#and i overheard a mother pointing it out to her child

[merakiui]

please bless us with some eel mating season/breeding TwT

The moray eel doesn't have an exact mating season because they only mate when there is enough food and a suitable habitat. But most morays will mate in warmer waters because the temperatures are usually the best for mating. Morays will also open and close their mouths very widely at one another to show that they wish to mate!

Applying that to Jade and Floyd, they could essentially just choose to mate with you whenever they want, but I think they're both particular about the season. Floyd wants to mate with you in the summer because the waters are warm and comfortable, and it's the perfect time to give his shrimpy plenty of babies! Jade prefers the spring because that's when everything is in bloom (or is just starting to bloom) and it's a beautiful transition from winter to spring. But since they intend to mate with you at the same time, they'll settle for something in between both seasons. Perhaps the month where spring gives way to summer.

You probably won't know about the opening and closing of the mouth, which is how they'll trap you. Floyd does it quite noticeably, but Jade's a little covert with it. Perhaps you'll think Floyd's playing a game and so you'll do it back, and after a few times they're certain you want to mate (horny moray delusion...). Unlike Azul, the twins will want you to stay human when they fuck you. Your small size is so cute to them, and they want to see you cry when they stuff you full. The mating process will last for hours, so enjoy being sandwiched between both of them in the water, their long bodies curled snugly around you. <3

[rxmqnova]

I have an idea for a nat x daughter reader fic so basically reader is like a lab made baby by hydra with nat is the gene for her mother and the other one is a random hydra dude and they put reader in a house with him and his wife somewhere In America but reader knows about nat but hydra dose not know she knows I kind of want it to be the vibe of stick season but anyway she runs away and finds Yelena by accident and yelena is like what is happening and takes her to the avengers which then leads nat to meeting reader if you can can you make it like super angsty but with a happy ending

Daughter?

Y/N: 13 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV Ever since Y/N was a little girl, she has always sneaked out of her room everytime her father and step-mother had a visit. She knew it's not a good idea, especially when her father always scolds her for it, but she's way too curious.

Her curiousness led her to one very important information. A few years ago she overheard her father's boss talk about her mother… the real one. And since then Y/N's been trying to get out of this place and find her mother… the Black Widow herself.

She hates this place, she really does. The main reason is that her father is forcing her to train every day, so she could become a hydra agent one day.

Yes, Y/N's father is a hydra agent. He's actually one of the most trusted one for his boss, so that's why he was chosen to become the father of the future world's best assassin.

"Weak!" Y/N's father yells, pushing the poor exhausted girl and causing her to fall on the ground. "This is worthless! Go to your room, we'll continue tomorrow. I want to see you in way better condition, understand?!" He asks sternly.

"Yes" Y/N nods, trying to catch her breath. Her father leaves to room, leaving the exhausted young girl laying on the ground.

Once Y/N catches breath, she makes her way to her room and then straight to the bathroom to take a shower, thinking that she needs to get out of here as soon as possible.

As nearly every Friday night, Y/N's father and his wife are going out for dinner, leaving the girl home completely alone. Y/N doesn't mind though, at least she can finally get out of here and never ever come back again.

As soon as the front door shut and the car drives away, Y/N takes her bag and starts packing everything she needs.

With her bag in her hand, she rushes downstairs, trying to open every single window to try and find some her father hasn't locked. The door is locked, so there's no point in trying.

A smile makes its way on the girl's face when one of the window can be opened. She puts on her coat, takes her bag and gets out of the house, running as fast as she can to get as far as possible.

She runs and runs, finally arriving to a small village which makes her smile and let out a sigh of relief. She's too overwhelmed with everything that she doesn't pay attention to where she's going.

"Careful, little one" A blonde lady says, making Y/N cheeks turn a bit red.

"S-sorry" Y/N sutters, not used to talking to other people than her father or her step-mother.

"What are you doing here alone? It's dangerous. This place's…" Yelena stops, looking at the last few standing houses.

This little village is near one hydra base, so of course when some of the Avengers came to take that place down, the village didn't survive without a damage.

"Well, let's just say a very bad people lived near this little village" The blonde finishes her sentence.

"I. Hm… I-I'm looking for my mom. She. Hm. She's supposed to be some kind of superhero. Her name's Natasha Romanoff. Have you heard of her?" Y/N asks, a bit of hope in her voice as she looks up at the shocked woman.

"Natasha? What? She can't have children on her own. I… what?" Yelena stares at the child completely confused, but now noticing how similar the girl looks to her sister.

"Wait. So you know her? Could you please take me to her? I can't go back there, I really can't. Please" Y/N begs and Yelena can't help but nod as she's also curious how this happened.

Y/N follows Yelena to the quinjet, meeting Kate, Clint, Steve and Bucky there. Of course they look at the two with questioning looks, so Yelena tells them something before she sits aside with the young girl.

Yelena admits she's Natasha's sister, so Y/N tells her the story too, feeling like she can trust this woman. She does feel more and more nervous every minute they get closer to the compound though. She's wanted to meet her mom for a few years and she's worried about what will Natasha think about the whole situation.

As soon as the jet lands in front of the compound and everyone walks out, Y/N is quick to follow behind Yelena, spotting a redhead sitting on the couch.

"Natasha?" Yelena calls on which Natasha turns her head, smiling when she sees her sister.

"You're back" The redhead stands up, walking over to her sister and giving her a hug while Y/N stands behind and watching them, her heart nearly skipping a beat when she sees how much she looks like her mother.

"I brought someone who'd like to meet you" Yelena informs, placing her hand on Y/N's shoulder and giving the girl a soft smile.

"H-Hi, I. Hm. I-I'm Y/N" Y/N sutters, giving Natasha an akward nervous smile.

"Hey?" Natasha looks at the girl completely confused. "What can I do for you?"

"I. Hm… I-I know this will sound weird, but I-I'm your daughter" Y/N blurts out, looking at Natasha and hoping she'll believe her.

"Nonsense. I don't have a child" Natasha says immediately, the topic of children being a touchy subject for her. She turns around, walking away, but Y/N follows her.

"I can explain. Please"

"Y/N, you seem to be a nice girl, but this is a really bad joke. I can't have children on my own. It's just impossible" Natasha says with a sigh, not even turning around and continuing to walk towards her room.

Of course she's noticed the girl's features, but Dreykov made sure she won't ever have children on her own, so Y/N surely cannot be her daughter as she claims.

"It's not a joke. I really am your daughter. If you just let me explain, I-"

"No. I can't have children, Y/N" The redhead says once again, shutting the door of her room right in front of Y/N's face.

Y/N lets out a sigh, pushing back the tears that are forming in her eyes. After all, she left her home, her father… Her life wasn't the best, but what now? She has no place to stay, no home, no family.

Maybe the girl gave her hopes too high, thinking her mother would actually be happy to have a daughter. Y/N was really hoping she'd finally have a family she wanted for so long, but deep down she knew Natasha's reaction could be bad… and well, the redhead doesn't even know the part about hydra.

"What's wrong?" Yelena asks as soon as she spots her potentional niece stepping into the kitchen with her head low.

"She won't let me explain" Y/N mumbles with a sigh. "It was stupid, I should have stayed there" She mumbles to herself.

"Let me talk to her, yeah? Wanda here will give you something to eat meanwhile" Yelena smiles warmly, placing her hand on Y/N's shoulder and giving it a rub.

Y/N nods, so Yelena walks away and straight to her sister's room. After hearing Y/N's story she just wants nothing but to help the young girl. She knows Natasha would be a great mother and Yelena's already excited about being an aunt.

Yelena knocks at the door of Natasha's room, not getting any response, but she just walks in anyway, finding her sister sitting on the bed, deep in thought as her cheeks are stained by tears.

"Natasha, I know it's hard to believe, but Y/N explained everything to me. You're her mother. Isn't that what you've always wanted?" Yelena asks, sitting down on the bed next to her sister.

"Yelena, I can't have children and neither can you. It's just impossible. What if she's just a spy or something, huh? Have you thought about that?" Natasha blurts out, standing up and leaving the room. She really doesn't want to talk about it right now.

"Natasha, just talk to her" Yelena sighs, following her sister to where she's going.

"Why, Yelena? If I'm her mother, she needs to have a second parent. Why doesn't she go to him? Where does she live anyway? She has to live somewhere. I don't even want a daughter" Natasha's irritated by now, not meaning the words she's saying, but that's something Y/N doesn't know though… and she's heard every single word.

The sisters stop walking and talking when they notice they're suddenly in the kitchen, Y/N looking at both with watery eyes, thinking how stupid it was to look for her mother.

The girl immediately stands up from the table she's been sitting at and eating her food, taking her bag and rushing out of the compound, ignoring Yelena's calling after her.

The blonde runs after her niece immediately, catching her sooner than she leaves the compound.

"Hey, hey, you can't just leave. It's getting late and cold" Yelena says, bringing Y/N in for a hug on which the girl can't hold her tears anymore.

"I just wanted a mom" Y/N cries out into Yelena's shoulder, holding the blonde tightly.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm sure Natasha didn't mean it, honey" Yelena tries to calm the girl down, rubbing her back and pressing a kiss to her head.

———

Yelena managed to get Y/N to stay. Both are ready to go to bed now, but a knock at Yelena's door interrupts them.

Natasha hasn't stopped thinking about it… if it's really possible that she could have her own daughter. She feels so incredibly bad for making Y/N cry and she's always wanted a child, but what if it's just a trap?

She did decide to talk to the younger redhead though. Natasha always recognizes when someone's lying, so she'll see if the girl's telling the truth or not.

"Hey, can I have a word with Y/N?" Natasha asks after opening the door.

Yelena nods, telling them she's going to the kitchen for a glass of water, so the two stay alone. Natasha takes a seat on the bed, looking at the girl who's avoiding an eye-contact.

"Y/N, I… I know I said something that hurt you and I'm sorry for that. I just… I've lived my whole life, thinking I would never have a child on my own. So when you told me you're my daughter… It just felt… impossible" Natasha admits.

"I was made in a lab. They used your eggs to create me. I heard my father talking about it with his boss a few years ago. I just thought that maybe if I found you… that maybe I could have someone who'd actually love me" Y/N confesses, trying to push back her tears and not cry in front of the woman in front of her.

"So you have a father… doesn't he love you?" Natasha asks, receiving a shake of a head from the girl.

"He's just completing his boss's orders and trains me to become a hydra agent, but I don't want to" Y/N sighs, Natasha squeezing her eyes shut, knowing damn well what's it like to have a childhood like that.

"I'm sorry you had to live like that" The redhead says softly, placing her hand on Y/N's and finally making the girl look up and lock eyes with her.

"Had to? You won't send me back to him?" She asks confused.

"No, of course not. I would never send you back to someone who's doing this. I should have let you explain earlier, I'm sorry" Natasha apologizes, rubbing her thumb over Y/N's knuckles.

That's all it takes for Y/N to just jump into Natasha's arms, taking the redhead by surprise. Natasha chuckles, wrapping her arms around Y/N. She will definitely want Bruce to run some DNA tests, but her spy skills say Y/N's telling the truth. Looks like a brand new chapter of her life is starting right now… she's a mom.

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

Natasha Romanoff masterlist

Masterlist

[perpetuallydaydreaming]

will you marry me?

5 times remus has asked you to marry him and 1 extra.

tags: remus lupin x f!reader,, fluff,, angst,, no mention of the word y/n,, childhood friends to lovers,, mutual pining,, character death

first time at 5 years old;

your eldest sister was off to marry in spring and so naturally the whole house was buzzing with excitement and terror. and you, like any impressionable child, felt the tingles of something exciting happening before your very eyes.

lulu, your best ultimate mate as you so graciously dubbed him, felt this energy too.

or at least the many flowers and coloured envelopes scattered on the table, seem to ring some alarms for him.

