#raised by children pretty much. neither of them were responsible enough to have or raise me. hadnt worked through enough shit

[arundolyn]

bpd is really really annoying bc first of all i feel like ive felt whatever way ive been feeling if its been 5+ minutes of feeling that way for my Entire Life. and this lack of emotional object permanence is kinda making me feel like i never had a mom anyway in the entire month since she died

[literaila]

it's not my fault

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: tsumiki and megumi get into an argument

warnings: sibling stuff, fluff, two oblivious (stupid) parents

last part | next part

*

year five.

“couldn’t you say something nice?” tsumiki is asking megumi when you walk in. “she just wanted to—“ 

you set your bag on the table, just barely able to make out their words. 

they were... quiet in the car, you realize suddenly. but you hadn't thought that anything was wrong. megumi's typically burnt out after school, and tsumiki waits until you all get home to start telling you about her day. 

but it only took a minute of you running back out to the car to grab something for it all to fall apart. 

megumi groans. “i don’t even know her.” 

you round the corner, just stopping there so you can observe. neither of them seem to notice you, or your wide eyes at both of their stances. the matching scowls on their faces. 

they look so similar that it shocks you just briefly. 

tsumiki has her arms crossed, shaking her head. “you still don’t need to be mean about it.” 

“i wasn’t mean.” 

“yes, you were. you told her to leave you alone.” 

“that seems like a pretty straightforward request.” 

“everyone at school thinks you’re mean,” tsumiki is pouting, looking dishearted at his reaction. typically, megumi will agree with her just for the sake of it. “and i always have to defend you, even if it’s true.” 

megumi sighs, shrugging. he's got his satoru-type scowl on, and even though he looks disinterested--as usual--you can see it when his frown deepens, and he shifts away from tsumiki. “well, stop then. i don’t need you to come to my rescue. i don’t care what people say.” 

“well, i do! you’re my brother.” 

“that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like your responsibility. i can handle myself.” 

“you’re always alone at school,” tsumiki disputes, almost whining at him. “if you were nicer—“ 

“i’ve never complained—“ 

“okay,” you turn the corner, brows already raised. “there’s a lot of raised voices going on. you two are going to wake up the neighbor's cat.” 

tsumiki is pouting at megumi and he just rolls his eyes. both children stand facing each other, standoffish in the living room, arms crossed. 

usually, they fight about what movie to watch, or who got to sit in the front seat last. 

but those fights don’t typically involve yelling. 

sure, they’re both sensitive about their childhood. about living here and being with you and satoru. they'll bicker about being little, megumi hating it when tsumiki mentions either of their biological parents, and tsumiki hating it when he refuses to listen.

but even then, tsumiki goes to hide, and megumi just shuts down. 

this seems… different. 

a part of you rationalizes that they're both exhausted from school and getting to that age where their priorities differ. 

you don't have any siblings, but you quarreled enough with nanami and haibara back at school to know how these types of arguments work. 

and unless one of them admits that they're wrong, it's never going to end. 

with that thought in mind, you put on a learned smile, standing between the two of them so you can look back and forth between the two children, observing both of their very closed-off body language. 

it's a little cute, honestly. they both look very different, but their matching stances and glares are worth much more than biology. you almost want to stop them to take a picture. 

satoru would do it if he was here. 

“tough crowd,” you say, feeling the tension between the two. “what’s going on?” 

“nothing,” they both say, at the same time, but megumi with an attitude and tsumiki with a sniffle. 

really, you should find a book about expressing emotions. you and satoru are teaching them far too much about denial and avoidance. 

you make a mental note to look it up later. 

you blow out a breath. “yeah, well, i heard the yelling, but i’m missing some context."

you look between the two of them, but they’re not looking back. both sets of eyes are focused on each other, identical glares bouncing off of each other. they could be communicating in some secret language and you would have no idea. 

in fact, you can basically see the thoughts they're forcing towards each other on their faces. 

“hey,” you poke them both on the forehead at the same time, trying to get their attention on you. “talk to me. what happened?” 

they both remain still as statues for a moment, not bothering to consider the question. 

but after a moment, tsumiki blinks, and her frown increases, which makes megumi roll his eyes--like he already knows what she's going to say, and doesn't care. 

“megumi was mean to a girl at school,” tsumiki says, finally looking at you with big doe eyes. her face is pained, confused, and worried. 

and honestly, she could ask you for anything with that look and you'd give it to her. 

but megumi sighs. “i wasn’t mean.” 

“you told her not to talk to you!” 

he looks to you, less pleading but confident. “if i want space, shouldn’t i tell someone that? isn't that what you say?” 

you open your mouth. “well, it depends, megs, you can’t—“ 

“you’re always mean,” tsumiki’s eyes are filling with tears. she looks at you too. and usually, she would apologize for interrupting, but not right now. “nobody at school wants to be around him. he scares everyone, and they don’t believe me when i say that he’s nice.” 

“tsumiki," you begin, face softening, "you shouldn’t—“ 

“that doesn’t make me mean. why would i want to hang out with people who don’t like me?” 

you turn, “megumi—“ 

“they would like you if you weren’t always saying mean things!” tsumiki tells him, her sweet voice rough with frustration. the tears begin to slip from her eyes. 

and you can feel it when megumi moves another inch away, wanting to flinch back from her sadness the same way you do. 

“i don’t want them to like me,” megumi corrects, shaking it off. “i don’t care what they think.” 

tsumiki frowns even deeper, eyes growing wide. “what about what i think?” she asks him.

“are you going to stop hanging out with me?” 

“maybe.” 

“how? we literally live in the same house. your room is down the hall from mine.”

“guys—“ 

“i’ll ask dad to move rooms. he won’t mind.” 

“oh, sure. because you’ll be able to avoid me at the dinner table—“ 

“why are you always—“ 

“guys.” 

they both look to you, glares immensely misplaced. their mouths are still open, ready to interrupt each other at a moment's notice. 

you look between them, finding matching pictures on either side. clearly, they're both upset about something different. and still, you don't really understand, but it doesn't seem like they're going to explain anything further. 

why would they when they can just keep arguing?

you purse your lips, closing your eyes for a moment, trying not to laugh. 

really, if they wanted you to take them seriously they shouldn’t have grown up to be so cute. they shouldn't look like that. 

harsh, angry breaths fill the room as the two of them wait for your instruction. you should probably be able to fix this problem immediately--you could by sending them both to their rooms and forcing them apart--but you'd rather talk this through. 

plus you don't want either of them to think too hard about any of it. you hate it when you fight with satoru and take a break, just to linger in that anger like a quicksand you can’t pull out of. 

“okay,” you say, once there’s a moment of silence. “i know you’re both upset.” 

“i’m not—“ you look at megumi and he stops, little frown on his little face. his cheeks are red in indignation, and he's got clenched fists. you can tell that he wants to say something, maybe to you, maybe to tsumiki, but he won't.

you ruffle his hair. “it’s fine to be upset with each other,” you tell him, looking to tsumiki, her face entirely sad. “but going back and forth isn’t going to solve the problem, okay? and neither is saying anything just to hurt each other's feelings.” 

“but he just—“ you shake your head, wishing with everything in you that you could go get one of satoru’s blindfolds right now. 

it physically hurts to look at them, they're so precious. 

you are a terrible mother for finding this moment slightly amusing. to be fair, you spend far too much time with satoru, and deflection is a family trait. 

you finger tsumiki’s hair, pushing it from her eyes. “should we take a break?” you ask them both. “or do you want to talk about it now?”

“break,” megumi says, immediately.

“talk about it now,” tsumiki answers, at the same time. 

for two people who are so alike, they sure think differently. you want to smile at the very predictable answers but refrain.

“okay…” you pause, thinking. “tsumiki, why don’t you tell us why you’re upset? megumi will do the same, and then we can take a break, or keep going.” 

they both glare at each other. 

“and nothing mean," you add because it feels necessary. 

tsumiki sniffs. “everyone at school says that you’re cruel,” she tells him, a devastating pout on her face. “and i don’t like that. you’re my brother, and i want people to like you like i do.” 

you both look at megumi, waiting. 

he's silent for a moment, processing his sister's words, but then he’s got a scowl on his face. “i don’t care what they think, they’re all stupid anyway—“ 

“megumi.” 

he looks at you, pleading blue eyes. you can see that tsumiki got under his skin, but you shake your head. 

“see?” tsumiki complains, voice high-pitched. “he’s always—“ 

you wipe away a tear, nodding. “i know, sweetie, but it’s his turn. you can go next.”

you turn to megumi, wanting to laugh at his annoyed face. “don’t call your classmates names," you say, giving him a look. "it's your turn. tell tsumiki why you’re upset, megumi.” 

he sighs again, looking towards the floor. he kicks at the hardwood, shaking his head. “i don’t like it when you baby me. i don’t need you to defend me, or try and take care of me at school. i’m fine.” 

tsumiki swallows, not saying anything. 

you look between the two of them, trying to read the complex emotions of your almost-teenagers. unfortunately, they're closed off from you, and you can only guess. 

both of your hands rest on one of their shoulders, squeezing. “do you both want to answer? or should we sit down for a bit? i can make a snack or something. it might be good to cool off." 

you say it mostly for yourself, because, honestly, any second you're going to break. 

the two children look at each other, communicating telepathically, and then they nod.

“you should treat everyone respectfully,” tsumiki says, as an answer. “even if you don’t care what they think, you should still be nice.” 

megumi frowns. “if i don’t want to talk to someone, i shouldn’t have to.” 

“but you just told her to go away. she probably feels bad now, and—“ 

“i don’t even know her," megumi interrupts, brows furrowing. 

okay, so maybe you should've separated them a couple of minutes ago. 

“chiyo's my friend!” 

megumi rolls his eyes. “just because she’s your friend doesn’t mean she has to be mine.” 

“but you were mean.” 

you look between the two of them, megumi annoyed and tsumiki frustrated. 

“okay, kids.” you breathe out, wishing you had a brother to fight with, just so you knew what it felt like. just so you could be a part of this argument. “i know you’re both mad, and you disagree. that’s fine. let’s take some space, breathe, maybe i can—“

“just because you think i was being mean doesn’t mean that i was," megumi blurts out, like he can't hold it in.  

you pause, mouth opening. you're about to say something, but you don't get the chance.

“if everyone doesn’t like you,” tsumiki argues, “then it’s because you’re mean.” 

“maybe they just suck.” 

“they don’t suck. this is—“

and then it all breaks down.

“well well,” satoru peeks his head around the corner, white hair a shock to all three of you. “look who’s falling apart without me.”

you sigh immediately, a hand against your temple. of course he would come in at the worst moment possible. “satoru, please go back out the door. i'm sure you forgot something at the store."

the two kids look at satoru, neither one of them happy to see him. there's a similar fire in their eyes, and you know that if he hadn't shown up they would've continued arguing until you pulled them apart. 

he walks over to you, slinging an arm across your shoulder. his grin is far too self-satisfactory. "what'd you do?" he asks, tapping you. 

"i didn't do anything," you tell him, "leave them alone. they're working it out." 

"by yelling at each other?" 

you push his arm off of you, glaring. "you just walked in at a bad moment--" 

you say something else, telling him to get out again, and satoru laughs back at you, asking if you missed him, and neither of you seems to realize that the two kids are just staring at you.

megumi and tsumiki share a look, like this is a typical occurrence (it is), then shake their heads at the same time, like an echo of each other. 

their faces have cooled, scowls fading as you and satoru bicker. 

tsumiki sighs and megumi scratches the back of his neck, and for a moment, they both avoid each other's eyes. 

but eventually, you and satoru look back at them. 

"i don't want to talk anymore," megumi tells all of you, beginning to walk away. satoru tries to grab the back of his shirt to keep him in place, but megumi just shrugs him off. 

and then he walks down the hallway to his room and closes the door gently, clearly no longer bothered by anything tsumiki said. or maybe too bothered. 

but, you think, at least he didn't slam the door. 

you can recall yourself telling satoru to give him space, to let megumi deal with his emotions as he pleases before you force him back into the spotlight, to apologize or hug tsumiki, or... 

you blink and look back at her. she's still got a small pout on her face, but her eyes have relaxed, as red-rimmed as they are. you know, and tsumiki knows, that she's really just worried about him. trying to protect him in her own, sisterly way. 

and, really, there's not much you can teach her about that. 

so you just smile gently at tsumiki, wiping away some moisture from her face. "just give him a bit, hmm? let him think." 

she sighs but relaxes into your hand for a moment, her shoulders slouching as she gives into defeat. and then tsumiki shrugs at you, agreeing despite herself, and walks over to satoru to give him half of a hug. 

it's not a moment later that she follows megumi and walks down the hall, escaping to her room. you both listen as her door closes.

"wow," satoru whispers, shaking his head. "you did a number on them." 

"they had a fight about school," you say, nudging him. "i had no part in any of it. i just walked in." 

he wraps two arms around the back of your neck, smiling eagerly at you. "so what you're saying is, it isn't your fault?" 

he's mocking himself, and the reoccurring events that happen when you leave him in charge. which you've sworn to never do again, by the way. 

you scoff. "when i get home you've started all the problems," you tell him, shaking your head. "they're fighting because you instigated something." 

"we're communicating." 

"whatever."

satoru quirks a brow at you, eyes just barely visible behind his glasses. "the parenting books aren't doing much for you, are they?" he asks, rhetorically. 

"you realize i caught you with those in your room multiple times right? i know you read them." 

"you'll never prove it," he says, smiling maliciously. 

"and neither will your parenting skills." 

satoru snorts, nudging his nose against yours in an odious way. "clearly, you guys can't last a day without me." 

"it wasn't a day," you argue, shivering at his touch. "more like an hour. you just went to the store..." you pause, tilting your head at him. "and where are the groceries, by the way?" 

satoru looks away, hands tapping on the back of your neck, humming innocently. "oh, i might've... slightly misplaced those." 

"satoru." 

"i got distracted--but it's not my fault. there's a new kakigori shop down the block." 

you look at him blandly. 

satoru, because he cannot be trusted, smiles sweetly at you as he places a peck on your lips, as a sort of apology. 

obviously, you don't return it. not even in the slightest.

satoru hums as he pulls back, already knowing that he's won. "so, i'll just get dinner..." he says, grinning at you. 

you roll your eyes but wrap your hands around his neck, letting a little smile fall across your face. 

*

you and satoru are sitting on the couch when you see megumi creeping down the hall, on his tiptoes, purposefully not looking at the two of you. 

it's been an hour or two, the silence echoing across the house almost a bad omen. 

but you decided not to bother either of them. considering the fact that you still don't know why they were really fighting, or why they didn't just talk about it like they usually would, it seemed like the best option. 

and also, satoru shouldn't be involved in any conflict resolution. he'd probably suggest wrestling it out in the backyard. 

still, as you watch him pass by, you lean away from satoru, your legs completely tangled in his. you stretch your neck to watch him, relying on satoru's hand around your waist to keep you steady, but he's too far down the hall for you to see where he's going. 

but a moment later, you hear him knock on a door, and then a small, quiet voice telling him to come in. 

you relax back against satoru, already grinning proudly. "see? i fixed it." 

satoru laughs, his breath soft against your temple. "you didn't do anything. megumi just felt guilty." 

"well, i taught him that." 

satoru noses the side of your head. "mmm, i'm pretty sure i did." 

"of course you didn't." 

he shakes you a little, as a punishment for your words, but sighs. "what were they fighting about anyway?" 

"megumi was mean to one of tsumiki's friends, i think. i missed... pretty much all of it." 

"who?" 

you frown. "chiyo?" 

satoru snorts a little, and you shift to look at him, raising your brow. "megumi mentioned her."

you turn even more, eyes wide. you poke his cheek with a finger, and then wave for him to continue.  

satoru groans, fingers trailing through your hair. "he said that he overheard some girls talking about 'miki." 

"behind her back?" 

satoru smiles, a bit sadly, nodding. 

"oh." 

"yeah, oh." 

you frown. “what did they say?”

satoru licks his lips, watching your eyes as you concentrate on him. “dunno. megumi wouldn’t tell me.”

you roll your eyes. “of course not,” you say, sighing. “and he didn’t tell her?”

satoru winces. "okay, so… maybe i told him not to,” he whispers, like a confession, voice going a bit high at the end. and then he laughs at your annoyed expression. "what? i didn't want her to get sad." 

you shake your head at him, tsking. 

you could scold him for protecting tsumiki, but you know that you probably would've done the same. 

so you just turn back towards the hallway, resting your head against his shoulder. after a moment, satoru nuzzles himself into your neck, humming against your skin. 

it's a very unpleasant feeling. 

"do you think i should go get them for dinner?" you ask him, quietly. 

"nah," he kisses the side of your neck, looking down the hall with you. "give them a little while." 

and it's about twenty minutes later that the two siblings walk back into the living room, megumi's lip quirked at tsumiki, and tsumiki beaming back.

after all, you and satoru have taught them well. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[glitter-stained]

In which I am perfectly normal about the Todd Family

One thing I really really love about the Todds (their og post-crisis introduction, not the flying todds or whatever bs recent comics have pushed through) is how they challenge us to question not only our classist prejudice and the way it frames our judgment, but also the moral weight we put behind concepts of abuse, neglect or crime.

Look. The Todds weren't "good parents". Maybe they used to be, when he was little; but there was a point after which Willis Todd didn't take care of his son because he simply was not there, and Catherine didn't take care of little Jason, instead parentifying him and putting an extraordinary pressure onto him as her caregiver. They both criminally neglected Jason and Catherine's death under Jason's care must have been pretty traumatic, after which he found himself completely abandoned.

But what does it mean to be a good parent? Is it to be a good person who is also a parent? Is it to be good at parenting skills? Is it to not abuse or neglect your children and provide enrichment and a good environment to grow in? Is it to try your best with what you have, and hope it's enough? Willis became a criminal because he needed money to feed his family and that landed him in jail, unable to care for Jason. Catherine, whether she died of overdose due to her substance use disorder or cancer or ODed as an attempt to self-medicate the cancer pains with heroin, was unable to care for Jason because of an illness (in the US, which has a horrifying medical system which is systematically violent to everyone but the ultra-rich) and had to rely on him for caregiving until her death. Does that mean they were bad people? Bad parents? Was Catherine a bad mom who tried her best, a good mom in an impossible situation, a good person who was neglectful and/or abusive but never wished to be? Does the concept of good parenting even make sense? Here's a secret about abuse: abusive parents very rarely wish to be. They often don't consider themselves so, explain their actions with justifications regarding their intent to give their child the weapons for a better life, or explain away the responsibility. But they're not wrong: if you're raised in a culture that tells you that beating your children is the way to help them get a better future, it's justified to blame and criticise the culture that told you this, and can you really be called a bad parent when you were only trying to help? Neglect is more frequent amongst the working class, and that statistics is neither a moral judgement nor a classist stereotype: it's merely the logical consequence of a system that fabricates scarcity. Of course you're not gonna feed your child if you don't have the money to feed them -and if you need to feed them and steal the money (or earn it by working as a gangster) to do so, it's a crime, and then you get caught and get sent to jail and can't feed your child anymore. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Jason, upon his introduction, is a stereotypical "bad boy", a young criminal, who steals and doesn't go to school. And tiny baby Jason, from his twelve years and three apple tall, sneers in the face of anticipated moral judgement and says fuck that you don't get to say that, I'm only doing what I need to survive and there's nothing wrong with it, I didn't have any other option that wasn't degrading and dehumanizing. And this is why I like Batman #408 so much: this character, who is so young and funny and cute and goddamn sweet, is introduced committing a crime against Batman; as an alternative to doing crime, Bruce puts him in a school/group home that teaches its students to do crime. How perfectly cool that is as an origin story? It's a literal school that makes criminals (and punishes you violently when you refuse to comply). Bruce was completely well-intentioned, he just wanted to help a wayward child, but when the system itself is fucked up, when the system is actively trying to produce crime, what option does Jason have but to escape again, and go right back to committing the same literal crime? And of course, Jason's trust in Batman-the system-the adults- is broken, to the point where he doesn't expect Batman to believe him and intervenes at the robbery himself.

So is Jason a criminal? Are the Todds neglectful? Yes. Does that make him a bad kid? Does that make them bad people? What about bad parents? How much easier is it to be a good parent, when you have the money to do so?

Anyway I love the Todd family I love the themes and critique they pose I love Ma'Gunn both as Batman's foil and Jason's introductory antagonist I wish Jason's Robin Run carried on exploring these themes I love you Catherine and Willis and Jason Todd I love you Batman #408.

[dweetwise]

[Vittorio X Ace] Language barrier

I've had this fic sitting in my drafts for one and a half years and finally got around to finishing it. I hope you like it 💕 Rated T | 6k words | ao3 link

Ace was whistling as he walked back from another successful trial.

The fully-stocked ranger medkit felt heavy in his hand and he couldn't wait to show off his latest haul. And people said looting chests was a waste of time!

When he approached the familiar glow of the survivors' campfire, however, there was no welcome committee to greet Ace after his spectacular escape from the Spirit's clutches. Instead, everyone was gathered around one of the logs, their postures tense and voices raised.

Ace frowned. Another fight? Damn, he really couldn't leave these people alone for five minutes.

Ace took a breath and steeled himself for facing the ire of whoever was responsible for the commotion this time.

"Children, children!" Ace exclaimed. "There's no need to fight: I love you all equally!"

Predictably, that got most people to shut up and two dozen heads whipped around to look at Ace.

But instead of the eye rolls or disgusted scoffs Ace expected, the survivors looked…relieved?

"Oh, thank god," Élodie sighed. "You're finally here."

Ace arched an eyebrow. The crowd started dispersing, like they had actually been waiting for Ace's arrival instead of being perpetually annoyed by his existence like usual, and Ace felt another tacky joke bubbling up—

And then he saw him.

The man was tall. He was muscular and tattooed, with silver hair and a calcularing stare, standing in the middle of the survivor campsite with his arms crossed over his broad chest. His leather jacket creaked from the movement, bulging biceps straining the material.

"Ace," Élodie said, grabbing his arm firmly. "We need your help."

Ace felt a smirk forming. "He's for me? Oh, Élodie, you shouldn't have."

Strangely enough, the new guy neither laughed nor sneered at Ace's remark. In fact, he didn't react in any way whatsoever, which was a little unnerving.

"Not the time," Élodie hissed. "He just got here, and he only speaks Italian. Please tell me you weren't lying when you bragged about being fluent in seven languages?"

Oh; that would explain the mild panic of his friends and utter indifference to Ace's charms from the stranger.

"Italian?" Ace grinned and shook off the woman's hold. "Say no more!"

He sauntered up to the new guy—shoving the medkit in a clueless Dwight's arms as he passed—and put on his friendliest smile.

"Ciao, stranger," Ace said, effortlessly switching to one of the four—not seven—languages he spoke. "I heard you could use some assistance?"

The scowl finally disappeared from that handsome face as the man perked up in recognition.

"I would be much obliged," Mr. sex-on-legs said.

And that was how Ace was roped in to play translator between the rest of the group and their newest arrival.

The man introduced himself as Vittorio Toscano: because of course, even his name was attractive.

Vittorio had apparently been wandering the fog a long time before finding his way here. This was only validated by the fact that he didn't seem at all phased when Ace—at the others' insistence—went over the basic “sorry you were kidnapped by some Lovecraftian god and are now gonna be hunted for sport for its amusement.”

"That doesn't exactly surprise me," Vittorio said. "After the things the fog has shown me…well, I concluded as much."

Ace should probably have been more curious about the…fog visions, or connections to the Entity, or whatever else Zarina and the others were screaming in his ear about once he translated that piece of information for them.

But he had a hunch. And after a lifetime of relying on it to survive, Ace's intuition was usually pretty good.

"So where exactly are you from? Before you got taken?" Ace asked.

"Gordega, Italy," Vittorio said. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry. I used to be a well-read man and be better at languages, but after so long, most of the knowledge has faded."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Any of these people would tell you there's little I enjoy as much as running my mouth—and now there's actually someone who listens!"

"Nevertheless, I appreciate the help." Vittorio glanced around at the group still gathered around them, patiently waiting for new information. "So ask away. I know you all have questions."

"Yeah, speaking of…" Ace said. "When are you from?"

Vittorio smiled ruefully. "1391."

Though Ace had suspected it was coming, the admission still took him by surprise. Here this man was, looking like he’d jumped right out of some modern alternative fashion spread, casually telling Ace that he was actually over six hundred years old.

And the weirdest part was that Ace believed him.

"What? What did he say?" Meg bounced restlessly in her seat. 

Because Ace being stunned speechless was actually a little worrying, all things considered. He didn't even know how to begin to convince the others of Vittorio's past.

"Thirteen…" Jonah spoke up. "The 14th century!?"

But fortunately, Ace didn't need to. Because while Italian and Spanish were different languages, there were enough similarities for certain math nerds to understand numbers.

"What!?" Élodie exclaimed, then looked at Ace for confirmation.

"Yeah, uh," Ace said. "Our new friend seems to be of the vintage variety."

That was when the arguing started again.

And after the shouting matches were done, when Yui was glaring at Vittorio and ordering Ace to “tell him we don't trust him”…

Ace only smiled at the new survivor and said, "She says she's jealous of your stylish outfit."

Vittorio huffed a dry chuckle. "Is that so?"

Ace was happy to learn that sarcasm apparently existed in the 1300's.

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

Unsurprisingly, Ace ended up talking to Vittorio a lot over the next few days.

Yes, there was the shared language. Yes, Vittorio was ridiculously attractive. Yes, everyone was still harassing Ace about using their new time capsule friend to find out more about the Entity and the fog.

But more than that, this was the most interesting thing to happen in the entire six years Ace had been stuck here.

The others weren't thrilled that Ace used most of his time simply getting to know the guy, whether that was blabbering on about his family's Italian roots or bugging Vittorio for fashion advice.

"So you picked up all the accessories in the fog too?" Ace asked. "Pierced your own ears, cut your hair, the whole thing? Damn, and here I've had the same haircut for six years."

"I suppose I could try a different style," Vittorio said, fiddling with one of his necklaces. "Maybe the jewelry and neckline is too much for someone of your time?"

