#and I gave the fic five stars aka a silver star

[aarafox]

Dreamt that I read an absolutely INSANE fanfic of a fandom I wasn’t even in and I didn’t know how fast I had to let the author know how incredible it was and was afraid I wouldn’t find it again so i liked the post and saved the link everywhere fjfjjf

[unmaskedagain]

Ladybug: A Young Avenger

Hey Everyone, I got prompt for a civil war ML crossover fic but I was really into Team Iron Man on Ao3 for longest of times and, after endgame, I kind of need some team fluff. So I tweaked the prompt. It’s still team Iron man; just… not the way you’d expect. (Also did anyone know else know that Penny’s last name was Rolling?)

It took Tony Stark all of five minutes to figure out Ladybug’s identity.

“Jarvis, buddy?” Tony called out.

“Yes, sir?”

“What’s up with teenagers and being bug-themed heroes wearing inappropriate costumes?”

           The A.I took a moment before answering, “…I, for one, blame Vine.”

           Tony sighed. First fifteen-year-old Peter Parker aka Spiderman. He took the kid on an as an intern the second he learned about Spiderman. Now fifteen-year-old Marinette Dupain-Cheng aka Ladybug.

           He groaned.

What could he do? He needed help.

           Captain America needed to be stopped. The Winter Solider needed to be taken down. Team Cap had gone too far.

           It was war.

           Getting Harley Keener, a mechanical mastermind to agree to be his intern was a bit like chewing nails but Tony always knew the kit would agree. Getting Peter Parker, a child genius with a bright future as a scientist, to agree to be his intern was a piece of cake. Honestly Tony could’ve asked for the kid’s soul in repayment and Peter would’ve asked if he wanted on a silver plate or if plastic was okay? Getting Riri Williams, an engineering prodigy to be his intern, was easy. Too easy; her mom practically threw her at him, all while making him swear into a recorder that he wouldn’t sue. No matter what. Introducing the kids to his labs made him feel like Willie Wonka hand-delivering the golden tickets.

           They were all future scientists and engineers like Tony. They grew up worshiping at the altar of Stark Industries like ever future MIT graduate did.

           Marinette Dupain-Cheng, on the other hand, was an entirely different beast who played an entirely different game. She was a fashion prodigy who had designed for stars like Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. She had interned for Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois, had her clothes walk the runway during Paris fashion week, and had a summer job that somehow lasted over a year, working for Miranda Priestly, the editor-in-Chief for Runway Magazine when the scary woman took over Paris: Runaway. Said job ended when Miranda when back to New York. Marinette only prayed to the fashion gods. So when Tony Stark, god of the nerds, showed up at her door, she only blinked once.

           Said girl sat between her parents, with cool blue eyes glaring at him suspiciously. Luckily Tony was smart enough to bring Pepper with him.

           Pepper Potts smiled at the family in front of her; two bakers and the daughter, who made the most delicious macarons that she ever tasted. “So you see, after Tony came across Marinette’s wonderful re-design sketch of his suit on her website, he was very impressed with her talent.”

“But to take Marinette on as an intern?” Sabine asked. “Excuse me, but Marinette has always leaned towards the arts than science.”

           Tony gave the woman his best charming smile, “What is science if not another form of art. We both create, strive to better our talents, work to make names for ourselves; experiment and test out hypothesizes. Granted no one in my field ever created the disaster that was crocs.”

           Marinette narrowed her eyes, “Didn’t your father help on the Manhattan Project?”

           Silence.

           Pepper cleared on her throat. “Tom, Sabine, before anyone agrees to anything I’d like to go over safety procedures in place. Would you mind stepping outside with me, I could use a bit of fresh air.”

           Tony and Marinette just stared at each other as the three left the room. When the front door closed behind them, Marinette leaned forward, “What do you want?” Her patience had reached its end.

“Aren’t you being a little rude?” Tony smirked.

“Aren’t you a little old?” Marinette snapped back. “What do you want?”

“I want Ladybug’s help.”

           Marinette flinched back in shock. Her heart raced in her chest. “How do you know?”

“I’m Tony Stark,” He shrugged easily, picking up a mint chocolate Macron. “I know everything.”

           Marinette fought the fear racing through her, and steeled herself like Miranda and Audrey had taught her, “So Iron Man’s wanted Ladybug as an intern? So what does Iron Man get? What does Ladybug get? What does Tony get? And what does Marinette get?”

“You made clear distinctions,” Tony said approvingly, his business-side gearing up. “But I am Iron Man.” He said. “You come to New York for this spring break and for the summer. I get Ladybug’s help in handling a personal issue that has developed within the Avengers. Ladybug gets training from the Avengers. Marinette gets to add Stark Industries and a personal letter of recommendation from Tony Stark to her resume.”

“On the condition, that identities stay secret from the media,” Marinette crossed her arms. “I don’t suppose I can hide it from the rest Avengers for very long. And I get an additional letter of recommendation from Pepper Potts. Pepper takes my friend Chloe on as an intern; she’s the hero, Queen Bee. And only one who knows my identity, besides you. Also, I actually do get to help design your next suit. My expenses?”

           Tony smirk widened. The girl knew how to cover her bases. She even wanted to have an Ally with her should things take a turn. “All paid for by me. First-class all the way. You and Chloe will stay in the Stark Tower on the same floor as the other interns.”

“Other young superheroes, you mean?” Marinette guessed, causing Tony’s eyes to twinkle in joy. “Spiderman, Iron Heart, and WarIron. Based on their sizes, I had guessed they were young; teenagers probably. Why didn’t you ask Chat Noir too? Or why aren’t you? Because you’re not, you would’ve mentioned it by now?”

“You mean the Agreste kid?” Tony said, not noticing Marinette’s eyes widen in surprise. “He’s not serious enough for me. I play games but he goes too far. Surprised you haven’t dumped him yet. Get a better partner.”

           Marinette took a bit of a macron to get a moment to think. Adrien was Chat Noir. In retrospect, it made a lot of sense. Both were socially immature, and a bit naïve. Each had an idealistic view of things and didn’t let the real world break them of it. For example Adrien and his dealing with Lila’s lies. Chat Noir and Ladybug turning down his advances.

“Very well,” The bluenette finally agreed. “I agree to be your intern. Shall we discuss my salary now or later? Well, need to before I or my parents sign any contracts.”

           It was Tony’s turn to narrow his eyes. Not one; not a single one of his interns: Harley, Peter, or Riri ever asked about how much they’d get paid. They’d all assumed it was an unpaid internship and was surprised when their contracts included a salary. “You’re a shark.”

           Marinette hummed, “You should see me when there’s blood in the water.”

           That was something Tony was looking forward to seeing.

           The official paperwork was signed three days later; Marinette was officially a Stark intern. Due to go to Orientation for spring break in New York in a few weeks.

           Those weeks flew by. She let Fu know she’d have to go back and forth for a few weeks. She didn’t bother telling anyone else. Her friendships in the class had dwindled dramatically. While most weren’t her outright enemies, her classmates tended to avoid her. If they couldn’t do that, they were beyond cold to her. It was Lila’s doing. She got her hooks into the class, who all wanted to tie themselves to the golden goose, and when it was clear that Lila and Marinette didn’t like each other, they picked sides. They chose their meal ticket over their lifelong friend.

           Honestly, it made Marinette almost wish that Lila had lied about her instead; accused her of being a bully or something. Anything. Because at least then her ex-friends would have somewhat of a reason to be ex-friends. Even if it wasn’t a very good one. Instead, they were just bad friends all on their own.

           Still, Marinette didn’t mourn their loss as she sat in the back of the class with Chloe on a Sunny Tuesday morning, and they were living for New York that Friday. She had a steadily rising career in Fashion. She had worked under Miranda Priestly and Audrey. From them, she learned it was best to drop fair-weather friends and how to spot wannabes, fame-seekers, and gold-diggers from three miles away.

           She was happy with Chloe as her bestie. The girl had turned a new leaf and proven her loyalty to the point where Fu made her a permanent hero. And the Blond had been ecstatic when Pepper Potts had shown up at their door. She had hugged Marinette a full five minutes for getting her the internship. All while screaming with joy.

           Both girls were excited to go. Though Marinette did encounter one downside. The night before, Jagged Stone and Penny Rolling; or as Marinette deemed them #RollingStone, called her. Or rather Penny did the talking. Jagged was trying to wrestle his newest jacket away from Fang’s teeth. Penny offered Marinette a chance to spend her spring break traveling around on tour with Jagged, as his personal stylist. Marinette had no choice but to turn the job down. She loved her honorary Uncle Jagged but she already signed the contract.

           That morning Lila had spun another set of lies. The first was about helping Tony Stark fix his Iron man suit when she was traveling in America. The second was about the newest song Jagged Stone wrote about her. It was exhausting to listen to but the class hung on every word.

           Bustier had just finished her first lesson of the day when she invited Alya to stand up.

           The glasses-wearing girl grinned at the class, “So as everyone’s aware; there’s a class pool party is this Saturday; first day of spring break, baby!” The class cheered. “Everyone who’s invited should’ve gotten their invitation. Don’t want any drama,” She cast a cold look to the two girls at the back of the class. “Invite only. So no party crashers. Marinette, Chloe what are you doing this Saturday?” Alya smirked at her call out that the two girls weren’t invited; that they were the only ones who weren’t.

           As if on cue, the classroom’s door burst opened and in walked Tony Stark, followed by a very apologetic looking Pepper, “Marinette; it’s time to go! Grab Pepper’s minion and let’s go.”

           There were gasps from the class. Max sat up straight. Iron Man was in front of him, in his class, this was the best day of his life.