“this table is too small,” he frowns, stopping his pretend chopping of the leaves, and looking longingly at the dinner table, filled with scattered wedding paraphernalia.

you shrugged, ponytail swishing as you move around him.

“we have to make room, my sister is to be mary.” you confidently repeated what your mum said to you in the morning. when you had whined at the lack of play space.

now you’re humming like it’s obvious, why you were given a child’s table and now have to play kitchen with one pot instead of four because of the lack of space. the confident pretence of a child to show they’re mature enough not to complain.

“why does she have to be mary?” he asks, his shoulder bumping into you, “i thought she likes her name hilda?”

you scoff, clearly lulu does not know of the way of being mary. so naturally, you being older (by a few months) needs to teach him. or else, however is he going to be a proper grown up?

“because she wants to be a wife. so she has to be mary first.”

“a wife?” he asks intrigued, “like mummy and daddy?”

you laugh, patting his head, “only mummies can be a wife, silly. daddies are hus-butts.” you stood straighter, having this conversation with your mum before. “mother says, you have to love first and then be a mary. so you can play with them even after dinner and eat chocolates and make children.”

he seems to perk up even more, looking at you. his eyes as usual, gleaming with obvious awe, “to make children? with what?”

you pout, having no answer.

you haven’t asked your mum this question yet. too busy thinking of how many mary’s there are in your town.

still, you try to think of an answer.

you don’t want to let lulu down, you are after all his only hope for knowing things.

luckily, you’ve overheard this one conversation last week, your sister moving after she becomes mary so they can begin making a family.

you raise your head, hand on your hip and your other pointed as if in a lecture.

you said in your most confident voice. “you enter specific rooms in the house, and always make sure it’s locked. and then you wait until you can come out with children. but you must only do this if you love them. that is the ultimate rule. or else it won’t work.”

“wow,” he breathed, he clenched his fists then, looking utmost determined. before screaming in glee and confidence, the only way a naive child could. “then let’s make children! be mary and then we can play all night!”

you clicked your tongue, disappointed he hadn’t comprehended. “but you should love me first.”

his cheeks heated pink, indignant, “but i do. i love you a whole lot! and i wanna play here all the time.”

you shook your head, grim. “we can’t.” sounding so heartbroken, as much as any five year old could sound.

because you’ve already asked your mum if you could make children with lulu and she said, you’re only suppose to do that if you’re a grown up in love.

you asked, what’s the difference? you were plenty grown. 5 is one hand after all.

and your sister said to you, amusement lacing her words, a grown up to take care of you and cherish you. someone able to help you and grow with you.

you look at lulu. his thin arms and his lack of knowledge.

certainly not a grown up. not a proper man who can be with you, at all.

“i don’t love you, so we can’t.” you say this huffing, now turning completely to your make shift pot and stirring the water and leaves.

lulu cried loud that day, wailing like a little kid.

and nodding to yourself knowing you’ve made the right choice. he is so not a grown up. even if his pinched face made you feel queasy.

your mum rushing over and asking what was wrong. when you told her, she laughed out loud, and hugged you both, brushing remus’ hair out of his tear streaked face.

and you wonder what was so funny when he looked so sad.

second time at 11 years old;

remy was horrified.

you realize this as he stares at you in a crazed panic. and as always, it was up to you to be strong.

“what do you mean by that?” puffing your chest out and stood to cover remy from potter.

“didn’t you know? kissing makes girls pregnant.” he whispered, loudly in the empty halls, scandalized as he went to look at your stomach as if it will inflate this instant.

you fight the urge to cover that area with your robes. willing yourself to be brave for the both of you.

“surely… that isn’t true.”

potter scoffs, offended to have been doubted, “yes it is, i heard a prefect say so.”

you feel remy grab the back of your robes in panic. the reference enough to persuade him. you almost roll your eyes, but instead sighed to calm yourself down.

“i ought to tell you lot to be careful.” potter looked at the both of you meaningfully, and inhaling sharply as a flash of embarrassment burns into your brain.

you weren’t able to will the heat of your cheeks to dissipate, before it showed on your cheeks. your face and neck warmed red. mortified that potter knows the secret kiss shared between you and your friend, currently pulling at your robes.

it was both of your first kiss, deciding to just get it all over with, so you both can know what was so special about it.

it wasn’t much.

it felt soft, and quick.

nothing at all sparkling or romantic, like others said.

“alert your parents immediately, else you might be kicked out. and i’ve grown quite fond of the two of you, you know.” potter nodded at you, looking as if he pitied you both before crossing his arms as he strutted away.

you look at remy fully now. he was standing too close and still holding unto your robes like a lifeline.

“did you really have to tell potter of all people what we did?” you scoff, crossing your arms and tapping your feet like how your mother used to do it when she was cross with something.

he seemed to shrink into himself more, “i’m sorry, he said he saw it, and pestered me into confessing.” he bit his lips to bleed. “i didn’t know you were gonna be in trouble.” he sniffled.

and you immediately cooled, reaching forward and pulling at his chin to stop his assault and softly rubbing at his bleeding lips with your robes with another click of your tongue.

“it’s fine, he already saw, nothing else we can do.”

“so, what are we going to do now?” he asked softly, he looked at you, eyes filling with worry and sadness. “what if you are? we’ll get in trouble, won’t we?”

you bring down your arm now, before breathing out deeply.

you try to think of why it wouldn’t be true, but the tone of his voice was making you worry endlessly too.

even though you know it wasn’t all true, because your sister kissed her husband plenty of times in the house and they don’t have kids.

and you were about to point that out to him. to reassure your ever warm, too soft friend, that james potter was full of it and to relax.

but remy stood straighter, his cold hands gripping yours tightly, so much that it hurts. now standing a bit taller than you. pink lips pulled into a straight line and eyes looking straight at you. soft brown eyes no longer holding any worry, instead with resolute determination.

“marry me,” he said, “i promise to look after our children and work.” he nodded at you, as if urging you to say yes. to trust him.

a look entirely different from what you remembered from way before, yet feeling all the same regardless.

the reason of proposal was ridiculous in of itself that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“i’m not pregnant you dolt, pregnancy doesn’t work that way. i assure you.” rolling your eyes in amusement. “so don’t you go proposing like some weirdo.”

he stopped for a second, as if startled as he kept looking at you. before leaving a shaky sigh, head hanging low.

“okay,” his lips in a wobbly smile, looking weird. “good.”

third time at 17 years old;

sirius had managed to sneak in a case of firewhisky in one winning after-party in the common room.

it was safe to assume that everyone was positively sloshed. if judging from the slurring exclaims from james and a red face peter barely able to stand and sirius laughing maniacally at something marlene has said to him.

and remus being the self-appointed responsible one, had taken it upon himself to maintain sobriety the entire night. to look after the three of them in the aftermath.

resolutely sitting next to you the whole night, engaging in a missed conversation about gossip and literature.

“still feeling confident you can handle these three blokes up in your room?”

he grimaced, already rubbing his temples, probably from regret and the james’ incessant off-key singing. “i don’t really have much of a choice now, do i?”

you laugh easy, “with the way james is attempting to strip, i think not. you did volunteer, taking responsibility and what not.”

he sighed rather audibly, over the soft music of the party that was already dying down. most of the attendees already settling into their respective rooms.

and you look at remus, slumped into the chair, and laugh to yourself.

still so helpless, you think. you guess you had to step up again. pick up the slack a little bit.

you try to trick yourself into thinking you were tired and miffed about it, but you find you quite like feeling needed. especially by remus.

whom of which seems to be way into being responsible now and being a proper grown up. one that follows curfew and plans his day.

he barely looks at you for help anymore.

he always has an answer to questions now.

as the boys depend on him for being the responsible one in their little foursome.

off to late night adventures and pranks. no longer the crying, awe struck, nervous kid you grew up knowing. makes you feel kind of sad.

“alright then,” you exhaled, “i’ll lend you a hand for dealing with the demons.” you stood up whilst downing your drink, a sweet concoction by dorcas.

he looks up at you, eyes looking bloodshot and tired. he softly shook his head, “you don’t have to.”

you frown, clicking your tongue and placing a hand on each of your hips. “i said i’ll do it, so i’m going to. now stand up and let’s go.”

he looked at you just a second longer and sighs looking away, a soft smile etched on lips before looking at you again. looking won over.

standing up, dusting the invisible dirt on his trousers and nodding.

he towers over you now, seemingly out of no where.

you realize this as your neck strain looking up at him. as you gather the rowdy, intoxicated boys back to the dorms.

something sirius was extremely grateful for and the others echoed.

“thanks for— for taking care of me darling,” sirius breathed hot into your face before pecking you on the cheek.

“yes, you’re very welcome,” you hummed amused, tucking his covers into his sides, making sure he couldn’t move out of bed.

sirius giggles, “it feels like being tucked in by a mum,” before looking at you serious, eyes wide and looking more sober than he actually was, as if realizing something.

“you’re the mum in the group!” he exclaimed.

“im the what?”

james overhears this and exclaims his agreements.

“oh you are! you’re the perfect mum size!” james said.

you turn to him, “and what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask hotly.

“you’re very caring and mum-like, and you scold like a mum too, sometimes you even talk like one,” peter mumbled.

you look at remus, giving you an amused look, lips stretching like close to laughing.

“this is going to be the last time i’m helping you lot, if you call me mum one more time.” you threatened lightly.

sirius hums loud like he doesn’t believe you, “it’s not all bad, not like you’re gonna be a single-mum. remus is gonna be the dad after all.” he said like he was so sure.

and james, of ourse, echoed his agreements.

“obviously,” james tutted from his bed, tucked in tight by remus.

“yesh,” peter slurred, “he looks like—remus looks like he knows how to read maps.” he breathes out, like on a verge of sleeping.

james gasps, “he does! remus is a map reading dad, nothing has made more sense than this moment right here. you are meant to hold a map in your hands remus, you’re a daddy compass.”

remus looks perturbed, eyebrows scrunched and lips into a tight frown. he shakes his head then, before closing each of their curtains, not even bothering to justify james’ quip. “night lads,”

“night dad,” sirius teased from his bed, before shuddering excessively, “never thought i’d say that again.”

you snort out a laugh before you could help it. “good night everyone.”

you look at remus, and see him gesture to come outside.

quietly walking out of their room and closing the door behind you.

“come, i’ll walk you out.” grabbing your hand softly and pulling you down the corridor to the stairs. dropping his hold just as quick as if he hadn’t meant to hold it in the first place.

“sorry about the lads, the lack of filter is unfortunately not the effect of alcohol but is just them naturally.”

you chuckle softly, rubbing your tingling palms on the side of your skirt.

as if you didn’t know that already. those three have already been a staple into your everyday life for majority of the year. they, quite frankly, grow on you like some persistent vine on a house.

“it’s fine, it was quite tame compared to the usual rubbish they spew most of the time.”

remus looks at you, barely able to hide the smirk emerging from his lips.

“don’t tell me you liked them calling you mum?” the teasing lilt in his voice impossible to miss.

you lightly push on his shoulders. “don’t be disgusting, being called their mum is weird enough. and you implying i like it just makes it even weirder.”

“well imagine being called daddy compass by one of your mates, it’s gonna be hard looking at james tomorrow morning i’ll tell you that.”

you laugh excessively loud at this, before covering your mouth sheepish as you remember the time.

you look over at him, up and down as if assessing, “but you do look like a dad who knows how to read maps. wears khakis all the time and has a moustache.”

he rolls his eyes at you, as you grin in mirth, “well does that mean you’ll do me the honours of marrying me to avoid the life of a single parent to three demon boys?”

you laugh, shaking your head, “not exactly selling your case to me, are you?”

