I think I got everyone !

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Tw: Cussing, frustration,

Part 4

Words of Command - Part 5

The sun slants through the high glass windows, streaking the living room with warm, gold light. It should feel comforting, domestic, but instead there's a chill in the air—an invisible line drawn by uncertainty.

Stark Tower’s furniture gleams, but there’s a lingering tension in the room, like it remembers too many arguments and too few reconciliations.

Steve sits on the edge of a sleek leather chair, a worn cardboard box open at his feet. The contrast is stark—1940s brown and battered, resting on a pristine Stark-designed rug.

The box holds the last pieces of James Buchanan Barnes.

Photographs.

Dog tags.

A battered 1st edition book.

A faded Brooklyn Dodgers cap.

Cracking leather gloves.

You sit cross-legged on the floor, beside Bucky—he hasn't moved since Steve began setting out the items. His body is coiled, posture upright and too still.

His vibranium fingers rest against his thigh, flexing once every few seconds with mechanical precision. Not curiosity—just control.

Steve picks up an old photograph. Him and Bucky, arms slung around each other in their uniforms, both smiling wide, unburdened.

“Remember this, Buck?” he asks softly, holding it up.

Bucky looks at it blankly. “No.”

“Your ma gave me this,” Steve tries again, hopeful but gentle. “You kept it folded in your coat pocket through all of ‘43.”

“No.”

Just that. Flat. Empty.

You reach into the box, brushing your fingers over cold metal—two dog tags, dull with age, the chain tangled.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you murmur aloud, reading. “107th Infantry.”

You don’t even think about it—you’re absently twisting the tags between your fingers, letting them sway gently as you examine the etched letters.

Behind you, the Bucky’s head tilts slightly. His gaze follows the motion, a slow tracking—not recognition, but something else.

Tension.

Steve catches the look, his hope reigniting. "They’re yours Buck, You used to tap them against your knuckles when you were thinking. You even—”

Bucky’s expression tightens. Subtle, but unmistakable.

His voice cuts through like a gunshot.

“Stop.”

You freeze, the dog tags dangling mid-air.

Steve sets down the photo. “Buck, it’s okay—”

“I don’t know these things.” His tone is clipped, his breath beginning to hitch. “They mean nothing.”

“But they’re yours,” Steve insists, stepping forward.

Bucky flinches back. It’s the most human thing you've seen him do.

“They are not mine.” There’s a tremor in his voice now, shaking beneath the metal. “That name—” He gestures toward the tags, fingers curled like claws. “—is not mine.”

The silence is fragile.

Then, suddenly—CRACK.

Bucky surges to his feet, the coffee table exploding beneath the force of his boot and metal arm. Splinters fly across the room.

You scramble back instinctively, heart hammering. Steve raises arm protectively in front of you and himself without thinking.

Bucky stands over the wreckage, chest heaving. His arm gleams—the plates shifting and whirring subtly like a beast under his skin. His eyes are wild, lost, locked somewhere deep within that isn’t here.

Not Brooklyn.

Not Stark Tower.

Not now.

“Doll?” he murmurs, searching.

“I—I’m here,” you say, slowly standing, your voice shaking only slightly. You cross the short distance, to stand beside his towering figure, and reach your hand out—not to touch, just to be seen. “I’m here. You’re not in danger.”

His breathing slows. Bit by bit. The metal arm lowers.

He doesn’t look at Steve. Only you.

“Don’t… don’t show me things,” he mutters. “They hurt.”

Steve kneels beside the broken table, his hand brushing a shard of wood.

“I thought it might help,” he says quietly. “I thought maybe... he'd feel something.”

You don’t have the heart to respond. Not yet.

Bucky sinks down beside you on the couch like a puppet with cut strings, his head bowed.

“I don’t want the name,” he mutters. “Don’t want their memories.”

“You don’t have to take anything you don’t want,” you whisper. “You don’t have to be anything but what you are right now.”

He looks at you. The sharpness in his eyes dulls, just for a moment.

“Doll,” he breathes, softer now. A single word. A tether.