           Marinette just sighed, “Did you kick the door open, Tony?” Disapproval clear in her voice.

“…No?”

“I can’t go now!” Marinette explained. “I have class. We weren’t supposed to leave until Friday, remember.”

           Tony waved her off, “Details. Spring Break starts now. Queenie, Mari; chop-chop! New York is waiting!”

           Bustier decided to step in. She may not always be the best teacher but she refused to allow a strange man, even if that man was Tony Stark, to take away any of her students. “Mr. Stark, can I ask what you want Marinette and Chloe for?”

           Thankfully, it was Pepper that answered as she closed back the classroom door, “They have been employed as interns for Stark Industries. They’ll be attending orientation during their spring break at Stark Tower.”

Max actually fell out of his seat. Because this couldn’t be happening. Stark industries rarely ever took high schoolers’ as interns. Tony Stark only chose the best of the best. How could Marinette land the job?

“Marinette’s my intern,” Tony grinned. “Blondie’s Pepper’s. Who else is gonna teach her how to rule the world.”

           A slow smile spread across Chloe’s face, “With an iron fist.”

           Tony pointed at her, “You scare me. Pepper get your intern!”

           The other students were amazed. Marinette was Tony Stark’s intern. Chloe somehow got Pepper Pott's attention. What had they missed? Why didn’t Marinette tell them? How?

“That’s what we’ll be doing this Saturday, Alya,” Chloe drawled. “In New York, hanging with the Avengers.” Causing Alya to flush with anger. “We couldn’t come to your pool party even if we wanted to. Which we don’t.”

“He found my sketch of a potential Iron man suit design,” Marinette explained, continuing the story Tony had told her parents. “He loved it and offered me the job a few weeks ago.”

“Weeks?” Nino asked. “And you didn’t tell us? Dudette, not cool.”

           Alix nodded, her arms crossed, “Yeah I thought we were friends!”

           Marinette and Chloe just looked at them like they were stupid.

           Alya put her hands on her hips, “Mr. Stark, why didn’t you ask Lila Rossi to be your intern? She helped you with your suit before. She’d be much better than Marinette!”

           The girl in question face turned bright red, “This can’t be happening.” Lila muttered.

           Tony looked honestly confused, “Lila? Who’s Lila? No one ever helped me with my suit except the kids I already got as interns.” He looked at Pepper. “Do I know a Lila Rossi?”

           Pepper shook her head, and turned fierce eyes towards Lila, “Miss Rossi, please refrain from lying about Tony Stark and or Stark Industries. Or we will sue you on the grounds of defamation.”

           Lila squeaked. Sue? She couldn’t be sued. Her mother would kill her if she got a lawsuit from Tony Stark.

           It was the rest of the class’s turn to look confused.

           However, before anyone could ask any follow-up questions, the classroom door burst opened again. Jagged Stone strutted in, followed by a very apologetic look Penny and happy Fang with, what looked to be, the arm of a leather jacket.

“Marinette!” Jagged yelled. “What’s this about you not coming on tour? I need my favorite stylist, love.

Marinette just sighed, “Did you kick the door open, Jagged?” Disapproval clear in her voice.

“…No?”

           The bluenette just shook her head, “I have plans this Spring break. I’m sorry.”

“Plans?” Jagged whined. “What could be better spending your Spring Break with a Rock Star? You can even bring your Blonde. Penny could use an assistant!” He paused, finally noticing it wasn’t just kids. “The bloody hell is Tony Stark doing here?”

           The two famous men eyed each other. The women they came with just looked so done with the world.

           Tony crossed his arms, “I got custody of Marinette for Spring Break; you snooze, you lose.”

“What?!” Jagged hissed. “She’s my designer.”

“She’s my intern!”

           Jagged glared, “I knew her first. By rights, I get custody.”

“I have a contract that says otherwise!” Tony taunted the Rock Star. “Her future is Stark Industries.”

“Her future is Rock and Roll!” Jagged yelled back.

           Both men glared at each other.

“Pepper!”

“Penny!”

           Both women groaned. How was this their lives? Why what was this their lives? What bus full of nuns and orphans did they rob in a past life?

           Penny smiled, “Marinette means the world to us. I’m her honorary Aunt Penny,” She held out her hand for Pepper. “Jagged’s her honorary Uncle. We’ve known her for years. Contracts were already signed?”

           Pepper nodded, “Tony doesn’t play when it comes to his interns. He won’t budge. Trust me; we’ve done this three other times. Marinette’s his kid now, all but legally.” For now, Pepper didn’t bother to add. Every now and then she found discovered a new set of adoption papers with one of the interns’ names on it; one time she found three sets for all three. Plus if Tony kept hinting any harder, May was going to gut him.  “She’ll be in New York for Spring break and all of the summer.”

“Summer!” Jagged whined. “He gets custody for summer too! No!” he shook his head. “Not happening. Call our lawyers, Penny. We’re going to family court!”

           Tony blew him a raspberry. Tony Stark blew Jagged Stone a raspberry. The class could only blink, trying to process what was happening.

           Marinette just wanted the earth to open up and swallow her.

“Marinette already designed your clothes for the tour,” Penny tried to placate. “They’re amazing. We can call and skype if we need any additional tips. We have a concert in New York over spring break so we can go and see.” They didn’t. But Penny would be damned if she could have one booked within the hour. Anything to stop jagged from mention family court again. “Most of our summer is free too, we can visit Marinette whenever we want.”

           Jagged huffed but didn’t say anything.

“Well not whenever you want,” Tony teased.

“Family court!” Jagged hissed.

“Tony!” Pepper said warningly. She was not going to let this going to court. No matter how lovely Marinette was. “Be nice.”

           Tony pouted.

           Marinette raised her hand, “You guys know that legally my parents still have custody of me, right?” There was no answer. “Right?!” Nothing.

           The bluenette just sighed.

           Alya took that moment to break in, “Jagged, don’t you want to say hi to Lila? She’s right here,” Alya pointed to her bestie. “Oh, can we listen to the songs you wrote for her? Can you tell us how she saved your cat from getting hit by a plane?”

           The look Lila gave Alya could’ve killed a thousand men.

           Jagged looked affronted, “Lila? Who’s Lila?” He looked at his fiancé. “Penny, do I know a Lila?”

“No!” Penny glared fiercely at Lila. “Jagged Stone has never written a song about an underage girl before. He has never owned a cat. What parents and airline would careless enough to allow a child to rush onto a runway for a pet? Refrain from spreading any further slander. Or we’ll hit you with a lawsuit so fast you’ll get whiplash.”

“I’m allergic to cats by the way,” Jagged told the class. “All fur actually. That’s why I got Fang here.” He pointed the crocodile who had made its way to Marinette for cuddles. “I’ve had him for twenty years. He’s the only pet I’ve had all that time.”

           Marinette rolled her eyes and took the crocodile in her lap.

“Twenty years?” Kim’s eyebrows furrowed. “Whoa, that’s long that we’ve been alive.”

           Nino glared at Lila, “Yeah it is.” He finally realized the girl was lying. Most of the class had in fact.

“Enough of this,” Tony waved. “Marinette, Chloe, time to go. Leave the dinosaur.”

           Bustier took a deep breath, “No one is taking Marinette or Chloe anywhere. Until I get a note from their parents verifying that is. I’m going to have to ask you all to leave.”

           Penny and Pepper nodded understandingly. Jagged and Tony just looked shocked.

“But I’m Tony Stark!”

“I’m Jagged Stone, love!”

           Bustier just rolled her eyes and shooed them out of her class. It took some handling, and eventually, the women had to drag the guys out. The teacher shut the door with a sigh of relief. She brushed off the imaginary dirt on her clothes. “Marinette,” She called. “If you could tell any future visitors to wait until after school to pick you up, with a note from your parents that would be most helpful.”

“Sorry,” Marinette blushed, a deep dark red.

           Bustier walked back to her desk before pausing. “Is that Crocodile still in my class, Marinette?”

“…Yes.”

“I think he’s here for the rest of the day,” Chloe shrugged. “Unless you want to invite Jagged back?”

           Bustier paused. No. Never again. “No. No. Fang can stay for the day.”

           When the lunch bell rang, Marinette found that it was easier to avoid her classmates' questions, as they were too busy yelling at Lila. It wasn’t long after that Ladybug had to take down Lila’s seventh akuma form.

           Marinette and Chloe left that night to New York. Somehow he managed to convince their parents that missing three days of school to study in the most advanced building in the world was a good thing.

           When they got to Stark Tower, they were given a quick tour. Then Pepper took Chloe to show her where she would be working. And Tony took Marinette the workshop where three other kids were already working.

           The oldest one glanced at her and snorted, “God he kidnapped another one.” He was the tallest in the room with dark brown hair and a smirk on his face.

           The other two snickered.

           Tony looked affronted, “Oh please; your parental units practically threw you at me.

The younger looking boy smirked, “Aunt May threatened to shank you next time you took me out of school early.” He had light brown hair and big brown eyes

           The genius pointed, “You tell Aunt Hottie to leave me alone.”

“HI, I’m Marinette!” She waved happily. “He keeps mentioning he has custody. And I’ve become moderately concerned.”

“And you should be,” The other girl in the room laughed. She was a pretty brown-skinned girl with black wild curls. “Name’s Riri.”

“Harley,” Said the first boy who spoke.

“Peter,” The other boy introduced.

           Marinette nodded and eyes them, “WarIron,” The pointed at Harley. “Iron Heart,” Then at Riri. “Spiderman, right?” She pointed at Peter.

           The three looked at Tony with questions in their eyes. Tony raised in hands in surrender, “Hey, I told her nothing.”