“won’t you reconsider though?” he moans, like he’s pained but you see the glint in his eyes even in the dark dorm room stairs. “it is after all for the children.”

you know he’s joking, hardly a night of partying counts as anything like a proper proposal.

but your brain can’t help but supply the thought that he looked quite fuller now. arms looking sturdier, and harder. he is acting more responsibly, all the professors trust him.

he was almost like a proper grown up now.

and you remember the echo of the ultimate rule in your childhood.

you shake your head, and an easy smile spread on your lips. stopping at the stairs for your dorms, “over my dead body,”

and he laughs, the sound echoing in the trashed common room, “well alright, good night, beautiful.”

“good night remus.”

fourth time at 19 years old;

you knew james was serious about lily when you lot had graduated from hogwarts. but you didn’t know the extent of the seriousness until he said this after one of the order meetings.

“i’m going to ask lily to marry me.”

james had said this with such conviction, so sure and full of affection. you can’t help but feel awed.

he suddenly seemed mature. not like the doofus you’ve come to know and consider a confidant through these trying times.

but a proper adult, one who does taxes and knows how to set up an appointment for medical check ups and fights in wars.

james suddenly feeling very far away from you.

you feel remus shift, his leg pressing into yours. you look at him to see what he wanted, but saw he was just looking at james, eyes set hard.

you shook yourself out of your stupor. standing up abruptly, not meaning to leave the familiar press of remus’ leg against your thigh.

“that’s—that’s great news james, i would have never guessed you—oh you’re all grown up!” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and him wrapping his around your middle with a giddy smile.

“thank you, mum.” he laughs, the on going joke still running strong. you squeeze him extra tight and pinching his arm for extra measure. before pulling away. “i never thought you had it in you to propose. i’d have half a mind to propose to lily on your behalf.”

he laughs, a bashful blush resting on his cheeks. “i figured, why wait, you know? tomorrow isn’t promised, and—i think spending every moment together is we all can do. i don’t want to die with regrets. i love her.”

you breathed in deep.

sirius coming forward too and slapping james in the back before giving his own congratulations and then peter and then remus too.

you were happy for them both, truly, having found one another even in these difficult times was awe-inspiring.

and then you start to wretchedly wonder if you could have that too. if only the circumstances were a bit different. would you have been given enough time to find another? enough to love? enough to marry?

you find your gaze sliding to remus, how strained his smile looked and wonder if he’s thinking the same.

he looked back at you, as he always does, and smiles gently. less strained now. like he was resigned.

you try to imagine if the circumstances were a bit different and he would find someone to love. someone to marry.

you feel your navel, coil in a bundle of nerves. a tension in your neck making you almost irate.

he gestured for you to follow him out.

like being compelled and weak, you follow without a question.

the night air was chilly, and feeling some sort of static on your skin, like building an unnerving suspense.

remus just sat and gestured for you to sit beside him.

the seat was cold, and you sat rigid like ice.

it’s been a while since you’ve last sat with remus like this. the order keeping all your hours occupied, mission after mission. surviving by the skin of your teeth.

all the world has gone fucked now, it didn’t feel quite real some time—like some sort of veil has just been pulled over your head making you see things clearer for the horrors awaiting your fates.

and in your mind loud with noise and worry, you almost didn’t hear him.

“why don’t we do it?”

“what?” you turn to him, hoping his face show an inkling, a clue as to what he had said.

he looked at you then, eyes still so warm even with the atrocities he’s faced and eyes still so bright in the night. a twinkling light reflecting in his eyes making him look younger. prettier.

“why don’t we get married?”

you lean back slightly in shock, “what?” you repeated, because you didn’t understand. this came so suddenly, words weirdly familiar but the intent wildly different than from all the others you’ve heard before.

you looked at his eyes. searching, still, for a clue or something that might make sense because what?

he laughs, the warm, soft sounding one you can barely hear. but it was just the two of you outside and it was quiet and you were sitting so close, so you hear it—loud and clear. the sound making you feel warm. “is that so crazy?”

he looked like a boy, happy and hopeful. his leg was pressing into your thighs again. the pressure grounding you.

his hands fidgeting deep within his pockets.

“i think we work well enough.” he added, with a small smile.

you feel something in your heart stutter, “work well enough,” you repeated. “glad to know i reach your standards for a bride, sir lupin.” you almost scoff. masking the bitter simmer of disappointment of his reason. and the coiling nerves still tightly wound in your navel, feeling heavy, making it harder to breathe.

he shrugs, “well you know, a lot of applicants have been killing themselves to be chosen. i reckon you ought to feel honoured.” he grinned over to you, still joking.

you rolled your eyes, “of course,”

“yeah?” he perked up, suddenly sitting straighter, his knees bumping into yours in his haste to look at you properly. “you want to?” he seemed shocked, overtly so, that it makes you laugh. a heat blooming on your face at his apparent willingness to marry you before shaking your head to avoid any confusion.

“no to the proposal but yes, that it is indeed an honour.”

he deflates, “ah,” he said softly, before laughing like he was embarrassed. “i just—i kept thinking what james said, about tomorrow not being promised—and, i, well i thought—“ he clears his throat before continuing. “i thought i might see what the fuss was about,”

you nodded, “‘m afraid marriage isn’t so simple. you have to love one another for a start.” you added somewhat bitterly, looking away.

“so you keep reminding me,” he says, laughing awkwardly.

fifth time at 38 years old;

you feel as if your life was reaching a crescendo.

the night glooming, brooding like the sky knows to colour it of fear and nerves.

it was going to come down to tonight, so it seems. whether we win or we lose. the end or the beginning. all those families we’ve lost and the families we’ve created. all our hopes and dreams sacrificed into this one night.

“you feeling alright?” remus asked to your left.

the glooming sky somehow illuminating his face all the same.

“as alright as anyone can be when facing a dark wizard.” you smirked, shrugging.

he laughs, still sounding so warm and soft.

you feel his fingers brush yours. you had half a mind to remind him to get ready and hold his wand tight.

you notice how keeps forgetting to do that. opting to hold unto you, just like he did before when he was a child from another time.

he only offers a closed lipped smile, looking at you the same way he has always looked at you. his stare the most familiar thing, it might as well be a part of you.

“i love you.” he breathed. and your heart hammered, your world tilting on its axis. shifting the very fabric of your universe.

and he looked relieved like he couldn’t wait to hold unto it any longer. and then he repeated it. more sure. louder. affectionate. looking straight into you. his brilliant, soft, warm eyes so full.

you wonder when did his gaze start to look at you like that?

and then you see;

his eyes looking as it did when he was five, shining with obvious awe.

his eyes when he was eleven, with resolute determination.

eyes when he was seventeen, glinting with mirth in the dark crevices of the dorms.

the look he gave you when he was nineteen, looking so boyishly happy and hopeful.

and now as he’s thirty-eight, looking at you with so much love, and longing, and pain, and joy.

“when this is all over,” he breathe, “will you marry me?”

so much time has passed by now that you had once thought it was too late for you. too late with him. something you always thought but could never have.

he was now undeniably a man. arms littered with scars and unwavering confidence as he looks at you. but his eyes still glimmer and twinkle all the same.

the undeniable rampage in your chest, your eyes searching for an answer or a clue for what he’s thinking.

“i love you,” he repeats, and gazing at you with that familiar eyes of his.

and you laugh because you found your answer. so you’ll give him his.

“yes.”

extra;

the battle was brutal, bodies piled on top of one another. those too young to know what they even fought for. those for their own ideals. and those caught in cross fires.

but it was over. and the good guys won.

but with so many lost, people thought, how could i possibly cheer?

but there was this type of solace when you’re gone. there was no more pain. all those gone can only do one thing, to let go. at least that’s what harry thinks.

staring down at the family he could’ve had.

your limp cold hand holding remus’ equally cold ones.

he wonders if someone intertwined your hands, or if you simply died holding on to each other. never to let go.

he realized it didn’t really matter. you were both gone. forever, but together.

he thinks of the comforting hugs you’ve given him in the short time you’ve spent with him, and the many stories remus told. and in this fierce pain he wonders if you ever saw the shiny, glinting ring in remus’ dresser hidden away ever since he was eighteen.

[flawdchaos]

Spilled Drinks

Robert Rosenthal x Reader

Word Count - 1,735

authors note : hello friends, i have never written anything like this before and posted it. i had some free time today and an idea and dreamt this up. it is far from perfect but i hope you enjoy it, nonetheless. thank you!

The muffled yelling of multiple voices was enough to drag Y/N out of the daze she had fallen into. Her workday had started early and ended late leaving her feet and head throbbing - a shower and her bed, more of a cot really, were calling her name. Her venture to the communal showers she shared with her fellow nursing staff was quickly interrupted as Violet and Helen crossed her path.

With a tilt of her head Violet spoke up. “And where do you think you are rushing off to?”

“To shower and get some sleep.” As soon as the final word fell from Y/N’s lips her two friends were quickly shaking their heads in protest.

“You promised! You always say a person is just as good as their word. It will just be for a drink or two and then you can come and get as much sleep as your heart desires. I swear to you.” Violet said, wagging her finger in front of Y/N, like a mother would do a troubled child.

After a brief glare between the two women, Y/N sighed, hung her in defeat, and turned back in the direction of her bunk.

“I don’t even know what to wear to an army base bar. Those men already don’t take us seriously and you think this is gonna make it any better?”

“The more you fight it, the worse it’s gonna be Y/N. Just for once stop living and breathing being a nurse and just be a girl surrounded by a bunch of good looking men.” Hazel spoke up for the first time that night before being met with another glare from Y/N’s direction.

Y/N knew both her friends had a solid point. In the ten months she had been working at Thorpe Abbotts she had never allowed herself a break. She did her best to maintain a positive reputation among the men she treated but her friends, and now even herself, had noticed that the weight of the job had begun to take its toll. A night away from the blood, cries, and medicine couldn’t be all too bad - for her sake.

The August heat was enough to force a light sweat upon the girls as they journeyed from their bunks to the bar. As they stepped inside the building, Hazel quickly pulled her powder from her purse and turned to Y/N blotting away at certain areas of her face.

“You have to talk to at least one man tonight. One. And not someone you’ve treated.” Violet stated and lightly shoved Y/N forward to the bar, shooing with her hand. “Get a drink, enjoy the night.’

“One cosmopolitan, please” Y/N stated after reaching the bar, flashing a smile. She hoped and prayed, as the guy poured away, that the alcohol would be enough to calm the nerves she felt bubbling in her stomach. They only increased as she looked around and spotted Colonels, Captains and Majors. Leaned against the other side of the bar were the now infamous friends, Buck and Bucky. Gale Cleven was nothing but kind and a gentleman but Y/N had overheard talk of a girlfriend back home and John Egan, well, he was John Egan. There was nothing else to say. A few months prior, during a training exercise he wound up hurt and sitting in front of her in the infirmary bay, clutching his elbow with a shit eating grin plastered to his face as she wrapped his arm. Conversation flowed easily with the major but Violet had urged her to speak to someone new.

The bartender brought her from her daze as he placed the drink in front of her and she quickly took a sip. As she pushed back from the bar, she ran directly into a tall frame that had tried to squeeze in beside her, red juice spilling on both of their newly starched clothes.

Before an apology could tumble from her mouth, the man was already grasping her arm to steady her and ushering for his friends to grab a towel from the bar.

“I am so sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t watching where I was going and I ju-” she cut his rambling off

“No, that was all my fault. I was lost in thought and then - oh my god” taking a quick glance down to the tan and brown jacket, her eyes shot open even wider, “your uniform. I can’t believe I got that all over your dress jacket.”

An arm reached between the two of them holding a towel that Y/N quickly grabbed and started dabbing along the man’s chest, steadying herself by grabbing onto his arm.

“This is the first night I ever came out and I just ruined someone’s jacket, oh my god.”

A large hand landed on top of hers, stopping her from continuing her attempts at cleaning up the mess she, well both of them, had made.

“I promise you, ma’am, it was my doing. Let me order you another drink. This ones on me.”