"Don't you dare change anything," Ace said. "Have you seen some of the atrocities the others wear? You'll be dressing like an elf or rocking fedoras if you try to copy us."

Vittorio huffed out an almost-laugh at that. Tactfully, he didn't comment on Ace's flamingo sweater.

"What about you?" Vittorio asked.

"What about me?" Ace grinned. "I mean, my uncontested status as a fashion icon notwithstanding…"

"You seem content to talk about the past," Vittorio said. "But I'm curious about the future. What was your life like before the Entity?"

Ace's smile only widened. "Tell me, my friend, did you have poker in 1300?"

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

It was easy to befriend Vittorio. 

Ace never would have guessed someone from that era to be so open-minded when even people in the 21st century had plenty of prejudices.

But Vittorio was happy to prove him wrong. It was amazing how easily he kept up with Ace's banter and picked up on concepts previously foreign him. Ace chalked some of it up to the man's calm disposition and interesting life both before and after falling into the Entity's clutches, but more than anything, Vittorio was just that goddamn smart.

Still, six centuries in the fog didn't come without baggage.

"I've seen them," Vittorio said one day, his voice quiet and eyes distant. 

He was staring at a group of girls sorting bandages: Claudette was giggling and Yui was rolling her eyes while Nea talked animatedly with her hands and messed up the bandages.

"Yeah?" Ace asked. "In trials? You've met them before?"

"In the visions," Vittorio clarified.

Because apparently, that was a thing. This group of survivors wasn't the first one Vittorio had come across, though the timeline and his memories were hazy.

But in between centuries of sporadic trials, Vittorio had spent most of his time wandering the fog, not confined to a campfire like the rest of them. He'd told Ace that he used to be obsessed with people called the watchers—or observers, or something—so Ace supposed it made sense that he'd been on his way to becoming one.

"I saw one of the girls get chased by sirens and flashing lights," Vittorio said, still looking at the trio. "And one crying on her birthday, before her father made her smile again. And the Japanese one I saw in the future, far away, and she was killing…she killed them all."

Vittorio's eyes were starting to look vacant. But it was only when the tattoo on his neck started glowing that Ace decided to intervene.

"Hey," Ace said, putting a hand on Vittorio's shoulder. "It's okay. Parallel universe, right? No biggie."

"You're right,'' Vittorio said. When he looked back at Yui, he seemed a little more relaxed. "I've seen how she is. She values loyalty above all else; she's not a murderer."

Suddenly, Ace almost wanted to ask if Vittorio had seen him in any visions.

"I never wanted this," Vittorio continued, so quietly Ace didn't know if it was meant for him to hear. "All I ever wanted was peace. To help the world."

"I don't think world peace is a one man job," Ace joked. "But it's a nice sentiment."

Vittorio's smile was melancholy. "At least I can try to make things better here and help as much as I can."

Coming from anyone else, Ace would have rolled his eyes and asked Dwight to calm down with the team-building speeches. But this was a man who had been doing this for hundreds of years and, somehow, still kept on hoping and earnestly helping others.

"Well," Ace said. "You're at least helping by keeping me entertained. And trust me, that's more important than you'd think. There've been flashlight duels and misuse of murky reagents—and a few explosions—when I got bored."

It probably wasn't the kind of world-saving heroics Vittorio was aiming for, but this time, his smile was genuine enough to reach his eyes.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised."

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

Trials came and went and Vittorio settled more firmly into their group dynamic.

It was strange, having a new teammate who wasn't exactly new. Vittorio had more experience in trials than most of them combined, and after the initial hiccups—mostly consisting of Chinese cursing and “Stop wasting gen efficiency, you fucking fossil!”—Vittorio proved to be a valuable asset against any killer.

"Watch out!" Vittorio hissed, suddenly pulling Ace away from the generator they were working on.

Ace stumbled after him, shooting a confused glance over his shoulder to where the green orb of the Knight's phantom passed their generator by probably forty feet.

"It's okay," Ace said. "He missed the gen. We can keep working."

"No," Vittorio insisted. "That's the jailer. He's an expert at tracking."

Ace dubiously watched as the phantom phased into existence far from the generator. He immediately started down the path his master had determined for him, not even looking at the generator…

Until he came across Ace's muddy footprints from before.

Ace watched the guard change course and follow the trail to the generator. He peered behind the machine and looked around, and Ace was suddenly very glad for Vittorio's foresight to quietly sneak them away. Because the guard found nothing and returned to his path, and Ace avoided what would otherwise have been a nasty burn from that branding iron.

"Huh," Ace said. "That was pretty impressive foresight, not gonna lie."

Vittorio huffed. "One of the few good things to come from being acquainted with Tarhos and his followers, I suppose." 

"Oh, right," Ace said. "I forgot you used to know these guys."

It was bizarre to think that Vittorio was from the same time as the killer with platemail armor. While Vittorio had been seeking knowledge all these centuries, the Knight had apparently been content with slicing people up with his little posse.

"Come, now," Vittorio said. "It should be safe."

Vittorio nudged him back towards the generator and only then did Ace realize that he'd been holding onto Ace's arm this entire time.

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

"Must've been lonely, all those centuries on your own," Ace said over a game of cards. "And here I thought a few years of celibacy was bad."

"It never felt like hundreds of years for me," Vittorio said. "But time does pass differently here."

"Still, there's gotta be more interesting stuff for you to do than hang around an old geezer like me."

Vittorio snorted. "If you're old, that would make me ancient."

"Doesn't stop Kate and Jane from checking you out," Ace said. "And unless your monk training required a chastity vow or something, I'm pretty sure body language is universal."

Ace waggled his eyebrows and threw in a wink for good measure. If Vittorio was offended by his matchmaking attempt, he at least didn't show it.

"I'm a philosopher, not a monk," Vittorio explained patiently. "Regardless, I always valued intellectual compatibility above all else. Which is difficult to achieve if there's no way to even communicate."

Ace shoved down the disappointment. If he'd been entertaining any sort of romantic-slash-sexual angle with Vittorio, those thoughts were definitely dwindling with the requirement of intellectual compatibility.

"Damn, it's a shame Claud doesn't speak Italian," Ace said. "She's wicked smart. You'd probably get on great."

Vittorio hummed and adjusted the cards in his hands. "I mostly gave up on romance after my first and last bed partner turned on me and now kills me on a daily basis."

Ace's brain did the equivalent of a record screech. "What!?"

"Tarhos," Vittorio said, his face neutral like he was discussing the weather. "I told you, he used to be my bodyguard—among other things."

Ace could only stare at his friend and try not to gape like a fish as he pieced together this new information.

Logically, Ace knew that same-sex attraction had existed since the dawn of time—hello, ancient Greece—but he never actually expected Vittorio would be interested in men; or at the very least, not admit it so casually.

"You're shitting me, right?" Ace said.

Vittorio gave a one-shoulder shrug. "There's nothing for me to gain by lying."

As he said it, Vittorio met Ace's eyes with something akin to a smirk.

"Speaking of, were you planning on putting back those two extra cards you took last round?" Vittorio asked. "Because I may not know much about this game, but I'm almost certain that's against the rules."

And Ace could only laugh somewhat hysterically before attempting to explain his little card maneuver as a legitimate strategy, all the while recovering from the absolute whiplash of the last few minutes.

Because, yes, Ace still found Vittorio hot: that little fact hadn't changed just because they were friends now. Vittorio still looked like someone had taken David's muscles, Felix's face and Jeff's rugged charm and mashed them into Ace's ultimate wet dream.

But he never thought anything would come of it. The guy was from a completely different time, was only talking to Ace because that was his only option for company, and had probably seen enough shit for a hundred lifetimes.

And now, he was learning that there might be a chance after all?

No matter how small that chance was, Ace had to take it.

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

"So, I've been meaning to ask," Ace said a few days later.

Vittorio paused in stocking a toolbox, immediately giving Ace his full attention. "Yes?"

And looking at that handsome face and those deep green eyes staring so earnestly into Ace's own…

Ace chickened out. 

"What's that tattoo on your neck?" Ace asked. "The one that lights up like a glowstick when you go all…observer-y."

"Oh." Was Ace imagining it, or did Vittorio sound disappointed? "It's… well, it's probably easiest if I show you."

With that, Vittorio shrugged out of his jacket and reached for the hem of his shirt, and Ace only had enough mental capacity to swallow an embarrassing noise. He glanced around in alarm: they were right by the campfire, with a dozen or so people milling about and Christ, anyone could see the impromptu strip show!

Someone gasped across the campsite and when Ace finally turned to look, he almost wanted to do the same.

Vittorio was covered in tattoos. From his neckline all the way down to his waist, tattoos in various shapes and colors took up the majority of his muscular torso. Most of them were symbols or writing Ace couldn't understand—but then again, he didn't know what he expected from a medieval philosopher.

"How…?" Ace managed to get out.

"I did most of these by myself," Vittorio said. He brushed over a row of what looked like runes on his forearm. "When I was locked in the dungeon, I marked myself with every ancient symbol and passage I could remember. It's how I got the Entity's attention, and what lets me channel energy in trials."

For the second time in just a few days, Ace was rendered speechless. He had seen Vittorio use some sort of portals on generators, but other than Feng's complaints, none of the survivors had been keen to learn more about it.

The longer they were silent, the more Ace could feel people staring. Some of the others were already whispering, but in the end, only one person dared to approach.

"Hi," Mikaela said, finally snapping Ace out of it.

"Hello, beautiful!" Ace's poor, frazzled brain automatically resorted to flirting.

"Those symbols…" Mikaela reached her hand out, hovering above Vittorio's chest. "Can I…?"

Ace had half a mind to tell her to get her own half-naked, medieval hunk. But before he could, the woman's hand started glowing.

"Whoa," Ace said. "Easy there, Red."

"Ask him to channel the power," Mikaela said. "There's—I can feel the potential of the magic, but I can't reach it."

"Reach what?" Ace said. He trusted Mikaela, he really did, but if there was a chance of her witchiness hurting Vittorio… "What are you doing?"

It was an unnerving sight, seeing Vittorio's tattoos and Mikaela's hand both glow the same unnatural blue. The lights were pulsing in tandem, almost like a heartbeat, but Vittorio only watched the sight curiously.

"There's so much knowledge in his magic," Mikaela said. "We just need to unlock it."

"Ace?" Vittorio asked. He still looked as calm as ever. "What is she saying?"

Ace swallowed and stamped down on his own worry-slash-jealousy.

"She said to channel your magic—uh, like when you're doing the observer thing, I guess." Ace frowned. "But you don't have to."

Vittorio looked back at Mikaela, and then he nodded.

"Good," Mikaela said. "I'll try to amplify the magic. Ready?"

"Now, hold on just a minute—" Ace tried.

"It's alright," Vittorio said. "I want to try this."

Ace sighed and stepped back, giving the duo some space.

"I swear, if you break him…" he told Mikaela.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Please just stay out of the way."

And that was apparently all the warning Ace got, because as Vittorio closed his eyes, the glow that resulted from his and Mikaela's shared magicking was bright enough to nearly blind him.

Ace shielded his eyes from the flash of light and heard many curses and yelps as others did the same.

"What the fuck!?" Nea exclaimed.

"Ugh, my eyes!" Steve complained.

"Is everyone okay?" Jane asked. "Mikaela? Vittorio?"

"We're fine," said a familiar deep voice.

A very familiar voice that was no longer speaking in Italian.

Ace blinked the light from his eyes, only to see his friends seemingly unharmed—save for the fact that Vittorio's eyes were glowing blue.

"I assume it worked?" Mikaela asked.

Vittorio smiled. "I'd say so, yes."

Ace could only gape stupidly. From everything he had expected Mikaela's little spiritual session to include, making Vittorio a fluent English-speaker wasn't part of it.

The others cheered and swarmed the man, now free to talk to him without Ace's interference, and Ace's heart sank to his stomach.

He should have been happy for his friend. This would make things much easier in trials and do wonders for the survivors as a team, not to mention vastly improve Vittorio's quality of life since he was no longer restricted to one person as his entire social circle.

So why was Ace so disappointed?

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

A few hours later, footsteps approached Ace at the edge of camp—where he was absolutely not sulking away from the group, thankyouverymuch—and it was a small surprise to see Vittorio flop down next to him. 

Ace glanced over. Vittorio was usually more graceful, but this time he just sort of…crumpled to the ground, heaving a sigh as he dragged a hand down his face.

Clearly, he wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, but they both knew it had to be done.

Instead of friend-dumping Ace, however, Vittorio merely propped one of his arms up on a nearby log and looked at Ace with a smile: a small, tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

“Ciao,” Vittorio said.

Ace just stared at him. The way Vittorio was leaning against the log, arm casually draped over it with the rest of his body on display and an easy smile on his face made him look like something out of the magazines Ace used to steal and hide under his pillow when he was a teenager, until his father found them and…

Yeah, okay, not going there.

“How's it going?” Ace asked.

Vittorio frowned. “Why are you speaking English?”

Ace shrugged. “No use trying to talk in code when everyone’s gonna understand every word you say regardless.” He averted his eyes and kicked at a pebble on the ground. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you get back to them? I’m sure they’re all dying to talk to you.”

It wasn’t a lie: he could feel several pairs of eyes lingering on them and probably anxiously awaiting their turn to talk to Vittorio.

Vittorio huffed. “Have you considered the possibility that maybe I don’t want to speak to thirty people at once?”

When Ace’s response was only a skeptical look, he continued, “The magic requires conscious effort to keep active and getting to know this many new people at once is exhausting. I’d much rather keep it to short intervals and spend the rest of my time with you.”

Ace couldn’t stop the smile from creeping up on his face. Switching back to their shared language, he said, "Well, in that case, I guess I'm all yours.”

It was seemingly just another cheesy line and, hopefully, Vittorio wouldn’t realize how much Ace truly meant it.

Vittorio just frowned, then said softly, “I saw you, you know.”

“I wasn’t moping,” Ace reflexively lied.

Vittorio huffed a quiet laugh and shook his head in what seemed like fond exasperation—his default mood when it came to being around Ace, really.

“In a vision,” Vittorio clarified.

“What, just now?” Ace asked.

“No,” Vittorio said. “A very long time ago. It was from one of your stories: the one where you challenged the female fighter for a bet. It’s one of the first visions I remember having in the fog.”

“Oh,” Ace said, then promptly cleared his throat as realization set in. “Damn, that's the memory you saw? I've had more glamorous moments in my life, you know.”

At least it wasn't Ace’s secret gay porn stash or any of the numerous loan sharks threatening him.

“I wasn’t sure it was you at first,” Vittorio kept going. “It was such a long time ago and I didn’t remember all the details; I didn’t know much about the future back then. And even when I thought I recognized you, you didn’t seem at all like a violent person. I assumed it could have been…” he trailed off.

“A dark universe?” Ace suggested.

“Yes. But after getting to know you and learning how reckless you are, not to mention your stupidly proud smile whenever you tell the story—”

“Hey! It's a good story!”

Vittorio smiled. “I can see that it was definitely you.”

“Well, yeah.” Ace cleared his throat and averted his eyes from the sincere smile. “I’m glad you remembered. I think?”

“It’s strange,” Vittorio continued, “how much calmer I felt as soon as I recognized you when I first came to this campfire. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner—that was dishonest of me.”

“Uh, no, it’s all good,” Ace said. “It was probably a confusing situation. It’s not like you could have known you’d stay with our gang for this long.”

“That’s not true,” Vittorio protested gently. “Arriving here was different from all the other places I’ve come across in the fog. It feels like I know these people.” 

He cast a glance over the survivor campsite where everyone had mostly returned to their usual tasks of sorting items and talking shit about killers. 

Vittorio looked back up to meet Ace’s eyes and said, “Like after centuries of wandering, I’ve finally found the place where I belong.”

Ace kept telling himself it didn’t mean anything.

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

Ace sighed and clutched the apology medkit in his hand.

He and Vittorio had had their first fight. The Deathslinger had been a little too happy to focus his attention on the new survivor and Ace had the brilliant idea to take a couple harpoons to the chest to buy Vittorio at least a few seconds to make distance from the killer.

Unfortunately, it had ended in all of them dead. And after Jane lectured Ace's ear off about ignoring generators, Vittorio had actually raised his voice for the first time and yelled at Ace for intervening in his trial.

And maybe Ace had snapped something vaguely sarcastic back, and that hadn't gone over well, and eventually Vittorio's kind eyes had hardened into a glare and he'd stormed off.

Thus, the apology medkit.

Ace eventually found Vittorio in the woods surrounding the campfire, standing by a small lake and looking out over the still water.

"Hey," Ace said, then hurried to add, "Don't worry, I come bearing gifts."

He held out the medkit. Vittorio simply stared down at it.

Then, Vittorio sighed and dragged a hand down his own face. "I'm sorry."

Ace blinked stupidly. "Uh, I'm pretty sure that's my line."

"I haven't lost my temper like that since…I don't even remember."

Since Vittorio didn’t seem interested in his bribe—ahem, peace offering—Ace made the executive decision to toss the medkit on the ground.

"Well," Ace said. "I am pretty good at getting on people's nerves."

Vittorio smiled at him. "You're also very good at calming people down."

Ace shrugged. "Eh, jury’s still out on that one. Still, I’m sorry too."

"Don't be. You…your actions made me realize something."

Ace swallowed the automatic quip of “That I'm a dumbass?” and forced himself to be serious for once in his life.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Vittorio hesitated, then took a pointed step closer, making Ace realize just how much distance there had been between them. Assuming Vittorio was pissed at him, Ace had unconsciously kept him at arm’s length—but that didn’t seem to sit well with either of them.

Because now that Ace thought about it, Vittorio always seemed to hover in Ace’s space. He’d brush a hand over Ace’s back when passing him, sit close enough that their knees bumped when they relaxed by the campfire, and lean on Ace’s shoulder for support while he wheezed at Ace’s jokes that he swore he didn’t find funny. 

Ace had simply assumed it was a cultural thing: Mediterranean people and Latin Americans were both a little touchy-feely. But now he was starting to question the seemingly platonic gestures.

Vittorio’s brow furrowed while he studied Ace—probably concerned about the fact that Ace had gone a good two minutes without so much as a joke or sarcastic eyebrow raise—before he finally spoke.

“I’m not very good at this sort of thing,” Vittorio admitted. “I’m not sure how to be any clearer, and you are impossible to read…” he trailed off and fidgeted, actually appearing uncertain.

That was on opening if Ace ever saw one.

“Like I said the other day.” Ace grinned and took a step closer. “Body language.”

He tilted his head up and gently grabbed a handful of Vittorio’s shirt to pull him closer, giving the man his best seductive smile.

…Except instead of sweeping Ace off his feet and kissing him silly, Vittorio’s eyes went wide and he froze completely under Ace’s touch.

Ace immediately pushed himself off. “Shit. My bad!” He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture he desperately hoped looked casual. “I read that completely wrong. Sorry about that.”

Ace could almost physically feel the hit his confidence was taking from the rejection. He really had to stop thinking with his dick before he ruined what had become one of the best friendships he’d ever had.

A warm hand grabbed Ace’s wrist and stopped him from fretting with his hair.

Vittorio was smiling, his eyes now fond. “You just took me by surprise.” He huffed. “Apparently, things have changed somewhat in the last six centuries.”

Ace’s smile returned. “Oh yeah? Was kissing about a date twenty type of thing?” he bantered along. “You never thought to peep on those kinds of things in the future?”

“I can't exactly choose what visions I see,” Vittorio protested, though his face pinked as he blushed.

It was a pretty blush and Ace wanted about fifty more of it, please and thank you.

“Then maybe you should show me how you did it in the olden days,” Ace challenged with a wicked smirk.

In response, Vittorio raised their joined hands to his mouth—all the while keeping eye contact—and gently kissed the inside of Ace’s wrist.

“Oh.” Ace’s voice cracked on the word but dammit, that was really nice.

“Would you believe me,” Vittorio said, lowering their hands to properly intertwine their fingers, “if I said that things were much more crude back then than they are now?”

Ace perked up. “Really now?”

Vittorio chuckled at his obvious eagerness. “But this isn't the 1300st century,” he continued, cupping Ace’s jaw with his other hand. “And I can adapt.”

“In my humble opinion, it sounds like a compromise would be in order—”

Vittorio decided to shut him up with a kiss and Ace’s witty response—along with most of his coherent thoughts—promptly fizzled out into nothing.

Vittorio’s beard rasped pleasantly against Ace’s own and, wow, Ace was really kissing someone who hadn’t been kissed in several hundred years. No matter how much Vittorio had tried to play off his need for intimacy, he was clearly desperate for this and very much into it, his lips a little sloppy and his hand tightly clutching Ace’s.

It was flattering, really.

Ace was completely on board and gave as good as he got, clinging to Vittorio’s jacket and standing up on the balls of his feet to press even closer, kiss even harder. He experimentally flicked his tongue over Vittorio’s bottom lip and his effort earned him a quiet moan that shot straight to his groin.

When Vittorio finally pulled away, his breathing was heavier and he was blushing in earnest, pink coloring his cheeks all the way to his ears.

It made him look somehow even more handsome than usual.

Vittorio smiled down at Ace. “That was nice,” he murmured softly.

“Worth waiting six centuries for?” Ace quipped.

Vittorio laughed and warm pride spread through Ace’s body. Vittorio looked so utterly happy here, in this moment of quiet closeness and shared jokes, and Ace wanted to keep making him smile and laugh and blush for many years to come.

Vittorio leaned back down, then murmured against Ace’s lips. “Worth every single year.”

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

It was easy after that.

Ace strolled back into camp after a trial and found Vittorio propped up against one of the logs, his legs sprawled out on the ground in that effortlessly attractive way he always carried himself. He held a book with some weird symbols carved on the cover—one of Mikaela's spell tomes, if Ace had to guess—and his eyes were glowing blue as he translated the text in his mind's eye or whatever.

Ace immediately flopped down next to him with a dramatic sigh, leaning into Vittorio’s side and letting his head rest on a muscular shoulder.

“Damn, your friend really had it out for me,” Ace complained. “That assassin phantom, the one who can outrun us? Somehow always managed to find me when I was injured. I want to file a harassment complaint.”

Vittorio hummed in acknowledgement and the corner of his mouth quirked up. He kept reading but snaked his hand around Ace’s shoulders and gently massaged the spot where Ace had been repeatedly pierced through with a meat hook.

Ace sighed happily and leaned into the touch, his eyes sliding shut as he relaxed from the soft affection.

He could hear murmurs around the campfire: some people had been quite surprised about this turn of events when they shared the news, others had said "told you so", and a few thousand bloodpoints had even exchanged hands.

Ace tuned them all out but he knew people were staring. Here Ace was, casually leaning against his gorgeous, 600-something-old boyfriend, one who was currently glowing blue and magically translating a foreign language, and who would periodically get visions of the future or alternate dimensions.

Yeah, it was a little weird.

There was a laugh from behind them and Ace perked up in anticipation of the newest gossip, but slumped back down in defeat once he heard Élodie go on in French.

“Did you know that Élodie and the architect are dating?” Vittorio asked.

Ace gawked at him. “What?!”

“For quite some time now, apparently,” Vittorio said, still seemingly engrossed in his book but apparently eavesdropping at the same time. “Hm. It's a wonder nobody has noticed.”

“You can…you've learned to…” Ace stammered.

“Translate any language, yes.” Vittorio turned to him and smirked. “Do you think I should tell the others?”

So, maybe his boyfriend had a few voyeuristic tendencies Ace probably should be concerned about.

But then again, Ace was a huge gossip, so maybe it was meant to be.

“Oh hell no.” Ace grinned and leaned closer, draping himself against Vittorio’s side. “This is our little secret and we'll reveal it when they least expect it. Like one of those times when Feng is cursing me out in Mandarin, you can interrupt her with ‘Actually, Ace's mother is a lovely woman, and secondly I'm not about to let him shove a whole flashlight up his—’”

“Alright, alright.” Vittorio chuckled, nudging Ace to shut him up. He lowered his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Our secret.”

Ace’s heart soared and he didn’t even hesitate before pulling Vittorio into a kiss in full view of the others.

He hadn’t been this happy in years and nobody—not even their so-called friends making gagging noises in the background or Vittorio’s murderous ex stabbing him repeatedly—could take this away from him.

[jamespottersmixtape]

september 6: heat 1,974 words @rosekiller-microfic

Barty and Evan finally go on a (not) date to the fair. They're so cute I hate them.

It isn't that Barty is nervous. No, very much the opposite. He's perfectly calm and composed about this whole ordeal.

He definitely hasn't spent the last 2 hours digging through his closet, panicking over what to wear on his date with Evan.

No.

Not a date.

Very much not a date, as he's struggling to remind himself. Just Evan, his friend Evan, who asked him to go to the local fair yesterday because, "It'll be fun!" he'd told Barty. "We can go on rides and eat fried food until we throw up next to someone's screaming kid."

And who was Barty to deny him that? Not when Evan's eyes had shone so brightly at the prospect, a lovely grin plastered on his freckled face.

The thing is, Barty knows this doesn't mean to Evan what it means to him. He knows this is just another way for them to fuck around and have fun for a night, which would be fine—amazing, even—if it weren't for the fact that Barty's practically been in love with him for the past 3 years.

Ever since they were 16 Barty's heart had raced a little faster and his cheeks flushed a little more whenever Evan got too close. It was inevitable that he fell for him—set in stone. Further and further, faster and faster each and every day.

But that's not important right now.

What is important is the harsh realization that Evan will be standing on Barty's doorstep in 5 minutes and he's just managed to get his shit together and pull on an outfit he deems acceptable.

He tries telling himself it doesn't matter what he's wearing. It's not like he'd be idiotic enough to try and impress Evan...maybe.

Maybe not.

Barty shoves on his best pair of shoes and grabs his wallet as fast as possible before wrenching open his front door to find Evan, his hand raised as if he were about to knock.

Barty's breath catches in his throat at the sight of him. Evan is wearing the forest green jumper Barty bought him for his last birthday and the dark hue brings out every strand of gold in his blonde hair. He looks fucking gorgeous.

Barty clears his throat. There's no time for this. "Beat you," he grins down at him.