           Harley eyed the new girl, “You’re from Paris, right?” She nodded. “Ladybug, I’m guessing.”  Marinette blushed. “Welcome to the Young Avengers, I guess. Why’d he bring you in?”

           Marinette shrugged, “He said to there was a personal problem happening with the Avengers. He wanted my help.”

           The teen froze. Peter just shook his head, “You didn’t, Tony!”

Tony looked sheepish.

“What?” Marinette asked.

           Riri rolled her eyes, “That personal problem? It’s called ManHunt.”

“I’m sorry?” Marinette asked. She was going to have to hunt a man?

“It’s a game,” Harley explained. “Team Iron Man versus team Cap. One team hunts the other in a sort of hide and seek type of thing and tries to capture as many members as they can. Last time we played it, Team Cap crushed Team Iron man. It’s why Tony brought us all in. Revenge.”

           Said Man didn’t look one bit ashamed, “Rules were since Thor and the Big guy are gone I can bring in whoever I want to replace them.”

           Marinette tossed up her hands, “You brought me here to play a game?” Unbelievable.

“No,” Tony said. “I brought you here to take out the Winter Soldier.”

“Say what now?”

“Welcome to orientation,” Was All Tony said to her question.

           The kids trained together for a week; Chloe, a girl named MJ who was Pepper’s other interns, and a boy named Ned who was a tech intern, were brought in as well. When it turned out that Kagami was in New York City for a fencing tournament. Tony was happy to bring in the scary girl as well. (And somehow get her mother to agree to let her stay for Spring Break) He made practice stealth and learn hand signals. Tony drilled them on the Team Cap’s strengths and weaknesses. They reviewed videos of previous missions until they had everyone’s fighting style memorized. Tony went over body anatomy aka where the best place to hit them was. They memorized plans and scenarios to take out each specific member of Team Cap.

           The teens spent a lot of time in the lab creating gadgets to use against the Avengers. Each one straight out of a spy movie.

           As far as Tony was concerned this was War. And there would be no prisoners.

Team Cap consisted of Captain America, The Winter Soldier, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch, The Falcon, Antman, along with several Shield employees which included Fury, Melinda May, and Coulson.

           Team Iron man consisted of Ironman, War Machine, Vision, Maria Hill, The Wasp, Quicksilver, Daisy Johnson, and a bunch of names Stark employees: I.E the interns. (Black Panther refused to participate. Though he and sister would watch from Wakanda.)

           Each team had a total of thirty players; no more, no less.

           The game would take place at the compound. Anything area within the compound legal territory was free to use. The living room would be home base and were all ‘out’ people had to stay. Until they were freed. Or until every member of the hiding team was captured and then it was Game Over. Everyone could communicate with their own team using special mics; normally only taken out for missions. However, those imprisoned in the home base couldn’t communicate with their team.

           On Saturday, just before sunset; the main superheroes of the avengers met up. Tony facing Steve. Rhodey glaring at Bucky. Vision versus Wanda. Hawkeye to QuickSilver. The wasp against Ant-Man and the Falcon.

           Steve smiled, “Tony.”

“You ready for war, Cap?” Tony asked.

“Training exercise,” Steve corrected his husband. “I trust your team is ready.”

           Tony smirked, “Oh you have no idea. Your little spies are already hiding in the shadows.”

“Like your team isn’t?”

           The alarm went off.

           Tony suited up, “You have 1000 seconds, Steve.” His helmet shut. “I’d get running.”

           Steve rolled his eyes. His team split up, running into the growing shadows.

           The game had started.

           Marinette waited, hiding in the shadows on the roof. Her ladybug costume was all back with little red polka dots; mostly easy to move around body armor. This wasn’t her actually Ladybug suit; Tikki, while willing to create a new suit design, decided it wasn’t a good idea to involve magic. So Marinette designed herself a new suit, and Tony help her trick it out.

Tony had pointed out the all-good hiding spots located in the Compound. She was the overly large landing pad. She forced herself to stay completely still. Even when she saw the Falcon take flight with WarIron right on his tail.

           The smallest of moments caught on the corner of her eye, the glint of metal. An arrow, she realized. She smiled. Hawkeye.

           She watched the man take stock of the room, looking in every possible place a person could hide. Unfortunately for him, Marinette had a bit of luck on her side.

“All clear on the roof, Cap,” Clint said into his mic. “I’ll keep a lookout from up here.” There was silence as he listened to Cap’s orders. “Okay. Will do. Stay invisible, got it. Over and out.”

           The second the conversation had ended, Marinette through a smoke bomb at his feet. Before Clint could even finish saying, “What the he-” Marinette was on the attack. Using the smoke to her advantage, she swung her yo-yo at Hawkeye’s feet. The String wrapped around his legs, tripping him. Five seconds later, Hawkeye was hogtied on the ground.

Marinette touched her mic, “Tweety Bird down. Bringing him to home base now!”

“Copy that, Ladybug,” Tony said. “Be careful.”

           Clint looked up at his assailant; expecting to see Tony or the Wasp, any avenger. Instead what he saw, was a teen girl with a scary blue-eyed glare on his face, “Who are you?”

           Marinette leaned down, “Your reckoning.” She hissed.

“What the fuck!” He said as he was thrown over the girl’s shoulder and carried to home base.

           When Marinette got to home base, she saw Harley putting a rather put out Falcon on the ground, Spiderman with five webbed up shield agents, Chloe had brought in two, Kagami and Riri brought in six. MJ and Ned both brought in one random shield agent. Marinette tossed Hawkeye on the couch.

           It had been twenty minutes, Clint knew by the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes since sunset and the game had started. And they had already lost just over half their team to a bunch of teenagers.

Clint couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had Tony unleashed on them.

“Foghorn Leghorn secure,” Harley said into his mic. “Tweety in his cage. The shadows are all accounted for.”

“I’m Tweety,” Clint told Sam.

           Sam paused. “…Am I Foghorn Leghorn?”

“Wasp and Vision on their way with The Blue Fairy,” Tony’s voice rang their ears. “They’ll play guard dog. QuickSilver is down; Miss Tuffit got him. Seven minions gone; Captain Hook and his jolly crew got them. Over and out.”

“Queen Bee, MJ, guard the Home base until they get here,” Harley ordered. “Guy in the chair, Mj, back on monitor duty. Fulfill mission Top hat ASAP.” They nodded and left the room.

           Top hat was important. The two were trying to hack into Team Cap’s communications, once they did; it was game over.

“The rest of you complete the assignment,” He told them.

           Then all split up again. Vision and Wasp arrived with Scarlet witch just as they were leaving. All three avengers gave the kids confused looks as they left.

           It would take Marinette another hour before she came across another member of Team Cap. And she didn’t so much as come across, as she did respond to Peter’s cry for help.

“Captain Sparkles!” Peter yelled in their earpiece. “Training yard. I’m trying to hold hi-No I won’t give you back your shield! Hurry! Over!”

“I’m around the corner,” Marinette hissed into the mic as she ran for the yard. When she arrived it was just in time to catch the shield that was flying at her face.

           She held the shield tightly in her hand, feeling like Wonder Woman, as she stared down Captain America.

           Steve looked at the young girl who had joined the fight, “My shield, miss?” He was aware that Spiderman had landed behind him.

           Marinette smiled sweet. Then she launched the shield at him with such brute force, he was lifted off his feet. “The Name’s Ladybug.”

Steve didn’t catch the shield in time and it bounced back to Spiderman.

           Captain America glared at the two teenagers.

           Then the fight was on.

           Spiderman hits Steve with his shield, distracting him. The shield falling to the ground. Ladybug barges Captain America backwards. Steve shoulders her to the floor. Marinette lands on the ground; pain flaring across her shoulder. Spiderman punches Steve who just lifts him and slams him against the ground. Spiderman raises a fist but Steve twists it. A web shoots out of his hand, the sound of a small explosion fills the training yard.

           Marinette takes the distraction to trip Captain America and jump up. As Steve falls to the ground, Marinette uses the electro-shooters that Riri made and shocks the dear life out of him. It wasn’t enough to bring him down but then Peter added in his own shocking web-shooters.

           Yet Steve still looked ready for another round of their fight. Marinette quickly picked up the shield and slammed it across his head. Steve Rogers fell forward in a slump.

           Spiderman webbed up with quick-drying cement.

           Both teens breathed heavily; struggling to catch their breath, tense from the fight. Marinette could even find it in herself to unclench the shield.

“Captain Sparkles is down, over,” Marinette said into the Mic.

“We’re bringing him in, over,” Spiderman added.

           There was a moment of silence.

“…What the fuck?” They heard War Machine say.

           When Marinette walked in with the shield in one hand and helping Spiderman carry Cap with the other, the avengers present quietly lost their shit. Kagami nodded, where she stood over Fury who looked more pissed than ever before in his entire life. Chloe stood over Coulson, who just looked put out. MJ and Ned looked overly pleased. Their mission had been a success but it only lasted long enough to get Fury and Coulson. After that, Team Cap was smart enough to ditch the communications, figuring something was up.

“Who’s left?” Spiderman asked in the Mic. “Over.”

“Stoneheart,” Kagami answered bitterly, referring to Melinda May, into the Mic so the team could hear them. “She took out Daisy and got away. Hill is after her now.”

“Jon Snow and Miss Tuffit,” Chloe said referring to the Winter Soldier and Black Widow. “Iron Man and WarIron are after Small fry. War Machine has eyes on Miss Tuffet.”

“I’m closing in on Miss Tuffit, over.” War Machine said.

           Marinette looked at her team, pressing on her mic, “Guy in Chair, Mj, I want you on Stoneheart’s tail. Spiderman go be back up for the War Machine. Iron Heart, meet me on the Location 12. Over.”