The sharp scent of wood lingers in the air as you kneel down beside the broken coffee table, carefully gathering scattered fragments.

Your fingers ghost over jagged edges, mindful of catching a splinter. The sunlight pools across the floor like honey, warm and gentle—utterly at odds with the tension lingering in the room.

Bucky stands still a few feet away, silent, coiled like a spring. His metal arm reflects the light in soft, rhythmic pulses as he flexes and unflexes his fingers.

He’s watching you again—hyperaware, always alert.

He hasn't moved to help, but you sense it’s not indifference—it’s wariness. Confusion. Waiting for a command.

Steve is pacing nearby, eyes flicking between you and his oldest friend.

“Buck,” Steve says again, trying to soften his tone. “C’mon, you have to remember. That name—it’s yours.”

Bucky’s eyes shift slowly toward him. “No.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, frustration mounting behind his quiet grief. “Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. You were—my best friend —hell, you are—you might as well be my brother.”

Bucky's jaw tightens. His voice is sharp, strained. “I said no.”

You rise slowly from the floor, gently setting a handful of splinters on the side table.

You don’t move too quickly.

You’ve learned that his stillness isn’t peace—it’s the calm before something breaks.

You take a slow step between them, placing your hand lightly on Steve’s forearm.

“Steve,” you murmur, your voice quiet, apologetic.

“He might not be ready for that.”

He looks at you like he wants to argue, but something in your eyes stops him. He sighs, stepping back. Not defeated—but wounded.

You turn to Bucky, your posture softening—shoulders lowered, eyes gentle, voice so quiet you barely hear it yourself.

“You don’t have to be who anyone says you were.”

His eyes flicker—curious, not yet understanding.

You shift your weight, folding your hands in front of you. “What do you want to be called?”

There’s a long silence.

Bucky doesn’t answer right away. He looks down at his feet, then over at the shards of the table. Then back at you. His brows draw together.

You can see him thinking—not just reacting. That alone feels like a victory.

Finally, he speaks.

“Soldat.”

One word.

No hesitation.

Your heart twists a little. It's not what Steve wanted to hear. Maybe not even what you hoped for. But it’s his choice.

You nod slowly. “Okay, Soldat.”

The way his body eases—not visibly, but subtly—tells you it was the right move.

His eyes linger on you, not searching for approval, but grounding.

Steve watches this exchange in quiet disbelief. There’s pain in his face, but he masks it quickly. He turns his gaze to the window, jaw clenched.

You move to pick up more debris. Bucky watches for a beat longer, then quietly steps forward.

“Doll,” he says, voice lower, uncertain. “...You want this cleaned?”

You look up, surprised, and smile gently.

“No, it’s okay. I got it.”

He hesitates, shoulders twitching faintly, like he’s fighting the instinct to obey or to stay alert. But when you don’t issue another command, he simply nods once and stands silently beside you. Not helping. Just being near.

Steve crouches beside the box of Bucky’s things again, but doesn’t touch anything this time.

“I thought maybe hearing his name would bring something back,” he says softly. “That maybe some part of him was just... waiting.”

You glance at him, your heart aching for both men in different ways.

“I think he’s trying,” you reply just as softly. “But he’s scared. He doesn’t know who he is is yet.”

Steve doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t argue either.

The couch beneath you is just a little too plush, the kind that swallows you whole, and you’re curled up on one side with a knitted throw across your lap. The TV glows warmly in the dimmed lighting of the shared lounge in Stark Tower.

Steve had chosen an old black-and-white romance—Casablanca—murmuring something about nostalgia. The kind of story that used to make people believe in fate and sacrifices.

Bucky sits on the far end of the couch, rigid, alert, back never fully touching the cushions. His vibranium hand rests on his thigh, the fingers twitching occasionally, as if uncomfortable being still for this long.

He hadn’t wanted to sit at first.

You had to quietly ask him.

Not order—but suggest.

Gently. Like you were taming a skittish animal.

And still, he only did it because you asked.

Steve sits in the armchair nearby, watching the screen—though he steals glances at the man who was once his best friend.