"You were staring, B." Evan grins back, but his eyes hold a similar intensity that makes Barty's stomach squirm.

"Was not."

"It's okay, I know I'm pretty," he jokes.

"There was a bug in your hair."

Evan sighs. "Come on," he rolls his eyes and tugs Barty out of his flat by his shirt.

Barty doesn't miss the way Evan checks his hair in the car.

—

The fair is loud, is the first thing Barty notices when they finish paying for their tickets. There are children screaming and laughing, tired parents at their wits end, and a scatter of couples trying hard to win prizes at game booths. The lights are bright and colorful against the setting sun—it's all a lot to take in.

Barty looks over at Evan to find him grinning wildly, life and excitement clear in his wandering eyes, and decides then and there that he would do just about anything to keep that look on his face.

He nudges Evan with his shoulder. "What's first Ev?"

Evan shoots him a wicked smirk, his features sharp in the blinking lights yet soft in the glow of the sunset. He doesn't give Barty a response, just laces their fingers together and drags them towards the row of games.

Barty isn't sure what to do—isn't sure what he can do now that Evan's hand is clasped tightly around his own. Warm and steady, grounding him to the earth.

He doesn't want him to let go.

To Barty's delighted surprise, he doesn't.

Evan's hand soon becomes a comforting presence in his own, neither of them unlacing their fingers even as they try to pop balloons and play ring toss, Evan failing miserably as he attempts to utilize his non-dominant hand. They spin lucky wheels and manage to break the claw machine which earns them a dirty glare from a teenage employee who they quickly run away from, laughing loudly into the night.

At some point well after the sun has set and they'd gone on at least three ridiculously fast rides, Barty buys them a bag of cotton candy to share and Evan steers them to the ferris wheel.

"Didn't strike you for a ferris wheel kinda guy Ev," Barty muses, squeezing his hand lightly. Both their hands are getting a bit sweaty but Barty can't find it in himself to mind, he's enjoying this far too much.

Besides, if Evan wanted to let go he would've. Right?

"I dunno," Evan shrugs. "I thought it might be fun." He looks worried, Barty thinks as Evan's brows knit together, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth.

Barty nudges him with his elbow. "Hey." Evan looks up at him. "I never said it wouldn't be. Besides, I think I might actually fucking retch if we go on anything fast right now."

Evan laughs, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "I'd pay money to see that."

"Of course you would, asshole." Barty shoves a piece of cotton candy in his mouth before he can get another word out.

They board the ferris wheel in comfortable silence, their hands never parting, and it's only when they begin moving that Evan finally breaks the silence.

"I've been thinking..."

Barty turns his head to look at him, waiting for the end of his sentence that never seems to come. Evan's brows are creased again and Barty has the sudden urge to smooth out the wrinkle on his forehead.

Which, no.

He cannot do that.

"Hmm?" Barty urges, not wanting to push whatever is clearly plaguing him.

Evan huffs a soft laugh but it sounds strained, his smile tight. "Nothing, nothing. Forget it, B."

"You can't tell me to forget it, I wanna know now," Barty whines. He shifts in the small seat so his torso is facing Evan's, their knees knocking together. The ferris wheel continues to move slowly, stopping every now and then to allow the exchange of passengers.

"It's not a big deal or anything. I've just—well I've—been thinking about...us?" The last word comes out as a question but Barty has to run his sentence through his head a few times, not quite sure what to make of it.

Did he hear that correctly?

"Us?" he asks, his voice embarrassingly small in the quiet that comes from being up so high.

"I don't know, B," Evan runs a hand over his face. "Fuck how do people do this?"

Barty laughs, a little uneasily as his stomach twists itself inside out. "Do what?"

"Do..." but Evan doesn't finish his sentence. His eyes meet Barty's and he swears neither of them are breathing. They're stopped at the very top now, the stars blinking above them where they can barely be seen over man-made light. Evan's eyes are blown wide and his face is all soft shadows dancing over smooth skin, a blush creeping up the side of his neck as their entwined hands sit heavy in the silence between them.

Barty doesn't know how it happens. Really, he doesn't.

One second Barty's staring at him like a love-sick idiot and the next Evan's eyes are flicking to his mouth, so brief that Barty barely manages to register it when Evan's other hand cups his neck and smashes their lips together.

Barty's sure he releases a sound so loud and unmanly that it could be mistaken for someone's little sister. But his brain, it seems, is working infinitely slower than his body because he kisses back without hesitation, pulling Evan impossibly closer, needing him everywhere.

The heat of his mouth is tantalizing, intoxicating—he already can't get enough of him. All Barty can think is, why the fuck didn't I do this sooner.

It's the first time their hands have unlocked the entire evening as Evan's thread their way into Barty's hair, grappling for purchase in soft locks and tugging, earning a soft groan from Barty's throat.

Barty's roam freely over the expanse of Evan's back, pulling at the green fabric without mercy. He bites Evan's lower lip and takes the moment when he gasps to slip his tongue inside. His mouth is warm and he tastes like artificial sugar and Evan.

Evan, Evan, Evan, his brain seems to chant as their kiss grows hungrier.

Barty starts to mouth along his jaw, nipping at Evan's skin with his mind blissfully hazy. Evan has his head tilted towards the sky with his eyes closed—both of them hold no grasp on reality. It isn't until Evan gives a particularly violent tug on Barty's hair, the latter releasing a sound not fit for PG television, that the ferris wheel starts back up and they break apart.

They're both panting heavily, cheeks flushed and lips successfully kiss swollen. They look properly debauched.

"Fuck," is all that Barty manages.

"Good fuck or bad fuck?" Evan asks, his chest heaving. They're still clinging to each other tightly, their noses mere inches away.

Barty stares at him incredulously. "A good fuck, obviously," he responds, clearly not thinking about how that sounds.

It only takes less than five seconds of them staring at each other before they're both howling with laughter, falling into each other's arms in a familiar sort of comfort. Their bodies shake with their raucous behavior, nearly causing the seat to swing with them.

Their laughter dies out soon enough and Barty's left staring into Evan's eyes much like before. Except this time his head is a whirling mess of holy shit, I just kissed Evan. Evan kissed me. We kissed. We just fucking kissed. What does this—

Evan leans forward to press their lips together again. It's softer this time, gentle and tentative and everything the two of them aren't. The warmth that floods through Barty's chest causes his eyelids to flutter and breath to hitch. The kiss doesn't last very long, both of them pulling back simultaneously. Barty thinks he could've let it go on forever and he wouldn't have noticed.

"I've been wanting to do that forever," Evan says softly.

"What?" Barty asks lamely.

"Shut up."

"No, really, what? Cause I've wanted to do that forever, and—fucking hell Evan why didn't you tell me?" They're at the bottom of the ferris wheel now, getting ready to make their second round. Some people shoot them weird looks at their position but Barty really couldn't give less of a fuck.

Evan rolls his eyes, "I practically just told you."

"Fair enough." Barty shrugs, one hand reaching up to brush a piece of Evan's hair from his forehead. The gesture causes the prettiest blush to heat his cheeks. He traces his hand down the side of Evan's face to rest on his cheekbone, thumbing over the smattering of freckles. Barty can't help it when the words slip out. "You're beautiful Ev."

"Didn't know you were such a sap, Crouch." Evan's voice is low, husky yet smooth as silk.

Barty scoffs. "Now it's your turn to shut up," he teases, brushing over Evan's bottom lip. Every soft touch shoots off signals of electricity straight through Barty's veins, each one more heart-stopping than before. If Barty from three hours ago thought Evan Rosier would be the death of him, Barty of the present doesn't know what to expect.

They spend the rest of the ride making small comments here and there, Evan tucked carefully into Barty's side with heat seeping through their clothes to warm the other. Eventually Barty reaches out to weave their hands together again, fingers gripping tightly in the cooling night air.

This time, he doesn't think he'll ever let go.

[invisibleraven]

Keeping Spirits Bright

Day 15: Present + Double Trouble <=AO3

Once Flynn and Julie enter elementary school, they are faced with a problem; none of their parents are able to be home to meet them in the afternoons. Flynn’s parents have never been able to-they have steady jobs, so she usually got the bus home with Julie. But now Rose has more students and Ray earned a big contract that will keep him on sets well into the evening. Julie argues they are totally old enough to be left home alone-they know not to touch the oven, to keep the doors locked, and to not pig out on junk food. 

“Unfortunately mija , the law says that I can’t leave you alone until you’re thirteen,” Rose replied. “Which you still have a few years left to reach. So I am going to sign you up for the afterschool program” 

“Awww mami no!” Julie whined. 

“It’s just for an hour or so, just so I can finish my lessons, and then I’ll be there to pick up both you girls.” 

“Both?” 

“Well Marisol and Xavier already signed Flynn up, I figure she would have told you. So at least you two won’t be separated.” 

Julie pouted, but relented-for one she didn’t have much choice, for two, she couldn’t let Flynn endure the program alone. What kind of best friend would that make her? Plus her mom told her once she was old enough to be home alone, she was old enough to babysit Carlos, and Julie was in no hurry to be given that responsibility. 

So the next Monday after class, instead of running to the bus, or even out the door to walk-she and Flynn trudged off to the library, off with the other kids whose parents couldn’t pick them up as soon as the bell rang. It was rather sad looking, seeing all the neglected children finding seats around the tables. 

They weren’t allowed snacks-a major bummer. But at least they could talk, though the head librarian, Mrs. Simmons did not look happy about it. They were encouraged to study, do homework, or just get a book. There were no games or toys set out, and the few supplies were pretty dismal. 

“What are we supposed to do with twine?” Flynn asked. 

“Make bracelets?” Julie suggested. “There’s at least a few colours here. Could be fun?” 

Flynn sighed, and agreed, though they first had to find a book showing them how to craft them, they caught on quickly. Twisting and braiding the strings together, adding beads and flourishes when they got good. 

Each day they would make one another a new bracelet, until their arms were adorned with them, a swathe of glorious colours and a physical representation of good times spent together. Making the most of a bad situation-it was what they were best at. 

However, the library was now out of string, and it was barely October. 

“Now what?” Julie asked. 

“We bring our own stuff and make more of course,” replied Flynn. “And sell ‘em!” 

Even then Flynn’s entrepreneurial spirit was strong. Her parents didn’t believe in giving her allowance, so she had to find ways to raise money to buy the things she wanted-soda mostly, since her parents also didn’t believe in sugar. Julie was just along for the ride, and through every lemonade stand, yard sale, and hairbrained scheme, there was nowhere else she’d rather be. Plus she usually ended up getting some of their take herself, saving up for the shiny new keyboard her parents had deemed too expensive for right now. 

“I don’t know if I have any of this kinda stuff,” Julie admitted. “But I think I could convince mami to bring us to the dollar store, we could get the supplies cheap.” 

The dollar store was always a treasure trove-full of fun little accessories, craft supplies, and even snacks the girls could get with their own money. Sure most of it was cheap quality, but you got what you paid for right? Still, neither of them wanted to dip into their meagre funds to go to a legit craft store-especially since Rose would definitely have questions enough when all they bought was colourful yarn and beads. 

So the next week they went into production-at first seeing if anyone in the program wanted to buy a bracelet or five. That got shut down by Mrs. Simmons fairly quickly, but they were still allowed to make the bracelets-as long as it wasn’t for profit. Julie was sure Flynn had her fingers crossed when she agreed to those terms. 

Especially since come December they had such an amount Flynn declared they could adorn half the school and be flush come Christmas time. 

“How are we going to do that?” Julie asked. 

“Easy, word of mouth,” Flynn replied. 

That’s where Carrie came in-she had been given a few of the bracelets, even made a few during sleepovers, but since she had classes right after school she hadn’t really been involved. Now she spread word that if anyone wanted one-not as nice as hers, mind you, but still nice, to find Flynn and Julie under the monkey bars. 

This repeated all week, every time in a different location so the teacher on duty wouldn’t catch on and try to break them up. 

“We’re rich!” Flynn declared with glee. 

“Well I mean we did spend a lot on supplies,” Julie replied. “So we probably broke even, but you know math is my worst subject.” 

“Who cares? We have cash and it means we can get really good presents for everyone this year!” Flynn exclaimed. 

“I’d be happy not having to make any more bracelets,” Julie joked. 

“Well then what are we gonna do after school in January?” Flynn asked. “Study?” 

“I was thinking maybe we could start writing a song?’ Julie suggested. “Double Trouble isn’t going to be much of a band if we don’t have any songs.” 

“Only if you wear the shirt,” Flynn bargained. 

“Fiiiiine,” Julie sighed, but she was smiling. She really didn’t mind the shirt-it matched the first bracelets she and Flynn made each other after all; the ones with their names added together to equal their band name, and what she was sure would not only be a kick ass band, but a lifelong friendship. After all, they had the merch to prove it.

[eyeofnewtblog]

Things that happen at home:

My mom, after listening to me ramble for about 15 minutes on Mia the Shop Cat: Right, yeah, but she’s as safe and comfortable as you could make her?

Me: I don’t know! That’s why I’m calling you! You gave birth and, y’know, stuff? I just LEFT HER IN THE BATHROOM like what kind of person does that to a mommy and her babies! Hang on I need to pull over and go back-

My mom, using her Done Being Nice Voice: No, you will not do that. You just got done explaining that they’re FINE. Just. Fine. They have every comfort that you were capable of giving them, and now you need to be a responsible wife and employee. You are clocked out, and that means you put work aside and focus on what’s in front of you. What’s for dinner?

Me: Um. Um? Gnocchi? *I rambled quite a bit on how to actually pronounce this word, I’m pretty sure neither of us were correct* I don’t know, okay, I have potatoes and garlic and flour, and like, one egg left, okay? And some of the harvest soup from last year that I found in the freezer.

My mom, who is the best mom ever; Okay honey, well just make soup and do the potato noodle thing, you know you stop worrying when you have a new project. Just make “dinner” the new project, just for today.

Me, sniffling: I can’t decide if I love or hate how well this works. Goddamnit, I feel like a two year old.

My mom, who it should be noted is both the Most Loving AND the Most Condescending person I have ever met, and if you think she can’t take an immersion blender to emotions…that’s your first mistake…: that’s okay, sweetheart, I’ll love you no matter what.

Like, I thought I was going through some shit, and then I have to realize or remember that my mom is the type of woman that…HAPPENS…to other engineers.

Like. You don’t raise three children to be mildly successful and completely self sufficient by accident.

Yeah, so. My mom is awesome and I suck at regulation of empathy (too much on animals, cats specifically) and…the people in my life know me well enough to stop me from owning 40 cats and living out of a box.

[star-anise]

Oh goddamn my brain just exploded.

I just watched F. D. Signifier's video on "I Don't Dream of Labour" and just how much the whole discussion operates in a while different reality from the one in which Black American men and the concept of working for a living have historically existed.

His take is enormously well-informed and informative, and this isn't an idea that's of his calibre at all, it's just that his take on the context this discussion is happening in was so insightful that it shook something loose in my brain as relates to my own experiences. Mainly, it helped me contextualize a reaction I'd had last week, in a post about dream jobs outside of capitalism and whether it was okay for "engineer" to be one of them, in my background in white lower-middle class.

Like yes, I do have intellectual reasons for believing what I believe. My work experience, my research, my education in the social sciences, my curiosity about the world around me, my readings of Foucault, have all informed my beliefs that society has chronically devalued forms of labour that, in fact, it depends on so much that the entire system freaks the fuck out if those devalued workers realize that they're valuable enough to demand better.

Signifier's video helped me connect with some of my emotional reactions to socialist and utopian thought, and recognize just how much my views are also rooted in hard gnarly matter of my lived experience, and the lived experiences of the people who raised me.

I dream of labour partly because I've found a line of work that I love and that gives me meaning. But the other thing is, I dream of labour because of a bone-deep tiredness in me that says: If I don't do it, the work won't get done.

I'm a therapist, and the birth of my vocation as a therapist was in the years when I didn't have one or feel like I was allowed to ask for them, and neither did anyone else I knew, and the amount of terror and pain that we all lived with because of it would have ripped a hole in my ability to trust the universe if I hadn't decided to make myself the hero I needed. I say that if I do my work well enough I might contribute to enough social change that I'll put myself out of a job, but in practical reality, I don't think that will happen in my lifetime.

I digress. A few years after that, my mom admitted she had depression and went on disability leave from work because she was pretty damn bad. I remember when we got home after she'd picked me up from school one day, and while she was out of the house, her female friends had come to our house and gone to town on all the housework she'd been struggling to do (and then some; we knew things were different from the front door, because the floor of our mudroom sparkled in a way it never had before).

I remember it so much because I think it was only the second time in my life I'd seen her cry. Because it was so unexpected and such an amazing relief, this sense that someone else would step in and do the work for her. (Yes, my dad and older brothers and I pitched in, but everyone's expectations were that if the house was still standing at the end of our tenure it'd be a net win, and yes, I still feel ashamed for not having done more even if I logically couldn't have.)

This is part of what it means to say my gender is "farm wife". My ancestors were white settlers in western Canada, where farms were divided up in a grid pattern that guaranteed that homesteads would be pretty isolated. My grandmothers were children during the Great Depression. For their mothers, being a farmwife meant doing work their family depended on to survive, and knowing that until their oldest daughter got old enough, there was no one to do the work if they didn't. That sense of necessity lives in us still. My mom will endure a job she hates for ages, but feel unable to quit without having another one lined up. I still have "you do not have to fix it" on my phone lockscreen, because unsolved problems cry out to me in the voice of my terror when I was 13 and nobody was saving me.

The thought of coming home and finding my floor washed for me is so impossibly amazing I don't know how I'd even cope with it. The only person I can currently think of who'd actually do it is my mom. And she and I are still trying to sort out the toxic effects of this legacy, where we take on work because we feel we have to and then get angry when we aren't respected or rewarded for it, or try to avoid being the target of that anger by not asking for help we need. The thought of leaving work undone inspires such a deep, visceral level of fear and shame that it's hard to think around sometimes.

All of which helps me explain and understand my reflexive "Oh, fuck YOU" reaction to people who say that in the future robots will flip our burgers and burp our babies, but in the meantime, it's being corrupted by a neoliberal agenda to try to make the backbreaking work of ordinary people five pounds lighter. I am the enemy if I ever hire someone to wash the floor for me.

I'm not sure that "Oh, fuck you" response is bullshit, though. Like, I feel like I'm supposed to say that my ideological enemy is the capitalist boss who mandates workloads, not the edgelord tankie who sends hatemail to insufficiently radical "liberals", but this entire thought process has just helped me formulate why I hate those goddamn tankies so fucking much.

The work of defeating capitalism is important and real and more people need to be doing it. But it's stark raving idiocy to pretend that it's the most important work there is, because before it comes the work of keeping people alive. The work of keeping people fed and clothed and housed, healthy and well, connected and cared about. And I'm always thrilled when I get to do so in a manner that also resists capitalism, but if the only people helping me do that are capitalists, that is who I'm going to fucking ally with. Because the work needs to be done, and I would like to die without the family curse of never feeling able to trust that people will survive if you pause for one moment making my bones glow in the dark.

So if your only reaction to that is to say I should heroically struggle in ideologically pure isolation because Capitalism Bad but also in Big Rock Candy Communism my work won't be necessary so it's not like you feel any need to help me?

Yeah, you're my enemy. Get out of my fucking way.

[emmabirb8]

I keep having Deep Thoughts about Nandor The Relentless.

Do you realize that Nandor was 17 years old when he became Supreme Viceroy of Al Quolanudar? I know it was common for people back in the 13th century to live their lives that way, but man, that's still a huge responsibility to thrust on the shoulders of someone who is still technically a kid.

Knowing that his family was royalty, it's safe to assume that he probably wasn't shown much warmth and affection by his parents growing up (in fact, he was probably raised by servants for the most part). And it seems that his connections with his wives and children were limited, even if he did love and care for them.

All the info we've been supplied about Nandor's human life implies that he spent the majority of his time entrenched in nothing but war and violence. From the tender age of 17, he knew very little beyond being a soldier, a leader of an army, who tortured, pillaged, and conquered (relentlessly).

Neither his family nor his court were devoted enough (or cared enough) to stick by him after he turned. He was exiled, and that was the start of the abandonment issues that continue to plague him 750+ years later.

No wonder the poor guy is so emotionally constipated and mentally stunted. No wonder he throws his whole heart into people who can't be bothered to give a fraction of theirs in return. No wonder his horse was the thing he loved more than anything in the world. No wonder he views vampirism as a curse. He may have had power and glory in terms of war when he was alive, but his life was pretty shit before he became a vampire. To him, it only got exponentially worse after. The man has never really known permanent happiness, never known true family (or at least, hasn't been capable of recognizing it when it was right in front of him), and has never known how to love or be loved in any substantial way in his living or undead life.

(I really hope we get to know the details of his turning at some point because how he was turned and by whom may also play a part in his personal interpretation of vampirism. Seems to me it was nothing like the fairytale-esque ways in which Nadja and Laszlo describe being turned.)

Hell, his depression and subsequent membership in Jan's cult was probably just the tip of the iceberg for him, mentally. I wouldn't be surprised if he has a complete breakdown in a future ep or group of episodes 'cause it's clear he's definitely the kind of person who hides his true feelings and true self behind a carefully constructed grand facade (which is, naturally, exactly like the characters I tend to gravitate toward and find the most fascinating).

It's going to take time and a lot of self-reflection for Nandor to realize that Nadja, Laszlo, Colin Robinson, and Guillermo are the family he never really had. And it'll take even more for him to realize that Guillermo is the person he can safely trust with his heart and that Guillermo will offer his own whole heart in return. ❤

Nandor's eternal life wouldn't be a curse if he learned to properly share it with the ones he loves and who love him.

And I think maybe his trip around the world will help him reach these conclusions on his own. At the very least, it could be a step in the right direction for his growth going forward, esp when he inevitably reunites with the others.

And damn it, he had better hug Guillermo at SOME FUCKING POINT this coming season!!

[rightsforbrunomadrigalonly]

Part 3 to Bruno x Pregnant Reader Head canons???? ( Retitling to Dad Bruno x Reader)

{A/N: It's been requested once or twice that I do a part three to the Bruno x Pregnant reader Head Canon arch. I love the idea of Bruno multiplying like rabbits but I think him and his wife would agree two babies is perfect for their family, so I don't persay think I can call this Bruno x Pregnant Reader anymore. However, because I do ADORE dad Bruno and because I myself am so far down the rabbit whole of Dad Bruno I will oblige. I have thought long and hard about Bruno's children, even going as far as drawing designs for them and doors haha I love them both so much! I’ve even named them, that’s how you know I am attached lmaoooo. But for the sake of immersion I’ll keep the babies nameless for the reader! :) So I guess here's part 3 of what I'll be calling from this point on Dad Bruno x Reader}

Having experienced fatherhood once already, Bruno felt confident about handling anything a second baby could throw his way. While navigating the ins and outs of raising a child weren’t exactly what Bruno would consider a cake walk, he was more than ready to take on the challenge of raising a second bundle of joy. You’d chuckle at the eagerness in his eyes, as he’d wait every day for the babies arrival. 

 The man would be just a bit more on edge about your comfort levels this time around. He remembered from your last pregnancy how Pepa told him not to dote over you, but he couldn’t help it. Even now, 37 weeks pregnant, you still chased after your princesita as if you weren’t about to fall into labor at any given moment. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t uneasy watching you. We all know Bruno is a terrible liar anyway. 

He’d definitely try to take over most of the responsibilities when it came down to tending for your daughter. Bath time? He was on it. No need for you to get on your knees and struggle to get back up. He could give her a bath, and he was pretty damn good at it too! She loved when Papa gave her a bath instead. Dinner? On it! He wasn’t the best cook honestly, but if Julieta wasn’t cooking for the night he’d make sure she went to bed full and satisfied. Bedtime? He’d rock the girl in his arms until she eventually fell deep enough under the sands of slumber to be tucked in for the night. Truly he went above and beyond just to make sure you didn’t over exert yourself in these last three weeks. 

While you found it endearing that the man worried this much, you wanted him to relax. If he kept this pace up, when the newest addition to your family arrived, he’d have no energy to help care for the newborn. 

Y/N: “Mi amor, come lay down. You should get more rest. Once this baby is born we BOTH aren’t going to be seeing the backs of our eyelids for a VERY long time. I know you want to help, but just take it easy.” 

Bruno: “Right, no I know that... I just, I have to finish what I was doing for princesita. I uh, I don’t want to let her down ya know?” 

Y/N: “So let me do it, I can still help take care of our daughter. I’m pregnant Bruno, not incapable” 

 Ouch that tone! Where did that come from? WHOO WHOO Mood swing alert!

Bruno wasn’t a novice when it came to understanding the hormonal imbalances a pregnant woman barreled through. Being the only brother amongst two sisters, he learned a thing or two about not taking the emotional pendulum swings as personal blows. While they still did hurt, he tried his best to understand you may not have meant the tone you delivered your frustrations with. 

Bruno: “I know you aren’t mi Vida. I wasn’t trying to imply that you were- I mean, I didn’t mean to make you feel- I just. I want you to relax too. I know once this little guy comes out, neither one of us are going to be doing a whole lot of relaxing”  he’d pause and nervously laugh “I think I’ll probably end up with a few more grey hairs by the end of this but I still want to do everything I can now to help make this easier for you. I remember how tired you were when our Princesita was born, I felt...so bad that I couldn’t help you. I guess that’s kind of why I’m over doing it now...” 

The man could admit it. He was going a bit too far trying to take everything on by himself. Parenthood was a journey the two of you embarked on together. There was a lot of give and take, and lately he’d been doing all the taking. He was tired, and his body felt that. He’d throw his body next to yours on the bed, eyes closing as he took a deep relaxing breath in through his nose a yawn passing his lips. He guessed it wouldn’t cause too much harm if you were to trade places with him. 

Bruno: “Think you’re up to the challenge of playing dress up? We had a whole Gala planned out for the cast of El joven y el inquieto. Mirabel even spent all day stitching little costumes for the rats...They look cute. I’d love to go but I think I’m beat. Papa needs a nap.”