“What are you going to do, over?” Harley asked.

           Marinette clenched the shield in her hands, “I’m going to go tell Jon Snow that Winter Is Over. Queen and Dragon with me. Over.”

           The battle with the Winter Soldier was epic. The showdown happened in the gym. It turned out they weren’t hunting for the Winter Soldier, the Winter soldier was hunting for them. The second they walked into the gym, the doors closed behind them.

           Bucky jumped down from the rafters. He stared at the girls. He had seen them fight. None of them fought with any ounce mercy but plenty of skill. But they were clearly just kids. Just Dames in over their heads. He’d go easy on them. “Shall we, Ladies?”

           Ladybug, Queen Bee, Iron Heart, and Dragon shared a look before giggling.

           The Winter Soldier only just barely stood a chance.

           The girls laid Bucky gently on the floor on home base. He grunted and glared at them.

           A few minutes later, Tony and Rhodey walked in with the Black Widow. The last of Team Cap.

           Tony smirked, “Game over.”

           Rhodey shook his head, “Record time; two hours and four-two minutes. Beats the last one by about seven hours and sixteen minutes.”

           Then they debriefed. Video of the fights and footage was seemed was shown so everyone could see where they could improve. The image of tiny Ladybug clocking Captain America in their head with his own shield was rewinded and watched seven times.

           Tony fell over laughing, “I’m putting on Youtube!”

“I will divorce you!” Steve snapped but couldn’t fight the smile on his face.

           Once The random agents of shield and Stark industries left, Steve glared at Tony. His team had gotten demolished. In record time. “You brought in outside heroes, that’s not fair.”

“No,” Tony laughed. “I brought employees of Stark Industries as agreed upon. Everyone meet WarIron,” Harley lowered his helmet. “Iron Heart,” Riri lowered his, “You know Spiderman already,” Peter took of his mask and waved. “MJ, and Ned” Both teens nodded. “Ladybug,” Marinette took off her mask. “Queen Bee,” Chloe glared as she removed hers. “Dragon!” Kagami took off her black mask. “The interns. Otherwise known as the Young Avengers.”

“Oh, fuck you too Stark,” Clint complained. “Did you see what they did to poor Bucky. He’s the deadliest assassin in history, and I felt they went a little rough.”

           Bucky nodded with a wince, “Can I have my arm back.”

           Steve looked at the bluenette still holding his shield, with a charming smile.

Kagami glared. She held the metal arm like trophy. “Spoils of War.”

           Marinette giggled.

           Being a intern was going to be fun.    

[artificialqueens]

Sober (Symnali) - Pazinae

Summary: College girl Symone and her house love throwing parties. Denali loves a fun time, and finds herself there every weekend. Just to get drunk and party of course. No other reason. (AKA pretty lesbians in denial)

AN: a drabble inspired by denali coming over to the house of avalon a while ago, getting v drunk and dancing w symone (the outfit symone wears in the fic is from that day www.instagram.com/p/CODlQtnp-KM/ denali is wearing the pink dress from one of her older posts). also the time they streamed and were just drunkenly complimenting each other is the absolute Cutest and symnali is underrated. i have a lot of ideas for this so if yall are interested ill write a whole thing of what happened that night <3. my first fic and concrit is very much welcome!! song is sober by lorde :>

—

//Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight−//

They called themselves House Of Avalon. They had all pitched in to rent a house near campus over the summer, and a place leased for a year consisting of young 20 year olds can only go as well as you can imagine. Yet getting ready for their parties surrounded by constant noise and the dozens of paintings, framed photos, and tchotchkes lining the wall, was a comfortable kind of chaos. As chaotic as they may be, they undeniably threw the best parties. Not to mention their outfits never missed, especially not Symone.

The madness of creative, raging queers all shoehorned together to form the most disorderly harmony was a type of home Symone wanted to bask in forever, and, quite honestly, the driving reason to stay in the boring hell hole that is college. The obligation of finishing this shit for a flimsy paper and bragging rights was a little more grounded when it’s the only reason her friends are currently living with her. One day this will all be done, and they can find a job with their degrees. Finish college like everyone wants her too, make everyone proud that yes, she did it, and together the House Of Avalon can buy a huge house with 5 guest bedrooms so everyone and their mama can visit. Throw the biggest parties, a pool in their backyard with an outdoor kitchen, a huge patio out front by the house gates, and they could even install a stripper pole in the living room. Until then she’ll be up at 7:30am to ride the train for her morning class. 

The thought of the a certain dimpled blonde helped make the week bearable because at least on the weekends she can fly to somewhere else. With someone else. 

Symone, Gigi and Rosy hung around the sofa together, getting tipsy as they waited for more people to pour in. They chattered mindlessly, the comfort between the three was an indescribable kind, so effortless and familiar. But in between each pause in conversation, when the laughs and talk of annoying professors and ugly hair trends came to a brief end, Symone couldn’t help but scan the room. Peeking out the corner of her eye for a certain pair of hooded eyes hopefully lingering around. A girl with the most distinct, beautifully symmetric face that can charm a room, and a sugary voice so addictive to listen to even without a sweet tooth. She could listen to Denali talk and ramble as much as she wanted about anything in the world, and she’d eagerly nod along. Her hazy tone when she’s slurring and half awake, to the chirps and goofy grins at the height of the night. The adorable glint in her eyes of passion and excitement when she drunkenly goes off about some kpop group Symones never heard of before, but might just happen to start coming across more. Her dancing like a duck that makes Symone squeal, and cheer, and hide her face in her shoulder so no one can see the smile she’s unable to bite back. She dawdles around with her infectious giddiness and smile so comforting it eases the absurdity and rushing high Symone constantly lives with. And it helps that she’s built like some athlete godsend with the prettiest arms and perfect curves and the most stunning thighs and calves and soft warm blonde hair with icy blue tips to frame her angelic face. She’s been drinking and it’s definitely just the alcohol that makes her head waiver and ramble. 

Time rushes by wedged between her sisters, and soon Symone holds an empty cup for the second already. The house has certainly been getting fuller and fuller. Glancing around, she finds the only person she could (and frankly would) look at for all of eternity, staring at her. Denali’s hair is scooped into two high ponytails at either side, and her body’s fit into a little off the shoulder pink mini dress that hugged her body all too well. Symone wanted nothing more than to just hold her, dance the night away until the jumble of noises and bodies fade out. Seeing her just standing there, perfect and still, a toothy grin is plastered on Symone’s face without her consent. She barely even knows Denali but her sheer presence brightens the room, sends butterflies to flutter around like she’s having some cheesy school girl crush. She can’t tell you what Denali’s favorite TV show, movie or season is, or how she likes her coffee. But if the world were to close in on them right now, have the walls disintegrate, ceilings crumble and the heaps of flesh around them melt into the floorboards under them- they’d still be yelling out the wrong lyrics while they twirl against the counter tops. Rush outside and run in the pitch black where nothing exists but each other in their hands- and that’s good enough for her. 

Denali just likes Symone because she wants to have fun, and Symone’s good at that. It’s okay that she won’t ever like Symone when she’s sober; When she’s quiet, and wrapped in a blanket over her hoodie starring at the ceiling. When she’s fidgeting with her nails and playing with her the tips of her hair instead of talking. When she burns mac and cheese and decides to have a bag of ketchup chips for lunch. Whatever it is they have; it’s still good enough for her. 

Damn maybe Symone does think a little too much. She winks at the dumbstruck skater. The night’s just begun, and the only exit signs in the labyrinth in her sinkhole of a mind is alcohol and/or Denali. Symone wants the and version. 

//Oh, God, I’m clean out of air in my lungs

It’s all gone, played it so nonchalant//

When Denali came through the door she not-so-subtly headed straight to the living room. She had barely glanced in their direction- but she saw her. She was laughing, in her little squad of pretty girls. The clique of long legged doe-eyed queens stand in the center of the living room in their mini skirts and low waisted pants- lifelike statues seemingly taking up all the air in the crowded room. She can’t help it if she stares a bit! They have cute outfits and Denali just wants some inspiration. Everyone’s gawked at the trio anyways. She looks at Symone, because of the cute fuzzy blue bucket hat adorned on her head. No other reason.

 But it’s hard to look away when her face- her makeup is so stunning. With a shimmery pink cut crease, and glossy lips, and dabbles of pink brightening her cheeks. Lashes that make her eyes pop, and the highlight on her glistening skin matched with her flimsy silver spaghetti strap crop top that made her shine even more like a radiant disco ball. The backless top is tied together behind, with a thin string leaving the space between her neck to ass as exposed skin. How could a person be so perfect? And addicting to look at? Unzipped jeans hung at the curve of her hip to show her pink thong, which rose to hug her waist. Pink wedge heels lie under her painted toe nails, and fuck was she a living bratz doll. It wasn’t Denali’s fault that she was objectively so head to toe stunning. It wasn’t her fault that she bit the inside of her lip a litte. It wasn’t her fault that her heart skipped when she was bent over in laughter and cupping her manicured hands over her mouth. It wasn’t her fault that she forgot to look away. It wasn’t her fault that when Symone caught her gaze she stood there frozen  (if the options are fight, flight or freeze, which do you think the ice girl is gonna do?). It wasn’t her fault that she forgot how to breathe when the enchantress gave her a wink. She smiles and waves in return. Someone taps Symone’s shoulder for her attention, and she looks busy. 

Denali pushes away, swimming through the sea of humans swarming the halls until she can identify the way to the kitchen. She needs a drink. It’s early and she’s far too sober for this.