You try not to stare, but your gaze flickers to Bucky, to the faint slouch in his shoulders when the film softens. He’s not watching the action.

His eyes are fixed on the interaction between the leads—Ilse and Rick.

There’s something hesitant in the way he watches them, like he's seeing a language he used to know.

And then it happens.

Ilse says Rick’s name—soft, broken with affection—and touches his cheek. Onscreen, it’s romantic. Longing.

Beside you, Bucky flinches.

It’s so slight, you almost miss it. His brow twitches. The corner of his mouth pulls down. His jaw clenches tight, and his hand—the flesh one—lifts a few inches, as if reaching for something that isn’t there.

“Doll,” he murmurs quietly, the Brooklyn cadence slipping through like it was never forgotten, his voice a bit above the sound of the movie. “I know that.”

You turn to him, heart in your throat. “What do you know?”

He doesn’t answer. Just shakes his head once, sharply, like trying to shake off a memory that hasn’t fully formed. His metal fingers curl tight into his leg.

“Soldat,” you say gently, tilting toward him, “It’s okay. You don’t have to—”

But he interrupts. Not with words—just a look. Frustration. Something like fear. He doesn’t want to forget. He just can’t remember.

Steve’s voice cuts softly across the silence.

“You know,” he says, lips twitching with bittersweet fondness, “he used to be the biggest flirt in Brooklyn.”

You blink in surprise.

Steve chuckles dryly. “Seriously. Bucky Barnes couldn’t walk down the street without giving some poor girl whiplash. He used to say the army gave him a uniform just so he could have an excuse to wink at nurses.”

You glance back at Bucky.

His expression hasn’t changed. But his shoulders tense, just slightly. The name doesn’t spark recognition—but the words? They linger. Maybe deep down, they ring true.

He doesn’t say anything. But you think he’s listening more intently now.

"Were you a heartbreaker?” you ask, voice amused.

Bucky looks at you, just for a moment. His eyes search your face, and for the first time, there’s a ghost of something there.

Maybe confusion.

Maybe curiosity.

Maybe even shame.

His mouth opens like he might say something—

—but then he closes it. Shakes his head once. “Don’t know.”

But his voice isn’t as flat this time. It’s uncertain.

You notice the way he shifts a little closer on the couch. Not enough to touch, but enough to feel your warmth. He hasn’t done that before.

You don’t press it. You don’t need to.

Instead, you settle back against the cushions, letting the movie wash over the three of you.

The film is long over, the credits a soft blur in the background as the three of you remain in the cozy dim of the common room.

The quiet has settled comfortably around you, broken only by the sound of Steve shifting in his armchair and you gathering the courage to speak again.

“I… Steve?” you begin softly, still cradled under your blanket.

He lifts his head. “Yeah?”

“Can you tell me more?” You gesture a little toward Bucky, who sits across from you now, perched on the edge of the couch like someone waiting for orders. “About… back then. About Bucky.”

Steve hesitates, eyes flicking toward the man who used to be his best friend. There’s sorrow there. But he nods.

“Sure,” he says. “Back in the 40s, Buck was... well, he had this way about him. Real smooth. He was the kind of guy dames lined up for.”

You pause, blinking. “...Dames?”

Steve grins slightly at your puzzled expression. “Yeah, it was what we called women back then. Girls. Ladies. ‘Dames,’ ‘broads’—kinda like saying 'chicks' now.”

You blink again. “That sounds so weird.”

From the couch, Bucky makes a faint sound in his throat—almost like a scoff. You glance over.

He mutters, “Dames.”

Steve’s eyes widen slightly. “You remember that?”

Bucky doesn’t acknowledge it. He just lowers his gaze to the floor, jaw set tight again.

Steve leans forward a little, voice softening. “He used to take me out to dance halls. He’d charm the whole room and I’d just be the friend tagging along. But Bucky? He could make a girl blush with just a look.”

You peek at Bucky again, just a glance, before returning your attention to Steve “Really?”

Steve chuckles. “Oh yeah. He used to run his fingers through his hair like it was a signal. Girls’d go nuts. He’d smile with this crooked little smirk. Talk slow. Confident. The guy had a whole routine.”