Your heart would soar. This man really did go the extra mile when it came to making his little girl smile. You’d give his nose a gentle smooch, before covering him up with the blankets. He doesn’t even wait for your response, the instant you tuck him in he’s out, light little snores passing his lips.

To no surprise, just as expected, once the new baby is born sleep becomes a myth to both you and Bruno. 

Your husband looks like night of the walking dead and you definitely FEEL like the walking dead. 

So much for the confidence he had about taking on two babies at once. 

Y/N: “Aren’t you glad we only have two?” you’d tease earning a very stern tired look from your husband. 

Bruno: “If it’s okay with you mi vida, I think two kids is enough for me. Thank you very much.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh you fumbled from your mouth as your fingers ruffled through his curls, a baby attached to your chest as you laid together in the bed. 

You could agree. Two babies were the perfect amount for you and your husband. Besides, it was apparent your little girl didn’t enjoy having to share her Papa’s attention with another sibling. 

It would lead to a struggle for Bruno. He’d have quiet the challenge ahead of him when it came to balancing attention equally between both babies. He’d watch how effortless you’d make things look, but the instant he tried things out for himself, suddenly it didn’t feel as easy as you made everything appear. 

He’d ask for your help on the situation, though you wouldn’t quite know how else to describe it other than “it’s just a natural thing.” 

He considered asking another mother for some extra tips, but he felt it would be redundant. While he could ask his mother or sisters how they managed to split their attention between multiple kids, he felt the answer would be virtually the same as yours. He needed a dad’s perspective on the situation. 

Bruno: “Agustin, hey! Uh, I don’t mean to bother you but- I was wondering if I could ask you a question or two?.....or a dozen maybe.”

The dad of three would be more than eager to lend some fatherly advice Bruno’s way. Being completely honest, Bruno always admired his sister’s husband. Even when faced with the scariest woman in the world, his mother, Agustin always stuck his ground when it came to doing what was best for his family. Bruno hoped that if the time ever came he’d be able to do the same. He admired both of his brother-in-laws if he was being frank. Both men set fine examples of what a good father was for your clueless husband. 

A mile a minute. That’s how fast Bruno rambles on through his questions. A mile a god damn minute. 

Bruno: “How did you get used to the whole juggling babies thing. Not like holding them and moving them around and stuff, that’s pretty easy, I can hold them both at once and everything, I mean attention wise. How did you learn to split your attention between the girls? I asked Y/N but uh, she told me it was just something that came naturally for her. I guess I kinda wanted to know if it was a natural thing for you too? Is there something I’m missing here? What if I don’t have this natural nurturing- thing I’m suppose to have.”

Agustin definitely gets a good laugh out of it. Admittedly, he always enjoys one on one talks with Bruno. The mans unintentionally a riot.  Agustin would clamp a palm to the back of Bruno’s shoulder, a hand extending in front of them as the more experienced father poured his knowledge out for the other. 

Agustin: “If I’m being honest with you, it’s not something I can tell you. It’s something you have to learn to gage for yourself. Just let the love you have for both of your children guide you.” 

WHAT WAS HE SUPPOSE TO DO WITH THAT INFORMATION. IF HE COULD DO THAT, HE WOULD! BUT HE COULDN’T SO HERE HE WAS, ASKING FOR HELP. 

Bruno would groan earning a hardy laugh from Agustin. 

Agustin: “This is all new to you Bruno, nobody said you have to be perfect on your first try. You’ve got this Cuñado. It took me a while to figure out how to spread myself without spreading too thin. It’s not an exact science I can give you, I’m sorry for that, but what I CAN give you is the encouragement you need to keep at it, and if you ever need, an ear to chatter into.” 

Bruno would feel a bit more relaxed, giving his brother-in-law a thankful glance before scampering off. 

Eventually, he’d find his rhythm for taking care of both of his babies with an equal amount of love. He’d set times in his day where he’d spend time solely with his daughter, making sure she knew that he still loved and cared for her just as much as he did when she was an only sibling. He’d also take time to dedicate to your son, making sure to give the growing boy equal time even if he didn’t fully understand what was going on. 

It amazed you to see just how much effort your husband placed in caring for your children. He was an amazing father and an amazing husband. You couldn’t wait to see him grow as both of your babies grew. You both went into this blindly, but together the love you had for each other and this family would guide you along. It was a journey you were proud to be on. 

[waifu-napoleon]

“The differences of birth neither gives nor takes any assets; everything depends on personal worth.”

The melancholic civilian on the throne of Prussia, Friedrich Wilhelm III.

(fairly long rant incoming, slightly biased and emotional, I am no historian and merely stating my opinion)

I’m so exhausted from work that I nearly forgot about him, even though I pretty much owe this blog and one of my main hobbies to him in the first place. On this very day, 252 years ago, this man was born. He was many things. A beloved king. A devoted husband. A loyal friend. A gentle father. A cherry-loving romantic. An unwanted son. A self-proclaimed coward. A laughingstock of a tactician. A person stuck in positions he didn’t want to be in, with roles forced upon him which he didn’t feel good enough to fullfill, and (to an extent) rightfully so. An introvert, humiliated and bullied pretty much from the moment he was born, while also inflicting pain onto others out of fear or anger with no other tool to use to channel it in a healthy way. A smart boy, abused by those older and stronger than him. “A boy, who’s being raised without an imagination or reasons to laugh” his great-uncle Frederick the Great proclaimed. “A man with the aura of a friend and father-” the people would call him, “- with eyes that cry when no one is looking.” A king who preferred the simple things in life. While most other rulers demanded a banquet, he was content with bread and tea. Playtime with the children, who were usually given away for other people to raise and teach, was mandatory for him. Giving people gifts or surprising them with a warm gesture or heartfelt comment was one of his favorite things to do. Holidays and festivals would be spent with the whole town. Going to the operahouse dressed as a regular civillian was a hobby of his. Celebrating his loved one’s birthdays, even when said person wasn’t even present, was normal to him. And he hated seeing people suffer. He wasn’t perfect by any means. His harsh exterior would dominate his entire personality every so often. Cold-hearted comments or ignorant jokes at the expense of other people’s emotional turmoil. His anxiety filled mind pulling him out of the realm of reality so he could run away from his problems. Excuses over excuses to try and reason with common sense and responsibility. Depression and panic narrowing his mind. Trying (and failing) to emotionally minipulate others to gain confirmation of his own insecurities. His ruthless honesty coming off as insensitive for most people’s standards. A person stuck between being cold-hearted and sensitive, one leg in the past with other in the future, holding hands with the people he loved while also trying to run from them. His worst enemy wasn’t Napoleon, it was himself.

One could argue that he was weak. I believe that he was human.

He didn’t shine by being a great military leader, or a conqueror, or a talented politician. The crown was placed on his head because it had to be. His heart was in the right place, while is mind was stuck in a maze. Ideas of reforms and improvements held back by fear and anxiety, emotions hidden in the mist of self-doubt and shyness, morals tainted in the dust of crumbling confidence and self-esteem. Had it not been for a few special people in his life then he might have withered away in a gust of wind, left forgotten in our history. Some say he’s only remembered for living through one of the most important times of European history. Others say his relationship with his wife the queen or the tsar of Russia are the only noticable things about him. During history lessons at school, I heard his name maybe twice. Which is not enough for me. His legacy did not fully go unnoticed, although it is being overshadowed by that of others. A lot of the things we know, do and use nowadays in this country of Germany come back to him. While most praise his wife Luise for her role as a “mother of the country”, or his great-uncle Frederick the Great for his accomplishments, or hate on his father Friedrich Wilhelm II. for wasting Prussia’s money and prestige for personal gain, we should not forget about him. He is a part of our history. A part of our culture. A part of our every-day lives. A part of us.

I wish I would have had the time to visit him today. It’s a shame that people aren’t allowed to put down flowers at his grave (although I do understand why), even though I wish I could give him something, a token of gratitude, a symbol of remembrance. Maybe I can visit Charlottenburg this weekend to visit him and Luise.

After all, it is one of the most peaceful places in Berlin.

Happy birthday, Frederick. Thank you for re-awakening my passion for history. You are my favorite Prussian king and I hope you are finally free from that pain you went through in your life. I owe you so much.

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Where There’s a Whill, There’s a Windu

Context: original post, chrono

(Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka) and have been officially adopted by Anakin.)

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

“You’re attached.”

“You’re just now noticing?”

Master Windu eyes him for a few long moments, and then joins him on the ground. Anakin can’t help but smirk. There’s something gratifying about having respect from the man, in this life.

“The other members of the council are concerned.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I am, but for other reasons,” Windu says.

Anakin doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t even respond for a long minute. He just looks out over the Room of a Thousand Fountains, spread out below them like hundreds of jungles pieced together in a jigsaw of flora. It’s been his favorite room in the Temple since he was a child, and it’s always overwhelming.

“Most of them have accepted that you adopted them because of Mandalorian customs, and that you stayed where you were due to the will of the Force,” Windu continues. “But they are… uncomfortable with how blatantly your attachments show.”

“Mandalorians are loud and refuse shame. It rubbed off.”

“You said you would kill for these children.”

“I’m their father. That’s kind of expected.”

Windu’s expression is tired. A little tired of stress, but mostly tired of Anakin’s shit. “You know what I’m trying to get at.”

“Do I?”

“Skywalker.”

“No, I’m serious. I need you to spell this out. I’ve had a million slightly-contradicting lectures on this topic, and I’ve been told pretty clearly that I misinterpreted a solid half of them. If you want a constructive conversation, you can’t be vague. I’m thirty-three years old and a father of two, Master Windu, so yes, I’m attached. What you mean by that word is going to change where this conversation goes.”

It’s gratifying to see the Master actually think it over.

“Ylliben’s tattoos have been causing the most recent stir,” Windu finally says. “They nearly all relate to family, whether new or old, and the symbolism is concerning to those who are already upset about the Mandalorian upbringing. They worry that he’ll remain too tied to people he grew up with, and unable to maintain neutrality in future diplomatic ventures, or at risk of a fall if one of the people he’s seen fit to memorialize is injured or killed. The assume a similar state of mind may be applicable to your daughter and yourself, especially given the off-color jokes about how possessive your children are about each other.”

“They’re worried about emotional immaturity,” Anakin summarizes. He offers a wan, unimpressed grin. “They do realize he’s fourteen, right? Nobody’s emotionally stable at fourteen. The hormones are out of whack.”

“I’m aware,” Windu grinds out. “And I’m aware that your histories, of war and all such things, make your ties much stronger, but you can see why the Council worries, especially those who are wary of the memories your children carry but won’t explain. I’m the only one you’ve told, Skywalker.”

“Plo and Depa know.”

“Plo and Depa aren’t on the council.”

“Yet.”

“Skywalker.”

He relents. “It’s not about Mandalore, Master Windu. It’s about Tatooine.”

Windu lets that sit for a few moments, and then sighs. “I don’t know enough about Tatooine to parse that.”

“Shmi and I are former slaves,” Anakin says, as bluntly as he can. “I was freed at nine, she at eleven, and for all that we are free, we’re not freeborn. We were born slaves, and raised slaves, and we were freed too late to forget that life. The way we think is always going to be affected by the way we grew up. That applies to all sentients, more or less, but it’s… the slave mentality is completely at odds with Jedi teachings, because Jedi teachings can only be taught in a safe environment.”

Windu nods slowly, and says, “That does make sense, but it’s… forgive me, but that’s why we don’t normally take children older than four.”

“From the perspective of teaching cultural values, that makes sense,” Anakin allows. “Teaching a Jedi child that’s cared for with communal resources that they do not need material things to be happy is fine; trying to convince a slave child of the same, someone who grew up being told they do not deserve material things, and that their owner can take anything at any time, including family? I lived that life, trying to adjust to ascetic Jedi values that coincided poorly with slave rules. I know exactly how poorly that transition can go when the person caring for the child doesn’t know how to handle the points of conflict.”

“Do you regret joining the Jedi?” Windu asks.

Anakin shakes his head. “My Jedi master, bless him, cared, and tried very hard, but he wasn’t ready to handle a kid like me and in hindsight, I know that. He needed grief counseling, and I needed therapy, and neither of us was getting it. I don’t… I don’t believe anyone in the Temple would have known how to handle a kid like me.”

“But you don’t regret it.”

“I was meant to be a Jedi,” Anakin says, as firmly as he can without getting unnecessarily bitchy about it. “My struggles with the Code aside, I was meant to be here. But the Temple doesn’t have any resources for children who come older, and I think… I think you do need that.”

“You just outlined why a child can’t follow the Code if they come from a different enough background,” Windu says.

Anakin shakes his head. “No, that’s not—I think a kid like me can learn to be a Jedi, if a little unconventional, if they’re taught correctly. The desperation to cling to anyone and anything you have can be unlearned. It takes time and effort, but it’s possible. Soka and Ben are good at balancing Tatooine care with Jedi control. If you talk to Ben, you get an entire philosophical breakdown about it, but I’m more concerned with the child psychology, because that’s what could have broken me.”

Windu frowns. “You’re building up to something.”

“I think the Jedi need programs for children found older who can’t become full Jedi,” Anakin asserts. “Even those who cannot reconcile what they absorbed growing up with the Code and Jedi tradition… they, we, need guidance. The Council tried to reject me for being too old, and now that I’m grown I understand why, but… Master Windu, what do you think would have happened to me if I hadn’t had my Master to fight for me, and had been turned away?”

“We’d have looked into placing you back with your mother and, upon finding out that she was still enslaved, secured her freedom,” Master Windu says. “Qui-Gon Jinn had taken responsibility for you, and thus you were a ward of the Temple until such a time as you were safe again. It would have been cruel to keep you from your mother if we were not to raise you a Jedi, and crueler still to allow you to return to slavery.”

“And you think I’d have been safe with her?” Anakin asks. He needs Master Windu to understand this. “You think that would have ended well?”

“You don’t?”

“Ventress,” Anakin says. “Maul. Aurra Sing, even.”

Windu considers that. He looks across the grand, green room of the garden, and finally speaks. “You think you’d have been found and corrupted by a Sith.”

“I’d already helped Naboo win a battle. I was a powerful child with no support system in this respect, eager to please,” Anakin says. “Ventress and Maul both got twisted into Sith Apprentices. Aurra Sing was just a bounty hunter, but… even if the Jedi had never found me, and the Sith remained unaware, do you think I’d have ended up better than Sing? Or would the pressures of slavery have led to my Fall anyway, eventually slaughtering my owner, the Hutts, the entire system of Tatooine’s hells?”

Windu rubs a hand over his forehead. “I understand what you’re getting at.”

“It’s not just me,” Anakin says, as carefully as he can. “Even without the Sith, there are plenty of Force-Sensitive children in terrible situations that are liable to Fall just because of how power is wielded by those at the bottom. Refusing to take on students who are already at risk… the Jedi are meant to monitor Force users to prevent Sith and other dark-aligned people from harming the galaxy. It’s one of our primary duties. If the Jedi are allowing darksiders to rise just because of an age limit…”

“I get it,” Windu says, just a little aggressive. “I understand. Give me a minute.”

Anakin tries to wait. He’s older now, he can do that. He can be patient.

He tries to convince himself that it’s true.

“You have a point,” Master Windu finally allows. “And with the knowledge that the Sith are out there, still, it’s a more salient point than most would think. The EduCorps already has a subdivision for teaching meditative techniques to low-level force users who need to learn shielding but aren’t sensitive enough to be Jedi, or are just too old, but I see your point about encouraging a program for powerful Force-Sensitives that aren’t discovered early enough to integrate into the community in full.”

“And a more comprehensive Search pattern for the Outer Rim?” Anakin suggests. He shrugs at the look he gets. “What? You’ve seen my midicount. I was on Tatooine for almost a decade, and the only reason anyone found me was that Qui-Gon had to crash a ship in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure the Force led him to me, given all the coincidences, but that’s still a solid nine years that nobody did, despite how I apparently ‘shine like the sun’ or whatever.”

“Humble.”

“The last time I took a midichlorian test on a portable counter, it literally broke the device. That’s not arrogance, that’s just absurd.”

Windu looks exhausted by the comment. Anakin can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it.

“What about Jedha?” Anakin suggests instead. “Jedi find the kids, but if they’re too old to be Jedi, we could coordinate with one of the temples at Jedha to see about having them raised in the traditions of the Whills? They’re a little less orthodox, aren’t they?”

“In some respects,” Master Windu says. “More constrained in others, but… it’s a possibility. Most of the overlooked children, yourself included, are from parts of the Outer Rim that aren’t part of the Republic, Skywalker.”

Anakin shrugs. “And many of them would have been happy to be found and collected by a Jedi, even if they couldn’t become Jedi. Not the Dathomiri, since they’ve got their own thing going on, but… from what I know about Ventress, she actually did have a Jedi Master before the situation on Rattatak became… what’s the word… untenable? He died and she was left alone, and she’d been a slave already and it just… did not end well for her. But that was a planet overrun by pirates and warlords, and would have been approved as a planet the Jedi could help without it being a weird colonialism thing… if the Senate weren’t made up of cheapskates, at least.”

“Skywalker.”

“My name isn’t actually a reprimand, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to just say that,” Windu groans, running a hand over his face. “The Senate’s choice in funding is not optimal, but insulting them in that way, even in private—”

“They’re assholes,” Anakin says, and doesn’t let his humor show. “Except my late wife, but she’s not part of the Senate in this time, so I feel no shame in accusing the entire shitshow of being cheapskates.”

Windu looks about ready to push him off the ledge.

“You’re never allowed to go on diplomatic missions, are you?” Windu mutters.

“Unless it’s to Mandalore,” Anakin clarifies. “Also, never send me to Tatooine. Ever. Please. I kriffing hate that planet.”

“I’m going to assume you have plans to kill a Hutt if we ever send you to—”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Windu sighs. “I’ll discuss this with the Council, see how they feel about reaching out to Jedha for your suggestion regarding the Whills.”

“And you’ll tell them not to worry about my kids?”

“Skywalker, they are never going to stop worrying about your family,” Windu tells him.

“That’s fair.”

[midgardianweasley]

Your grace! Bless us with a Natasha x reader where the team is invited to a wedding by a close friend of Tony’s. Then when the bridal bouquet is thrown, the bride throws it too hard where reader accidentally catches it and the team is just going “Oooooh!” And reader is like “I’m not even in a relationship!” But the team know in secret that reader and Natasha have feelings for each other but are too dumb to know. Just funniness and fluff! 🥰😍 (Your writing is brilliant btw!)

I loved this request!! I hope i did it justice <3

it’s a wedding thing

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

^idk Nat, you tell me^

Summary: When the Avengers get invited to a close friend of Tony's wedding, what hidden feelings will surface? What relationships will bloom? Who will be the next bride?

Warnings: none!

word count: 4.1k

Message/ask if you want to be added to the taglist!

requests are open loves

“Alright gang, this one’s for all of us, we all listening?”

A cluster of ‘yes’ ‘go on’ ‘come on Tony’ filled the room, everyone eager to hear what the fancy envelope held inside. It was amusing to watch Tony take advantage of everyone’s excitement, slowly peeling the envelope, gasping when he pulled the letter out of the casing slightly, not letting anyone else see what was written on it.

You, Natasha and Wanda all seemed to share a look of amusement at the dramatics and the almost visible frustration coming off of everyone. It was like watching children try to wait patiently for sweets in a shop, almost completely off of their seats. It wasn’t until Tony noticed that Pepper was giving him a warning look, that he, begrudgingly, hurried up and announced what was written on the letter.

“Wow. Caleb’s getting married.” He spoke, eyebrows raised in surprise. “And he’s invited the team.”

“Well, I’m not going.” A voice spoke from the corner of the room, clearly un-amused by what was currently going on.

“Luckily for you, I don’t see ‘reindeer games’ anywhere on the invitation. So you’re off the hook.” He replied with a tight lipped smile, Thor had been visiting recently to see Jane and pay the avengers a visit and wanted to bring Loki to meet her.

‘A pleasant trip’ Thor said.

‘A living hell’ Tony corrected.

It got a laugh out of the team though. Nat and I especially. We’d spent the last couple of nights in each other’s bedrooms, making a list about our favourite moments through the day where Tony and Loki clashed, making stupid insults towards the other. I think it’s safe to say that we went through multiple bags of popcorn over the nights, though you were both thankful it was there, it was the only thing muffling the laughter, if it hadn't, you’re almost certain the entire compound would have woken up at the sound of our laughter.

You nudged Natasha’s side gently, the bicker between the two men still continuing.

“Hey, Nat.” She turned and tilted her head questioningly.

“So we know how a physical fight between those two worked out. But, if they had to compete in a rap battle, who do you think would win?”

Her face immediately lit up, eyes sparkling which only enhanced their beauty, you could almost feel the cogs turning in her head, trying to go through every logical option.

“Well. Loki seems pretty well spoken, so vocabulary wise, I think he’d be strong. But Tony is sarcastic which can help with quick quips. But then again, Loki-”

“Hey lovebirds, Romanoff, Y/L/N” Tony clicked his fingers, earning himself a pair of eyerolls at the term he’d used. “Anything you wanna share with the team, or can we move on?”

“Actually-”

“Overridden. Moving on.”

You looked towards Natasha, snickering slightly at how blunt he’s being, Loki having found his way under his skin again. A part of you felt bad for the man, but that feeling is soon replaced by amusement. It was obvious Nat felt the same way, her sharing the same expression as you, although, you could hide yours much better. She had to physically put her hand over her mouth in the hopes the man wouldn’t notice her.

“So, the wedding is next week, a little short notice but when do we ever have enough notice, who’s in?”

Looking around the room, there were a handful of nods, each looking to see who else was going to go. You looked towards Nat again to see if she was planning on attending, only to find her already staring at you.

“So Y/L/N, up for a wedding?”

“It would be a nice change of pace. Are you going?”

“Only if you are” You blushed slightly at the response.

“Better get your nicest dress on Romanoff.” You winked, her turn to blush and focus back on what the rest of the group was saying.

“It’s probably easy if I list couples first on the RSVP and then the singles.” Tony took a glance around the table, mentally taking note of those who had shown signs of agreement. “So there’ll be Wanda and Vision, Legolas and his wife, Romanoff and Y/L/N, Thor and Jane-” You felt your face morph into one of confusion.

“Woah woah, Tony, back up, what did you say?”

“Thor and Jane, they’re-”

“Before that.”

“I’ve said this before Y/N, Legolas isn’t actually real. I meant Clint.”

“Very funny.” He held a proud smirk. “Romanoff and I aren’t a couple”

You wish.

“That’s not what Rogers said when he saw you both cuddling up on the sofa last night.” Before you had a chance to look in Steve’s direction, you could practically feel the daggers Nat was sending him, making his face cringe slightly and his back straighten.

“That’s what Rogers said, is it?” She spoke, tilting her head in question. You knew she was partly joking, but you’d still decided to intervene before anyone lost any limbs.

“My head fell onto her shoulder when I dozed off during our movie. It wasn’t ‘cuddling’ , thank you very much.” You laughed, internally wishing that Steve’s words were true.

“See? So cut it out.” Steve put his hands up in surrender, despite having a cheeky grin on his face.

“Okay okay. Fine!” The billionaire said, writing something on the envelope. “I’ll just put ‘couple pending’” He muttered

“Stark!”

__________________________

You and the girls had just come back from dress shopping, all three of you had spent the whole day in and out of different shops, hours in dressing rooms and your voices were almost completely gone with how often you were telling each other, ‘that looks stunning’ ‘that’s the one!’ and the most common one by the end of the trip; ‘please just pick a dress so we can go home and nap’. That one was from our very own black widow, her patience wore a little thin after 8 hours of staring at dresses.

You had gone through all the colours and styles while you were out, ranging from classy jumpsuits to figure hugging dresses that felt like a second skin. Wanda and Natasha had chosen their dresses and were eager to find you one, and what a mission that was.

“I promise you, we’re not going home until we find this dress, okay?”

“Wanda’s right. We’ll stay out until they all shut if we have to. But, let’s make that a last resort.” Natasha eyed you both warily.

You’d been walking around for hours now. Each dress you tried on had potential, but there was always something that didn’t sit right with you. It was either too baggy, too tight, the cut wasn’t appealing, the length wasn’t ideal, it was starting to feel hopeless. You’d even suggested just going in your pyjamas, but Wanda’s death glare had made it clear that wasn’t an option.

You and Natasha were both dragging your feet, Wanda still having a slight spring in her step as you walked into the final shop and picking up a couple of dresses before then going into the dressing room to try them on.

The first two were okay, but you weren’t a fan. Then there was the third one. The third one was a gorgeous Y/F/C dress that fell just past your knees, it had thin straps and the skirt was simple and loose so that when you spun around in it, you felt like a princess. You looked in the mirror and you adored the reflection, you still wanted the others opinions though, though you didn’t doubt that they’d feel the same way.

Pulling the curtain back and gaining their attention from where they were looking elsewhere, you smiled when you saw their reaction, more specifically, Natasha’s. Wanda was complimentary, walking up and feeling the fabric, gushing about how beautiful you looked, but you barely heard it, too focused on the redhead sitting in front of you, her eyes glazed over and her jaw almost on the floor, completely zoned out on you.

“This dress is it, Y/N, you have to get it! Nat? What do you think?” Her head shook, bringing herself back to reality and briefly meeting your eyes, only to quickly dart between You, Wanda and your dress in an attempt to compose herself.

“Yeah, I mean, wow, you look- wow.” Her hands flailed in your direction. You’d knocked the assassin speechless. Wanda rolled her eyes playfully at the interaction. She’d known about you and Nat’s feelings for each other for a month or two now, silently cursing the both of you when there was an opportunity to confess, yet never did. It was obvious to the rest of the team, why were neither of you picking up on it?

Keeping quiet, she ushered you back into the changing room, much to Natasha’s relief, both because she wanted to head back to the compound and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would’ve lasted seeing you standing there looking literally flawless. She always thought you looked amazing, but there was something about the way you looked in front of her just then that made her brain feel like a haze.

It was pretty safe to say,

You bought the dress.

Collapsing on your bed, dropping your bags to the side and letting out a loud sigh, you heard your door shut and someone fall into the chair by the window. You already knew who it was.