For the first time during this whole encounter, she looked up to the man she had lost her Cosmopolitan to. She was silent as she stood with his hand still over hers, quickly losing her will to deny the drink once her eyes locked with his blue ones, a small smile adorning his face. All she could do was nod. He took a step forward, placing his hand on the small of her back to turn her with him towards the bar.

“A cosmo, right?” he questioned and a small nod was directed his way. “Another cosmo for the lady and whisky, neat, for me please?” The bartender quickly got to work leaving the two strangers standing closely together in silence. The man quietly cleared his throat and stuck out his hand.

“Robert Rosenthal, but most of the guys call me Rosie.” Y/N took his outstretched hand and lightly shook it up and down.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

Robert grabbed the drinks the bartender sat before him and motioned his head towards an empty table across the dance floor.

“Would you like to grab a seat? I think you owe me at least a conversation after this.” he said, looking down at the tan shirt that was now stained slightly pink. A small smile made its way across Y/N’s face.

“It’s the least I could do.”

Robert led the way to the table, nestled in the corner and sat the drinks down. In a swift motion he pulled a seat out and ushered Y/N to take it. As soon as he sat down, a wave of confidence overtook Y/N’s once anxious mind.

“So, Rosie, what is it that you do?” she asked, raising the glass to her lips. She had some worry that the appearance of a woman drinking alcohol would be ‘unladylike’ but all of her care went out the window when she realized with everything she had seen and done, it was the smallest token of appreciation.

“I’m a pilot. I’ve been flying for a while now.”

“Are you any good?” she teased.

“I sure hope. I have learned the hard way making impressions isn't all too easy here. I just embarrassed myself in front of those two majors.” He said, moving his head to the right.

“Buck and Bucky?” he answered with a small nod. “Don’t sweat it, Buck is too nice to make fun of you and Bucky will forget about it in about two hours when the whisky finally hits and his favorite song comes on.” Rosie cracked a smile at her, shaking his head at the thought of the once intimidating major belting out show tunes.

“Thank you, that makes me feel better.”

“Anytime.”

Rosie took a large gulp of his drink and leaned forward on his forearms.

“So, Miss Y/N, how did you wind up here in paradise?”

“I’m a nurse. I’ve been here almost a year. I still don’t know what I'm meant for.” She admitted, lifting her glass to her mouth to slightly hide her face.

“How do you mean?” he quipped.

She took an inhale, taking a moment to carefully collect her words.

“It’s not easy. A lot of these guys come here, make friends with their crewmates and drink and sleep their feelings away. I can’t really blame them. They’re fighting a war for Christ's sake. But, us women, see what comes back. The trauma, the injuries - all of it - and we get sideways looks for drinking a shitty cosmopolitan every once and a while.” she laughed sarcastically as she finished the rest of her drink. “I love helping people but it gets hard.” He nodded, looking down at his own drink and giving it a swirl.

“I never thought of it that way. You ladies get the best and worst of us.”

She sat for a moment, looking at her hands folded in her lap.

“Do you see those two girls over there?”

“By the bar?”

“Mhm. Those are my friends. They have spent the entire ten months we have been here urging me to come out, get away from the bubble I've made for myself and I fought against it until tonight. I thought it would be a disaster. Then I got here and got a drink and told myself it would be fine, only to spill it all over you.”

“Y/N, it's really no bother.”

“I know, because as crazy as it sounds - I am so glad that I did.”

A small crept across Rosie’s face as he sat back in his seat, downing the rest of his whisky.

“And why’s that?”

“Because, it gave me the perfect excuse to talk to you Mr. Rosenthal.” cheeks turning bright red as she directed her eye contact towards him.

“Well then, I’d be a fool not to ask for a dance Mrs. Y/L/N.” standing from his seat and outstretching a hand, which Y/N gladly took.

Together, hand in hand, they walked to the dance floor where Rosie pulled her close. Y/N settled her head on his chest, watching as their feet moved in harmony.

“Oh, and Y/N,” he spoke up with a small smile perched on his lips, leaving her to tilt her head up towards the pilot “, the next round is on you.”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Another Lie || CL16 {5} - Max's Ending

Warnings: 18+ only, fluff, angst WC: 2.7k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five (Charles) || Five (Max) || 5.1 blurb request

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you sighed as you saw the traffic backed up behind a collision. There was no way you were going to make it to your flight with the busy narrow streets brought to a standstill.

Knowing there was nothing to be done you found a good playlist and hummed along to the songs until you swore you heard your name. Sure enough, when you turned the music down and looked up you found Max Verstappen walking out of the apartment block beside you.

“It is you,” he greeted with a bright smile as he walked up to the door of your rental car.

There was no point leaving the engine running when the traffic wasn’t going to move any time soon, so you turned it off and unbuckled your seatbelt.

“Are you back for good?” he asked as he opened the door for you.

“I was actually on my way to the airport but that doesn’t look like it’s happening now.”

His smile dimmed around the edges. “Oh, what brought you back?”

“The baby shower. Weren’t you invited?” You frowned as you remembered seeing at least Pierre, Carlos and Lando at the venue and there were probably more drivers that you didn’t notice.

“I’m not interested in going anywhere that asshole is. The only place I see him is in my rearview mirrors on the track.”

Your frown deepened at the acidic answer. “I thought you were friends.” They had always been friends off the track and you had even been to Max’s birthday parties with Charles.

“No, that ended in Vegas. My mother used to say we’re only as good as the company we keep, so I told him my opinion and left it at that.”

Your lips parted but you were too stunned to speak and it took a second to recover. “Your opinion?”

His blue eyes held yours as he stepped closer so no one overheard the conversation. “I told him he was a fucking imbecile and that you were better off without him. You deserve better.”

You looked down at your feet with a smile and a soft laugh. “Thank you, Max. I honestly didn’t think anyone cared.”

“I tried to call you to see how you were…” His hand came to rest on the small of your back and guided you off the street that was getting busier as more drivers left their vehicles. “Do you want to come and wait upstairs?”

You looked around the crowd and saw some had their phones out snapping pictures of Max. “Is Kelly here? I don’t want to cause any problems for you.”

“You won’t,” he said quietly as he led the way inside. “She moved out a few months ago.”

“Oh, that sucks. What happened? If you don’t mind. I don’t exactly keep up with the gossip pages anymore.”

He pressed the button for the elevator to the penthouse as he shrugged. “We were at different points in our life and she wanted things I just wasn’t ready for.”

“Commitment?” you asked curiously but he barked a laugh and shook his head.

“Commitment I have no issue with,” he sighed and brushed a hand through his hair as the elevator climbed higher and higher, “but she wanted to have another baby because she was turning 35. I didn’t think age was a good enough reason to bring a child into the world, and I don’t want to be a part time father but I’m sure as hell not ready to retire either.”

Most people misunderstood Max’s blunt honesty as being cold and impersonal but you welcomed the practicality of it after all the lies you had been told. You respected him even more for it.

“And she really wasn’t willing to wait a few more years?”

“I thought she was. She said she was,” he said as he unlocked his door and opened it for you. “When I found her flushing her pills down the toilet, it was over.”

“Oh, Max,” you sighed and wrapped your arms around his waist knowing all too well how hurtful it was to be fed lies. “I’m sorry.”

He was slow to return the hug but you had to admit it felt nice when his arms encircled your waist and you realised it was the first time you had ever actually hugged him.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked after you pulled away not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“I’m not keeping you from your day, am I?”

He shook his head. “I was only going for a walk to get out of the house. My own company wasn’t cutting it.”

“I know that feeling.” You smiled as he spoke of another similarity you shared and followed him to the kitchen. “I’ll have whatever you’re having, thanks.”

He gestured to the kitchen island where a couple of bar stools were tucked away and you took a seat as you inspected the gorgeous home.

“You look great,” Mac said suddenly as he handed you a glass of orange juice. “I almost didn’t recognise you, you look…happy.”

“Thanks…I think,” you chuckled before taking a sip of the drink.

“No, but seriously. Every time I saw you it looked like you were in pain. I guess you were, I just didn’t know why.” He sat beside you with his own glass and ran his finger around the rim. “So tell me, what have you been doing with your freedom?”

An hour later Max had heard all about your ‘recovery time’ as you had called it and he had smiled proudly as you regaled the adventures you had been on after the initial heartbreak. You had then moved out onto his large terrace to enjoy the afternoon, and it was the perfect spot to sit and watch to see when the road was ready to be reopened.

You were disappointed when the road was almost cleared and it was time to start making your way back down. It had been fun hanging out with Max and actually getting to know him. Whenever you had spoken in the past Charles had always been quick to take you away, his jealousy and possessive nature keeping you from ever getting too close to anyone else.

“Are you sure you have to go?” Max asked as he walked you back to your car and saw your luggage on the back seat. “You only just got here.”

“I know,” you sighed sadly. “I didn’t expect to want to stay longer.”

“Can I at least get your new number?” he asked as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “So I can actually hear how you are doing.”

You grinned as you took his phone and entered the number very few people had. “I’d like that, Max.”

He opened your car door and you surprised him as you threw your arms around his waist but he returned the hug much faster this time.

“I hope I can see you again soon,” he admitted in your ear before he kissed your cheek and stepped back. “I like seeing you happy.”

“Me too.” The smile he had brought to your face would remain there for hours as you slipped into the driver's seat and placed your phone in the holder. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

He closed the door for you and as you pulled away from the curb your phone rang over the stereo. You could see him in the rearview mirror with his phone to his ear and you hit the answer button.

“Hey,” you greeted with a giggle.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting…”

Four Years Later.

A dark head of hair disappeared into the narrow alley between motorhomes and you frowned as you waited for another to follow. When three long seconds had passed and no one went after him you darted out of the Red Bull motorhome and into the same alleyway.

Industrial sized power cords littered the floor and hazard signs lined the cladding of the two motorhomes that housed the Red Bull and the Ferrari central hubs. You knew he couldn’t have gotten far as you burst out the other end and into the busy paddock, your eyes scanning the crowds before spotting him weaving aimlessly through the people.

“Jules!” The boy stopped as you called out and he looked around to figure out who it came from. By then you had reached him and placed a hand on his shoulder as you knelt to his height. “Where are you heading, little man?”

“Looking for my father,” he said with tears in his green eyes. He was the spitting image of Charles with his hair and those eyes, it was just like looking at his childhood photos again.

“I can help you, Jules, if that’s alright? My name is Y/N.”

He politely shook your hand that you offered. “How do you know my name?”

“I’ve known your father for a very long time and you look just like him. Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

You fired a quick message to Max letting him know where you were disappearing to since he was expecting to find you in hospitality.

“Do you like racing?” you asked, making small talk along the way.

He nodded eagerly. “I’m going to race for Ferrari when I grow up.”

“I remember another boy who said the same thing, and he did it so I know you can too if you put your mind to it.”

You received a few odd looks when you entered the Ferrari garage but no one stopped you as you weaved through the workshop and tire shelves and eventually found a familiar face.

“Alessandro, have you seen Charles?”

Alessandro’s eyebrows rose at the guest tucked behind your legs before pointing to the room with Charles’ name on it. “Careful. He’s in a bad mood.”

“When isn’t he,” you muttered as you led the way and rapped your knuckles on the door.

“What?”

“Pére!” Jules shouted happily when he heard his father’s voice and the door was torn open.

Charles’ face flashed through a montage of emotions. Shock, confusion, excitement, anger. You watched it all as his eyes darted between you and his son before he recovered and picked Jules up.

“Where’s your mother?” Charles asked, his voice laced with barely restrained anger. “You’re meant to be with her.”

Jules shrugged. “Don’t know, but I want to stay with you. Can’t I stay with you, pére?”

Charles sighed and tucked Jules’ head into his neck so the boy didn’t see his jaw clench or hear his teeth gnash together.

“I found him wandering the paddock looking for you,” you explained as you backed away. “I didn’t see Sapphire anywhere.”

“I’m surprised you even noticed, you’re always so busy with Max.”