You tilt your head, curiously. “Did he have a catchphrase?”

Steve laughs again. “Not really. Just… ‘You ever dance with a soldier?’ That kind of thing.”

You glance back at Bucky, amused. “Did you really say that?”

This time, he looks at you. Right at you.

"Maybe,” he says simply.

The fact that he responds at all has both you and Steve frozen for a second.

Then he blinks, confused. Like he didn’t even mean to answer.

You press a little, just to see.

“What else did you say?”

He frowns. Shakes his head slowly. “Don’t know.”

But it’s there. A flicker. Like a coin caught in the light before it disappears again.

The cadence is different now, less monotone.

The voice of someone still trapped behind years of conditioning, yes—but also the accent of a man who once teased girls in diners and danced to swing records under cheap lights.

You shift a little on the couch, your frame pulled upright now, legs tucked beneath you.

Bucky tracks the movement, his head tilted slightly, like you’ve shifted the center of gravity in the room.

He doesn’t touch you.

But when you lean forward slightly to adjust you sock—his flesh hand twitches on his thigh. A response to proximity.

Maybe comfort.

Maybe confusion.

Steve watches the entire exchange like someone seeing the beginning of something sacred.

He leans back, folding his arms.

“I remember once, Buck tried to flirt with this nurse by pretending he’d hurt his shoulder—”

“Didn’t work,” Bucky cuts in suddenly. Voice flat, but louder this time.

You both freeze.

“…You do remember?” Steve leans forward again, hope flashing in his face.

Bucky shakes his head, visibly irritated now. “Don’t know. Just… sounds wrong.”

His jaw locks. Muscles tense. The soft warmth of the moment vanishes. He’s retreating. You can feel it. Like someone slamming a door in a quiet house.

You speak gently.

“Soldat.”

He blinks, eyes immediately snapping to yours at the name. Focused.

You smile a little. “You don’t have to remember right now.”

“…Okay, Doll,” he replies after a beat, the words sounding more automatic now—but still, there’s something a little softer about the way he says Doll tonight.

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sw5w · 8 months ago

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Obi-Wan Looks to His Young Apprentice

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:25:08

The notes about Yarael Poof's death come from the events of the Zam Wesell one-shot comic published by Dark Horse Comics in 2002.

As of yet, we don't have an explanation in Canon for what happened to Master Poof, but we do know that he died at some point prior to the Clone Wars.

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ditzybat · 10 months ago

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I see a lot in fanon of Jason being Tim’s fav robin - and I’m guilty of enjoying it and posting content in that same vein - but honestly we need to sit down and think critically for a second… Tim’s favorite robin is definitely Dick - after all he did sorta bring start everything for Tim as he is a pillar in his orgin story. But like we all write the Jason and Tim brother relationship all sweet and reconciliation (which, in current canon is sorta true, if apprehensive) when in reality Tim actively makes fun of Jason during titans tower when he’s getting his shit handed to him, would call him a flop to his face, and probably barely tolerated his Robin in comparison to Dick’s out of respect for the name. And Jason is just the definition of Cain instinct mixed in with imposter syndrome, and really doesn’t gaf all too much about Tim besides baseline animosity shown in the beginning of their relationship (as it seems that we’ve all collectively decided to stop recognizing any comic after 2010 apparently- which… is fair to be honest 😭) - BUT ANYWAY I just thought it was very silly haha to find that we’ve all somehow interpreted their relationship one way when it’s really written a completely different way, I just love the extravagant game of telephone we all play when making fandom content/spaces.

#btw my tone may sound sarcastic at times in this post but I swear I’m not 😭#also I’m not policing you on what ways you can interpret canon! I’m a very big advocates of doing whatever you want #i just find it interesting how we’ve all collectively decided Jason would be Tim’s favorite robin and vice versa #dc #robin #red robin #tim drake #jason todd #red hood #batman #batfam #batbros

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redwinewhiteroses · 4 months ago

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What would they say to you?

if they could call you right now 🤍

This reading is about what the person on your mind would say to you. This is most suitable for a romantic partner/connection.