“I’m exhausted.” The woman groaned, rubbing her hands up and down her face to attempt to physically remove the tiredness from her body.

“Sorry for dragging you around for so long, I just-”

“Hey, no, don’t apologise for that. We all said we’d find the perfect dress, and it was worth the wait.” Heat rose to your cheeks at her words.

“You really think I looked good?”

Natasha could sense your underlying tone of doubt, unsure as to why you would doubt her opinion, she’d always been honest with you. Nonetheless, she heaved herself out of her seat and made her way to the end of the bed, kneeling down so that your now sat up figure could look down into her eyes, with her hands on each side of your face to focus you on her and her alone.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, okay? You looked incredible and I'm sure you’ll look even better at this wedding on Saturday, if that’s even possible.” You let out a small chuckle at her words as a smile made its way onto her face.

“You’ll be the prettiest one there.”

“Better not tell the Bride you said that, Nat.” She laughed, looking down for only a few seconds before looking at you again.

“We’ll make that our secret.” You nodded in silent agreement, grateful that she’d made you feel so reassured.

“Thank you, Tasha.”

“You’re more than welcome, sweetheart.” She replied.

You were so lost in her words, you hadn’t realised how close her face had gotten to yours, and how her eyes swapped between your eyes and your lips. You didn’t realise how she subconsciously had kept edging towards you, hands trembling a little with every inch closer she gets.

She wanted to kiss you. Every nerve in her body was almost electrified with the temptation to just move her lips over yours and become one. Her pulse raced, almost to prepare her for doing so. Which is why she wanted to kick herself with a pair of her highest heels when she uttered her next words.

“We should get some sleep.”

You broke out of your trance, jumping backwards slightly when noticing limited space between you both. You awkwardly coughed as she stood, heading back over to her chair to grab her bag and return to her room.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Big today, rest is probably a good idea.” You both nodded, she was already one foot out of the door when she gave you a small ‘goodnight’ and left, not waiting to hear you say it back.

Just like you hadn’t realised her actions early, you were oblivious to her hitting her head off of the wall in the corridor just outside of your room, wondering why she’d backed away. Where was Thor’s hammer when you needed to knock some sense into yourself? She thought before dragging herself back to her room where she would fall asleep, unable to get you out of her head.

_________________________

“Right! Headcount before we go in! And I want us all on our best behaviour Avengers, this is a wedding” Steve had completely lost you after ‘Headcount’. Not only are most of you fully grown adults, sorry Peter, but he seems to be oblivious to the fact that some of you were wearing high heels, and patience in high heels had an expiry date.

“Y’know, if he doesn’t let us in soon, I’m not afraid to threaten him with his own shield.” You heard a whisper just behind your ear, smirking at the comment.

“I’ll join you.” You answered, Bruce and Clint sharing a knowing look from afar when watching the two of you have your own quiet conversation, though short lived when they saw Natasha’s head move in their direction, their gaze coming to a halt so as to avoid any conflict with their teammate.

You guys could try to hide it all you want, but your entire team knows better than that, they just had to wait it out until you both finally admitted it to the other.

______________________

You and the Avenger’s were currently sitting at a guest table, now in the reception part of the evening. The ceremony was beautiful, the bride wore a crisp white ball gown with her makeup and hair done to perfection, the groom looking like a prince in his black tux and a look full of adoration towards his wife to be painted on his face.

Their looks weren’t the best part of it though. The clothes and the accessories were lovely, of course. But all you could focus on was the love shared between them as they shared their vows telling the other how they believed they were each other's soulmate, and that they promised to always be the other’s rock. You’d found yourself with tears in your eyes, barely able to appreciate the sight with how blurry your vision was now. They finally fell when they said their ‘I do’s’, feeling only happiness for the newlyweds.

Although marriage hadn’t been something you always thought about, you’d hoped that you would meet your special someone and settle down, retire from the missions, the battles, the superhero lifestyle and just be with your soulmate for the rest of your days.

Despite not being a couple, whenever you thought of the person you wanted to spend the rest of your time with, there was only one person that came to mind. And she stood right in front of you throughout the ceremony, comforting a sobbing demi-god while he was also trying to explain to Vision why he was in floods of tears.

Music filled the room, upbeat, but calm enough for the couples on the dancefloor to sway gently to the beat, soft lights occasionally shining on them as they danced, the bride and groom being one of them. You smiled gently at the sight, feeling dreadfully single with all of the love in the room, but grateful that you could see so many people look so content and in love with their significant other.

An elbow could suddenly be felt in your side, pulling you from your thoughts to instead be met with gorgeous green eyes and a bold red smirk.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She leaned in, curiosity clouding her mind.

“Nothing much up there really.” You glanced back at the dance floor quickly. “I’m just happy to see everyone so happy.”

Natasha followed your direction of where you were looking, an idea soon popped into her head. She was going to ask you to dance.

Her mouth opened to speak, but as if it was done on purpose, a ‘screech’ echoed in the ballroom, catching everyone’s attention, including taking yours away from hers.

“We’re taking a break from dancing for a minute folks, It’s time for the bride to throw the bouquet!” He announced, soon followed by shrieks and the sound of feet padding on the wooden floor, women all gathering in a small bunch, huddled together as if their lives depended on it as the men all returned to their seats, shaking their heads at the commotion.

Not really wanting to take part, you turned back around again.

“Sorry Nat, what were you-”

“Y/N!” Your head fell as you were interrupted by a very excited Maximoff.

“Y/N! C’mon! We need to do the bouquet toss!” She started to pull you up, refusing to listen to any excuse you could possibly conjure up to avoid having to take part.

Giving the team a desperate look, hoping someone will help you escape, you’re instead met with encouraging and amused faces, including Natasha’s a clear indication that not a single person was going to help you. Traitor’s.

With a half serious eye roll, you quickly grabbed your glass of champagne and kicked off your heels, heading towards the group of screaming women basically crawling on top of one another when the bride was barely up on the ‘stage’ yet. You let Wanda wander off into the group but remained towards the back, sipping from your glass and sending the occasional sneaky glare towards your table.

“You guys ready?” The bride yelled, only to be met with more screams and a faint chorus of ‘yes’ heard among it as they all threw their hands higher. Wanda saw you were just stood there, and subtly used her powers to raise your hand, earning loud laughs and cheers from the Avengers, taking great joy in the scene unfolding in front of them.

“Okay! Three...Two..”

You kept your arm up, pretending to be enthusiastic about the toss, when you realistically didn’t really expect much from these kinds of traditions. What you definitely hadn’t expected, was for your figure to stumble backwards as you suddenly felt petals and stems in your palm, a faint feeling of silk brushing against your thumb as your fingers wrapped around the item.

You almost spat out your champagne, eyes widening in shock as you looked to see the arrangement of flowers in your grip, looking up to see women both disheartened and elated at your catch. How the hell had you managed that? You were literally the farthest person away, and on your own! You must’ve been set up. Okay, a bit of a stretch, but still!

“WOOO, Y/L/N IS GETTING MARRIED!”

“WHO’S THE LUCKY SOMEONE Y/N?”

“Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS, Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS.”

The bride noticeably laughed at your friend’s cheers, she hadn’t meant to throw it that far back, her arm just kinda went full force, but seeing the reaction it caused, she didn’t regret it. She didn’t even regret it when she saw the look of embarrassment on your face, as it was soon replaced with a contagious beam as you walked towards them again, a very proud Wanda in tow,

“Guys! Guys! I’m not even in a relationship! I highly doubt i’m the next woman in this room to get married.” You joked

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Sam laughed “Romanoff, you got an engagement ring handy?” He yelped as a peanut from the centre of the table was thrown at him, and of course with being a trained assassin, Nat had hit him right in the centre of his forehead, earning a dramatic noise of pain to leave his mouth.

These guys will be the death of you.

__________________

After some teasing, the room had filled once again with happy couples dancing, now including some you were very familiar with, one being a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist and his CEO wife, and another being an Asgardian with his Midgardian girlfriend, both gently moving side to side in time with the music.

Letting out a content sigh, you were met once again with the flowers, however, this time, they weren’t on the table, but were held by a gorgeous woman in a flawless navy dress.

“So, I know we aren’t a couple, but, would the future bride like to dance?” She asked, you let out a content sigh, pretending to think it over for a minute.

“Y’know what, I would, thank you for your kind offer.” You took the hand she’d held out for you and led you to the dance floor. While her hands went to your waist, gently tugging you closer, your arms went around her neck, hands interlocking behind her as you, like the others you’d admired all even, swayed.

You’re unsure when it happened, much like a time before, but your head had made its way onto your dance partner's shoulder, your body following suit as it left no room between the two of you, though you weren’t complaining. Neither was the fellow Avenger.

It was peaceful for a period of time, the only sound being the slow music and a quiet chatter of people across the floor. It wasn’t long before you heard the red head above you whisper in your ear once again.

“You really do look amazing tonight, Y/N.” You raised your head so it was directly opposite hers, sending her an appreciative gaze.

“That future fiance of yours is lucky.” She winked.

“Hilarious” You scoffed, fully aware of her humorous tone.

“I know, sometimes I amaze even myself with my jokes.”

“Well, it really is funny, because I honestly don’t see myself getting married anytime soon.” Nat’s eyebrows raised in what could almost be described as confusion.

“And why is that? Do you not want to get married?” Her hands started grazing up and down your waist, like she was comforting you, but really she was bracing herself for what was incoming.

“No, no it’s not that. I just..”

“Just?”

“I don’t think the person i’m interested in, is necessarily interested in me.” Her heart dropped. So you did have someone of interest. She pushed the sinking feeling to the side quickly so that she could respond.

“Right, and why is that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen them make a move. I thought it’d be obvious. I think it has been to some others.” Your eyes wandered, lingering for longer than what was probably appropriate, on Natasha’s plump lips, wondering if you’d ever get to experience what it’d be like to feel them on yours.

This time, Natasha didn’t miss it. She would’ve blamed it on alcohol, saying that she must’ve just imagined it, but she had only consumed a few drops all evening, being too entranced by you didn’t leave much room for hydration. She hadn’t been more thankful, because it made a light bulb go off in her head as the pieces came together in her head of who you were referring to. She didn’t make a move the other night. It was obvious to the team. How could she have been so blind?

You didn’t see it coming, even when your chin was held in her grasp and you saw her face leaning in towards yours, the reality only hitting you when you finally felt what you’d been wanting to feel for the last months, right now. Your surroundings had just disappeared, the only thing that was running through your head, was the way her lips were moving against yours, and the way her lips tasted faintly of vanilla, and how she smelled like her floral perfume she wore for special occasions.

Whooping and cheering brought you both back from your bubble with just the two of you, your head falling just below her chin, her hand stroking your back as you could feel her chuckle bubbling where your head lay. Well, hid. Her arms had muffled their comments, but you had an idea of what they were, probably a mixture of ‘finally!’, ‘i knew it!’ and you’re almost certain you heard a ‘You owe me 20 bucks.’, that one making you shake your head.

Remaining in your hiding spot, that wasn’t very well hidden, but was keeping your bright red face to yourself, a pair of familiar lips lingered right beside your head.

“So, about that bouquet..”

You weren’t getting married, but by the end of the night, you definitely didn’t feel so dreadfully single as you had earlier.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Long Way From Home

Summary: Her arrival was an accident, but some blessings come in disguise.

Genre: Fluff

Request: Yes / No

Word Count: 4,466

* * * * * *

A long heavy sigh falls from the doctor’s lips, his fingers nervously cleaning his glasses.“ I’m just not too sure about this Tony. Last time we experimented on an infinity stone we-”

“Were severely uneducated.” The billionaire replies, pulling his usual smirk as he looks at Bruce.“ We’re in the right league now. And we’ve got back up, just in case.”

A chorus of grumbles sounds around the lab, each member of the team a little less than happy to be here at the moment but also not willing to allow another Ultron situation.

Steve sighs, almost as heavily as Bruce did, and crosses his arm.“ Just be careful Tony. We’ll shut this down if need be.”

Tony raises his hands in a show of innocence and nods,“ don’t worry Capsicle, we’ve got it under control.”

With those words spoken, Tony nods to Bruce who commences the first test of the Space and Time Stones.

Everyone stands with bated breaths as the stones spin in their chambers. There’s a brief flicker of the lights as the stones pull on the energy from the compound, in the dark it’s hard to see the chasm of space that appears in the gap between Wanda and Natasha.

When the lights finally come back in the room of, now armed, superheroes they all cautiously take in their surroundings.

“Why do all these science experiments involve children?” Steve asks frustratedly.

Natasha frowns, tilting her head at him in confusion,“ Rogers what kid?”

The blonde man slowly lowers his shield and nods behind her. Frown deepening, Natasha slowly turns around, using every bit of her willpower to stop her jaw from dropping.

Standing a few feet shorter than her, is a little girl. Her eyes scan the girls body, searching first for any signs of injury and second for any clues as to how she got here. Instead of finding those things, Natasha discovers the child's very clear state of horror.

Glancing around at her family, some members of which are still holding weapons, Natasha understands how terrifying this must be to a kid.

Quickly disarming her widows bites, Natasha lowers herself to catch the e/c eyes of the red haired little girl. Smiling as softly as she can, the ex-assassin nearly whispers,“ hi.”

The single word pulls the girl’s attention from the big scary Avengers, to Natasha. A look flashes through the girl’s eyes and she almost instantly calms down. Looking from Natasha’s eyes down to her feet, the little girl plays with her fingers, mumbling,“ hi.”

Once again Natasha glances back at her team, catching sight of Steve, Bruce, and Tony talking over by one of the desks, Sam and Bucky’s confused glances over her way, and Wanda’s soft yet confused eyes on her as well.

Looking at Natasha, Wanda finds a slightly panicked look in the Russian’s eyes. Slowly walking over, Wanda assumes the same position as Natasha, squatting and looking at the little girl.

“Hi,” she speaks quietly, a soft smile on her lips,“ my name is Wanda. What’s yours?”

Shyly looking at Wanda, the little girl quickly averts her gaze back to Natasha. An uncertainty sits in her eyes that makes Natasha incredibly curious. It’s not as if she’s uncertain of Natasha, it’s almost as if she’s asking for permission.

“I’m Natasha.” She says, in hopes that the little girl will take that as an invitation to tell her name.

She does, once again playing with her fingers.“ My name is Katya.”

“Katya is a very pretty name.” Wanda tells her.

That gets the girl to smile, a light blush coating her cheeks,“ my mommy says it means pure.”

Natasha nods,“ it does.” What’re the odds that she has a name of Russian origin.

“Um, ladies,” a deep, clearly nervous, voice speaks up behind Natasha and all their eyes move to Steve.“ I think it’s best we all leave, let the scientists finish their work uninterrupted.”

Work, as in finding out where this girl just came from and how to send her back.

Nodding in agreement, the two women stand up and look down at the girl,“ come on Katya, we’re going to go find somewhere else to relax okay?”

Katya nods hesitantly.

While Bruce and Tony get to work on finding Katya a way home, the rest of the team works on making sure she feels safe and as comfortable as she can be in an unknown environment. Even though they have their own questions and concerns, they’re more worried about keeping the child in a peaceful state.

Unsure of where to take a child in the compound, Natasha just follows Wanda’s lead.

A moment of shock hits her hard when she feels a soft little hand slip into hers. She’s tempted to jump away from the touch but oddly enough, the instant she looks down into soft e/c eyes she relaxes a little, allowing the child to hold her hand as they walk through the compound. Until they all end up in the common room.

Just as they’re all sitting down, the glass doors open and Natasha elicits the hardest eye roll at the announcement of her last teammate's arrival.

“Honeys I’m home!” You playfully exclaim as you walk into the common room, arms spread as one hand holds your duffle bag.

Sam and Wanda’s faces light up at your presence, surprisingly so does Katya’s. All three of them hold bright smiles, Wanda popping up off the couch to run over to you, wrapping you in a hug.

Arm wrapped around her, you and Wanda walk back over to everyone. Sam jumps up to give you a one armed hug and you get waves from everyone, everyone except one person. The one person who seems to dislike you the most.

“What Romanoff, I don’t get a-” your words fall short as you look at the person beside Natasha. Eyebrows raised you glance around at everyone, taking in their calm expressions and realizing they all obviously know something you don’t.

Clearing your throat, you smile softly at the little girl.“ Hi, I’m Y/n.”

“I’m Katya!” She exclaims, making everyone raise their eyebrows. Natasha frowns at it though. The little girl had been quieter than a mouse since appearing here and yet your presence draws out such an enthusiastic response.

You smile brightly at her,“ Katya is a gorgeous name.”

“Mommy says it means pure.” She exclaims again, slightly quieter than before.

“That’s beautiful, It’s clear your mommy really loves you,” you tell her, then looking around at everyone again,“ where exactly uh, is she?”

Steve stands up and nods for you to step over to him. As you do so you feel the eyes of the little girl on you. Off to the side of the room, Steve explains the situation to you. Everything he knows for that matter. And you laugh a little.

Leave it to Tony and Bruce to bring a child from some random place and time in space to the compound in one of their experiments.

“No murder bots though.” You say, patting his shoulder, then turning to look over at the little girl at Natasha’s side.

Something in the way she looks at Natasha tugs on your intrigue. Even more so, you’re intrigued by the way Natasha is with her. It’s clear she’s a little out of her comfort zone but she’s still very soft with the girl, delicately speaking to her.

You and Nat haven’t been on the best of terms for years. At one point, when you were just an enhanced agent at S.H.I.E.L.D, you and Natasha would work seamlessly together. You considered yourselves friends and quite honestly loved spending time together.

When it all went downhill you aren’t entirely sure(and neither is she if she’s being honest) but things have been tense between you two ever since. Little things you do annoy her and for whatever reason you now find her closed off personality to be a bit much.

Shaking your head to clear the thoughts away, you cross your arms over your chest,“ so what’s the plan Cap?”

“Not sure entirely,” he sighs softly,“ for now it’s to keep the kid safe and as happy as possible till we can get her home.”

You nod,“ sounds good.” Clapping your hands lightly, you grab everyone’s attention,“ Katya, you got a favorite movie girly?”

She nods excitedly,“ Little Mermaid. She has red hair like me.”

“I think your hair is prettier,” Natasha says with a soft nudge to Katya’s arm that makes the little girl blush and say a quiet thank you.

“To the theater then.” You say, once again smiling at her.

Everyone agrees and they all stand and start down the hall to the theater(once team movie night began a set thing, Tony had the theater built).

On the walk over, you can’t help but notice how Katya remains close to Natasha, following the redhead’s every move, all the while continuing to glance back at you.

Admittedly, there’s an odd feeling that stirs in your chest when her bright e/c eyes look into your e/c ones. There’s an abundant amount of love and admiration in them that could melt the coldest of hearts. Why that emotion is in her eyes as she looks at you makes you wonder, but you’ve decided not to think too hard on that for now.

However that exact feeling bursts forth in this very moment.

As you’re preparing the popcorn machine, everyone assumes a spot in the room. The little girl sits right beside Natasha as Sam tries to entertain her while Clint goes to put the movie. How does a grown man get a ten year old girl to have fun?

He challenges her to an arm wrestle. Apparently.

“Come on Lil Bit,” Sam eases himself to the floor opposite Katya,“ show me what you got?” His teasingly playful smile accompanies his action of resting his elbow on the table.

Katya glances up at Natasha uncertainly, as if asking permission. The redhead’s face projects her surprise but she quickly reigns it in, smiling a little and saying,“ go ahead. It’s about time someone put Wilson in his place.”

Unexpectedly, the little girl turns her gaze to you. You can only imagine your expression resembles Natasha’s. Only to soften as you smile and nod.

That’s all it takes for her to go along with it. She scoots to kneel on the floor across from Sam. Placing her elbow on the table and locking her hand with the older man’s.

It’s overly amusing to see how intrigued everyone in the room becomes. Bucky and Steve seem to be commenting on the little game as if it were the World Series. Sam pulls his game face. And Wanda and Clint keep their eyes trained on the hands of Sam and Katya.

A three second countdown is spoken before they both tense up their arms and fight to win.

Not a single soul in the room is expecting the outcome.

In a split second, Katya gains the upper hand, and slams Sam’s arm through the glass of the table. Wide eyes stare on in completely silent shock.

Katya drops Sam’s hand and pushes herself up and away from the table.“ I-I,” you can tell what’s about to happen before it does and you move without a single thought.

Food forgotten, you now kneel in front of Katya, gently grabbing her arms.“ Hey it’s okay, it’s okay.” Teary e/c eyes look at you and you feel your breath snatched away.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpers.

“It’s fine Katya. It was an accident,” you nod as if to convince her that it’s okay. It seemingly works as she nods as well.“ Are you hurt?” She shakes her head and you glance over at Sam.“ You alright Wilson?”

His face is still one of bewilderment but he nods,“ yeah, yeah I’m good.”

The whole room takes in the look on Katya’s face and it’s Steve that manages to break everyone’s frozen states.“ Kid’s got an arm.”

Wanda snorts first and it causes a ripple effect of laughs from the team. Slowly looking around at all of them, Katya’s tears dry up and she smiles softly.

You sigh inaudibly as she starts to laugh and funnily enough, when you look up, your relieved expression meets Natasha’s. There’s a slight moment between you two, your eyes locking as you share your relief over the little girl being okay. Whatever attachment you seem to have for the girl is obviously shared. But you also catch something else in her eyes, something that doesn’t have to do with the little girl.

However the moment is gone in the blink of an eye. You shake your head and focus on Katya.

Softly rubbing her arms, you smile at her and take her hand, guiding her back to the seat beside Natasha and she tugs on your hand,“ sit with me?” She asks.

And you nod without a thought of hesitation,“ just let me grab us some popcorn okay?” Nodding happily, she scoots back on the loveseat and looks at Natasha. They have a quiet conversation as you fix three small containers of popcorn. Holding them in your hands and going back over.

Even though it’s the smallest thing ever, Natasha makes a face of surprise when you hand her the popcorn after giving Katya hers. When she looks up at you, it’s like a smack in the face how similar she looks to the girl beside her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs and you nod dazedly.

It’s almost haunting to you how much they look alike. Katya’s eyes are e/c but that hair, her nose, even the shape of her eyes looks damn near exactly like Natasha. The thought sticks in your head throughout the entire movie, causing you to occasionally glance over at the little girl and Natasha.

About halfway through the movie, Katya falls asleep. Her body tilts towards you, her head resting on your arm as she sleeps quietly. Once everyone notices that the girl is asleep they start to leave out.

Steve’s first, and possibly only, thought is heading to the lab for an update from Tony and Bruce. Bucky and Sam are in the middle of a heated argument over Ariel’s decision to make a deal with Ursula. Clint left before the movie, having a wife and kids to get home to. Wanda lingered, glancing at you, Katya, and Natasha.

“Are you-” the younger woman stops,“ do you need any help with her?”

Before you can open your mouth to speak, Natasha does.“ I’m gonna stay up with them for a moment. Go get some sleep Wan.”

Wanda nods with a soft smile and you can see the sleepiness in her eyes. You return the smile and tell her a quick goodnight before she leaves out.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you look down at Katya, a small smile on your lips at the sight of the young girl.“ You know, she looks like you.” You say, not knowing how else to voice your thoughts.

“Like me?” Natasha asks. The tone of her voice tells you that she realized that herself, probably thought about it for a bit, but possibly pushed it away.

You nod,“ that hair, her nose, her cheeks,” you look up from the girl to Natasha,“ I knew when I saw her she looked familiar but I guess I just didn’t put two and two together.”

“Well she’s got your eyes.” Natasha adds, raising her eyebrows at you as if to argue your point, but you just chuckle and nod.

Gently easing yourself away from the little girl, holding her up with your hand,“ she does.” Then you pick her up, holding her in your arms.

The way you’d done so makes Natasha’s eyebrows raise. For a moment she’s surprised to see you so familiarly handle Katya. Then she remembers that there were children as small as Katya in your family a few years ago. You’ve almost always been around little kids due to how often your siblings were popping out babies.

She remembers being around them often, before you two fell out. She’d been almost as close to your nieces and nephews as she is to the Bartons.

“Um, where is she sleeping?” You ask, glancing down at the little girl in your arms, her back softly rising and falling as she breathes.

Natasha shrugs,“ we can put her in one of the rooms in our hall.”

Nodding, you follow after the redhead, walking through the common room to the elevators, taking them up to the floor you and Nat sleep on. She opens the door to the room right beside yours(the room that used to be hers) and steps in after you as you carry the little girl to the bed.

As you lean down to lay her in the bed, her arms tighten around you, a little whimper leaving her lips that makes you instantly hold her closer. Frown on your face, you turn to look at Natasha who raises her eyebrows at you.

“Just lay her down Y/ln,” she whispers at you.

You sigh turning back to the bed to try again, but the instant you lower your upper body down she clings to you. Once again you turn to Natasha who looks at you frustratedly.

“Just. Put. Her. Down.” She continues to whisper, now aggressively pointing at you then the bed.

Your frown deepens and you place your hand on the back of Katya’s head, as if shielding her from your equally aggressive whisper to Natasha.“ I can’t Romanoff, she won’t let me go and I’m not prying a child out of my arms.”

“Then I guess she’s sleeping with you.” She smiles sarcastically at you before turning and leaving the room, walking straight across the hall to her room.

With Katya still in your arms, you quietly sigh and ease yourself on to the bed, gently laying back with the little girl still in your arms.

The moments before you fall asleep are full of you thinking. All about Katya and Natasha.

Not knowing where Katya came from drives you a little crazy over the next couple of days. But you manage to never make that known to the little girl. She’s the sweetest kid, her innocence adding something to the compound you hadn’t ever felt before.

That attachment you and Natasha felt towards her the first day, grows stronger. So strong that the little girl takes turns sleeping in both yours and Natasha’s rooms. Her presence draws yourself and Natasha closer and while it doesn’t feel like it had all those years ago, it feels really good to be able to talk to her again.

Today officially marks a week with Katya and while you haven’t fallen into a complete routine, things have been a lot calmer since the first day of her being here. You all have accepted that she’s sticking around until Tony and Bruce find her a way home. So for now your main goal is making sure she’s comfortable here.