//It’s time we danced with the truth

Move along with the truth//

There’s no reason why she’d be into Denali. She could literally get anyone she wanted, with her gleaming smile and cute laugh, and the way she can make you smile and feel important and wanted. The way she stops sipping in her red solo cup to look at you, to nod at every word and stare like you’re beautiful and matter. The way it’s impossible for her to not be the prettiest in the room. Denali takes a shot, the burning taste a welcome pain at the back of her tongue.

Five months ago when Denali took a sharp breath outside the main door, she made Rose come with her because, fuck, she wasn’t going to a party by herself. Not back then, at least. When she was a flustered freshman in October who didn’t know how to have a good time. Back when she first met the party throwers, and a certain captivating spirit with braided honey gold hair in a skimpy black dress took shots with her. Complimented her wispy hair dyed blue at the ends. Told her she looked amazing in slurred giggles. Because she was tipsy. The truth is the only time this will mean anything is when the world starts spinning, the room gets hot, and their minds start to blur. 

//Ooh (Hey)

We’re sleepin’ through all the days

I’m actin’ like I don’t see

Every ribbon you used to tie yourself to me// 

“You good diva?“ 

"Nnnm, gimme uh ‘nother few minutes"  Symone’s head is pounding, and the only thing on her mind is the dazy blanketing warmth of sleep. Her mind is a knotted, jumbled up mess and trying to think about anything other than passing out makes her head throb. Natural light from the outside pours through the windows, and through her squinted eyes, the wooden table across the room is glowing from the suns heat. A vague need to eat, drink water, and vomit creep up on her. She turns to lay on her side, wedges the blanket between her arms, pulls it higher up and tucks her hands under her head.

"You sure?”

“You still have your makeup you want to wash it off?”

“We can take it off”

“Girl its 2pm" 

"Let her sleep!" 

Half asleep, all the different voices mesh as one blob of noise. Indistinct chatter fades as Symone slowly luls back to sleep. Until-

"Where should I put the polaroids of Symone and Denali making out?” Peaceful slumber is very quickly forgotten when realization is drawn. 

“What the fuck happened last night?” Is the only thing Symone can muster out before throwing her head deeper into the pillow, all of a sudden quite awake. Focusing on the vague mist of memories from the night before, she replays it through her head starting from when she went up to Denali, taking shots in the kitchen.

[war-sword]

2019 Draco/Reader Secret Santa Fic Exchange - A Flurry of Memories

summary: Christmastime has always help many memories for Y/N, but now so many of them are imbued with Draco Malfoy, it’s hard to think of much else. A/N: ahhahahaha holy fuck. so i went back and forth between 2 versions of this fic for a couple of weeks before picking this one and i wrote the majority of the 2k in about... 3 hours. so. take what you will.thank you to bae aka @eltanin-malfoy for organizing this exchange!!! i hope you enjoy! prompt: first snowfall words: 2.6k taglist: @clockworkherondale @accio-rogers @mayorofzillyhoo @diademofdraco @drawlfoy @ladybuginthetardis @silversslytherin @lushlavenderskies @socontagiousimagines @acciodracoo

◈◈◈

A drop of wine made its way down the side of the bottle, ending it’s journey by staining the napkin below with a bloody star burst. Y/N tapped the top of her glass with her nail, listening to the gentle ring as she gazed out the window. It had begun to snow– the first of the season. 

Y/N was desperately trying to get into the holiday spirit, and she grabbed her wand with her free hand to point it at her gramophone in the corner to flip her Celestina Warbeck holiday record. The needle landed gently on the b-side and “Merry Christmas, Happy Goblin Days” started with a quiet crackle. A song that would normally make her want to get up and sing, only coaxed a sigh from her. 

Christmas used to be a fun time when she was in school. Large parties at the family estates, wearing fancy dresses and stuffing themselves silly with horderves. Sneaking into their father’s studies to snoop through the drawers before running away giggling, Ms. Zabini’s extravagant gifts of fine jewelry that every year got more stunning. Loading their pockets with olives and crackers, and braving the cold outside to try and coax the Malfoy’s albino peacocks close enough to stroke. And the one year they all stayed at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament, it’s own league of fun and dressing up.

And then she remembers no Christmas parties at all.

Now she has no big house to live in, no fun parties to go to, and the first night she needs to build a fire in her little house always stirs up feelings of nostalgia and longing. It’s annoying to feel depressed for no reason, but almost just as annoying when she realizes, year after year, it’s about how winter reminds her of him. 

The dregs at the bottom of Y/N’s glass have created interesting patterns. She doesn’t remember emptying her glass again. The snow outside is coming down in big flakes now, and her record has gone silent. She still has a few hours to kill before she needs to start dinner. Perhaps a walk in the fresh snow can get her out of her Christmas funk. 

Y/N pulls on her boots and coat at the door. She decides a hat is in order with all this heavy precipitation, and reaches up to the top shelf in the hall closet to grab her warm knit one. Something else comes down with the hat, and a length of emerald fabric pools at her feet. At one end are the initials D.M. in elegant silver stitching. Y/N had forgotten she’d had this. She considers kicking to the back of the closet for a moment while her chest swirls with a concoction of emotions, before snatching up the scarf and looping it around her neck.

A scarf is a scarf, and it’s unfortunately as warm as she remembered.

Y/N and Pansy Parkinson laid side by side on the cold oak floors of Malfoy Manor, carefully monitoring the planks for creaking. “I haven’t heard anything for a few minutes,” Pansy whispers.

“Me either,” Y/N says back.

“Check the clock again.”

Y/N carefully moves herself into an upright position and pads across the floor to check the clock on the nightstand of the room she and Pansy are sharing for the night. Together, the hands read exactly twelve fourty-five. She pads back and lies down next to Pansy again, taking a moment to steady her breathing before relaying the information.

“Shall we go?”

Y/N bites her lip, pretending to contemplate. “Yes. Should we take a candle?”

“No, stipud, we have to go in the dark. The moon is out. We should be able to see.”

Y/N looks back at the bed to look at the lumps under the covers they had created with pillows, and then follows Pansy out into the hall. Sure enough, moonlight streaks through the windows. The girl’s socked feet make no sounds as they count the doors and go around the corner. When they reach Draco’s bedroom, they stop and hold their breath to listen at the door. Y/N can hear that Draco, Blaise, and Theo are still awake and talking.

Pansy gently knocks on the door three times, waits, and then another three times, before cracking it open so they can slip inside. Abandoning all care, they sprint the few steps into Draco’s room before launching onto the bed with their other friends. “We had to wait a little while longer,” Y/N explains, “Dobby was in the hall cleaning.”

Draco, who is perched atop a pillow and leaning against his elaborate headboard, rolls his eyes. “Stupid elf. He should be downstairs cleaning, where the party was, not up here. I can’t believe our family got stuck with such a useless one.”

“That’s why my mum just got rid of ours and hired a person,” Blaise says.

“I’ve told father we should do the same, but he insists that people are too inclined to snoop,” Draco’s eyes glint with importance. “At least house elves you can be sure they won’t tell anyone anything.”

Pansy nods along with Draco as he speaks. Y/N curls her feet under her and rearranges her nightgown about her legs. “Have you tried asking Dobby about the Heir of Slytherin? If he has been around your family for a long time, maybe he knows something.” Y/N tries to steer the conversation to what they were discussing before being sent to bed, a topic they all found very important and adult.

“I doubt he would’ve had access to important information like that, besides, it’s not me,” Draco says.

Blaise, Theo, and Pansy all do the same. “I don’t understand who it could be if it’s none of us. We’re the most important people in our house,” Theo says.

“Maybe it’s a Pureblood who got sorted into another house, and wants revenge on the sorting hat,” Pansy suggests.

Blaise wrinkles his nose. “Ew, like Weasley?”

They all laugh at that, and spend hours into the morning spinning increasingly wild theories, only to be found in a heap on Draco’s bed the next morning by their parents.

The snow outside is satisfyingly crisp under Y/N’s feet. She looks down, mesmerized as her boots cut into the fresh, untouched snow and leave behind a perfect imprint of her boot. She refocuses her eyes to her hair, spilling over her coat and scarf as thick white flakes catch on the strands. Only a few minutes into her walk, she’s dappled with snow. 

Thinking about old times in Malfoy Manor make her smile. The property itself isn’t very far from her current home. After the war, she’d tried to move around to various wizarding communities, but none were all too welcoming. Even though Y/N’s family’s estate was lost to her, being back in the area she grew up brought her some comfort. Even if Draco’s home was still only a few miles away. 

The empty road lined with trees soon gave way to a tiny town. It was once filled with bustling shops for the magical folk in the area, disguised as run down buildings to any muggle passing from afar. Now, most of the stores truly were that, only a few like the food markets, apothecary and bookshop were still open. As Y/N passed the old tailor’s shop, she tilted her head to the sky, sticking her tongue out to catch a snowflake.

“Y/N, have you given any more thought to what colors we should wear to the ball?” Draco moves the letter away from his face, letting his arm flop off the side of the couch. 

Y/N sets down her quill next to the divination chart she’s working on. “Last I heard from mum, she was sending me three to try in green, ice blue and some shade of purple. Do you care to look at the clippings of the different styles she owled me yesterday?”

“Not particularly,” Draco sighs, looking past her and into the distance. At Y/N’s beat of silence, Draco moves his eyes back to her. “I am sure whatever you pick will look very pretty,” he adds, lifting his mother’s letter to emphasize.

Y/N smiles a little despite herself. “I don’t know why she keeps writing you, my own mother is just as accessible.”