I did a small energy check in the beginning of each reading, if that resonates with you, you can confirm that it's meant for you. Even if it doesn't, the main tarot portion might resonate with you.

This is a general reading so it might not be for everyone. If you feel a strong pull to a specific image, that's the one for you, but if you have a difficult time choosing an image, then this reading isn't for you.

And a random observation I made while doing this reading is that almost all the groups have Five of Cups and The Death card and even Seven of Wands. So these energies turning up throughout all the readings, although in different ways and positions makes me think the collective is struggling with being open to giving and receiving love and likely experiencing heartbreak due to that. It could be your respective person experiencing a bit of sadness as well.

So let's make a wish together for all of us. 🥰🌷I hope we all give and receive healing and pure love in abundance! 🥹🩷

Image 1 Cinderella

Your energy

Ten of Cups

I see you being really happy and content with how things are going on in your life right now. You may have completed something recently, achieved something important, not necessarily a tangible goal but something very internal and personal like a mindset upgrade or received significant emotional fulfillment. Also you could be spending a lot of time socialising and hanging out with people you love and admire. Maybe there's also some newfound joy and hope in your life. For most of you, I think you are in separation with this person and you are focusing on family, friends and the little things in life that bring you happiness, and probably even ignoring this person lol.

Their energy

The Fool

They too are in a similar energy. I think they feel very free and optimistic about life. They are in a place where they hope to explore the vastness of the world without worry or hesitation. This could be about wanting a new beginning or closing out an old chapter to have a fresh start. They are feeling adventurous. If you had a falling out with this person or you had a fight or something, I see them being bold enough to approach you with an apology and reconciliation. I see them wanting to approach you and they are very excited to see you and talk to you. They could be observing you from a distance without you knowing.

Connecting energy

Seven of Wands/Five of Wands

You could have had a fight or a disagreement over something recently. It's like you are not really on good terms rn, even if you are in contact there's a bit of a tension between you. Also I see one of you keep fuelling the fire even if the other wants to dissolve this conflict as soon as possible. It's like I'm not done fighting with you while the other goes Oh please stop it already! I also think for some of you this could've been a very childish play fight that aggravated into something more unintentionally lol. You could be skeptic of this person or this could be them, and due that one of you is defensive and standing on guard.

What they would say to you

Five of Cups/Death/Ace of Swords | The Tower

They would say that they are extremely sad for what happened between you. They think the pain wasn't worth it and things shouldn't have happened the way they did. They feel like life is being drained out of them and it is affecting their emotional well-being. But I also think they are done crying over what happened and they are ready to move forward with whatever is left. For those of you had a play fight with them, I see them thinking It's over. You win, I lose! So it seems like your person feels defeated. They could be heartbroken over how things ended between you but I see them having clarity over this situation. They are moving towards having more stability and peace of mind. They want to talk to you and clear the air between you. I see them wanting conflict resolution and a new beginning with you. Maybe not necessarily mending the relationship but to have clear communication to understand what both of you want and intend to have in the future together as a couple and separately as individuals. I see them being really articulate about their thoughts surrounding your relationship, so if they were naive and moody before and just talking and behaving in a fit of rage, impulsively or moodily know that they are out of it and thinking more clearly and actively. They will be pretty clear on what they want from this connection and they want to know your desires too. Whatever happened between you could've been very sudden and unpredictable, but I see them thinking it was necessary or at least it wasn't wasted. You could've learnt something from that and with that knowledge you can create something new together, if you want to. Whatever ended could've been for the greater good of all and even if it's difficult to think it is, I see new opportunities on the horizon or they think this way.

The below messages are from my box of little notes, so please take them as extra confirmation. Leave them if it doesn't resonate with you.

Random messages : Savior, Try again, Breathe for me, Vivid dreams, What you think you want, Stop wanting. Act like it. Act for it. , Forgive and forget, Milk and honey, Tease, Tears of joy.