After having taken Katya with you on your run with Steve, she wasn’t the happiest when you left her with Wanda in the kitchen to go take your shower, but you promised to come back. Which you did.

Now you stand at the counter, making a pot of coffee after Sam and Tony drank the first one and didn’t refill it, as Katya helps Wanda bake muffins for breakfast.

A gasp followed by an adorable little giggle hits your ears and you turn around to see Natasha now beside Katya, a bit of flour on her finger. One look at Katya’s face, the flour swiped across her forehead, you know what happened.

Smiling softly at them, you catch Natasha’s eyes.“ Coffee?” You ask quietly, voice barely above a whisper. But she catches it(mainly because her eyes had been on your lips before you even spoke) and nods.

Turning to the machine, you take down a mug and start to fix Natasha’s coffee just how she likes it. Smiling softly at her as you offer the mug up, her accepting it with a soft smile in return.

Both of you look back to Katya as she pours way more chocolate chips into the mix than necessary, then watching Wanda pour the mix into the pan.

As soon as they’re in the oven she claps excitedly making all of you smile at her. The little redhead runs up to you and Natasha, looking up at you happily,“ mo-” she cuts herself off with an uncertain look and sighs, her smile slipping for a moment before she speaks again,“ I made muffins with Wan!”

You and Natasha share a quick look at Katya’s little slip but, not wanting to make her feel any worse than she seemed to have felt, you both move past it.

“We saw,” Natasha smiles at her,“ what kind of muffins?”

“Chocolate chip!”

Eyes widening in excitement, you look at her with your eyebrows raised,“ you know,” you squat down to look her directly in the eyes,“ chocolate chip is my favorite.”

Her smile gets even brighter,“ it’s mine too. Momma always gives me milk with it.”

Your jaw drops, continuing to show an abundance of excitement for the girl,“ that’s exactly how I like to eat my muffins. We’re gonna have milk when we eat these muffins okay?” She nods and you hold your hand up for a high five.

“Muffins are best with coffee.” Natasha says, shaking her head at both of you.

Katya shakes her head, mumbling quietly,“ you always say that.” She giggles softly.

Doing your best not to frown at her words, you wonder when Natasha may have said that to Katya over the last week and drawing a blank. Wanda hasn’t baked muffins in almost two weeks.

As you all wait for the muffins to finish, you move to the common room, sitting around on the couches, Katya finding her usual place between you and Natasha. The second you grab the remote she looks up at you, eyes soft as she silently asks for it and you sigh, handing it over without question.

Looking up you catch the green eyes of Natasha who quirks her eyebrow at you, a small knowing smirk on her face that makes you shake your head, mouthing ‘don’t say a word’ which makes her laugh quietly.

While waiting you all watch the cartoon Katya put on. Slowly the rest of your team trickles into the room, finding spots all around, finding entertainment in the cartoon.

Looking around at your team, a small smile pulls at your lips. More of than innocence showing itself in the moment.

A group of ex-assassins, ex-military men, a witch, former agent, doctor/green giant, and a billionaire all sit around the room watching a cat cause chaos with a walking fish. It’s already crazy to see all of you as the family that you are, to now see all of you so seemingly childish is crazier.

The episode goes off shortly after, a commercial, playing before yet another episode of the show starts up. Katya is so invested in the show she doesn’t pay a lick of attention to the timer going off in the kitchen.

Looking over at Wanda, you shrug with a smile and she chuckles softly, shaking her head.

Just as she stands up a blackhole like chasm forms in the common room.

Exactly like they had when Katya arrived, everyone once again produces their weapons seemingly from thin air. You pop up from the couch, moving the little girl to stand behind you as you accept the pistol Natasha hands you.

Every on guard stance slacks, expressions forming into very confused ones at the person who steps through the chasm. Long red curls fall down her shoulders, body clad in a black cat suit, all too familiar green eyes scanning the room, landing directly on you.

She smiles softly, then glances down behind you, that smile getting even brighter.

There’s an odd tug in your heart at the sight of Natasha’s smile. One that bright? You hadn’t seen in years. God you missed it. But that was the last thing you should be thinking about, not when the very woman smiling at you is also standing beside you.

“Um what-”

Tony’s question is cut short when Natasha squats down, still looking at the girl behind you,“ Katya, come here honey.”

“Mommy?” Katya peaks around your legs and smiles instantly at the sight of Natasha. Breaking away from you, she sprints over to her and throws her little arms around the woman’s neck.

Watching that whole interaction brings everything together in your head.

Tony and Bruce were running tests on the space and time stone. Of course some time traveling was possible. And of course on their very first test they bring Natasha’s daughter from the future.

Realizing that you’re slightly freaking out brings another thought to mind. If this is you panicking Natasha must be losing it.

A glance over shows her blank expression. Almost blank that is. Cause in her eyes you see the shock, the amazement, the wonder, the hope.

She noticed the similarities in her’s and Katya’s looks, she couldn’t ignore the attachment she and the little girl felt towards one another. This is why.

Looking up from the little girl to herself. She reads her lips, ‘now how did you end up fifteen years in the past malen'kiy?’

Fifteen years. In the past.

Katya is her daughter. She’s going to have a daughter in a few short years? With who? Is a question that quickly answers itself.

She and Katya slowly look over to everyone, green eyes and e/c ones scanning over the group then landing on you and Natasha and staying there.

Their gazes, looking into the e/c eyes that belong to the young redhead, you both come to the understanding. Which makes you both slowly look at each other.

You have a child together. You and Natasha end up with a kid.

“Where are momma and Domi?” Katya turns back to Natasha and asks.

Two children!!

Your next question is answered when you see the glint of the ring on Natasha’s finger.

Holy sh-

“Thank you for taking care of her.” Natasha says, offering each of you a smile, wasting no time in nodding, scooping up the little girl who waves to you all as they disappear into the void.

A long moment of silence passes, then Bruce sucks his teeth and Tony hums.“ No more playing with infinity stones.”

Still looking into Natasha’s eyes, you release a slightly shaky breath,“ holy shit.”

* * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers

[byeolhyesisi]

VELVET LIPS; TEN LEE

prince!ten lee x maid!reader

You were an old friend and he gladly wanted to have the friendship you both shared back after it slipped away despite breathing the same air.

genre: fluff, royalty au, friends to lovers au, romance

words: 6.2k+

tags: @uyuzo @angel-hyuckie @joker0705 @bbjisungg @spectracully @m1ntykun @mmarrie @jwoos-colored @leolo404 @peachysunq @aghaczen @deysii @trashlord-007 @intokook @kjpmin @je4nsv @czenshireland

a/n: hello! the first fic to open my velvet series is finally here! I would like to sincerely apologize for the delay and making you all wait for so long. I can't keep any promises of posting the other fics faster but I hope you guys can bear with me:( thank you so much! -byu<3

the velvet series masterlist

The Kingdom of Velour is pretty well known because of the King and Queen's children, especially their first born, Ten Lee. But of course there was no favouritism as the King and Queen loved their children equally.

Ten was a man filled with talents; everyone in the kingdom and neighboring ones adored him. Ten was kind, creative, cheerful and good-looking. It was no doubt that girls would be swooning for the prince.

Your mother was a handmaiden and she lived in the palace. She was an acquaintance of the family since she served the monarchs for a long time which explains the closeness she had with the royals. When your mother gave birth to you, she was at the age of fourty and it was a blessing for her as she gave birth in an age close to menopausal. Your father, who was one of the kingdom's most admired knight, died before you were even born due to natural causes.

Your birth surprised everyone in the palace mainly because you and the prince were born on the same day, some people jokingly referred to the both of you as twins and unexpectedly enough, you grew up with Ten; The two of you became close friends and shared the same passion in art. Everyone in the castle had a close bond but there was no doubt that the bond you shared was something more.

At the age of fifteen your mother died of cardiac arrest and at that moment you knew; You need to take care of yourself. Despite the royal family's offer of raising you as their own; You kindly refused, saying that you can handle your own. You were not of royal blood, and having the family take care of you will make you feel indebted to them; a burden even, they already helped you and your mother a lot since your birth and you didn't want to become a big responsibility to them. Because you started working in the palace as a maid, the close friendship between you and Ten were somehow slipping away since the prince himself was slowly getting busy. You felt lonely and so did he. He had his own duties and you had yours; not long after he had a baby sister so surely that will lessen his loneliness right? Of course it did but sadly, it didn't do much. He was happy that he had a sister to tease and bond with but Ten missed how the both of you spent time together, and he doubts that it will happen again because the two of you started to have worlds of your own.

Years went by and the both of you are already adults. As expected of the prince, he grew up well; Handsome and such, the royal siblings were referred to as Aphrodite's gift for their stunning looks. The King and Queen expects him to find a partner before his twenty-fifth birthday and Ten knew it wouldn’t be easy so it troubled him. His father was not that old or too vulnerable to rule but he already wants to pass the crown to him, the only thing making him unfit to rule is the lack of support and solace; a queen. There are only two months before his birthday, how will he find his queen?

Why does my father want to pass the crown to me already? He asked himself. He personally thinks that he's not ready yet but his mother always gives him constant assurance that he could rule a kingdom. He couldn't stop thinking about it, neither could he sleep. His train of thoughts were crowded by what ifs and it was stressing him out. He knew he needed to de-stress himself that's why on a particular day, he went to the gardens to do something he hasn't done in a while which was drawing. And to his surprise, he saw someone with a sketchbook that seemed oddly familiar to him, his brain managed to analyze why it seemed so familiar to him and it was because it was his a certain gift he gave before and that's when he realized that it was you. He was astonished that after all these years you still had it.

Ten barely saw you but he still caught glimpses of you, whether it may be when the two of you would pass each other on the same corridor, you serving one of the meals during feasts or doing any chore that he would coincidentally see. The prince was happy to see an old friend and he has this small hope that the both of you will reconnect once again.

He slowly walked towards the concrete garden bench and sat down a few inches away from you, the shadow of his figure distracted your vision as it blocked the sunlight and when you turned around, you hurriedly stood up to bow with wide eyes. "Your highness." You greeted politely. Thinking that he might want to be alone, you were about to walk away to not disturb him but he stopped you right away. "You know that it's alright, (Y/N)... You can stay." Ten spoke softly, the sudden warmness he had made you forget your differences and it also caught you off guard. You thought that after the loss of your mother you would become nothing but a stranger to him. It was unexpected that he spoke to you like that at all. It's been a long time, the both of you became awkward with each other but Ten is determined to make that tension disappear so he initiated a conversation. "Are you doing well these days?" He asked as he started making lines and figures with his pencil on the sketchbook he brought with him. "Yes I am, your highness." You answered quietly but audible enough for him to hear as you sat back down.

"It's alright to drop the formalities, (Y/N). You can just call me by my name." Ten chuckled. "I missed you. We basically grew up together and you were my best friend." The prince casually voiced out the longing he had for the past few years over and it made you flustered. You didn't expect that he would miss you too. A slight smile spread on your lips and he took notice of it, a contagious smile seemingly spread on the prince's lips. You started drawing again and you didn't notice that his eyes were on you. Now that he caught a proper look at his old friend, he can't help but to admire how well you have grown, even with the messy hair and a few blemishes. For some reason there was this unexplainable feeling in Ten's heart and when he realized this he knew that it would come back. His past feelings.

After that interaction, the both of you started catching up with one another. Ten would talk to you even when you're doing some chores and he always insisted to help even if it were just small things. He introduced you to his sister and you got along with Tern as well. The both of them had the usual brother-sister relationship, they would argue and tease each other a lot but it was entertaining to say the least and you were actually the one who referees them. From time-to-time the two of you started getting closer again but you're afraid that the closer you are the more you wished that you weren't just friends and it was a bad thing; he's royalty and you're not. You're not fit for each other. It worries you that you may not be able to contain your feelings that's why you always remind yourself that you have a limit, and that limit is being just friends; this was something you always told yourself way back then.

Yet again, you and Ten started getting busy. It was already the last day of December and Ten has a month left to find a partner. Of course, the palace counselors have suggested bachelorettes to Ten but he always seemed to find a way on turning them down saying they may not be the one for him despite the counselors insisting that he meet them first. He always avoided these dates and he always came up with a reason. The prince decided to go and tell his sister that maybe it's time to seek advice on confronting his feelings. Besides, the best adviser Ten could ever have is her own sister even if they were like cat and dog. She might be younger but she's definitely good with her words. "You like her don't you?" Tern said suddenly before her brother could even open his mouth to say what he needed to say. Was it obvious? How did she know? The surprised prince asked himself. Tern chuckled at her brother's shocked face, and as if she could read his mind, she spoke again, "Yes it was obvious. You look at her differently. Also, I heard from mom that you used to fancy her—" Ten felt his cheeks slightly heating up because of what his sister knew and all he can do was huff, knowing she'll use this to tease him someday. "Do you think she'll like me back?" The prince finally spoke, looking at his sister, quietly anticipating her answer. "Who doesn't like you? I'm pretty sure she likes you too..." The princess smiled. "Are you sure? What if she doesn't—" "She does, I can feel it. Since when was I wrong?" Said Tern with a cheeky tone. "Do you know that mom is happy about the two of you talking again? I feel like she's rooting for the both of you." She chuckled. "You really think so?" Ten asked. "Yes I really think so, she told me a lot of things when I told her I can't believe she's friends with you before and now—" "Hey I'm not a bad friend, Tern." The prince said with a defensive tone in which the princess just laughed in response.

The King then suddenly announced that a ball will be held to help find the prince the partner he needs and it will happen tomorrow immediately. When you heard it you were slightly hurt, a pain in your chest that came with a sting to linger for seconds. It was because you were "kind of" jealous but you expected this, why would you think you have a chance with him anyways? You're just friends and nothing else, that should be enough for you so what's the point of being greedy. You brought your focus to your responsibilities, trying to distract yourself from the thoughts your heart transferring to your mind. As soon as it was already dinner time, the food is being brought out from the kitchen to the dining room one by one and you were part of the handmaidens that brought out the trays. The royal family was seated, dressed in new clothing tailored especially for them, and you couldn't help but to sneak quick glances at Ten. He looked heavenly with the black suit made of velvet fabric, the gold accents highlights his skin tone perfectly, the brooches add to the elegance he holds and his hair was neatly done in a comma hairstyle. They all look extravagant of course, there is no doubt that the royal family looks ravishing in almost everything; even though you've seen them in their full grace many times already, you don't seem to understand why is it that when you look at the prince it's like you've never seen him in an attire like this before? There was this flutter in your heart and you knew that was trouble. It was unavoidable, no matter how hard you tried to conceal this feeling it still managed to burst out of a seam. Before heading back outside to do some more chores, you took one last glance at the prince for the night and when you saw his feline eyes on looking at you, a sudden rush of blood flushed throughout your cheeks as you averted your gaze. You left the room without being aware of the smile plastered on Ten's face.

"My son, I was informed by my advisors that you're avoiding the dates arranged by our counselors and they also noted your uninterested behaviour, may I know why is that?" His father's words made Ten halt when he was about to cut the steak that was in front of him. He placed his utensils down then fixed his posture before answering his father. "I'll tell my honest thoughts, I have no interest in getting married for the sole purpose of ruling the kingdom, father. I have no interest in ruling either." Ten answered. It caused an unnoticeable shift in the King's mood but it was very felt in the atmosphere. It was like the temperature of the room dropped from warm to freezing cold. "It's settled, Chittaphon. You're going to be crowned king and you're going to find a bride whether you like it or not." The stern voice was one of the King's scary traits. Ten and his sister grew up fearing the certain tone but Ten didn't seem so fazed about it now unlike Tern who flinched slightly. "I really don't want to, father." Said the prince calmly. The King was wise enough to not engage any more disagreements, he knew very well that he shouldn't clash with his son's words at all but that didn't stop the King with insisting what he wants. "There will be a ball tomorrow, it's nothing grand, it will occur for the purpose of finding you a bride." The discussion ended there as Ten stared at his father in disbelief. Half of him wants to just walk out, while the remaining half wants to accept his fate. He contemplated whether to keep his mouth shut or to respond back. The prince later chose the latter part as he broke the silence in the air. "Why do you want to retire anyways? Why do you keep wanting me to take over?" Ten spat out the words with anger.

"Because I'm dying, Chittaphon." The King stated. Ten's bold eyes softened, he parted his lips and his eyebrows slowly furrowed together softly. The princess was taken aback as well, her eyes welling up with tears. The sudden declaration of the King filled the room with silence. "Were you planning to tell us?" The princess asked as her voice cracked slightly, the King only looked away in response. Now that Ten knows why they want him to take his father's place he started to understand, however there were still mixed feelings in his heart; he needed some fresh air that's why he stood up from his seat, leaving the room afterwards after disregarding the call of his name. Now what will I do? He asked himself. Ten feels overwhelmed and it's definitely not a good thing.

"Chittaphon, are you ok?" a familiar voice startled him. When he turned around he saw your figure, eyebrows furrowed together, he knew you were concerned. "I heard what happened inside. Do you need to talk?" You asked your dear friend. "Yes please, I need to let things out..." Ten said as he motioned you to walk with him. "I'm all ears." You responded with a soft smile on your lips, walking beside the conflicted prince. "I don't want to marry. Especially if it was just a person I met for a few days... I don't want that. I want someone who I know very well, someone I trust.. someone like—" Ten paused.

Someone like you. He finished in his head. "But I have no choice..." He hoped when he cut himself off it wouldn't make you curious on what he was supposed to stay. But in the midst of his slight worry, he suddenly had an idea. "Will you be busy tomorrow?" The prince faced your figure when he asked. You looked at your friend and it wasn't long until the both of you were staring in each other's eyes. You were lost in the stars that filled his brown orbs and before you fall deeper into the void, you looked away with a blink of an eye. "I will, there is a ball after all. Why did you ask?" You answered. "I want to see you there. Not as a maid but as a guest." He spoke. Once again you turned to look at the prince, only to realize he never once removed his gaze from you and it made butterflies flutter in your stomach. "Well... I'll try to be there for you. I'm not sure but I will try." A soft smile was plastered on your lips. "Thank you." He responded with a smile as soft as yours.

Today is the day and your heart pounded. Can I just make an excuse? You asked yourself internally. After the both of you parted ways last night and bid eachother goodnight, your mind and your heart were racing nonstop. You didn't want to attend the ball. The fact that you don't possess any lavish gowns and accessories for the occasion makes you feel like you didn’t belong there at all. Being out of place is something you didn't want to feel. Surely Ten wouldn't let that happen, but what would other people think of you? You didn't want to be in a place you weren't supposed to be but at the same time you didn’t want to let the prince down. Besides, other than not owning a gown, you don't want to see him fall for another girl. It would be better to just hear the news rather than witness it yourself. You were already busy in the kitchen. As soon as you woke up, a lot of chores greeted you a good morning. It was a busier morning than usual. Maybe you can just say that you were knackered.

Hours go by and you already feel exhausted. The ball starts in thirty minutes and it made your heart feel hectic. "I probably shouldn't go..." You whispered to your self, following it up with a sigh. A tap on your shoulder caught your attention while you were busy dusting a certain part of the castle, immediately making you look behind you to see who it was. "AH— your highness." You hurriedly bowed down to show your respect. A soft giggle rang through your ears followed by a voice audibly saying 'adorable'. "You may rise, (Y/N)." You followed the noble's words. The princess was in front of you. She was already dressed up in what you assume is the ball gown she's wearing to the ball. It was a beautiful sage green dress and you couldn't help but to be in awe at it's beauty. "Are you still busy? Do you still have more errands?" The princess asked. "I have finished my errands for this morning. I'm just doing some additional work, your highness." You answered politely.

Without saying a thing she grabbed your hand and pulled you through the corridor, running giddily as you tried to keep up with her. The next thing you knew the both of you stopped in front of her room. Tern opened the door, walking inside with you since her hand still held yours. "Ok so, you can drop the formalities now— We're friends, it's alright." She smiled, closing the door behind her. The princess gently pushed you forward until the both of you were standing in front of her bed. You were confused to say the least. What's going on? You asked yourself. There were two gowns laid down the bed. Both gowns were magnificent. The first one was a beautiful crimson color. The bodice was filled with intricate embroidery, the enormous and fluffy skirt made it look like a rose shaped cloud. On the other hand, the second dress was a pretty black color. It was more tame than the red one but it was still elegant nonetheless. The long sleeves had cream-colored cuffs, the gold details accentuates the black gown, and the outer lace corset helped to emphasize it more. Now it made you think. Is the princess not dressed up for the ball yet?

"So... have you chosen the gown you'll wear?" Tern asked cheekily. "Huh? Me? What— why??" You faced the princess, hundreds of question marks flooded your face. "Well, I want you to look jaw dropping for the ball. Ten asked me a favor and you have no idea how excited I am to dress you up!" She explained and you didn't realize that you blushed with the mention of Ten's name. Now you don't have a choice but to actually attend the ball. You don't want to disappoint Ten and Tern. "If you feel like a burden, you're not, I assure you that. What are we waiting for? The ball will start soon." She chuckled.

You couldn't believe it. Is this really me? You thought as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. The princess styled your hair daintily, the makeup she did on you was soft and subtle. "You look wonderful..." Said the princess as she placed her hands on your shoulders. "I'm sure you'll have a lot of people staring at you." A faint knock on the door caught both of you attentions. When you were about to open the door, Tern stopped you. "I'll get it don't worry." She smiled as she approached the door, opening it afterwards. "Greetings, mother." Tern greeted in which the Queen smiled in return. The Queen's eyes slowly fell on your figure and you bowed right away. "My Queen." Your eyes were fixated on the floor but you heard footsteps getting closer. Soft hands gently cupped your cheeks, raising your head until both of your eyes meet. A gentle expression was on the Queen's face, it almost felt like she was looking at you with a motherly gaze. "You look so much like her now that you're all grown up. How are you, darling?" She questioned with adoration in her tone. Her words made you suddenly soften. You forgot that the Queen once cared for you and her sincere words made you somehow nostalgic.

"I'm doing great, your highness." You responded. "The ball started already, let's not keep the guests waiting." The Queen looked at the both of you before the three of you made you way to the ballroom.

This is it. Your heart suddenly feels like it's about burst, it was nerve-wracking to know that you'll have to see the person you shouldn't have liked fall for a person who isn't you but at this point you have already accepted that fact. As soon as the three of you entered the ballroom, the arrival was announced; making everyone turn their heads into your direction and all the eyes on you made you feel uneasy. A slight nudge from your side made you look at the princess, she motioned for you to look at a certain direction and when you followed, it felt like time stopped.

Before the three of you arrived, Ten was already there, conversing with some guests from time to time. He was patiently waiting for you but he was scared that you might not make it. It's not like he doesn't want you to take a rest after doing a lot of things; he just selfishly wants to be with you. And when the arrival of his mother and sister was announced for everyone to know, the way he immediately roamed his eyes just to have you on see if you made it shows how eager he is to see you and there you were, in a refined black gown with your hair in simple curls accompanied by pearl accessories. Ten saw how his little sister nudged you to look at his direction, and with the meeting of both of your eyes, it felt like there was no one else in the room but the two of you. The prince slowly walked closer; never did he ever take his eyes off you. "Oh what's this? Why do the both of you have matching clothes—" Tern pointed out and that was the only time the both of you perceived how similar your garments are. From the black color to the white pearls the both of you are sporting, It was indeed a coincidental match (if you take out the possibility that the siblings may or may have not planned it). A red tint spread on both of your cheeks and the both of you just chuckled it off. "Well, we'll leave the two of you alone." the Queen chimed before she walked away with Tern who gave the two of you a cheeky smile.

Ten cleared his throat which brought your attention back to him. "I'm happy that you made it. Thank you..." He spoke softly, the tone of his voice sounded like a comforting embrace to your ears. "You don't have to thank me..." A slight chuckle escaped from your lips. "Of course I do! You could've just rested but you're here and I appreciate it a lot." He smiled endearingly. There was a moment of silence but it didn't make an uncomfortable atmosphere. Both of your eyes wandered around eachother only to do the same thing; marvel at the sight the two of you are seeing.

In your point of view he was ethereal. There was no doubt that Aphrodite blessed him with heavenly visuals. Saying that he looked good would be an understatement because he's definitely more than "good". His looks definitely adds to the appeal he has due to his kind-hearted, playful and mellow personality. Meanwhile in Ten's point of view, he knew that he could stare at you for hours and he won't even get tired of doing so. He admires every inch of your features. He loves how the color of the gown compliments your complexion and he loves how your hair framed your face.

It was strange that the both of you are just staring at one another, but for some reason the two of you don't seem to mind at all. "As far as I enjoy admiring you right now I believe we have to do something else." The prince stated with a grin on his face. You couldn't but to look down because you could feel your cheeks heating up once again. Why am I flustered so easily? You questioned yourself as your heartbeat slowly quickened. "Are you alright?" A concerned Ten asked. You nodded, raising your head afterwards. "Then may I ask you to dance with me?" Ten reached his hand out waiting for yours. "But... but I don't know how to dance, Chittaphon—" "That won't be a problem, darling." You hesitated but you still placed your hand onto his. Ten couldn't be any happier when he felt his heart beat hastily. He slowly brought you into the middle of the ballroom where some people were already dancing while soft waltz played in the background. "It's okay for me to place a hand on your waist, right? Are you comfortable with it?" The prince queried. "I am, it's alright." You reassured with a slight chuckle. As soon as he placed his hand on your waist while his other hand still held onto yours, you felt a swarm of butterflies fluttering their wings in your stomach. Despite looking all calm with a balmy grin on his face, his inner self is definitely all over the place jumping and running around because of how the two of you are only a few inches away.