“I know!” Draco groans. The fire in the common room hearth gently illuminates his handsome features he’s grown into the past two years. Y/N goes back to her essay. “Pans still not talking to you?” Draco asks, tossing the letter on the table and turning on his side to look at Y/N more directly. 

Y/N just shakes her head. 

“Well, she’ll get over it soon enough, whatever it is.” 

But Y/N knew exactly the reason why Pansy wasn’t talking to her, and the reason was sitting right in front of her. Pansy could be stubborn sometimes, but this was going on for nearly a week now with no conversation outside of anything in a classroom, if that. “I just want us all to have a fun time at Christmas here,” Y/N sighs, resting her head on her hands. “It’s probably the only time our parents will let us stay here over break.”

Draco looks at Y/N sympathetically. “I know. I’ll try to talk to her again tomorrow. You sure you don’t know what’s got her bothered?”

Y/N bites her lip before deciding it’s stupid to hold out. “I think she’s upset about who she’s going to the ball with.”

“What?” Draco says, wrinkling his brow. “Why, what’s wrong with Theo?”

Y/N picks her quill back up and pretends to contemplate her essay agan, so her words seem more casual. “I think she’s upset that you didn’t ask her.”

“Well, that’s dumb. She knows damn well I can ask who I want, and I asked you.” Draco catches Y/N’s eyes and gives her a sly smile. “I’ll talk to her. I dunno what’s got her wand in such a twist these days.”

“Thanks, Draco.”

“Anytime. Hey, speaking of dates, who do you reckon Potter is bringing?”

“Maybe Snape.”

Draco laughs, and Y/N can’t help but feel warm inside.

Y/N is long past the shops, and is almost near what is considered the park for the area. Mostly a collection of short, winding trails through the trees, now transformed into a gigantic snowglobe in less than an hour. Bird sounds are amplified in the silence the snow brings, and two robins chase each other across the path. Their red feathers look beautiful against the white. Y/N walks her favorite trail, stopping to look at the frost covering the berries on a bush, and check a branch to see how many inches of snow have fallen so far. At the place where her path converges with another, she notices another set of footprints. They lead in the direction of the lake, and she decides to follow them, Y/N carefully stepping in the tracks of whoever came before her.

The snow has significantly improved Y/N’s mood. The snowflakes clinging to her hair and eyelashes make her feel like a winter fairie, and the combination of the wine and her layers has her feeling cozy against the cold. She crosses her feet over to fit in the footprints, like she’s walking a tightrope. Y/N is so focused on her footsteps again that she doesn’t realize right away that she’s reached the lake. 

When a familiar root forces her to take a large step into her next foorprint she looks up. The lake hasn’t frozen over yet, and it’s dark water stands out in contrast to the pale sky and landscape surrounding it. Even the bank on the other side is white, white, white, and Y/N’s gasp cuts through the quiet as she takes in the view. “Wow.”

Something in her peripheral vision moves, and Y/N turns to see what it was. Sitting on the bench facing the lake several feet away is Draco Malfoy. He’s the mirror image of the landscape she sees before him, all pale hair and face emerging from a black coat. And he looks positively scared to see Y/N.

It’s a look she knows all too well.

“Y/N,” Draco says, half greeting and half in surprise.

“Draco.” Y/N stares back, almost equally bewildered. “I… I was just thinking about you, actually.”

“That’s funny… so was I,” he says. “Would you like to come sit?”

Y/N makes her way over to the bench, and Draco pulls his wand out from his coat and melts the remaining snow on the bench. Y/N tucks her coat beneath her and sits down, unable to look away from Draco. Despite the fact that he still looks unsure, he’s not looking away either.

It’s been almost five years since Y/N has seen Draco. She can’t help but drink in the sight of him, just as handsome and heartbroken as the day he’d left. Already she’s shifting on the bench to face him.

“You look well,” Draco finally says.

“Funny, you don’t.”

Draco laughs. Really hard. “You can always tell, can’t you?”

Y/N just shrugs. “I am a talented witch, what can I say.”

Draco reaches out and fingers the edge of Y/N’s scarf, and her heart drops in her chest. She’d forgotten his initials were on display. “You kept this?”

Y/N is quite focused on Draco’s ungloved hand in close proximity to her body, but she does say, “I honestly had forgotten about it until today.”

Draco lets go of the scarf. “I remember when I gave that to you.”

“So do I.”

Draco doesn’t put his hand back into his pocket, and instead lets it rest on the bench in between them. 

“I miss you,” Y/N blurts out.

“Me, too,” Draco says immediately. 

Y/N scoots a fraction closer, and Draco’s hand moves from the bench to the top of Y/N’s knee.

Y/N curls closer into Draco’s lap, and dips her finger below the collar of Draco’s dress shirt to trail her nail up his neck and along his hairline. Draco runs his finger slowly back and forth across Y/N’s bare kneecap.

“Ugh,” Pansy pretends to act disgusted as she glares at her best friends from the opposite couch. “I can’t believe I used to want that.”

Daphne runs her fingers through Pansy’s hair affectionately, and Y/N can feel Draco’s laugh in his chest. “Yeah, and I can’t believe how much you acted like a bitch over it.”

Pansy rolls her eyes and just settles against Daphne. “That was like a month, Draco. Besides, nothing could ever separate me and Y/N.”

That night Y/N lays awake in the guest bedroom as Astoria sleeps in the twin bed opposite her. Pansy has ditched her this year to share with Daphne, which was expected, but didn’t make sleeping in the same room with Astoria any less weird to her. But it was fine, really. 

She checked the clock beside her bed. Almost one in the morning. 

Y/N threw back the covers, not bothering to hide her tracks. Astoria was a smart girl, and all the parents never bothered to check the rooms anymore. When Y/N reached Draco’s room around the corner, she just knocked once. The door flew open, revealing a tired, yet no less excited Draco. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Draco grabbed her by the wrist and swept her inside. 

Y/N moved her hand to rest on top of Draco’s. “I miss everyone. But especially you.” She runs her thumb across Draco’s knuckles. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Absolutely free,” Draco says breathlessly.

“Good,” Y/N says, “because I still have half a bottle of wine to finish.”

[rm-dimplemaster-blog]

don’t deserve your love (vhope)

(read more break included- press to read the whole fic :) )

for @ollania

The first time Hoseok hits Tae, it's by accident.

Middle of July. All seven of them are working on a complex dance in the practice room. AC is busted—it's literally in pieces hanging off the wall with all its green and yellow wires dangling like tangled-up cat whiskers. Tae is sweating off all his mascara. He put some fairyland purple on his left eye, disco animal black on his right (massive chunks of glitter that poke your eyeball everytime you blink included) earlier in the kitchen while he was catching a tan by the giant window all across his bare back and freckled shoulders. And now it's running down his cheeks, pooling in his cupid's bow, and it looks like he's been crying stardust tears.

The blow comes outta nowhere. An elbow straight to the chin. Knocks him down in a sec cause he wasn't prepared. He falls in a heap on the floor, red and purple striped shirt, dark damp hair and unlaced light-orange snickers.

Someone goes aigoo!

Jin goes waaaa and pushes the bangs out of his eyes using the hem of his tee.

Namjoon's deep voice from the left, to Hoseok you're like a typhoon. With two fingers he does a whirlwind motion accompanied by a whooshwhoosh!

A warm hand on Tae's left shoulder.

Hoseok's face above his: peach-colored lips from a creamy lip balm that makes his cupid's bow all shiny and well-contoured; lashes so fine it looks like they were drawn on with the lightest of mechanical pencils; a black string necklace around his neck with its dove pendant swinging all silver and weightless above Tae's face.

Bits of neon lights weave themselves into Hoseok's hair and beam on the smooth line of neck and shoulder. In the big mirrors: Yoongi scratching an itch on his right elbow, Jimin blowing into his loose tanktop cause midday summer heat, Jin making fun of Namjoon's dancing skills, Jungkook snacking with his nose all scrunched up.

The room smells like Yoongi's raspberry handcream, the detergent they all wash their clothes with, a faint trace of cigarette smoke from the all-black wearing dance instructors, and youth. From above him, Hoseok smells like fresh fabric and sun-kissed jeans and for the first time ever, looking into his eyes makes Tae's heart go a little faster, a little rougher.

Hoseok's soft bony fingers on Tae's face, checking for injuries. Hurts somewhere?

Yoongi you probably knocked some of his molars out.

Jimin ah you make it sound like he has like ninety nine of those.

Namjoon still alive there, Tae?

Jin no, he's freshly deceased.

Tae shakes his head at Hoseok, bangs flying all over the place.

Sorry Hoseok says all small and smiley, music makes my mind go poooof! I lose track of everything. My arms turn into windmills.

He tries grabbing Tae's hands but gets handfuls of red and purple striped sleeves instead. Tae huffs out a laugh through his nose and squeezes Hoseok's hands through the fabric. His jaw aches. So does the side of his face. But it doesn't matter, not now.

*

The second time it's part of a game.

It's past midnight and they're playing the 키스 또는 히트 game. You're supposed to spin a bottle aka truth or dare style: the cap points to you and you get to decide if you smack the receiving end across the wrist or give 'em a kiss. They didn't have a bottle and trying to spin Namjoon's yellow slipper was a fail so they went for Jungkook's pumpkin spooks special Halloween edition lip smacker instead.

They're sitting out in the hallway where all the lights are out for the night. They have Jin's scented candle crackling all soft on one of the mint green plastic waiting chairs

(jin, all eyes:

What if we set off the fire alarm

Yoongi what, with that candle. Ha. Goodluck with that. Weak flame. Plus this building's so old, half the shit here don't work.)