You rolled your eyes at the bitterness. Charles had never accepted his situation he got himself into or the fact that you moved on. There wasn’t a conversation where he didn’t criticise the relationship you had with Max which was why you tried to avoid it where possible.

“Maybe you should worry more about your own family and less about mine. There’s 20,000 people in the paddock today, Charles, you should be thanking the fucking stars it was me who found him.” An annoyed sound growled in the back of your throat as he didn’t even blink at your words and you knew sparing anymore would be a waste of breath. “It was nice to meet you, Jules. Goodbye, Charles.”

A hand caught yours as you turned away and you narrowed your eyes at the owner until he dropped it. “Why him?”

In all honesty, the question was three years overdue. Charles had had plenty of opportunities to ask that question in the years since the relationship had gone public and you returned to the paddock, only this time it was in support of Red Bull.

“Do you hate me that much?” he asked when you remained silent.

“I don’t hate you, Charles,” you said honestly. “To hate you would mean feeling something for you, which I don’t. My relationship with Max has absolutely nothing to do with you. Max and I understand each other and we respect each other, it’s a relationship built on trust and it’s healthy.”

“What a load of shit,” Charles snorted and put Jules down on the chair in his room before stepping closer. “You can lie to yourself but you can’t lie to me, bella. You always liked to play these games to make me jealous.”

You stepped out of the room as you saw the dark glint in his eyes, but still he followed you through the garage as his crew watched. There was an edge to him that grown sharper over the years as he spiralled into the hole he found himself in, but so long as his risks paid off on the track no one brought attention to the behaviour.

“This isn’t a game, Charles. Haven’t you learnt that yet?” You reached the fresh air and saw the welcoming red and black colours next door. “You could have lost Jules today. Go and take care of your son.”

An arm curled around your waist and you breathed a sigh of relief and Max kissed your temple. “I was just coming to find you.”

“Why? Worried she came crawling back to me?” Charles challenged with a smirk.

“No, I don’t have to worry about that,” Max laughed before he recovered and looked at you. “We have an announcement to make. Ready, my love?”

You laced your fingers together and nodded, a flutter of excitement rippling through you at the thought. “Ready.”

“What’s the announcement?”

“I’m not going to spoil the surprise,” Max said as he walked you into Red Bull where everyone was waiting. Spotlights were aimed at the two chairs behind a table draped in Red Bull livery and Max pulled your seat out for you, pushing it back in as you sat down. The heat of the spotlights were uncomfortable but you forgot about it when Max kissed you knuckles and gave you a reassuring smile. “No backing out now.”

You chuckled and squeezed his hand that rested on your thigh. “It’s a little late for that.”

The media producer held his hand up and counted down the seconds to the cameras going live. For two people who lived relatively private lives, you were about to make a lot of noise but in a few short months it would be impossible to keep secret anyway.

“The people here at Red Bull have been my family for the past decade and I would not have had the success of winning five championships without their support. I want to thank each and every one of you guys for all the hard work you have done over the years.” Max’s voice started to crack and pulled his hand up higher so it rested against the very slight swell of your stomach.

“This will be my last session in Formula 1,” he said to the camera with a smile. “I will be retiring from racing to start a much more exciting adventure with my wife, as we are having a family of our own.”

A loud cheer erupted through the packed motorhome and Max looked happier than when he was on the top podium as he kissed you in the chaos. “I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “You and our child will never want for anything, I will always be there for you, both of you.”

“I know. I trust you,” you replied as you rested your forehead against his. Max had shown you how love was supposed to be, he had shown you how to trust again. He had kept every promise he ever made, he treated you like a queen and worshipped you like a goddess. You couldn’t imagine a better man to spend the rest of your life with and raise a family with. “I love you, Max. You’re my everything.”

Click here for Charles’ reaction to the announcement.

Click here for Charles’ ending.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Light My Love - I - T.Nott

Series Summary - Follow Y/N as she navigated the wizarding world on her own, starting from her first year, all the way through to her seventh. As she falls in love and get her heart broken, how a certain friend is always there to mend her broken heart even though his is slowly getting broken in the process.

Chapter Summary - Y/N makes a new friend on the first day of classes. There is a time jump to nearly 2 months later. She receives a letter from her mother after the woman finds out about her failing grade. She finds a certain mirror after receiving said letter.

Pairings - Theo Nott x Fem!Reader(eventual)

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST, LEAVE ME A COMMENT ON THIS POST!

Series Warnings - Blood purity, dark wizards, Reader is a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, pining, angst, reader will have some shitty boyfriends, Female Reader, use of Y/N

Chapter Warnings - Female Reader, use of Y/N, mentions of food and eating, poorly written angst, crying, rough parent-child relationship

Author's Note - I wanted to do a retelling of the Harry Potter series with a pureblood Slytherin character so here it is! I will probably update this slow just like my Always There series so be patient with me! After a few posts I will make a masterlist and link it to all of my posts for this series as well as on my masterlist.

Word Count - 1917

My full Masterlist

Series Masterlist

My requests are open!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

The class she was most excited for was potions. The potions master was known for being a cold-hearted man and quite the stickler when it comes to grading but she liked a good challenge. Plus she knew that Snape had tended to favor the Slytherins but wasn’t exactly afraid to take points from the house. That was her second subject of the day, getting back into the dungeons for the next couple of hours.

As the class started, Snape was quick to spot the newest hot topic of the school, Harry Potter. “Our new celebrity,” The professor said slowly in a condescending tone. She felt bad for the boy, from her understanding he had just found out about who he was and why he was famous. She felt even worse as Snape interrogated the boy who lived, asking him questions he didn’t have the answers to. 

“I kinda feel bad,” She whispered to another Slytherin she had met earlier in the day, Lorenzo Berkshire.

“I do too,” He whispered back to her. He was the sweetest Slytherin she had ever met, a down to Earth and caring boy. It was quite a strange difference compared to his cousin and her closest friend, Draco Malfoy.

“Mr. Berkshire, Miss Y/L/N, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Snape questioned the pair after correcting Potter.

“No sir,” They replied in unison.

Their lesson continued on as they sat quietly for the rest of the lesson. The class was rather uneventful but it was only the first class of the term, they could only get more interesting from there. As the class ended, she picked up her pace to catch up with Theo and Mattheo. “Flirting with Berkshire were you?” Mattheo teased.

“No! I was just saying that I kinda felt bad for Potter. I overheard Granger talking about him during Transfiguration, apparently he had only found out how his parents died on his birthday when he got his letter. He was just thrown into the wizarding world without a clue about it,” She explained herself.

“How could you feel bad for him? He’s completely set for life, he’s famous for something he did as a baby. You and me both know what he did to my family, Y/N,” The Riddle boy questioned her.

“I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean it that way, I just meant that the boy is clueless, he doesn’t know anything about our world, just the bare minimum.”

“You’ve got a heart of gold, principessa,” Theo chimed in, throwing an arm around her shoulder.

“A heart of gold will only get broken in a family like yours,” A voice said behind them, the voice belonged to Draco.

“Shut it, Dray. As much as I love my father and mother, I don’t wish to become them.”

Their conversation was stopped as they entered their last class of the day, Charms. It was the only class where they had actually learned something on the first day, the professor showing them a wand movement that would benefit them the most in the class. As classes finished for the day, the Slytherin gang hung out in the common room until it was time for dinner. Y/N and Draco were sitting side by side next to a large window pointing into the Black Lake. She had her potions book opened in front of her as she took notes of the pages Snape had assigned.

“So, you and Berkshire?” Draco broke their silence.

“Not you too,” She whined, “No, he’s just a friend. We literally just met yesterday.”

“What about Nott?”

“What about him?”

“Do you fancy him? Or Riddle? You seem rather close with them,” He pointed out.

“Can you stop? No, they’re my friends, you know that. You’re just a trouble maker, Malfoy. Stop speculating,” She begged him.

“Malfoy and trouble in the same sentence? Salazar I should be surprised,” Mattheo said sarcastically from behind them, “How are you making sense of the reading? I don’t get it.”

“I guess I’m just a natural at potions. I mean my mother is a potioneer,” She shrugged, going back to reading the pages. She ignored the two boys who started fooling around, focusing on her book and writing in depth notes on the potion and its ingredients. She knew her way around the cure for boils potion as well as the wiggenweld potion, those were brewed the most by her mother whom she had watched millions of times making the potions. She was writing the notes on those two by memory, only referring back to the book when she was slightly unsure.

When the pestering of the two boys became too much, however, she packed up her things and went to the library where she knew it would be quiet. It was nearly pin-drop silent in the library when she entered, she had spotted Theo in a corner by himself so she went over to sit with him. He knew who it was, she was one of the only other Slytherins that would actually use the library for what it was meant for. The two friends sat in silence, studying their own topics until it came time for dinner.

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It was nearly 2 months into the first term of their first year. The Slytherins had been keeping track of everything that Seamus Finnegan had blown up. The tally was now up to 10 things, the tenth rewarding Y/N with the dorm to herself for the weekend. They had a bet going and she was the first to say that Seamus would blow up 10 things by Halloween. Her dormmates agreed to sleep on the couches in the common room for the night.

She had a good day all together, she was the only other student other than Hermione Granger to get down the levitation spell in Charms, she was the only student to brew a perfect forgetfulness potion and she had won the bet. Her mood soured however when the post came. A letter being dropped in her lap by the family owl. When she opened it she noticed the familiar writing of her mother.

My dearest daughter,

I regret to tell you that you must stay at Hogwarts until the end of the school year. Your father and I have some business to attend to during the holidays. I did hear from Professor Quirrell that you are failing his class. We are very disappointed in you. The next time we see you, you will receive your punishment. We have already taken your books out of your room, we have let the house elf know that you are not to leave your room unless permitted and all of your art supplies have been burned.

Your mother

She tore up the letter, getting up abruptly before walking towards the exit. Just as she went to pass through the doors, she was practically run over by the very same professor mentioned in her letter. She recovered quickly before wandering around the castle. She ended up finding an empty room with a lone mirror in the corner. She went up to the mirror, peering into it, only to see herself happy with her parents behind her, large smiles on their faces.

Her family may have kept up appearances but her parents weren’t the nicest people. She was able to hide her true feelings deep down, repressing them until they all came spilling to the surface. She was in front of that mirror for nearly 2 hours until someone walked into the room. She hadn’t acknowledged them, just stared into the mirror at the happy family she wished she had, silent tears falling down her cheeks.

“I see you found the Mirror of Erised,” Snape said from behind her.

“I guess so,” She murmured. 

“What do you see, Miss Y/L/N?”

“My family, but we’re actually happy, not just pretend happy,” She admitted after a beat of silence.

“This mirror shows you your deepest desires. I would have thought a student as knowledgeable as you would want to be the headmaster or minister of magic, especially considering how young you are.”

“I can’t control my desires I guess.”

“It’s getting rather late, dear girl. I will escort you back to the common room so you don’t get into trouble.”

She got up from the floor, wiping away the tears on her face and followed the professor out of the room. She felt somewhat ashamed being escorted to the common room by Snape. She felt even worse when they had entered the common room, her friends starting to poke fun until she ran off to her dorm.

“What’s up with her?” Draco asked the group as Snape began to walk away.

The professor turned around, facing the group of concerned friends, “She’s not as happy as she pretends to be.” As the potions master left the room, the group was even more confused and concerned. The comment being made doing nothing but making them feel even more concerned.

Draco had a feeling he knew what was going on, he remembers her mentioning that she wasn’t doing well in DADA, failing the class at the moment. He left the common room and towards the girls' dorms, gently knocking on her door. Little did he know, the girl already had one of the friends from the group in the room. Theo was sitting beside her on the bed, letting her take her time with telling him what she was upset about.

They sat for nearly 20 minutes before she had even said anything. “My mother wrote to me,” She admitted.