And that's all for group 1. I hope this resonated with you and you can comment your thoughts below and give feedback or recommendations if you wish to do that. Please take care of yourself and I hope you have a great day!😇💙

Image 2 Ariel

Your energy

Queen of Wands

I see you being in your true power. I saw 44 on the clock while writing this so I'm thinking you are in a stable position in your life currently, feeling comfortable and confident in your own skin. You feel empowered and stronger as an individual. You might be looking over to your person's side almost in a protective way wondering if they are alright and safe. You have your life together and I see you being worried about your person maybe because they are having minor issues they are tackling right now. Or you are keeping an eye on them. Both of you are in similar yet different energies.

I thought of this song so maybe it's relevant. Tell me if it resonates with you.

Their energy

King of Cups reversed

Your person is in a very unbalanced emotional state right now. They too are looking over to your side, looking to see how you are doing on your own. I see them having a different perspective on this situation. You both could be viewing your relationship in different lenses and with different intentions. Currently your person could be a bit moody and even emotionally manipulative. They could be emotionally unavailable and keeping their distance. They are in a protective energy of only caring about their own good and being a little insensitive about you and the relationship. I feel like they are very similar to you on the outside but on the inside they are quite different. This difference could be about their thoughts, dreams or deepest desires.

Connecting energy

Ace of Pentacles/Nine of Swords

I get the feeling that you are a bit anxious and worried about them and feel very burdened. I don't know who is in this energy of having a heavy heart, but I feel like there's worry and deep unhappiness here. You could be feeling overwhelmed by all the what ifs. And I see you wanting a new beginning with this person. I also see it as you wanting to offer them relief or you extending your hand to them. Maybe you are in separation with this person or there's a lot of anxious and negative thoughts and fears you have surrounding this connection and you wish to move past it towards greater stability. I also see it as you are ready to offer your all, your precious heart to them but they are not ready to receive it. There's also a message about wanting to walk through that door, maybe towards light and peace. Worrying about how much to give comes to mind.

What they would say to you

Nine of Pentacles/The Empress rev/Two of Wands rev | Death

They would say they are kinda happy and sad rn. They are not sure if they are happy or if what is going on is what they truly want or need. I have a feeling they are not seeing things clearly or they are not ready to. They would say that they are focussed on themselves doing great with career and life, enjoying pleasures in life and enjoying life as an individual. They are not really feeling emotional or caring towards anyone right now. They feel very disconnected from emotions. Also they feel insecure and not so confident about themselves, so it's kinda influencing the way they show up for their loved ones. Honestly I feel a bit of selfishness coming from their side. Maybe they're not inherently that way but right now their heart space is very closed. They would say they fear what the future holds for them and for this connection. They don't have the kind of results that they wanted to have, so they fear the unknown. They feel lost and very disappointed.

For some of you, this person might not have the resources they wanted and wished to have, maybe you showed up and shared your resources and provided for them. They don't want to depend on you and be a burden to you in any way but they are yet to stand strong independently. There is also this theme on picking themselves up and this need they feel to build their life further. As if whatever they have or achieved isn't really enough for them. They could be going through a much needed personal transformation that includes shedding old ways. They don't necessarily see the direction they are headed towards and where this journey is taking them and they fear the unknown. I think they are experiencing both sadness and happiness simultaneously or they consciously don't let the bitter feelings completely drown out their joy. So they might look confident and put together on the outside but deep down there's self doubt, indecision, painful feelings and memories.

The below messages are just from my box of little notes, so please take them as extra confirmation. Leave them if it doesn't resonate with you.

Random messages : Hope is needed, Wait for me, Light hair, Make it happen, Muse/Poetic, Sensual, Going with the flow, Sagittarius energy, Sweet kiss, Patience is a virtue, Try again, Deep dive

That's all for group 2! I hope you take care of yourself and have a great day!🩷

Image 3 Aurora

Your energy

Nine of Pentacles reversed

You are feeling somewhat unfulfilled when it comes to this connection. For some of you, you might be lonely without your person and even if you have a lot of things to be grateful for, you feel a void due to their absence in your life. You might be questioning your self-worth. You might also be pretending that all is good and maintaining a superficial appearance as if you don't care, but deep down you feel very isolated. I think you do have a lot of inner strength and you might even be highly independent but that doesn't mean you don't ever feel vulnerable.