It felt like a fairytale despite occasionally stepping on his foot but he assured it was alright before he slows his rhythm down and guide you; the small gesture he does makes you blush to the point where you had to turn your head away from his eyes. It was when you realized it was only you and Ten left on the dancefloor, everyone stood buy to watch and it made you conscious; especially the jealous and dagger-like eyes of women whom you assume are the candidates for your friend's queen. Ten sensed it right away, he knew that something was bothering you. He looked around to see all the eyes on your dancing figures. "Just look at me, (Y/N). Don't mind them. Focus on me, darling." His silky voice lingered on your ears and it made you follow his words with the romantic exhilaration your heart is endlessly spreading. "Are you still feeling uneasy?" Ten spoke with a concerned tone. "If I'm being honest, I am—" The swaying of your bodies came to an abrupt halt and the next thing you knew was the involuntary movement of your body as Ten dragged you gently outside the ballroom and into the gardens. "Chittaphon!" The King exclaimed right after the both of you left the scene. "Let him be, love. It's about time he make a move." The Queen placed a hand on his shoulder, slightly leaving the King confused for he was unaware of the liking Ten had for you before.

"Chittaphon, I don't think we can just leave like that." You pointed out. "I didn't like the way they were looking at you." He responded. "I'm alright you don't have to worry about me. You should go back inside I'm sure the other nobles would love to dance with you." The jealous gazes directed at you awhile ago snapped you back to the reality that he isn't for you. The daggers they shoot from their eyes reminded you that you don't have a place in the luxurious lifestyle they live on because in the end, you're just a maid. You work in the palace, you serve; you're not the one being served. It was just like a knife to the heart, acting as your wake up call.

"You're the only one I want to dance with. No one else, just you." Before you could even comprehend his statement, you felt a pair of hands cup your cheeks, raising your head slightly to meet the eyes that never failed to melt you every time.

"I feel like now is the right moment. You have no idea how much I longed for you. The moment we went to have our separate worlds, I felt like a piece of my soul disappeared. The glances and small interactions I had with you during my drought of your presence wasn't enough. I didn't like the fact that we acted as if we didn't grow up together, as if we weren't close. The day I saw you here at the gardens I was determined to have you by my side again, and in my process of doing so I realized that it was still with me; I still have feelings for you. So selfishly I want you and nobody else. I'd rather be with you here than dance with someone else. If there was someone I want to dance with for eternity that would be you, (Y/N). And it's because I love you." He poured his heart out as he confessed in a lovingly manner. His thumb softly caressed your now rosy cheeks and everything left you dumbfounded. You couldn't believe it. It felt like a dream and it's one of those dreams where you don't want to wake up. All the doubts you had dispersed in the air. The pain in your heart slowly recovered with his heartfelt confession. "Chittaphon..." His name was the only thing you managed to voice out. "Look I understand if—" "I love you too." You blurted out. You could see how his eyes widened and how his parted lips slowly curled up into a genuine and shocked smile. Happiness sparkled in his eyes and you couldn't help but to reciprocate it. "I was dejected when I heard you had to marry. But I slowly accepted that we're not fit for eachother anyways... And now that were here I—" "I can finally say that I like you a lot. To the point where I'm in love." You spoke softly and he listened to every word. You didn't notice that your eyes started to well up with tears and when a teardrop rolled down your cheeks, Ten was ready to wipe it with his thumb. The situation made you somehow emotional but you just chuckled as you sniffled quietly. "Even if our differences bother other people, it doesn't bother me and it will never bother me. You're the only one I really need." "Do you still want to dance?" The prince asked with a silvery voice and with a nod of your head, the two of you danced the night away in the gardens without any music but the harmony of both of your figures were accompanied by your laughs and exchange of words with one another.

The two of you stopped to take a rest, you both sat down on the very same concrete bench where you both started to reconnect. Ten kept you close beside him, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. It was a calming silent moment, the both of you could hear the the dulcet sound of the wind blowing.

He stared at you, admiring you once again and he couldn't help but to say his thought out loud, "My darling, why do your velvet lips entice me?" He said with a low tone before chuckling. "What's with the sudden change of aura?" You giggled. "Well I thought it would be more romantic that way." Ten explained before scratching the back of his head, a tint of red spread to his cheeks showing his slight embarrassment but the both of you laughed for a short while. "Go on then..." You faced the prince. "For real?" And when you hummed softly as a response you suddenly felt his soft lips on top of your own, warmth enveloped your cheeks and you can feel your heartbeat speeding up from this exhilarating moment. Just as you kissed back, the both of you pulled away after a while and it was funny how the two off you both looked away shyly, laughing softly. "We should do that again soon—" Ten joked just before the night ends.

The prince got scolded the following morning for leaving the ball and the guests just like that but he knew to himself that it was worth it. Tern asked her brother if he finally did it and when he responded yes, both the Queen and the princess sighed in relief before saying 'finally' in which Ten was surprised that even his own mother was waiting for him to confess. The royal family themselves invited you to join them for dinner. The princess didn't hesitate to dress you up again. At first, you felt a bit uneasy but it eventually got replaced by comfort since they treated you like family; just like before when your mother was still alive. Since you were seated beside Ten, you swore that the other three royals were teasing the two of you; yes, even the King himself was actively dropping some ambiguous teasing here and there.

Ten was happy and so were you. Despite confessing to one other just recently, the two of you were sure to tie the knot and in the end everyone was happy.

Fast forward to three years after the marriage, Ten Lee was diligently leading his people with you, his mother, and his sister by his side. When the King died a few months after your wedding he wished the two of you the best. Everyone grieved the lost of the kingdom's ruler and it made Ten feel a lot of pressure. But at the end of the day, he did prove himself capable and he expressed his gratitude to everyone who was by his side but especially you because you became the shoulder he could lean on everyday.

The two of you welcomed twins into the world. Louis and Leon got their charms from their father, however Ten insists that they inherited it from you, stating that they are literally carbon copies of your features. But even if they are your mini-mes, they definitely got their energy from their father.

In the end, it was still a happy ending. From growing up together to drifting away from each other's lives; in the end, the two of you were intertwined by fate again despite the sudden change of circumstances in your lives.

You were in the gardens for fresh air when an unexpected warmth embraced you from behind and without even looking back, you already knew who it was. "I have been thinking about something lately..." You hummed waiting for Ten to continue. "We should try for a third child." his words took you aback and he laughed at your adorable reaction. "I'm kidding, darling." You playfully rolled your eyes at him. "We already have twins, two is enough." You chuckled softly. Ten suddenly turned your figure around and positioned the both of you in a stance of a waltz, a grin creeping it's way into your lips. "So suddenly?" You asked.

"When I said I want you to be the person I'll damce with for eternity I meant it." He answered before placing a kiss on your velvet lips.

[missdawnandherdusk]

Love Story

Draco X Reader

Request: @dracofeltonmalfoy​: your heart breaks at seventeen when you realize that Draco doesn’t love you enough to not marry his betrothed, Astoria. It’s years later and though you’re still hesitant and bitter about what occurred, you still answer the call that Ginny makes to you to help Draco. 

A/n: Look at me posting!! And during midterm week no less!! Thank you so much for this request! (I promise I’m getting to the rest of them). And can I say that I am in love with grown up Draco? Like yes ma’am I’ll take them all. Maturity is attractive. Let me know what you think! I love y’all so much. 

“You don’t understand,” Draco paced the small room. “I have to marry her,”

“Sure,” I spat. “Marry Astoria. I don’t give a damn anymore Malfoy,” I hadn’t used his last name in such a malice tone in years. I could see the effect that it had on him, his face fell.

“Don’t say that,” He begged softly, “Please, I love you,”

“But not enough,” I raised an eyebrow at him. “What happened to everything that we planned? All of the things you promised me? Where did that Draco go?” My voice became thick with tears. “No, you’re so paranoid about your reputation... I’m not waiting around for you to figure out who you want or who you want to follow. I don’t care.” A heavy silence and I had decided. “Have a nice life, Draco.”

“Y/n,” He called as I stood to leave.

“No,” I snapped. “Just... no. I deserve more than this.” 

“I know,” He confessed in a small voice.

That was the last time I spoke to Draco Malfoy in years. At first, I was okay with it. I felt free. I had moved on, found someone new that made what he did to me hurt a bit less. It wasn’t the same, nor what I felt when I was with Draco, but it was enough for the moment. He didn’t last long, and my heart still waited for Draco on some nights, but I had grown up. I had grown confident. I was independent. I didn’t need anyone to tell me they loved me because I loved me. And that was enough. I had healed from having to walk away or face being cut off forever.

I assumed that Draco was happy. His union with Astoria was in the paper. The invitation I received was burned. Why he’d think to invite me left me aggravated and loathing him more than before. But that night I was weak. I cried for Draco Malfoy that night. I almost went. But I refrained. I knew nothing would change even if I did go, so I’d rather be left wondering than left crushed.

The next time I saw Draco’s name in the paper, it was splashed across the front page. A scandal that Skeeter couldn’t wait to publish and get her hands on. Astoria Malfoy caught in an affair with Blaise Zabini. I saw Draco’s stoic face, and though the image moved, and the small child in his arms squirmed, he remained static. I threw the paper down because though it was just a photograph, his eyes still bore into mine, in the same pleading look that he gave me before I left him. I wonder if he knew that I see the photo.

I wonder if he knew that I still loved him even after all these years.

And I had no intention of crossing paths with him. Though I thought about it. A lot. And maybe I had actually written the letter before I burned it... but I decided that no. I was not interfering with his life.

I just never thought that he’d interfere with mine. Well, Harry interfered with my life. Well, Ginny did.

Ginny and I got lunch every once in a while, to catch up along with Hermione. Now that our Hogwarts days and the war was over, an amity fell between the three of us. And it was nice to see some old faces that didn’t cause my heart to rabbit trail into painful memories.

It was a phone call that I had gotten that interfered with my quaint Friday night. 

“Are you in town?” Ginny’s voice sounded strained and frantic.

“Yes, why?” I set down my book, standing.

“Can you come over? We... have a situation...” She voiced.

“What sort of situation?” I pressed, going looking for my shoes and cloak. “Harry just did a spell wrong and now he can’t speak English situation or Ron and Harry tried to do something stupid on their brooms and need medical attention sort of situation?” I teased lightly.

“It relates more to the former...” Ginny sounded almost hesitant to give me details. Her voice was suddenly far from the receiver and muffled. “No, Scorpius, put that down! Harry! No don’t encourage him!” That caught my attention.

“Ginny, what in Merlin’s name!?” I demanded.

“Please just get over here, you were better than we were at potions,”

“Ginny,” I baited.

“Thank you!” Was all she got out and I heard a crash before the line disconnected.

Utterly shocked and standing in deafening silence I let out a frustrated growl. After grabbing my carpet bag of miscellaneous counter curses, antidotes, and talismans I took the Floo network to the Potter’s.

And the sight before me was something that I would not have ever imagined. Draco was slung over Harry’s shoulder, looking intoxicated and completely out of it. Nothing like the cold refined man that I knew him to be. Then Scorpius was running around with Albus all trying to be corralled by James and Ginny while Lily laughed in the background, sitting on the counters.

Deciding that Harry could help with the children more than I could, I rushed to his side and took Draco off his hands, supporting him.

“What’s wrong with him?” I bit out, watching as Harry scooped up Albus as Ginny swooped in and caught Scorpius.

“Nothing, well, he’s been drugged but we’re sure it should wear off in a few hours.” Harry appeased, almost nonchalant.

“Drugged?” I demanded, leading Draco to a well-loved recliner.

“I’m finnnnne,” Draco slurred, his fine blond hair hanging into his eyes in a complete mess. “You have such pretty eyes Y/n,” Draco’s head lulled back against the recliner back as his half- opened eyes gazed into mine.

“Yeah, okay,” I smiled sweetly and gave an alarming look to Ginny—Harry having disappeared into the house with the three other children. “You’ve got to be bloody joking,” I hissed, nearing her.

“I know! Harry was filming him. You should have heard him on the way over. Wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“Get him upstairs.” I begged, exasperated and rubbing my face. “I’m going to find Harry.”

“What? Why?” Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed as she set Scorpius down now that he was calmed with the lack of the other children.

“Because no one makes fun of Draco!” I shouted, not realizing the depth of my words, or how much I sounded like I did back at Hogwarts... when Draco loved me.

Ginny and I both seemed to grasp this as I went red and sighed, going to find Harry. After throwing his phone out the third-floor window, I headed back down a level to where Ginny had taken Draco to a spare room. I found Draco asleep in the bed and Ginny leaning against the doorjamb.

“He’s still asking for you,” Ginny muttered. “He wants to know where the ‘fairest maiden has gone and when will she return’” She raised an eyebrow at me.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned, distressed. “How am I supposed to deal with him like this?”

“You probably know better than any of us.” Ginny pointed out. “Isn’t there a counter curse? Or something that you have or know?”

“In all my years I’ve seen nothing close to this. It’s like he’s drunk and on Veritaserum and Amorentia and believe me there is no legal potion out there with that sort of affect.”

“So... what do we do with him?” She asked.

“Wait it out? That’s all I know to do.” I paused. “I’ll stick around and make sure he doesn’t start to die or anything... but I can’t fix him,”

Ginny nodded and gave me a pity look. “Are you going to be okay?”

“That is not the question to ask right now,” I muttered, shrugging off my cloak. “Go on up to Harry and your little ones. Make sure Scorpius is alright, I’ll look after him,”

“If you need anything,” She baited.

“I’ll call,” I smiled.

Alone in the room, I sighed and stared at him before heading to the edge of the bed and sitting gently on the edge.

“Draco?” I asked softly, trying to hide the hurt that sparked in my chest. 

“Y/n, my fair maiden,” He slurred, trying to get up.

“No, no, you need to lie down,” I scolded, pushing him back down, pressing my hand to his forehead—he didn’t have a fever.

“As my lady commands.” He mumbled, causing me to withdraw my touch.

“Don’t.” I inhaled sharply. “You need to sleep Draco. You need to get better.”

“I’m already better with you here,” A dopey smile crossed his face.

“Oh my god Draco!” I snapped, standing, pacing the small room. “Stop saying things like that! You don’t mean them, and I don’t want to hear it!”

When I didn’t get a response from him, I looked over and he was fast asleep at an awkward angle. Sighing, I brushed the stray strands of silky hair from his face and slowly righted him, taking off his shoes and socks positioning him in the center of the bed. After I laid a blanket over him, I sat in the lone chair that was in his room and taking my book from my bag, started again.

It neared eleven at night, and he still hadn’t woken back up. My book finished, I sighed again and stood, stretching. Leaving his room, I saw Harry nodding off in his chair downstairs, Scorpius in his arms, also asleep.

“To bed with you,” I smiled, helping him up.

“Draco?”

“Still asleep.” I informed. “I’m gonna change and I’ll be back to watch him.” 

_______________________

Draco blinked, his head pounding, trying to keep up with the blurred image around him. The first thing he noticed was the blanket over him and his shoes were gone and that you were asleep in the chair next to his bed and this bed was most certainly not his—neither were you for that matter. His memory was fuzzy, and he didn’t remember much, and he didn’t like not remembering.

In an attempt to get up, he woke you, not sure why some part of him cared. He didn’t ask to be taken care of like a child. He processed that he was at the Potter’s for some godforsaken reason, and that you were next to him. Some part of him wished he was just having a really awful nightmare.

“Draco?” You asked sleepily.

Who else would it be?

“Yes,” He spoke quietly.

“Are you... you again?” You mumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He snapped, defensive that you were there, or anywhere near him. The nightmare continued.

“You were drugged... were acting weird for a while... I had to throw Harry’s phone out a window.” Your words made some sense... except the last part.

“Why would you do that?” He mused, enjoying your half-asleep state.

“He recorded you... was making fun of you... wasn’t right...” You stretched and rubbed your face yawning.

“I see,” There was a pang in his heart at your words. Something reminiscent in them. Maybe this wasn’t a nightmare after all.

You nodded and stood, staggering slightly. “How long have you been there?”

“What time is it?” You asked weakly. 

“Five in the morning,”

“Mhmm... twelve hours? Finished my book.” You gestured vaguely and yawned again. “M’gonna head back home.”

You started to walk towards the door and almost fell. He was there to catch you though. Your hands clutched at his shirt, running the fabric through your fingertips.

“Okay, yeah. You’re going to stay right here,” Draco muttered. “Because I am not dragging you down those stairs or back home.”

“I’m fine, I’ll get Ginny to take me home,” You yawned gesturing vaguely, your eyes still didn’t open all the way.

“No, you’re not. You’re sleep deprived, and whereas I can handle it, you can’t.” However long he had been asleep—twelve hours apparently—had given him enough rest to be completely awake and alert.

“You’re bossy.”

He chuckled at your sleep ridden words and moved you to his bed, tucking you under the blanket he had been under. You smiled and inhaled them deeply, relaxing instantly. He wondered why you thought of him as a reason to relax.

When he got up to leave, your eyes opened partly.

“Where are you going? You need to rest more. You were drugged.” 

“I’ve dealt with worse drugs Y/n,”

“Mmm I don’t think you’ve ever been like that. I’ve seen you high and drunk and that was... something else.” You mumbled. “Please rest Draco. Stay with me and sleep.”

Your words were like daggers to his heart. Were you aware that you were saying them? Surely you couldn’t be, because surely you wouldn’t ever mean them. It had been too long since you ever murmured those words.

“Am I not allowed to find to where my son has gone?” He mused, knowing you’d let him go for that and then be too far into sleep to notice that he didn’t come back.

You hummed in agreement he supposed. Just as he went to close the door, he heard you jumbled words again.

“Why would you say that?” There was hurt and confusion in your tone. “Why would you...?”

Not knowing whatever that was about, Draco closed the door softly behind him and sighed. He felt disgusting. He wanted nothing more than a warm bath and some fresh clothes and for Merlin’s sake a comb. But those things would have to wait, because bright blue eyes blinked up in the early morning as they always did.

“Good morning my little birdie,” Draco smiled, pulling Scorpius into his arms. “Quite a change of scenery here isn’t it?” He mused, to a nodding giggling Scorpius.

“Draco, you’re awake,” The tired voice belonged to Ginny, who sounded surprised even in her weary state.

“I am,” A quiet pause. “Thank you... I’m not quite sure what happened last night but...”

“Do you have any memory at all?” Ginny asked, taking out a jar of applesauce, setting a bowl and spoon for Scorpius.

“I... no. I was at the Gala, next thing I know, I wake up and Y/n is asking if I’m me again,” Draco thanked her and began to spoon feed Scorpius the apple puree.

“Are you, you?” Ginny asked, leaning against the counter before setting off to brew a pot of coffee.

“Quite,” He clipped. “What does that even mean? What happened last night?”

Unbridled terror set in Draco’s chest as Ginny recounted the night back to him. The only thing that kept him from breaking something was the toddler in his arms, clinging to him.

“I... I was asking for Y/n?” Draco asked, his voice shaking.

“Honey, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say even intoxicated and drugged, you knew she’d be there for you,” Ginny raised her eyebrow at him. “You wanna explain that?”

Draco shot her a cold look and went back to aiding Scorpius eat. Maybe that had been why you asked why he would say something like that... and that was a valid and honest question: why would he? He had gotten over you. That was that. He moved on.

Not that he loved Astoria. No, he could never see her as more than someone who drove you away from him. And perhaps that was the reason behind her affair. Maybe it was because she knew that he didn’t love her, and she didn’t love him. Some part of him wished that she had just been honest with him... then it wouldn’t be such gossip in the Wizarding World. They could have divorced and gone on their own ways. But perhaps not. The marriage was arranged. It would take more than a divorce to end it. Perhaps the scandal was for the best after all.

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I’m afraid I have to go,” Draco said softly. 

“Draco,” Ginny chided. “You can’t just leave her here,”

“I can do as I please,” Draco snapped harshly before remembering himself. “Thank you, once more,”

Draco only hesitated when he went to fetch his shoes from the spare room, and caught sight of you sleeping soundly, a soft smile on your face. Something in his chest distorted a bit more.

_________________________

I woke in the late morning, semi remembering why I was at Ginny’s, then it all came flooding back. I didn’t even have to ask where Draco had gone because I knew he had gone. I knew he’d leave at the first chance he’d get.

Apologizing and thanking Ginny, I headed back home to shower and don clean clothes. Ginny gave me a worried look and said to call if I needed anything. I assured her I was fine and wasn’t going to have an emotional breakdown. Crying while I showered meant nothing.

I was fine.

Monday at work, Harry found me in the staff room fixing a cup of tea.

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually,” Harry nudged my shoulder as we stood at the mini coffee bar, not even having to specify who he thought I should speak to.

“I’m not gonna follow him around like a lost puppy Harry, I’m done with that.” I shifted the weight on my feet. “He’s grown, he can handle himself,”

“Well I get that, but you can... act human at least. You’re shutting him out completely.” Harry pointed out. “And I don’t think either of you want that,”

“I wouldn’t know what he wanted,” I sighed in vain. “It’s not that easy Harry,” I pressed, cradling my mug in my hands. “I haven’t worried about him before, why should I now?”

“Because when he was drugged all he could do was ask for you and you dropped everything to make sure he was alright and slept in a chair for a night to keep an eye on him?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“And maybe it was the drug and maybe I’m a decent person,” I refuted.

“All I’m saying I’ve been his work partner for a better half of five years and I’ve never seen him like this. He’s shutting everyone else out since the affair... everyone but you,” Harry’s green eyes reaffirmed his words.

I stared at my tea and didn’t say a word. I didn’t want to believe Harry’s words. I didn’t want to entertain the idea that maybe there was something left between Draco and I. But no matter how much I didn’t want to, I still thought about it all day during work, despite my best efforts.

How fitting it was that it was raining as I stepped onto the London street. Typical of London, no doubt, but it seemed as a sign all the same. Going to cast a shielding charm I froze when I saw in my peripheral pale skin and near white hair. I tried not to pay him any mind, but it seemed that whatever intentions I had were stopped by the words Harry had said earlier. My eyes wandered out to the city streets as rain started to fall slightly harder.

“Y/n?” Draco called my attention, his use of my name barely having any life in it.

“Yes?” I tore my attention away from the view.

“It’s raining,”

“Stellar observation,” I commented, remembering my shielding charm, creating an umbrella over me.

“Perhaps you would like to get out of it?” His voice was hesitant. “I suppose I do owe you for Friday night,”

That caught my attention and I finally turned to look at him. His was reserved, guarded. Yet there was something in his eyes that he couldn’t hide. A hope. A wish. A fantasy that I had written myself out of.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I finally whispered.

A sad sort of smile played at his lips. His eyes still didn’t leave mine as if we were transfixed on another, the stars wishing us to remain connected.

Screw the stars.

“Have a nice evening,” I ushered out before Apparating back home.

It was that night that I gave in. For the first time in almost ten years I gave in. There was a small fabric box tucked into my closet, collecting dust. Green and black with silver engravings. Tears streaming down my face, I sat on my bedroom floor and opened it.

It was every letter he wrote me. I should have burned them long ago, but I never did.

~

My Dearest, Y/n,

In the midst of this darkness, you are the only light I need. I’d face a world full of demons for the sake of you, my angel. I know it is dark now, and this path isn’t ideal, but I will fight for you, I will fight with you. Stand by my side my dearest angel. Be the fairytale maiden in this narrative and let me be your hero. I’ll never leave you, my love. And when morning light comes, I shall be in your arms again and my world will be complete.

Look after my heart, I’ve left it with you, 

Your Draco

~

My Beloved, Y/n,

Do you know what my paradise would be? You and me, away from it all. Free and able to love and live freely. Rainy days and warm cups of tea. Even without a fire to keep us warm, the warmth of your smile will keep me from freezing even on the coldest night. And though it may be nothing more than you reading a book or watching the sun rise, you’d be my goddess, the reason I existed, the one that I praised and prayed to each morning and evening. My paradise would be you and I, in a heaven of our own when I could worship you in every way, in every language known to man.

Your Draco

~

My Darling, Y/n,

How this summer grows longer with every day that passes. I wish that I weren’t away in Paris having to accompany my parents. I’d much rather be in your arms. And each night I watch the stars and the moon, knowing that you are doing the same. We are watching the same moon after all, no matter how far apart we are. That gives me more hope that you are true, and not a dream that I’ve let run wild.

And just as the night that I could not see the moon because of the clouds, I know that even now, though I do not see you, I know you are still there and that you still love me. You are my moon, my darling. You are my stars, my night sky. You hold every bit of majesty and wonder as they do.

I shall be back soon my love, 

Your Draco

~

Though the pile of unread letters was still tall, my vision was blurred by tears and heart wrenching sobs that broke from my chest. Hugging my knees and hiding my face in my arms, I wept. For the first time in years, I let myself mourn Draco Malfoy. For the love that I had for him. For the love that we shared. For the boy I knew in Hogwarts and for the man I resented. For the Draco Malfoy that called to me while drugged and inebriated. For the Draco Malfoy who had tried to make amends. For the Draco Malfoy I had turned down.

I mourned the girl in the mirror as well. For her broken jaded heart. For the years she spent alone and in denial. I mourned the girl who would still do anything for him if he’d only ask. I mourned the girl who was tired of trying to be strong on her own. I mourned the girl who craved companionship even though she was confident in herself.

I cried for the lovers in the letters. I held them close to my chest and cried. Tears dripped off of my cheeks and onto the faded aged parchment. Senseless words left my lips as I tried to rationalize these emotions. As I tried to make sense of this feeling—something that I had neglected for too long.

The hour was late as my fire burned lower and lower in my hearth. I sat curled up under a blanket on the floor with a mug of tea. Watching the flames, I let myself reminisce about the past. About Draco. About what could have been. A small smile lingered on my lips as gentle tears fell occasionally.

The rest of the week, I didn’t run into Draco. Not that I sought him out. Or that our departments ever crossed. Or that I cared.

I did however run into a former Malfoy in Diagon Alley a week after having to babysit Draco. 

“Astoria,” my voice was calm and gentle as rage lurked beneath.

“Y/n,” she seemed almost happy to see me as she came forward to hug me. My cold step back stopped her, her eyes finding my judgemental gaze. Her demeanor changed. 

“Of all the people I know, I thought you’d understand,” her voice was guarded and hurt.

“Thought I’d understand?” I nearly gasped, surprised at my anger towards her. “I know Draco like I know my own mind. I hope you’re happy because you’ll never find someone that trusting and kind again.” Our glares combatted another as tension grew between us.

“You walked out on him same as I did.” She accused. “Who do you think had to pick him up from that?” Her words were sharp as I took a breath in.