--and like four empty bags of banana chips just lying everywhere and their phone screens are sending fuzzy columns of light towards the low ceiling. The darkness has everyone all giddy and alert and shushing eachother cause they're laughing too hard.

So far it's been a whole lot of wrist smacking, but also a whole lot of kissing and Jungkook's lip balm doesn't only serve as the pointer in the game it's also being passed around for extra softness and sweetness and everyone's lips taste like pumpkin and spice.

Sitting in a circle with shadows under their eyes and flickering orange candle light fluttering in their irises, all seven of them play the night away.

Jimin smooched Namjoon. Slipped on a chips bag while crawling on all fours to get to Yoongi and rolled on the floor laughing for five minutes straight till he was clutching his belly and going all red in the face.

Jungkook smacked Jin's wrist so hard the slapping sound bounced off the walls like an outta control rubber ball

(Jin, gawking at literally everyone did you see what he just--

Jungkook smiled extra wide and his teeth shone almost translucent in the dark)

Yoongi gave an ok to kissing Hoseok but when it was time for him to actually do it he whined

Aish I'm so sleepy and hugged his backpack and put his chin on it and Hoseok wah how lazy can one be took the whole kissing thing on himself and planted a quick one on the left side of Yoongi's mouth to which Yoongi hasn't objected and which made the tips of his ears turn a little red.

When the lip smacker's end ends up pointing to him, Tae hugs his knees a little bit tighter and looks up from behind a curtain of freshly cut and dyed bangs. First time it points to him tonight. Moving his toes inside his red Doc Martens, he blinks around, the sudden silence all around him sticking to his lashes like glue. Six pairs of eyes stare at him in the dark. The hallway smells like pumpkin and grape gum, shampoo and warm skin and past midnight draft.

The cap of the lip smacker pointing to him, Hoseok looks at Tae with a twinkle in his eye, hugging one knee, colorful bead bracelet hanging off his right wrist.

Jin and Namjoon exchange insinuating glances.

Jungkook looks from Tae to Hoseok and back again with his mouth open, curious.

Yoongi says all deadpan kiss is bliss.

Jimin bites his knuckles on a smile.

The dark closes in on him and his heart beats all muffled under his baggy black shirt.

Hoseok looks at him all soft and insecure, pushing the blue and purple beads around, mustering the courage to crawl across the light-orange tiles and weave his fingers into Tae's hair and really gentle press his lips to his.

Tae swallows hard. Blinks down at the tiles without looking up again.

When Hoseok pushes his hair behind his ears and goes on his knees to head his way, Tae lifts up his sleeve and exposes his wrist.

Hoseok kinda freezes on the spot, smile faltering, fingers of one hand splayed out on the floor while those of the other running up and down his thigh, scratching lightly and crumpling the denim.

Whoa Jin says.

Nibbling on his bag's zipper, Yoongi goes hello there tough guy.

Jungkook scrunches his nose plot twist!

You sure? Hoseok asks, whisper the same tone as the smoke curling upwards from the candleflame's belly.

Tae sucks his lips in. Nods. Offers Hoseok his wrist, veins up, making a fist.

Hoseok doen't wanna do it but those are the rules. Setting himself on his knees infront of Tae, he helps him push the sleeve up higher, then grabs his wrist.

He hits with two fingers.

Jimin flinches for Tae when Tae doesn't even blink.  

*

Third time it's playful.

First time they kiss, it's in a street corner in Singapore.

They sky is bluish-grey and short sleeved dress shirts are flailing really faint on the clotheslines overhead. It's funny because with all that bright afternoon glow, the clothesline themselves seem to disappear and if you look up from the street below, all you can see is a mess of shirts and light jackets tossed everywhere amongst the puffy weightless clouds, a senseless scene from a futuristic painting.

The roads are packed with carts full of oranges and apples and chubby rough-skinned pears. Everywhere you look it's food booths with noodles and saucy meats and steamed rice that smells like the ocean and stings your tongue with delicious saltiness. It's flowery parasols that fly open like a flock of birds reaching for the sun; it's girls in dresses and women in sandals that let out a soft squishy sound when the heel leaves the ground. It's lanterns as big as pumpkins filled with light that birds flutter by with a song. It's shop signs with Chinese lettering that Hoseok, during their stroll earlier, used to point to and attempt to read

(what Hoseok said when he spotted Tae giving a little smile after he read aloud a bookshop name.

Tae gave a shy shrug just love the way you make the 'sh' sound when you speak Chinese. I love the way it sounds.)

It's turquoise-painted doors and wind chimes that ring out so delicate it tingles down your spine.

And it's Hoseok's soft hot mouth on his when the wind comes from the left knocking a few shutters closed and billows their shirts and sends their bangs flying into their eyes. Tae's holding a half empty pink glass bottle of fizzy sweet blueberry soda and the straw pushes between his ring and middle finger. His left hand, Hoseok holds between their bodies, almost hidden by the fabrics of their shirts.

It's summer and they're on their first Asia tour and the street smells like oranges and Hoseok presses his forehead against Tae's temple, lashes fanning across Tae's cheekbone.

I'm seeing stars Tae kinda whispers. He's not trying to be funny, it's actually what it feels like, but Hoseok laughs all bubbly and weightless.

He smacks Tae's shoulder, suddenly shy and self aware.

*

Fourth time, it's emotion.

Hoseok slaps Tae hard. The sound rings out across the empty stage like a clap of thunder.

They had just finished rehearsal and almost all the lights are out. Tiny grains of dust float in the air like fireflies. Behind Tae, a giant screen shows chunks of silver glitter falling and falling and falling, endlessly, the loop invisible.

Tae touches his ring finger to his lip. The corner of his mouth is bleeding.

Tae kissed another boy. He wanted to. The love Hoseok gives, he feels like he doesn't deserve. Never has. Never will.

He looks at the smear of blood on his finger. Winces with the stinging tear in his lip. 

This, he deserves.

[iwrotemywayto-revolution]

How do you measure a year?

Request: soulmate au- when you reach 18, you stop ageing until you meet your soulmate. 

Pairing: Anthony Ramos x reader

Warnings: mild angst

Word count: 2,797 

A/N: welcome to day one of the @hamwriters writeathon (aka AU time)! I’m posting a fic a day this week (woah) and I am so excited pls come and scream with me. endless thanks to @gratitudejoyandsorrow for proofreading and being awesome ^-^

schedule for the rest of this week here

@pearltheartist, @whitestorm547

--

1783

You celebrated your eighteenth birthday in seventeen eighty three. Your parents, ageing together for twenty years, looked on fondly as you accepted their gift- new writing supplies and a diary.

“Write about your life,” your father suggested. He had fought in the revolutionary war alongside Washington himself, meeting your mother when he had returned from to New York to begin his life anew.

“Thank you,” you told him. Your best friend Theodosia had already found her soulmate and, despite you being born before her, she now looked older.

You carefully signed your name on the inside cover. The ink shone on the page and you decided you would write a letter to your soulmate each and every day until you met them.

–

2015

You pushed your way through the streets of New York, shivering in the cold. Having invested your money well over the last two hundred and thirty years, you didn’t have to work full time, and could afford to spend your time in coffee shops, writing.

You were on your two hundredth journal. You always carried your first one and your latest one with you- the beginning and the end of your life, you reasoned. You had written over eighty-five thousand letters to your soulmate.

And you had never met them.

A couple of times you had tried to find someone else- someone who had lost their soulmate or who hadn’t found them yet either, but it never worked. If they had known their soulmate, you could never be enough.

You slipped into your current favourite coffee shop- a two story independent shop that was a stones throw away from Broadway. You wondered idly if there was a new show you could go and see, and decided to head over to take a look later.

There was a new barista at the counter. Her hair a golden-brown that caught the light as she chatted animatedly to her coworkers. You slid into your favourite seat - a cushy armchair by the window - and pulled out your journal.

You opened it to a fresh page and pulled out a pen and a paperclip. You wrote the date above the lines and fished around in your jacket pocket for a moment before finding your ticket to an art exhibition you had been to. You clipped it to the page and started to write.

Dear Soulmate,

New York is so different now- so busy, so tall, and so alive. It’s no longer the city I grew up in, but I suppose the world moves on even if I don’t.

There was an exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art about soulmates - I saved my ticket. They had photos of people with their soulmates, dressed in the clothing of the era they were born in. The kind of thing they might have worn on their eighteenth birthday.

Couples from all over the world - every nationality, every gender, every sexuality. Little placards letting you know how long they’d waited for each other. People born during World War One - a horrible time - meeting their soulmates today.

It gave me hope that I might still find you.

You closed your journal as the waitress brought over your coffee, setting it down with a smile. You thanked her.

Over two centuries you had met people who had waited for their soulmates for just as long as you had. Many of them had watched their families die, as you had, and struggled to keep faith. Every one of them had found their soulmates eventually and promised you it was worth it.

So you waited.

–

You decided you might as well walk along Broadway and see if there was anything you wanted to see. You were a big fan of Broadway- had seen it grow up after it reopened in 1798.

Hamilton was the new musical attracting the most attention at the moment, but you had dithered about going. You knew it was set around the life of Hamilton and during an era you had lived in.

You had met Hamilton once. Your parents had been invited to a ball that celebrated Jefferson’s return from France. Hamilton had been in the corner, talking about his debt plan.

He had been handsome and kind enough to let you discuss his debt plan with him. He had been nearing thirty - one of the lucky ones who met his soulmate in the form of Elizabeth Schuyler not too many years after his eighteenth birthday.

Almost a decade later, you had met Philip. He had been as dashing and interesting as his father, and he had courted you for a while.

You remembered hearing of his death and blinked away tears. You hadn’t thought of him in well over a century.