Some of you are guarded to dating this person romantically. You might be self-sabotaging or holding yourself back in some way. I also think for some of you this could be a situation that haven't really progressed into a commited relationship. There's no history here between you is what I'm trying to say. Maybe you work together but don't necessarily know each other on an intimate level.

And for others who are already with this person, you might be overly depending on them or you feel like you are slowly losing yourself, getting lost in their eyes? Losing autonomy and feeling...(I forgot what I was going to say...I'm sorry🫠 I was away for a while🥲)

Their energy

The High Priestess/Nine of Cups

Water sign energy? They might have this beautiful calmness to them. I just felt like including this. I'm also imagining someone who is completely oblivious of your admiration. It's like they don't know if you love them or not, they might feel it intuitively but they might be dismissing them thinking they are delusional. They are getting a vibe, having a feeling about something. That is for some of you.

And for others, your person is focussed on themselves; they are looking inward to find answers and they are pretty satisfied with what they've actually found. There is a focus on emotional regulation and gaining wisdom. They are trying to trust their gut feelings.

I believe they are happy with themselves and very in tune with their identity. Lately they might even be sure of and know what it is that they really want. Realising truths about themselves and others and being grateful for everything they have seems to be their energy. They might have decluttered recently and that includes cutting ties with people/friends who were draining them.

They are prioritising their peace rn and they feel incredibly happy with how emotionally fulfilling that has been for them.

Connecting energy

Ten of Wands

This is a heavy energy. Maybe there is something that needs work; a problem that needs to be solved. Something that is demanding a lot of energy and hard work. It's almost like a sturdy barrier between you that is keeping you from being happier together.

Love is a road that goes both ways comes to mind. Maybe one of you has been carrying this relationship and the other hasn't been contributing as much as they should have.

For others, I think yall are at a phase where responsibilities overshadow the lighter aspects of love and romance. There might be tasks and obligations that you are focussed on as a couple and that might be stressful to you and them and causing a feeling of restriction within the relationship.

What they would say to you

The Lovers/Five of Cups/Two of Cups | Three of Pentacles

They wish to say that you are the perfect match for them. I think they believe you to be their ideal partner. They are sad about how things have been, especially if you've been facing challenges that tested your love for each other. They know that there is no one more compatible and perfect for them than you are and despite all the instances where they felt even a bit of pain because of you, they appreciate you in every moment they can. The pain is nothing compared to how you make me feel.

I think they want to work with you, make efforts together to fix things. They want you to care as much as they do. They want you to cooperate with them, join hands with them and be with them. I think they crave connection with you. They wish to be closer to you. For some of you, I think they want you to choose them so bad. Like they are yearning for you to choose them, love them and crave them.

They will say that both of you should put equal efforts to fix what's not working. They want honesty and acceptance from you; to tell them what is it on your mind.

They want to close the gap between you. They are experiencing sadness because you guys can't be together? I think they are hurting because of you not being there for them. For them, being with you is the ultimate cure to all ails and they want you. They love you, respect you and admire you for all that you are. They just want peace and harmony with you; to be together, to love and respect each other as friends and as soulmates. They just want to have a balanced relationship, they want to be with you.

Don't let the past pain, sorrow and the mistakes keep us from uniting.

You know I want you more than ever.

P.S. I think I'm gonna go cry. You guys are making me cry fr. This is so bittersweet. Why is five of cups in between two soulmate cards. Why is your person sad 😭 What's going on?!?! They have great love and respect in their heart for you.🥹

The below messages are from my box of little notes, so please take them as extra confirmation. Leave them if it doesn't resonate with you.

Random messages : Soul's desire, Gentle monster, No way, Bubble tea, It's easier when you sleep, Sea breeze, Nourishment/Moon/Gentle/Mother, Dark knight, Dreams, I'm so tired.