“I figured that much, principessa. I haven’t seen you tear up a single letter until today. What did she say?”

“I have to stay here for the holidays and because I’m failing defense against the dark arts I’m on lockdown this summer. She took away all of my books, told the house elves that I can’t leave my room unless permitted by her and she burned all of my art supplies,” She explained.

“She’s a twat,” Theo said bluntly, causing her to laugh loudly.

“Theodore!”

“What? I’m just telling the truth, she's a twat. Just because you have a single bad grade, she punishes you to an extreme. It’s not like you’re failing any other class, just the one. I’m failing like 3 of them right now.”

“You know how my parents are.”

“Unfortunately true. I’m sure the Malfoy’s will let you join them on Christmas. Or I could stay here with you. You know what, I’ll stay here with you and we’ll have the best Christmas.”

After her talk with Theo, her heart didn’t feel as heavy, a little bit of the weight was lifted off of her shoulders. The Italian boy doing his best at cheering her up and trying to take a bit of weight off of her shoulders.

On the other side of the door, Draco had heard her laughing causing a small smile to appear on his face. He was happy that she was even slightly happy for even a short amount of time. He saw her as a little sister even though they were the same age, he was fiercely protective over her and knew how her parents were. He was just happy to hear her laugh thanks to the bluntness of Theodore. Draco was able to sleep a little more peacefully knowing that she had someone to cheer her up other than him.

Taglist:

@bigsimperika

[aemondsbeloved]

Of Silver and Emerald

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader

summary: You are a lady of a great house who is invited to a ball hosted by King Viserys and Queen Alicent. While your parents seek a good match with a lord that is worthy of you, you struggle with the crowds. Feeling overwhelmed, you seek some solitude elsewhere in the castle, not knowing the Prince Aemond sought the same thing.

warnings/notes: reader’s house is not specified, reader is very shy, I'm not a fan of how this turned out but I thought it might be something you guys would like!

word count: 4.4k

“I am not sure I wish to go,” You said meekly, wringing your hands as you stood in the same room as your father. He only sighed, knowing this is what you would say. Ever the shy child as a girl, you had not outgrown this trait your father had thought. “There will be many people, I am not so certain I could bear it.”

She is only a girl, You had overheard your mother once tell your father when they had not known you could heard them in the alcove. She is shy now but that is only because she had no friends here. All she does is put her head in her books for now. Just wait, once she is older and reaches maidenhood and this will be no more.

Your father had sighed then too, trusting her to be right. Just as he sighed now, wishing she had been right, but she was not. You had always been shy, unable to even maintain eyecontact with people for long when talking to them. Some thought it rude if they did not know your good natured spirit, but it was unbecoming of a lady, this much you knew. How could you not when it was all your Septa had ever told you?

“There will be many people there,” Your father spoke plainly but not unkindly, trying to will you to lift your eyes to his. “That is the point, dearest. You have reached your maidenhood and there are many lords who wish for your hand.”

Your face only twisted with nervousness, no doubt thinking of all the lords who might want your hand. Try as you might you could not help but envision them all to be cruel and old even. Your father, accustomed to reading your reactions had said in a softer tone, “We are a great house but I would not give my only daughter to someone vile.” His voice was a promise, a vow and you had looked up at him for only a moment, but the look upon his face made the smallest twitch of a smile appear on your on face. For a moment, you felt at ease.

And what if she does not? What if her true nature is to be so shy she will not look a man in the eye? You had heard your father say, the frustration and worry in his tone clear. Then we will find someone who will speak to her softly and never be harsh to her. Someone who will put her at ease in their company, your mother had told him. You only heard him hum softly in agreement and had went to your room where you were meant to be sleeping.

When he had said that you would go to King’s Landing for a ball the King and Queen were hosting you should have felt less nervous. This was, after all, any young maiden’s dream to wear the finest silks and meet the handsomest of lords. You were not foolish and knew of your houses prestige. Men would want your hand but you were not so sure they would when you were not a flirtatious and confident lady that you ought to be. The thought made you grimace as you rode in the carriage but you found yourself convincing your mind that it was the queasiness from the carriage, not where you would be heading.

When arriving to King’s Landing you were welcomed with the celebration of yours, and other houses arrivals. It was a grand place, like you had vaguely remembered and could already feel overwhelmed.

The King was not standing there when you exited your own carriage but the Queen Alicent as she greeted your house and the others. “The King regrets not being well enough to greet your great houses when you first arrived, but rest assured he will be well by this evening's activities,” She smiled graciously, looking every part a true and regal queen. “I decided to personally see you to your chambers during your stay, please come.”

With that, you had entered the Red Keep, admiring the castle though your mind could not help but wonder where the famous library was in King’s Landing. You had once heard they had one of the very best collections of histories in Westeros, and you could not help being curious if you might find the library while you were here.

Despite your curiosity you shook your head, frowning to yourself. The thought of finding a good history you had not been able to discover on your own was an exciting one. But the reminder that you were a guest here and you could very well be caught in somewhere you should not be haunted you into perishing the thought.

Instead, you guided your attention to the dresses your servant was putting out, carefully laying them on the bed for you to see. “Your father wanted some options for you to choose from, my Lady,” she said quietly whilst admiring the various silks. There was an array of colors, all had the silver of your house color but each had a different color contrasting in the silk. There was one you lingered on, with the green silks that looked exquisite. Trailing your fingers on the dress of a modest design yet flowing in style you heard your servant say, “That one is most delightful in particular, my Lady.”

“Yes, it is. Isn’t it?” You agreed softly, looking at the dress with reverence. You had not grown to care for dresses and the finery but you still had never had something as fine as this before. “I think I must wear this tonight.”

“An excellent choice, my Lady,” She agreed. “I will be back later to assist you.” Curtsying and leaving you to the bath she had prepared after your travels.

Alone in your chamber, the thoughts and dreams of the library you desperately wanted faded away as it crept to the very back of your mind. Perhaps, this ball will not be so bad. King’s Landing was large and the Red Keep was daunting but in the outrageous scenarios you had sought as daydreams in the carriage it ended up not seeing so terrifying. Your chambers were lovely and the Queen had been kind. You found yourself convincing yourself that it would not be so bad to attend this ball. In your chambers alone the idea did not seem so anxiety inducing.

But when your servant came in again, getting you into the dress of silver and light green silk and billowing sleeves, you felt a tinge of nerves. You told yourself to breathe as you slipped each of your feet in the pair of elegant heeled shoes. You felt her nimble fingers doing an elaborate hairstyle of braids upon your head but you protested, thinking of the headache later. “I would like my hair down tonight, please,” You said, hearing how meek you sounded. “I would not like a dozen braids on my head tonight.”

She had only smiled with understanding, undoing the braid, instead taking the top half of your hair and making a new style with half of your hair down and the other half on the top braided. The thick braid that sat on the middle of the back of your head showcased the color of your locks of hair but did not feel too tight. WIth a pleased smile, you only ran a hand over the braid gently, feeling better already.

“You will many the eye of handsome lords this evening, my Lady,” She had said and with a curtsey she had left the room, closing your door softly.

Minutes later your father was at your door with your mother, silently telling you it was time to present your family to the King. You were silent as well when you followed them through the halls. When you were faced with the massive doors to the great hall where the ball would take place you could not help but feel those nerves bubble to the surface. You could see the great families in line behind and in front of you, only waiting for the doors to be open and for all the houses and members to be announced.

When the doors opened, you could feel your heart drop. The Hightowers and Lannisters entered, both standing proud and tall as they were announced. In the background you could hear them call your House and were vaguely aware of your parents walking ahead of you as their names were announced with your own name following shortly thereafter.

As you took your seats on the side of the room your family was seated you could feel your ever watchful father’s eyes on you, taking in your expression. No doubt he was trying to tell if you had your wits about you and if this was all too much. It was, truth be told but you put a smile on your faces, glancing at your parents and giving them a quick smile. You were not the sort of person who was a great pretender, unwittingly wearing your heart on your sleeve but this time it seemed you had successfully showed a false emotion. You must have looked happy and calm, after all, if he looked away from you, no longer worrying what your mind was plaguing you with.

It was tradition for the royal family to start the dances and you watched as the Princess Helaena and Prince Aegon started the dance. You could not help but watch her graceful moves, though they looked well practiced and not natural, while the Prince danced well enough, but he seemed like he had no wish to be there at all in contrast to his sister’s bright and rather dreamy smile.

The Princess seemed kind, you noted, taking in her demeanor. Your eyes followed your own curiosity, looking to the long table where you then saw another Prince, much taller and more formidable than his brother currently dancing. You had heard some gossip as you passed through the Red Keep about the younger crowned Prince and how he had lost his eye yet was such an impressive swordsman. He had that regal look that only a Targaryen could have, you gathered, with his long silver blonde hair and pale complexion.

Even you, a noble woman, did not have such a regal complexion. There was something otherworldly about the Prince that his brother who was dancing now did not seem to possess. You could only wonder if it was because of his heritage or something else.

Then, something horrid happened. While observing, admiring, you were not sure exactly what you were looking at the Prince with, you found him looking at you across the room. An unyielding stare as he had caught you looking at him.

Your reaction was skittish, tearing your eyes from him only after your eyes had widen a bit comically, turning to look at your parents. “I should go dance,” You said hurriedly, almost sounding out of breath only it was not from running but from your detested nerves. Both their faces were a bit surprised but you saw your father look at the opened floor where others were now dancing in addition to the Prince and Princess. “I did not think I was to wear such a fine dress if not to dance,” You said, a jest almost, which was most unlike you.

“Very well,” Your father said smiling alongside your mother. “You know, the Lord Arryn has a son your age, most fair and handsome, so your mother says.”

“I shall find him,” You said with too much certainty, standing too quickly to appear ladylike and instead giving the appearance of a very skittish bird preparing to take flight.

A look of knowing your true feelings was behind your mother’s eyes, about to ask you if you werre quite alright, you had no trouble knowing. Still, you moved from the table as soon as you could, not allowing her to ask. Because no, you were not alright. All this time, the minutes feeling like they were being dragged through mud, you could feel his stare on the side of your face and now you could feel it on your back. What you needed was to disappear into a crowd, to be unnoticeable. If you had to dance with a lord then that was worth it, because you had heard of Prince Aemond. He was an observer from all accounts, but nothing like you. Perhaps he thought you judging him and would not take a slight like that. You did not want to spend the evening with his withering stare.

You weaved through the crowd, taking part in the dance with ease. You were not so clumsy and had been a good dancer. To you, being in the midst of the crowd was not so terrible, only those who you would have to interact with made you nervous.

Dancing was easy enough, taking your partner’s elbow and circling each other then switching for another. Feeling light, and perhaps a bit graceful and every part the lady, you had even traded smiles with the lord your father had wanted you to seek out. But the dance was a fast pace one, always changing and you found yourself in the arm of some other lord you believed to be a Baratheon by his loud demeanor and rough movements.

He was not cruel like you imagined Baratheon men might have been but he was daunting. He was not so comfortable to be around and you could not meet his eye so easily. As you twirled in his arms for part of the dance and he had asked of your name, your house really as that was what these lords cared for. You had given it in a shaky utter, feeling light in a less wonderful way now. Trying hard to meet his eyes, you could only do so for a few seconds with each time making you more uncomfortable than before. And that overwhelming sense of guilt, how he had done nothing to you yet you could not engage sent you feeling weaker than before. He was saying something of his homelands and the castle he lived in, likely to impress the lady he was speaking to. You tried to care but could hardly tolerate his company any longer.

“Pardon me, my Lord,” You said in a tone so weak you felt too terrible to look at him. There was a protest on his tongue that you could only hear the first part of as you took your arm away from his and manuevered through the dancers. Unlike before, you did not feel at ease and eager to start a dance, now you felt your anxiety creep up on you until it clawed at your throat, desperate to escape the room.