“I walked away because he had to marry you!” I snarled. “I’d never walk out on him if I had another choice!” We were starting to draw attention of passersby. I didn’t really care. “I chose his happiness over mine,”

“Oh really?” She didn’t seem convinced.

“I chose your happiness over mine, even.” I realized. “He had to get married. He had to marry rich. A pureblood. Someone his parents approved of. He desperately wanted their approval...” my voice fell as the memories came flooding back. “That made him happy back then, doing what he thought was right...”

“You should be thanking me then!” Astoria exasperated. “I gave him his happiness!”

“Are you serious?” I demanded. “You broke his heart! You left him with a child alone! You publicly humiliated him! In clearing your name from the Malfoy’s you’ve ruined his life! And you think he’s happy now!?”

“How about we ask him?” She countered; her gaze fixed on someone in the distance.

I whirled around, meeting curious jaded blue eyes as he strolled down the lane. 

“Draco,” The soft gasp left my lips.

“What’s the meaning of this?” His voice was calm despite the firmness it held as he addressed me, not Astoria.

“Nothing,” I answered softly. “It’s nothing,”

“Sure, defend his honor and call it nothing,” Astoria sneered.

“You don’t get to talk,” I snapped, turning back to her. “You’ve done enough.”

“Y/n,” Draco chided softly, taking a place beside me. “I can handle this,”

“Draco,” I argued, looking up at him only to be silenced by a steady pleasing gaze from his eyes.

“Astoria,” He finally greeted, and I could see his guard go up. There was a warning in his single word and something passed between them.

“Draco,” She nodded then turned to leave without another word. He went to leave as well, and I caught his arm.

“Draco, hang on,” I called.

As he faced me, a sadness lingered in his eyes. I wondered about Harry’s words and how he was shutting everyone out. Everyone but me.

“If that offer is still open...” I tested. “I’d love to get out of the rain with you,”

Calculations ran through his eyes and I could see each one. For a moment I thought my request was a lost cause. That he was about to turn me down as I turned him down not a few days ago. Our eyes locked and the stars seemed to draw us back together. Now... now I felt something different. Something new in my heart towards Draco. It wasn’t what it had been before, but something morphed, changed, unyielding.

“Alright,” He nodded with a sigh.

“If you don’t want to... you don’t owe me anything Draco,” I rushed out, taking a small step back.

“Publicly defending my honor might count for something,” He mused softly. “Shall we?”

“I think I mentioned tea,” A soft chuckle left my lips as we entered Florean Fortescue Ice Cream Parlor.

“This is a favorite of Scorpius’,” Draco murmured. “I’ve grown accustomed to it...” He paused. “You used to like it as well,” A small smirk lingered on his face. “Has that changed?”

“No,” I admitted, flushing a bit pink.

“Butter pecan, waffle cone?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Waffle bowl,” I amended. “I’m not a child,”

“Oh, I’m sure,” He let out a soft laugh and ordered for the two of us. He hadn’t changed either, he still chose mint chocolate chip in a sugar cone.

“So, where’s Scorpius, he’s not old enough for Hogwarts, is he?” I asked as we sat at a small table outside.

“Merlin, no,” Draco chuckled. “He’ll be six in January, and at the moment he’s with my mother. She watches him while I’m away at work,” He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“How’s he doing with—um...” I asked timidly,

Draco’s smile sobered as his gaze dropped to the table to the used napkins that had gotten the stickiness off of our hands and left colorful wrappings from the cones.

“Or not,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t my place,”

“Still the apologetic I see,” A sad sort of smile hit his lips. “And he’s taking it hard... harder than I am, I think. I knew she didn’t love me... I don’t think he ever understood it all...”

“I’m so sorry,” I offered.

He shot me an amused look.

“I mean it,” I insisted. “It’s not fair for either of you...” 

“Thank you,” Genuine gratitude held in his voice.

“Oi, Malfoy! Lunch ended twenty minutes ago!”

I heard a familiar voice and turned to see Harry walk into the small shop. As soon as Harry saw me sitting across from Draco, his demeanor changed and a grin grew on his face as if to say: ‘I told you so,’ but to which one of us I wasn’t sure.

“Hi Y/n,” Harry said cheerfully.

“Not a word, Potter,” Draco and I said simultaneously before catching the other’s gaze. Harry and I began to laugh, and I heard the gentle sound of Draco’s true laughter—something he rarely did, even when I knew him, but I cherished the sound all the same.

“I’m glad you two got to catch up, I am, but Draco, Mulligan has my arse because you’re missing,” Harry air-quoted the last word.

Sighing, Draco stood. “Y/n,” Was all he said as a goodbye before he and Harry set off.

I sat and stared at the empty space he left for a while, wondering what was going on between us. Was something going on between us? My heart said yes but my mind said no. I had forfeited the right to have anything with him. I walked away.

But still I wondered.

The next morning my phone kept chiming. Again, and again it wouldn’t stop with notifications and calls. I groaned and grabbed it off my beside table and squinted at it. A lot of the notifications were from friends and people I rarely talked too. One of them was from Ginny. I opened that one.

“How was your date?” It read and showed a picture of Draco and me at the ice cream parlor yesterday. We looked happy. The headline read:

Malfoy Moving On? Head Auror Caught with Old Classmate Sweetheart After Scandal

Then it dawned on me. This made the news. National news.

Scrolling through my phone, I found a number that I had but never called before. I had gotten it from Harry and Ginny long ago for emergences if Harry got injured on a case. I don’t think he knows I have it.

“Hello? Auror Malfoy,” A slightly tired voice answered, and it drew a smile on my lips before I remembered why I called.

“Draco,” I began, not knowing how to start this conversation.

“Y/n? How did you get my number?” In his weariness his tone was a lot harsher and blunt. His words stung.

“Harry gave it to me in case I needed it if something went wrong on one of your cases,” I explained softly. “I can delete it if you want... I was just wondering if you’ve seen this morning’s paper yet,”

“I have not,” He replied.

“Oh,” Anxiety grew in my chest. “Call me when you do?” I squeaked out. “Or don’t. Yeah, bye,” I quickly hung up and screamed at the ceiling, throwing my phone across the room. “Stupid Draco Malfoy!” I shouted at no one. Staring at the ceiling I wasn’t aware of how long I sat there.

Then my phone started ringing across the room. Of course, it was Draco.

“Hello?” I answered timidly.

“When can you be at the Manor? We need to talk,” Nothing scared me more than those four words.

“I—uh... half an hour?” I fumbled for words. “Draco—” The line disconnected. “Draco!” I yelled in frustration.

My body trembled as I got ready, knowing that that last time we had “talked” had ended our relationship and set us on different paths. I hoped to the stars that that wouldn’t happen again. I... I liked having Draco in my life. I wanted to be there for him, because according to Harry, I was the only one he would let in. Then there was the matter of whatever happened the night he was wasted and calling for me.

Taking the Floo network, I stepped into Malfoy Manor—a place I hadn’t been in over ten years. Draco was waiting for me in the grand foyer, appearing quite unkept, his hair a rumpled mess and his dress shirt still untucked, the tie hanging loosely around his neck.

“Hello,” I offered softly.

He hummed a greeting and motioned for me to follow him. I thought that I was going to throw up with the amount of anxiety bubbling in my stomach. I didn’t like this at all.

Leading me into the grand kitchen he nodded to the island bar where two mugs of tea had been set out. My heart panged as I looked at the warm liquid that held the right hue of creaminess and I wondered if Draco remembered how I took my tea after all this time.

“I’m having Mulligan and Granger take care of it,” was all he said as he took a careful sip of his tea, his gaze fixed upon the newspaper on the counter before us.

“Take care of it?” I pressed, frowning.

“The photos. The newspapers.” He filled in.

“No, I get that,” I almost rolled my eyes, “But why? It’s just gossip...” 

“Why?” Draco almost snapped. I looked to my tea ashamed. He took a breath. 

“Do you regret it? Yesterday?” I barely spoke.

“Why would I?” He acted if I were the insane one here, “We went out. We enjoyed each other’s company. It was fine.”

“Then why would you tell Mulligan to— “

“I didn’t.” He stopped me. “He told me he was doing it. He was supposed to have stopped it from ever happening.”

“You knew. You knew this was going to happen,”

“Yes, or something like it, and I tried to stop it. The press has been... unforgiving of my name and business as of late and I didn’t want to drag anyone else into it,”

I nodded and looked down till I heard him sigh.

“Especially not you,” He tacked on.

“What?” My sleep deprived brain was trying to catch up.

Draco pursed his lips and stared at the photo of us smiling at another on the front page.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe that I have forfeited the right to ask anything of you or hope to include you into my life in any way,” Melancholy riddled his words and my heart fell as I yearned to reach out for him.

“So, you’ve been avoiding me?” I didn’t understand the frustration I felt. “I... You—God above Draco.” I hissed. “Why don’t you let my make that choice myself? I forfeited that right just as much as you did,”

“I don’t see how,”

“I walked away from you... I made that choice.” 

“But did you have a choice?” Draco countered softly.

I didn’t have a response for that. Not a good one that I could defend well. Sure, I could claim I did and that I made the choice... but back then, our hands were tied. There was fear and war and uncertainty, and perhaps I didn’t have a choice after all.

He spoke before I had the chance to form a sound argument.

“As you know work with Harry as well.”

“Yes,” I acknowledged.

“And that a week ago Friday was a bit of a disaster for the both of us,”

“Wouldn’t be one of my least favorite nights, but a disaster... sure.” I drawled, raising an eyebrow. He ignored my taunt and pressed on.

“Harry suggested that I take you out to make it up to you. Hence the invitation that one day and then our date yesterday,” His explanation made me pause.

“That was a date?” I asked, anxiety growing in my chest of where this could go.

“I mean... it fit all the perimeters of a date.” He was testing the waters as much as I was.

I let out a short laugh.

“I suppose it did,” I nodded to the paper in front of us.

“He also said that perhaps I shouldn’t have to be inebriated to figure out and express my emotions toward you—or anyone for that matter,” He tacked on, a mumbled mess.

“I... you—”

“You asked me why I would say something like what I said,” Draco gave, pressing on, not giving me a moment to process. “I doubt you remember it—you were half awake—but... No matter how much I’ve lost the right and privilege, I want you in my life, Y/n. Apart of it, if you’re willing,”

They talked about time freezing around you and how everything comes into focus. And that there are moments when all of the heartache and pain will one day count for something, and perhaps this was it. This was that moment. That point that I could make all of the pain and tears mean something beautiful. Something not quite new, but no longer old and forgotten.

“I... I want you in my life too,” I whispered the confession. “It’s... it’s really nice... to have you back,” My gaze dropped to the counter and the tea in my hands as guilt pierced through me.

“Can... can you ever forgive me? For all the hurt and pain I’ve caused you? Have I done too much that there’s no hope?”

“I... I never blamed you.” I admitted. “Or if I did, I don’t now. But Draco, we’re both different people now. I... I need your patience. Because as much as I want to say yes, I... I don’t know. I don’t know what hurts are going to come back up or what scars might reopen... If you’re willing to deal with that...”

“If you’re willing to deal with the rumors and gossip and stuffy life that I lead... I’ll wait a thousand lifetimes for you to be ready again,”

________________________

The kindness and forgiveness in your eyes brought him back. Way back. To the Yule Ball when you had been introduced to him. It was a dance of formalities and posture. He knew that you were a bit of a flirt, but after spending time with you, he could see that your bright over-friendly personality earned you such a reputation.

When Draco was younger, when he was at Hogwarts, when you were by his side, he thought he knew three things that would never change.

The first was that he was a Malfoy. He had to marry rich, marry whoever his parents picked out for him. There was no debate about that. It was the way things were. Keep the pureblood line going and the wealth in the family, if not expound upon it. He was the only son of his parents and it was his duty to carry the name on, carry it higher. He was a Malfoy.

The second was that as soon as he saw your face, that all changed. There was no one quite like you. He had never met anyone who matched him heart and mind and yet somehow you were kind and gentle at the same time. Your intelligent eyes that made him forget his name. He knew there would never be a day that he didn’t love you. That freedom you gave. He loved you.

And thirdly: he was betrothed to Astoria Greengrass.

That was about a decade ago. Now, only one of those things held true. Blinking away the memories and thoughts, he met your intelligent determined eyes once more. Everything came crashing down around him. The truth.

Draco didn’t have to marry rich. He had and the girl he married had an affair with another man and he was free from the obligation. He was no longer engaged to Astoria. He no longer had to entertain her listless petty stories or her frivolous shallow needs. He had a son. That kept the family name going, that kept the pureblood line alive.

But Draco still loved you.

And God damn him if he wouldn’t find every way to express that to you.

Maybe that was the reason behind his further actions. It was the reasoning behind why he reached out to you, stroking your face softly as he did long ago. He caressed your cheek as if it were precious marble, a sculpture given to him by the gods.

And for the first time in ten years, Draco didn’t have to fantasize what it would be like to kiss you again. He didn’t have to desperately cling to how your lips felt against his. He didn’t have to deny how much he missed you.

Frozen under his touch, Draco worried that perhaps this was something he should regret. That he should stop. That he should deny still.

But your hand came up slowly, not to push him away but to hold him close as he held you, cradling his face as if he were the most precious thing to you. Your fingers curled into his hair, causing the butterflies in his chest to set flight. Your soft sounds were met with his steady purrs.

His tongue danced with yours in a forgotten waltz. Even after all this time you still tasted the same: sweet, alluring, and faintly like chai.

But you pulled away all too soon for his liking.

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day, Malfoy,” A smile curled on your lips.

“‘Til death do we part,” He jested lightly, earning a slight giggle from you as you pulled away and rebalanced yourself on the barstool.

“So... are we doing this? Like actually doing this?” You asked, fear lurking in your voice.

“I will do everything I can to make this right. To do this properly. To give you what you deserve,” He couldn’t quite understand why you laughed this time.

“I know you love your rules and traditions, but Draco I don’t need any of that and I don’t want any of that. I just want you. To get to know you again. To get to know Scorpius. I want my friend back,”

The desperate plea in your voice mirrored in your eyes and maybe he understood you a bit better and maybe himself, because he wanted that as well. He wanted you in his life. Woven into it. And possibly the first step to having that, was to get to know you again.

So, he would wait. He would learn. And he would love you till his dying day. 

“That would be enough,” Draco smiled softly and took your hand into his.

A few months of dates and quiet nights and lunches together in the break room and the rumors in the papers seemed to fade and the shock value seemed to wane to others. But Draco was still amazed that you decided to stay by his side. That you let him back into your narrative. That you completely adored Scorpius more than his own mother ever did.

As you crouched beside Scorpius and a peacock on the Manor grounds as the three of you took an evening stroll, the smile you gave him made him believe that the past ten years were nothing but a terrible dream. A trial to prove that he had earned this reward.

Though you had asked for patience, it turned out that he needed some as well. Draco had no idea how deep seeded the betrayal from Astoria and his supposed best friend affected him. There were times that he grew angrier than he meant to. There were times he was harsher than he wanted to be. There were times he was more distant than he needed to be. There were times that he was more reckless than he should be.

And there were times when something lingered in your eyes that he didn’t quite enjoy. Fear, or hesitancy. There were new boundaries that you had, and he had learned to respect. You weren’t the same girl he knew at Hogwarts. You were independent, confident, self-made, but still kind and gentle. You didn’t depend on him for everything. You didn’t lean into every touch. You didn’t smile at every jest. His perspective of you changed, and he loved every change made.

A weekend when Scorpius had gone to his parent’s house in Paris for a weekend was the night that Draco truly felt alone for the first time in a long time—since you had been back in his life. As the hour grew later, he paced his study, debating on going to see you, knowing well you’d still be awake.

As the ghosts of his past came to life and overpowered your gentle voice in his mind, Draco was decided. Drawing his wand, he apparated straight to you.

“What in Merlin’s name!?” You demanded, wand drawn, looking frantic, only relaxing when you saw that it was him.

“I... couldn’t sleep. Everything is...” His voice was small, like a frightened child.

You lowered your wand as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom. Running a hand through your hair you sighed softly. He knew he was asking a lot—too much even. It had been a boundary of yours. You weren’t ready to sleep with him—innocently, not sensually—yet.

“Well, come on then,” You smiled softy, sliding over in your bed. “Just like old times,” His memory flickered back to the sleepless nights in the dorms at Hogwarts behind drawn drapes.

“This isn’t me trying—” Draco started, not wanting to push your boundary. He’d sleep on the couch for Merlin’s sake. He just wanted to be near someone who cared for him.

“I know,” You replied softly, reading him like an open book, as you were always able to. 

“And I don’t—”

You rose from your bed, going over to him.

“Still trust me?” You whispered, your hands running up his arms, earning a shudder from him.

Draco nodded; his gaze transfixed on you. He knew what the question meant. It had been a routine of yours at Hogwarts. When he couldn’t seem to get a grip on the day and came to you at night, you were always there to care for him.

And you were there now.

Slowly you unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it to the floor. Going over to your dresser, you pulled out one a shirt that he recognized as his and placed it in his hands. He gripped the fabric tightly.

“You kept this?” His eyebrow furrowed.

A shrug left your shoulders as you neared your dresser again, opening another drawer. “Cotton or fleece?” The question was soft.

“Cotton,”

“I have flannel?” You offered, pulling out a pair of plaid sweats.

“That’ll do,” Draco smiled as you handed him the pants; he gripped them tightly as well.

“You’re safe,” You encouraged, stroking his cheek. “No one’s going to hurt you. No one expects anything of you. You’re alright here... You’re with me,”

“You knew I was coming,” It wasn’t an accusation.

“Eventually, yes. You hate nights alone.” The warmth of your eyes was intoxicating. 

“I prefer it when you’re here,” He admitted.

“Then go change and we can get some sleep, yeah?”

That night had been quiet. It had taken some time, but eventually you laid in his arms, holding onto him as he held onto you. Silent tears fell for the both of you—of fear and acceptance and a new beginning. A step forward.

..........

Draco paced the floor, keeping a close watch to his temper as you arrived, looking confused and worried. And with the scarce information that he gave to you, it was well placed. Without a word—fearing that it might not be a kind one— he led you into the den, to where Scorpius was sitting on the couch, looking guilty and repentant.

“Scorpius,” Draco’s voice was concise and controlled. “Would you care to explain exactly what you told me to Miss Y/n?”

Some anger leaked through. A gentle hand on his shoulder reminded him to find calmness. A gentle smile on your face appeased and welcomed Scorpius as he began to speak.

“I... well... mother left. And papa had these letters... I found them and...I didn’t know who she was... but I thought—” the young boy stammered. “Father always has potions on hand down in his study... I thought that—if I just... he could be happy again,” Scorpius’ voice broke as he started to cry.

Your face crumpled softly, and Draco could see that you yearned to reach out to Scorpius and gather him into your arms but you refrained.

“So, you’re the one who drugged Draco,” You understood his son’s words, not nearly as upset as Draco had been because something else held your attention. “You kept my letters?” You seemed baffled. “All this time?”

Draco scoffed and his face remained stoic, but his cheeks tinged pink, affirming what you had said. And possibly it was the right thing to call you over to deal with this because with calmness and kindness that he never could find, you reprimanded Scorpius.

“Do you understand how dangerous that was?” You scolded. “Potions are not something to be played with or mixed. You could have really hurt your father.”

“I know,” Scorpius cried out, tears falling. “But—he... I thought I could get some answers. Find out who he loved—”

Your eyes met his with wonder and curiosity. There was no escaping that one. Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to avoid it.

“Okay,” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, his face folded into a pained expression. “We’ll talk about this later young man, now go start your studies.”

“Yes sir,” Scorpius nodded and disappeared into the house.

“Draco don’t be hard on him,” You pleaded, reaching out to him. “He’s just a kid,”

“I know,” Draco sighed, taking your hands. “That’s why I called you. I knew you’d handle it better than I ever could.”

“I’m not his mother, Draco,” You reminded him softly. “I don’t have authority here,”

Draco held his tongue before he really did ask you to be Scorpius’ mother but Merlin he wanted to. And maybe you could see that in his eyes because you looked down, flushing.

“He does seem truly sorry,” You changed the topic quickly before something was confessed after all.

“I think so,” Draco looked to the door from Scorpius had exited. Sighing softly, a hopeless chuckle left his lips. “As livid I am that he got into my stuff, and that I was drugged by a six- year-old, it brought me back to you,”

“I suppose it did,” You smiled. “As long as he promises to keep from your stuff, and to come to talk to you instead of taking matters into his own hands... I don’t see any harm.”

Draco nodded and pulled you into his arms, finding comfort in your solace and steady compassion.

“So...” You drawled, pulling away from him. “You kept my letters?” A mischievous smirk fell upon your face as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” He admitted, defeated. “I know, I know. It’s wrong and—” You burst out laughing, causing him to pause.

“I kept yours too,” Beaming at him, you reached up and stroked his cheek. “Granted I didn’t read them until again the day we got caught in the rain...”

Draco chuckled softly and drew you in for a kiss, marveled that you were even standing in front of him.

______________________________

There was a day that Draco did ask me. Another four words that made my heart soar and want to scream from the rooftops that he was truly mine. It had taken some time, make no mistake. It was redefining what it meant to be married and figuring out what it meant to marry for love and not advantage, but we made it. There was love, patience, and a strong foundation.

“Ginny, I can’t do this,” I whispered, tearing my eyes away from the mirror. “I... I’m not a wife... I—”

“Hush,” She ordered and fixed a hair that was out of place. “You’re the perfect one for him,” 

“But... me? Getting married? I can’t.”

“You love him, don’t you?” She tested, and I nodded, not trusting my voice. “And you can’t see a day without him in your future?” I nodded again, fighting back tears.

Ginny’s face softened. “I know,” She took my hand. “It’s a lot and it’s scary sometimes, but you deserve this. You deserve a happily ever after with a man who is willing to do what it takes to give it to you,”

I looked down at the floral lace of my dress, blinking away the moisture in my eyes. 

“Maybe you’re right...” I murmured.

“Of course, I am,” She smiled and picked up my bouquet, offering it to me.

Cannon in D began, and the door opened. My veil hid the water in my eyes and the fear on my face. Fears that faded when I saw him at the end of the aisle. He looked just as nervous as I did. It made me smile. It was so like him to be nervous about this. I almost laughed.

I took Harry’s elbow and inhaled deeply.

“You look beautiful,” He murmured.

“Thank you,” I mumbled back as we made our way down the aisle.

Harry placed my hand into Draco’s, and I felt secure. I felt safe and sure of my future. My eyes darted to Scorpius who I had seen grown up the past couple of years. He waved to me and I giggled before turning back to Draco.

There were tears in his eyes as he beamed down at me, our vows exchanged, and rings placed. 

“Don’t you cry,” I scolded quietly. “Because then I’ll start crying,”

“I’ve waited so long for this day,” He defended. “I’m allowed to cry,”

I laughed as my husband leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, sealing our promise to each other.

.

masterlist

.

more like this:

beautifully beastly

together in paris

.

Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87@artemismohr18@whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda@bitemebro522@zombiesnips-blog@savingdraco@welcometomyworldwithoutrules@akari180@slytherin-emerald@memalfoy-spidey@queenfeatherwings@fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe@spicyshenanigans@darling-im-not-okay-i-promise  @dietkiwi@katsukink@takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen@hxneybgb@justsomerandomgur@belcvayelena@moviesbooksandfandoms@howdycharlie@cocochanelthepupper@ninacotte @braelynn-j @jiggllyy @darcypotter-blog @atomicpunkrock @thiccheerioss@lottie289  @beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao @deadlynyghtshayde@iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes   @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle @dragonsandbread@okaydraco @the-queen-of-hell-things @cmxreader @alienmotel@oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter    @thisisahugemistake @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy@strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge @cleopatera @ray-of-sunrise@artist-bby  @shadowsingeraxolotl   @quillsareforwriting@ghostlytoadalmondhairdo @wollymalfoy @lilpieceoftoast  @paper-cats @floweryjh @sdicapriox @peachesandpinks @hufflautia@livize75 @annie-mcl @riathearora @live-like-luna@justathoughtfulangel @coconutdawn @skteaiy @wannabeskinny-thinspo @naughtygranger @dragonsandbread   @abundantxadorations @moony-artnstuff @myforeveryoungblog@and-then-a-girl-with-luv @1-800-luvsick @pandas-rice-field@mrvlfangirl3190 @in-slytherin-we-trust @emmaa-t@introvertedrae @infinity1o1 @stoleurmomsvan @echpr @dekulover @marshmallowtraver @cereuselle @lonely-skywalker@xlosttdreamss @sleepysnapesnake @hoeforthefictional@coldlilheart @helen-paris @romance-geek @rosie-starlit-sky@californiaa-babyy @vulture-withafile @hogstupefy @littlepanda-love @eveft @iraniq @groovyfluxie @cool-weirdo-wannabee-author@siriusblackdies @rosegold-thorns @criminaly-supernatural@annie-mcl @ghostofdolans @bforbroadway @mxl-foyrecs@ginger-haired-queen @bex4whovian @kellyrose193 @scrunchinn@unlikelygalaxygiver @marvel-trash-was-taken @one-edgy-bitch@supersouthy @narcissism-iskey @garbagejay@rejectedlonelyasianchild @lucymxwell @coldlilheart@cha0ticbisexual @elia-the-bibliophile @biggalaxydreamland@fuckbuckyyy @hopem1218 @anchorclifford @youareinllve@tyrusparker @3rdofkingdomtrees @whamitsqueen @i-mmunity@zero-nightshade @graym01 @fandomtrash88 @snakey-drakey @ceeellewrites @alluringshawn @thatguppienamedbae@pinkleopardss @angel-blogging @xhoney-bee-x@thehippyprepster @jovialthings @samanthahaigwood @minigigglybabi @clumsy-writing-rdb @eggsb03 @lahoete @yourenotafailureoverall @m-winchester-67​ @shiningstar-byulxx​ @hmpfkoo​ @clumsy-writing-rdb​ @dracosathenaeum​ @dracofeltonmalfoy​ @harryslouis​ @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen​ @iilovemusic12us​