And I also thought of Desiree(could be someone's name)

Thanks for being here group 3!💚 I wish you guys all the best!

Image 4 Snow White

Your energy

Seven of Wands

You are in a relatively high chaotic energy than they are. Some of you are resisting this connection in some way and holding back any potential progress that could happen between you when it comes to this relationship.

I'm thinking for a very few of you, you might have something to hide from them or you are keeping a secret that keeps you from opening up to them. You are in a way guarding yourself.

And for others you might be fighting for this relationship. You could be fighting people's opinions, their judgement and their intention to ruin your relationship with your person. You are defensive and protective of your love and you are determined to effectively set boundaries to keep negativity and obstacles away.

Their energy

Six of Pentacles

I wouldn't be surprised if you are the more active one in your connection. It's almost like your person is very unfazed by chaos. I sense a balanced energy from them. They have a mindset of gratitude and generosity. They know what matters to them and invest in causes that have deep meaning to them. They are open to share what's theirs and to receive in a very fair manner as well. I'm pretty sure they have a lot to offer and they would very much like to do that.

Connecting energy

Three of Cups/Wheel of Fortune

So you might not really know them on a deep intimate level. There could be very little interaction with them; like you know them, but you don't really know them. But there is something special here between you since there's a major arcana here. You might both feel an uncanny feeling or can't stop thinking about the possibility of there being a special bond between you. Almost like fate or a higher power brought you together. Or a feeling like this had to happen or this is the inevitable.

Your first encounter might be like something out of the movies or a romcom. Could've been an unexpected meeting.

I'm thinking developing feelings for them would've been abrupt too. You might've been friends and one day you realise that you actually love them. There's an element of chance/destiny is what I'm trying to say.

The connecting energy is actually very positive and joyous.

What they would say to you

Five of Cups/Strength/Four of Pentacles | The Hanged Man

They will say that they are sad of things not working out for them. Whatever that might be, they are consumed by sadness and regret. Although they are in a balanced energy, they have rather bitter feelings to express. If you hurt them in some way or they hurt you, I think there's regret about that.

But despite this hurt, they will say that they care deeply about others, and if they know you well enough, and you shared moments together, they do care about you in a gentle manner. They are taking accountability and they know they are responsible for their own actions. They could be overcoming a period of doubt or worry. They will say that they never meant to hurt you, it was never their intention.

For few of you, this person is holding back because they don't intend to hurt you. They might not show how much you really affect them. Holding back due to worry is very much the reason. They feel responsible for their actions and they wouldn't make any move that they know will cause harm to you or others.

They will say that they were deeply hurt in the past and if it ever seems that they are holding back it is to protect their heart, to protect themselves from feeling sorrow and pain. Although they are in a generous energy, they are still keeping something to themselves. It's like they want to give, but they won't give something that they are not comfortable to give away. There can be deep seated issues and even betrayal that they have faced before, so they are naturally careful and patient. They will never rush with anything and they value stability and connections that provide them emotional security.

I do feel wounded energy from them but despite that, they are standing strong and brave. They appreciate trust and loyalty and expect others to treat them with compassion too. They might even want you to treat them gently; to be soft with them. To tell them that you won't be a cause of heartbreak and suffering for them, but instead you will be a cure to erase all the bad memories once and for all.

With that being said, they are also in the process of letting go of something. They need some time right now and I'm pretty sure they are taking things slow.

Simply put, they are sad about something and due to past experiences of some sort, they are holding themselves back, keeping things to themselves; even their pain. They likely won't share their sadness with anyone. They are slowly overcoming some situation and defeating these bitter feelings with determination. So if they seem closed off, this is why. They will say to not take it personally. They are just hurt and processing it with all they have so they can heal and become stronger.

The below messages are from my box of little notes, so please take them as extra confirmation. Leave them if any of the msgs don't resonate with you.

Random messages : No, Intellectual, Sail the seas, Tease, Charming, Madness, Enchanting, What if I mess up?, Don't go, Nourishment/Moon/Gentle/Mother, Sea Breeze

Thank you for joining me!🧡 Sending you love, light and lots of joy!🥰

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