When you went up the few stairs and into the secluded hall you let out a breath you did not know you had been holding. At last, you thought, some quiet. You walked the halls, appreciating the quiet now and seclusion. Try as you might, you could not be the perfect lady. You could only think of what would happen if your father had seen you run from a lord and that you were in the empty halls deeper in the castle. This was, you hoped, a problem for tomorrow and not tonight.

Somehow, your feet brought you to the room you had dreamed about on the carriage ride to King’s Landing. The door was cracked open but stepping into it carefully you saw the dozens of books lining the walls. This was the library you had heard about, you noted, knowing that all the histories on the Targaryens were in here. Books were an expensive thing and while your father did not lack wealth he did not buy dozens of books for you. Your library at home was a quaint one, very unlike the one you stood in now. It rivaled the Citadel’s library in Oldtown, you wagered.

You were not thinking with your head only your curiosity as you trailed a finger along the copies of books, finally picking one with a title that interested you. Thumbing through it you sat by the window, reading the pages as you became consumed with the story of Aegon the Conqueror. As you were a lady, your septa did not focus too much on the many histories. That was for boys, she said. Girls were supposed to make embroidery and learn music and dances, she had added, much to your annoyance. You quickly become engrossed in the book, not taking notice of anyone else or even the world in this moment.

“This is far from the hall you are meant to be dancing in, my Lady,” You heard an voice, soft and careful.

You gasped, looking up at once and seeing the person you had wished not to see the most tonight, Prince Aemond as he stood by the door. “My Prince,” You said hastily, slamming the book you were reading shut just as hastily, hating the loud sound in made in your lap making you want to jump from your seat. “I–”

“Should not be so careless in closing books so harshly that are not yours,” He finished for you, not sounding so cross and angry yet his words held no kindness. “This is not your library,” He stated plainly as he crossed the room, seeming to enjoy your loss for words.

“I am deeply sorry, My Prince,” You said, your quiet voice even so soft in a library in the most isolated part of the castle. Standing up, you hugged the leatherbound history book to your chest in a manner that was truthfully not very elegant and ladylike, but you could not think of what the right thing to do was at this moment. You could barely meet his eye, staring unyielding at you as you said in a voice so meek, “I did not mean to cause offence, truly. Crowds, I am ashamed to say do not befit me so well, and I found myself overwhelmed. I not intend to come to the library, I promise you, but I could not think of where to go and it seems I am always leading myself near books.”

You only heard him hum and in turn your hands began to fidget again, much to your disapproval. Your fingers gently gripped the book you held, trying to find something to keep you steady and to focus on instead of his gaze on you. You did not know what to say, only wondering if he would tell your father, who would grow deeply upset at you for leaving the ball to read in a library that was not yours.

“That would be a Baratheon for you,” He finally said, making you furrow your brows and look up at him, finding his expression not seeming so unkind now. Now you only looked at him curiously but he took his time gazing at you in a way unlike lords had done all tonight before he said, “They are all too brash for a lady such as yourself.”

You were perplexed. He was not being unkind, at least not in an obvious sort of way. You did not know him, only by name and reputation, and yet you could not tell his true nature. But unlike the other lords you had seen this evening, he did not seem to have another motive towards you.

This time you could not help but look at him, not feeling so nervous. “You knew I was dancing with Lord Baratheon?” You asked, looking perplexed. Surely, he was busy dancing with other ladies, not just watching who you were dancing with.

“I watched you most carefully, my Lady. A return for your staring earlier in the evening,” He said and you saw the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You have much to learn in the art of observation.”

“I meant no offence,” You repeated your words when he had first entered the library, your voice just as soft but you did not have the urge to cease your eye contact. The shade of his eye was too brillant and the smirk that was a mere ghost, barely visible in truth, was too addicting for you to look away from.

“No, I suppose you might not have,” He conceded, looking at you like this was a game, a dance you both took part in. There had been no malice in his accusations to begin with. Taking a step towards you, being but a pace from being toe to toe with you he said, “And yet, you go into my library and read one of my books.”

His smile was more prominent now and you had caught onto the game and his teasing remark. “Your library?” You asked in a light tone, peering up at him. “I was not aware the library was purely yours, my Prince.”

He hummed again. “My brother has no interest in the histories,” He admitted. “Unlike him, I pride myself in knowing them all. It is a shame for a library like this to be unused.”

You could not help yourself as you eagerly thought of the books you had read, how you desired to read more as you said in a voice soft, quite like his own, but with the traces of a passion, “If we had a library such as this at my home I would scarcely leave it,” You smiled, catching his eye. “To be able to read histories such as these like Aegon the Conquerer instead of only hearing them from others is a delight.”

His expression had something close to mirth on it. “So you admit you have no regret of your use of Your Grace’s library?” He looked down on you, showing that now he perhaps did not care that you had gone into a library that was not yours, if he ever did.

You had a small, slight smile on your lips as you shook your head, “No, my Prince, I do not.” Becoming bolder, a feeling unknown to you until now, you asked him, “Why did you come to the library tonight, my Prince?”

He just looked down at you, a look of admiration almost on his face. You still did not know him, unsure if his expressions were what you believed them to be. “I tire of the crowds too as it happens, my Lady,” He said, taking in your features, not truly trying to hide it. “And once the lady who I desired to dance with left, I saw no reason to stay. On nights like this I seek solitude the library here offers me. It seems we are the same in this.”

There was a moment of acknowledgement, two souls of the same sort, and you could not help a real, gentle smile appearing on your face. “I am sorry we did not have the opportunity to dance, my Prince.” It was the truth, purely genuine and he looked at you as you were, regarding you with kindness, something rare for him to do at all.

He was silent as he raised his hand between your bodies, a gesture that need to be spoken. Dance with me, here, it said. You could not deny him and more so, you had no wish to. Setting the book on the chair, you took his hand feeling the roughness from his prowess of the sword he yielded over the years. Moving towards him you felt his hand on your waist and you could not deny this was the most natural it ever felt for someone to hold your waist. As you placed your hand on his shoulder, you felt the strange urge to never take your leave of looking upon him. You both moved in slow yet graceful steps, mainly swaying in the library in each other’s arms.

It was a strange sensation for you to feel so at peace in the arm’s of a man and you could not help but be surprised that it was with the Prince you had heard the most cruel and terrifying things about. He was not so terrible at all, you thought to yourself, but rather wonderful. It could have been that your expression that showed tranquil and perhaps more affectionate than not that made his own mirror yours. It was all you could do to look at him with this fondness you had found unexpected come up within you as you danced with one another.

This was the right palace to dance, you had decided at the end of the night when you returned to your chambers. Somehow when you laid in your bed you felt no worries plague you and you knew that the dance had meant something. There was something deep within you that whispered in your mind that this had meant something, that your shared affections had not been imagined. It couldn’t have been, you decided, as you fell into the lumbers of a good night’s rest.

It was when you were eating your breakfast in your rooms at King’s Landing that you discovered what had occurred that morning between your father and Queen Alicent.

“It seems the Prince Aemond was taken with you,” Your father said when he came to your rooms, looking every part a proud father. As your turned in your chair, gripping the side of it.  “He expressed to his mother that he wished to be betrothed to you, daughter. The Queen accepted and wishes for you to stay in the Red Keep during your betrothal. After all, if you are to wed him, you would be a Princess, staying in the Red Keep.”

You only smiled, relieved that you had not been wrong and your instincts had rewarded you. “I do wish to marry Prince Aemond, father. It is not due to his title, I assure you. He was unexpectedly kind, really.” You swore to your father, “It would not be so frightening staying in a place such as this, I promise you.”

“That is well enough then,” He said, looking as pleased with the betrothal as he did, perhaps, with his daughter’s happiness. “Your mother is pleased with the news, you know. You have made us proud, dearest.”

When your father left the room you could only think how lucky it was you had gone to the library and meet your lord husband to be.

[fandom-chic]

Please Please Please: Chapter 3

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy realize there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

Previous chapter

Year: 1913

She spun around slowly, observing how the dress fell on her frame. It had belonged to her mother, and she couldn't help but feel it suited her mother better than herself. Nevertheless, it would have to suffice. Tonight, she was meeting James, and she wanted to appear nothing short of beautiful. They had been seeing each other for almost nine months, and although it felt like an eternity to her youthful mind, she knew that everything was still fresh and new. At this point in the relationship, she believed that external beauty held great importance.

James was a good man. Shit, that was an understatement to say the least. His family came from old money. It was the kind of wealth she dreamt about. Wealth that her family had never known and might never know. He didn’t keep it a secret either. On their first date, he had taken her to the nicest restaurant she had ever stepped into. All she ordered was soup and water, worried that she would come off as a mooch. James had chuckled and ordered her a glass of wine, reassuring her not to worry about the bill. But she worried.

James was also training to be a solicitor. That was a job that had lots of prospects and a steady future. It was the kind of job a husband would have. It would allow him to make a decent living while also being able to come home to his family every night. It would also not leave him with anyone's blood on his hands, at least in the physical sense. Y/N ran her comb through her locks, contemplating her reflection.

It wasn’t a secret to her that a proposal was on the horizon. She had noticed the way her mother tossed her old dress at her and gave her an excited smile. Something was coming. It also didn’t hurt that she overheard her mother and father discussing the topic.

Y/N had stumbled out of bed early last Saturday. On her way to grab a coffee, she heard whispers coming from the kitchen. She quietly made her way over before stopping to hear what her parents were saying.

“That James fellow seems quite nice,” Mother had exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Yes he does,” Father replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Definitely would make a fine addition to this family,” her mother added, a smile evident in her voice.

“I would say so,” Y/N could hear the monotony in her father’s voice. Her mother seemed to notice it too.

“Would you?” Mother asked.

“I would,” Father said, there was defiance in his voice.

“You sure don’t sound like it,” Mother said, a sharp tip to her tone.

“I just,” there was hesitation in Father’s voice, “I just always imagined a different path for Y/N.” Mother snorted at that.

“What path is better than one with a solicitor from a wealthy family?” Y/N didn’t want to know the answer to that, and entered the kitchen at that moment. Both of her parents turned toward her, uneasiness plastered across their faces as they wondered what she heard. All she did was smile and say good morning, feigning ignorance. Her parents knew she heard but if they all pretended, maybe they could truly pretend it wasn’t reality.

Y/N picks up her lipstick, tracing the red along her lips. It was her favorite shade. She remembered the first day she put it on. She was sixteen and experimenting with makeup. When she stepped out of her house to see Tommy, she couldn’t forget his grin.

“Now that’s the classiest whore in all of Small Heath.” he had said, raising his eyebrows playfully.

“That better be a joke Thomas Shelby!” she warned.

“I thought you knew me better than that, Y/N,” he said, with a wink, “You look beautiful.” A hint of electricity flies erupts in her stomach.

“You think so?” She had a tough time looking up at him at that moment.

“Of course,” At that, he held his arm out for her. She laced her arm in his and they went off. 

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered to herself, seeing that in her moment of distraction, her lipstick had not decided to stay in the outline of her lips. Fucking Tommy, even absent, he ruined everything. He never showed up after their fight and she has not seen him around Small Heath. It was as if he had dropped off the face of the earth. But he hadn’t. He just didn’t want to see her. At that, a knock echoed on her door. 

Her father poked his head in. "James is here," he informed her. Y/N nodded, quickly grabbing a tissue to wipe away the smudge.

“Okay," she replied, sensing her father's lingering presence. She glanced back at him. "I'll be out in a few." He nodded, observing his daughter with an uneasy expression. "You know," he spoke up, entering the room, "you don't have to go if you don't want to." Y/N furrowed her eyebrows.

"Why wouldn't I want to go?" she asked. Her father sighed, closing the door behind him.

"You're my daughter, Y/N, and I can tell when something makes you happy and when it doesn't," he explained, sitting on her bed. "I can also see when you're doing something just to please your mother and me." Y/N turned to face her father, crossing her arms in front of her.