A crowd of people had gathered outside the theatre, applauding and laughing as two performers- you assumed they were Hamilton stars- sang a song. You approached, curious.

One of the performers- a curly-haired guy with freckles and an infectious smile, was singing with three other people as backup. “What the heck I gotta do to be with you?” he asked, dancing around a pretty woman in a winter jacket and a bobble hat.

The singers behind him- one tall man with dark skin and curly, a shorter woman with long black hair and a sweet smile, and a man with a beanie and a powerful build- echoed him. “What the heck I gotta do?”

Freckles reached for the woman’s hand and grinned, “Tell me who I gotta be for you to be with me-”

You watched, smiling. The main singer was cute, you decided. And he sang nicely. You went into the theatre to see if you could get tickets.

–

@Y/N

People keep telling me to go and see @Lin_Manuel’s #Hamilton because I met the guy way back in the 1780s… should I?

You hadn’t been able to get tickets for Hamilton until October, so you had decided to think about it first. You headed to your apartment, hearing your phone buzz with a notification just as you unlocked the door.

@Lin_Manuel

@Y/N if you met the original Hamilton you have to see our #YayHamlet

You paused and smiled, fingers hovering over your phone.

@Y/N

@Lin_Manuel I tried to get tickets but they’re sold out until next year - you’re more popular than he ever was.

Lin replied almost instantly, the banner notification appearing at the top of your screen.

@Lin_Manuel

Bahahaha! I have tickets for tonight’s show if you’d like to see my #Hamilton?

@Y/N

I’ll review kindly. Did you find someone hot to play Philip?

@Lin_Manuel

@Y/N You’ll have to wait and see. Come backstage afterwards?

You sent back an enthusiastic yes and Lin sent you the details privately. Realising that you did have evening plans after all, you rushed home to change into something nice.

–

The show was amazing. You laughed and cried and clapped until your hands were sore. Lin had done it against the odds - you recognised the men and women you had known centuries ago brought to new life by his actors. You saw a story told anew by America now.

An usher lead you backstage. Still wiping away tears, you waited for the cast to get changed. Lin was the first to arrive, back in jeans and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his hair in a bun.

“That was amazing!” you told him sincerely.

“Thank you,” Lin beamed. He paused. “So you met Hamilton?”

You nodded. “The year Jefferson got back from France - at a ball.”

Lin closed his eyes, visualising it. “What was he like?”

“Like you said: ‘intelligent eyes and a hunger-pang frame’,” you laughed, “sharp as a tack.”

Others started to arrive. You recognised them from the programme and your hasty googling. Daveed, who had been singing outside earlier, and Renee arrived and greeted you with grins. A celebrity was backstage too, so they left to greet them after a moment.

“So you’re our eighteenth century girl?” a new voice asked. You turned to find the singer from earlier- curly hair now in a ponytail. A dual performer, you remembered- as Philip and John.

“Born in seventeen sixty-five,” you admitted.

Anthony wolf-whistled. “Woah- still waiting then?” You nodded. “Who did you meet?” he asked curiously, taking a seat beside you. ���From the show, I mean.”

“Hamilton, Eliza, Philip, Washington, Madison-” you recited, their faces flashing in your mind as you said their names, “and Jefferson.”

Anthony looked across at the Hamilton on the wall opposite, littered with signatures and messages, “Did we do them justice?”

“More than that,” you said, “You told a better story.”

You chatted with Anthony for a little while, then with Pippa and Jas, who wanted to hear about what the theatre used to be like. They were all lovely, and you went home much later than usual that night.

You thanked Lin on the way out. “Maybe you should hire me as a historical consultant,” you suggested with a grin, “that could be fun.”

Lin barked out a laugh, “Maybe I will.”

–

When you woke up a month later, there was something different. You brushed it off as feeling sleepy and started to get ready for your day. You were thinking of trying to get a job again, more because of boredom than actual necessity.

You rinsed and froze, having caught sight of yourself in the mirror. Was it just you, or did you look older? You knew your face too well - two hundred years would do that - and you could have sworn you looked like you had aged.

Not wanting to get overly excited, you phoned your doctor and arranged an appointment to see if you were ageing again.

–

You waited anxiously on the chair opposite the doctor as he clicked through to your results. You had taken an ageing test - developed as people began to realise that it could take months or even years for the ageing process to be noticed.

“Ah Y/N L/N,” your doctor murmured. He wore a tarnished silver band on his ring finger but didn’t look a day over eighteen. He smiled, “You’ve been ageing for about a month now.”

Your breath caught and you stared. “I have?”

He nodded. “Do you not know who it is?” he asked sympathetically.

You thought back a month- you had had a busy week a month ago and, what with Hamilton and joining an art course, had met loads of new people. Where were you supposed to start?

–

Knowing you had to have met them made it slightly easier, you thought as you walked towards the Richard Rogers. You had made a list of all the places you had been a month ago and, if you knew them, the names of the people you had met there.

The coffee shop had yielded no results- the barista you had met wasn’t eighteen yet- and nor had the small organic coop you sometimes frequented. Now, amidst the crowds, you were trying to get to the Hamilton cast.

Lin had given you his phone number when you had been at Hamilton, seriously considering your offer of being a historical consultant. You opened a new message.

To: Lin (15:27)

Hey Lin, do you mind if I pop by? I met my soulmate about a month ago and idk who it is. - Y/N

You waited anxiously outside the theatre until your phone buzzed.

From: Lin (15:29)

No problem! I’ll meet you at the entrance. - Lin

Lin appeared a moment later, a big grin on his face. He wasn’t in costume yet, a grey hoodie in place of his jacket and his hair pulled back into a messy bun. “Congratulations!” he grinned, pulling you into a hug.

“Thanks,” you said, “but I don’t know who it is yet.”

Lin gestured for you to follow him and headed back inside. “Well,” he looked thoughtful, “there are a few people who haven’t found their soulmates yet- Ant, Jas, Ariana, Andrew, Daveed-”

“Are they all here?” you asked, feeling abruptly nervous. You could be about to meet your soulmate-

“Ariana and Daveed are on their way,” Lin said. You followed him down a set of stairs and into an open area that seemed to be acting like something of a common room.

Anthony dashed up the stairs and stopped in front of Lin, looking decidedly rumpled. His hair was falling out of its ponytail and his shirt was buttoned up all wrong. “Lin,” he breathed, “the doctor said I’ve been ageing for a month.”

You felt your jaw drop. Lin grinned. “That’s great Anthony -”

Anthony gripped Lin by the arm. “How am I supposed to find them?” he asked frantically, “You gotta help me, man.”

Lin laughed. “It’s funny you should say that,” he said as he slipped an arm around your waist, “do you remember Y/N?”

You weren’t sure if you were going to throw up, faint, or cry. Maybe all of them. “Hi,” you managed shakily, “I’ve been ageing for about a month too.”

Anthony reached out a tentative hand and took yours, something like wonder in his eyes. “You think we’re…?”

“Maybe?” His hand felt right in yours. You held on as if he were your lifeline- and perhaps he was. Weren’t soulmates supposed to save each other? “We can try, can’t we?”

He smiled, and it was like the sun. “We can try.”

–

Six months after

You wandered back into your bedroom after your shower, pausing in the doorway when you saw Anthony was still asleep. You took a moment to memorise the image - something you would never of thought you could have had six months ago. But here you were.

Climbing back into bed, you started to pepper Anthony’s face with kisses - one per freckle. He woke up with a groan and rolled over so his head was on your lap. You smiled down at him. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

He smiled sleepily, reaching blindly for your hand. Instead of taking it, you put your journal in it. Anthony frowned and pushed himself up into a sitting position. “What’s this, babe?”

“My first journal,” you said.

Anthony opened it to the flyleaf where your name, your age, and the year you’d received it were written carefully. Y/N L/N, age 18, 1783. He flipped to the first letter. “Y/N -” he started, and you knew he was worrying again. “I should have found you sooner.”

You shook your head and took his hand. “I wrote you a letter every day,” you explained, “a diary, almost.”

You could see him doing the maths, running through the centuries. He pulled you closer. “How many journals are there?”

“About a hundred,” you said, ”Some are missing now, but I still have about forty.”

He traced your handwriting carefully, as if afraid that the pages would disintegrate. You rested your head on his shoulder. “Can I read them?”

“Of course,” you turned your head to press a kiss to his shoulder, “but maybe breakfast first?”

–

A year after

You were curled up on the couch reading when Anthony made it home. He was still at Hamilton, working hard, coming home late. You snatched evenings and lunch dates and early morning conversations and treasured every moment.

“Hey Ant,” you called out, but got no response.

Returning to your book, it was a moment before you realised he was sitting down beside you. “Hey,” he smiled, and you closed your book so you could lean across and kiss him. “I finished your journals,” he murmured when you had broken apart a little.

“Oh?” you asked. You closed your eyes for a second, ready to hear what he had thought of the thousands of letters you had written him. What if he thought he didn’t know you at all?

When you opened your eyes he was gone from beside you. You looked around and stilled. He was knelt before the couch, eyes wet, looking at you with open adoration.

“I think you’ve waited long enough for me,” he said quietly, reaching for your hand. You let him take it, realising you were shaking only when he started to rub circles into your palm. “Will you marry me, Y/N?”

You were vaguely aware they you had started to cry.  “You’re stuck with me forever,” you told him, pulling him to his feet.

He laughed as you pulled him closer for a kiss. “Is that a yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” you promised. “We’ll grow old together.”

–

You had lived two hundred and fifty-two years, seen wars lost and won, travelled and met people long dead. You had seen terrible loss and incredible beauty, but nothing compared to Anthony’s smile when you said “I do”.