"James makes me happy, and I'm not doing this for you or Mum. If you have something else to say, say it, or you can leave," she asserted. Her father sighed but remained seated on the bed.

“I haven’t seen Tommy around here in a while.” her father stated. Y/N knew this conversation was coming.

"I don't want to talk about Tommy right now, Dad," she pleaded.

“And why is that?” he interjected.

“Because," she averted her gaze, "he hasn't made any effort to reach out to me, and I don't want to be the only one trying anymore. He's draining, and I can't bear his chaos any longer." Her father nodded, absorbing her words. 

“I understand,” He puts his hands on his knees, ready to get up, “Have a fun night with James,” At that, he exited the room, leaving the door open for Y/N to follow. She did so and found James waiting in the doorway, a smile adorning his face.

“You look beautiful,” he complimented as she walked toward him.

“Thank you,” she said, as he offered her his arm. 

He turned toward her father, “I’ll have her back by 10 PM.” Her father nodded, giving the couple a wave before they left. As the door closed behind them, she was greeted by the sight of something she had never seen before, an automobile. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight.

“My father purchased it for me last week and I thought I would take the loveliest girl in Small Heath for a ride.” James said, looking down at her. Y/N could not look him in the eye yet, wanting to take in as much of the car as she could. She had never seen one this close to her. It truly was the pinnacle of the high life.

“It’s amazing.” she whispered, almost in disbelief. 

“Indeed," James agreed, opening the passenger door for her. She cautiously climbed in, afraid of breaking something. James took his seat beside her on the driver's side, and the car roared to life, eliciting a gasp from Y/N. Then they were off. Y/N watched as the world outside the window zoomed past her. Small Heath had never seemed this enchanting before. Perhaps her father's stories held some truth.

“Wow,” she breathed. It wasn’t until she heard James clear his throat that she realized he had asked her a question. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I was asking how your teaching courses were coming along.” James inquired. 

“Oh, they’re going very well. Only a few months left before I am done.” Y/N answered, a proud smile dawning her face. 

“Very nice, very nice.” He muttered to himself as they drove down the street.

“And you,” she began, “how are your courses this semester?”

“Good.” he replied, refocusing his attention on the road. Y/N looked at James, expecting more words to follow that, but none came. From what Y/N had heard around Small Heath, law school was a grueling but fascinating time. But that did not seem to be the case for James.

“I can only imagine.” Was the only phrase she could think to answer with. 

“And a pretty imagination you have.” James responded as the couple pulled up to the restaurant. The words caused a pit to form in her stomach. Pretty imagination. What did that even mean? She stared into the windshield, curious about those words as James opened up her door. His hand gestured to the restaurant. “After you.” She gave him a curt nod as he assisted her out of the vehicle. She followed him in. The host gave them a smile as he brought them to their table. 

“What do you think you will order tonight?” James asked, looking over his menu. Y/N hadn’t looked at the menu yet as she watched the people of Small Heath wander. James gave a small snicker, tapping her hand. She jumped. “My dear, you have to at least look at the menu.” That same empty feeling washed over her.

“I will, just taking in the view.” she said, looking away from the window. Her eyes skimmed over the menu, not particularly focusing on any meal in particular. It was then she heard a voice she could recognize anywhere. She didn’t have to look up to know Tommy was in the same room as her. She couldn’t help herself from looking toward the door to catch a glimpse of him. To her surprise, he wasn’t alone. The most recent woman to have won Tommy’s heart had accompanied him. Her name was Greta and that was all she knew. Y/N’s gaze lingered as the couple began to move in her direction. It was when Tommy was sitting at the table directly in front of theirs did he notice her. He quickly shifted his gaze away, but hers remained on him. She couldn’t bear to look away, for all she knew, he could disappear again. 

“You know,” Y/N began, putting her menu down, “I heard that Oxford has one of the most prestigious law schools in the world, isn’t that true, James?” Her voice was pitched a bit louder than usual, she knew that. 

James gazed up from her menu, “Oh yes, it is quite the institution.” 

“Why don’t you tell me about your studies.” she said, letting her eyes move back to Tommy. This time, his eyes were locked on hers. James had begun to discuss his torts class, but Y/N could not decipher one word he was saying. All she could do was watch Tommy’s reaction, or lack of one.

“James, why did you pick the career path of a solicitor?” Y/N asked, “Is it because you enjoy helping people? Or because you like to see the world become more just?” James smiled at her question as he continued on about the world of law. This time, a reaction came out of Tommy. Disdain. His eyes narrowed as James passionately discussed his ambitions and dreams within law school. It was then that a bottle of chardonnay was brought to the table. She quickly took a large gulp, letting the warm feeling of alcohol run through her. She swallowed the rest of her drink before pouring herself a new one. 

“And, James, wouldn’t you say that your family is very well respected? Definitely, not the kind to bring a weapon to a meal, correct?” This caused James to cock an eyebrow. 

“Um, well, that is quite the question-”

“I just want to know that the man I associate myself with is an honorable one.” It was then she noticed Tommy excuse himself from his table and approached her. He stopped right beside her, leaning down so his mouth was right next to her ear.

“Outside, now.” And he proceeded outside.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Y/N said. James gave a nod before she got up and followed Tommy. As the door shut behind her, she looked to see Tommy lighting a cigarette, his body languid against the stone wall of the restaurant. His gaze drifted over to her and his eyes narrowed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“What’s wrong with me?” she gestured towards herself, taking quick strides toward her friend, “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Why would there be anything wrong with me?” He took the cigarette out of his mouth, “I’m not the one causing a scene.” The nonchalance in his voice stabbed her, causing a part of her to break.

“How was any of that a scene? I was just having a conversation with my boyfriend.” Tommy snorted at that.

“A conversation? That’s not what I would’ve called it.” Tommy said, taking another drag. Y/N opened her mouth, trying to will a retort. Anything to match up to him. But all that could come out was silence. Tommy stubbed out his cigarette against the brick wall behind him. “Now if you would excuse me, I have a date to get back to.”

“Why didn’t you come back?” The words came out as a whisper. As they escaped her lips, she felt a tear come into her eye. Tommy took a breath, his hands falling into his pockets.

“You know why, Y/N,” he responded.

“No Tommy,” she said, shaking her head, “I do not, please tell me.” Her plea hung in the air. Finally, Tommy met her gaze again, and she saw a flicker of emotion pass across his face. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“That day at the lake made me realize, we are two extremely different people. You want the solicitor husband, the beautiful house and the two kids raised by the nanny. You want to come home and relax on your day bed while your maid brings you your meals. If you stay close to me, that is not the life you will have. All those dreams will never come. Our friendship just doesn’t make sense anymore, Y/N and you know that.” Tommy said, finally moving away from her.

“Do you really feel that way?” she whispered. Tommy stared directly ahead before he gave a slight nod. Her stomach dropped to her feet as she began to come to accept a new reality, Tommy was gone.

“Tommy,” Everything in her wanted him to face her, but he stayed staring straight ahead “I miss you so much.” 

“I know.” Was all he said, before putting his head down and walking back inside. She was alone. She let her body collapse against the brick wall as the real sobs began to erupt from her. It was then she heard footsteps begin to approach her. Her gaze snapped back to the door Tommy just walked through but all she saw was James.

“I think it may be time to go home.” James said as Y/N nodded. His hand touched the small of her back, leading her to where the car was parked. Y/N gave one final look to the window where Tommy had just seated himself again. She could’ve sworn he was staring right back at her.

Next chapter

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@mrharringtonsbae

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[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

If it wouldn’t be too upsetting, I was wondering about an angsty counterpart to the “M6 meet the parents” post you made awhile ago. Maybe MC finally regains their memories of their parents, only to learn that said parents treated them horribly in some way or another.

The Arcana HCs: When MC remembers having bad parents

~ a lot of people struggle with reconciling a need for parental figures with bad memories of the people who failed to fill that role, and they're not alone. I hope this brings some comfort - brainrot ~

CW for angst, yelling, mentions of toxic parenting

-- to set the scene --

You'd always wondered what your family was or wasn't like. It's been years since your new start on life, and you're content in the family you've found with your beloved.

You did always wonder what the trigger point might be to catch a glimpse of what you used to have - maybe the dad you just passed in the street promising their kid "a treat, but only one, okay?" or maybe the snoozing toddler you saw being lovingly carried home on their mother's shoulder.

You didn't expect it to be the sound of an angry adult yelling at a child for crying outside the window.

Julian

Just as the memories and the yelling and the crying are about to become too much, you hear another familiar voice join in outside your window

You've been expecting Julian home any moment, and it sounds like he's finally here. And like he's ... talking to the kid?

He's speaking gently, and when you peek out the window he's crouching on the cobblestones between the two, using his pocket square to mop up the kid's tears and helping them blow their nose

You hear him say something about grown ups being ridiculous and people who yell doing it because they don't have anything helpful to say and the adult behind him flushes red while the child giggles

There's a moment where you think the grown up involved is about to yell at Julian instead, but one furious look from your beloved is all it takes for them to back off

When he finally makes it inside to take off his coat and greet you, he freezes as soon as he sees the look on your face

"MC? You look upset, my dear, are you hurt? What's wrong?"

Once you're able to tell him everything, you watch his face fall and waver between sadness for your pain and anger on your behalf

"MC ... you deserved to have someone look out for you, too."

He wraps you up in one of his all-encompassing hugs and holds you tight before putting his coat back on and pulling you out the door. It's time Mazelinka made you her honorary grandchild, too

Asra

They saw you tense up from the backroom before they heard what was happening outside

He was just going to take a peek at what was going on, but as soon as he realizes it's memory-related he springs into action

Immediately strides to the shop front, casts a soothing spell on both the people involved (with an added mild sedating effect on the angry adult), turns the shop sign to "closed", and locks the front door before hurrying back to check on you

They approach you cautiously, asking if you're in any pain, and then take you upstairs to snuggle while you work through it

He's not going to pressure you to talk, so he rubs his hands along your back and arms and tucks your head under chin while he asks a few gentle questions in case you need somewhere to start

They'd known that your relationship with your parents wasn't the best, but you had never gone into very much detail before

He's had his own parental difficulties, and he's still working through the hurt and resentment from their disappearance, but he never had to worry about their cruelty

They're quick to shut down any blame you place on yourself. They think you're the most deserving of love of anyone they know, and you definitely didn't deserve to be treated the way you were

Refuses to let go of you until you're repeating back his affirmations

The next time you see Aisha and Salim, they practically offer to adopt you

Nadia

She overheard it from outside the cafe you were sitting in too

She was already very disturbed from the cruelty she was witnessing, but when she saw that it was bothering you as well she stood straight up and sailed outside to deal with the problem

She doesn't need to use very many words. You watch in slight awe as she comes to stand next to the sobbing child and stare down the belligerent adult until their angry shouts turn into quiet apologies

Refuses to let them off the hook until they apologize to the child as well and vacate the premises. Makes sure the kid is safe before coming back and taking her seat again

Confused about why you're still upset when the issue's already been resolved

Shocked and deeply pained when you tell her what's going on. Will make sure that you're somewhere that feels safe to talk before continuing the conversation

She'll make sure all your needs are met before sitting you down with both your hands in hers and asking you to tell her as much as you're comfortable sharing

Hearing about what your parents were like gives her more perspective on her own. She knows that her own hurt is valid too, but your description puts her experience into a new perspective

Quick to tell you that, since you're marrying her, you're part of her family now

Will invite her parents and sisters back to Vesuvia to smother you with love and properly adopt you into the Satrinava family

Never tolerates shouting in her Palace again

Muriel

He started to freeze up a little himself when you passed by the loud situation on your way out of town

He remembers being that kid on the streets, getting yelled at by grown ups who only thought of him as a parasite in child form

He approaches slowly with the hopes of comforting the kid and finding a safe spot for them, accidentally scaring the grown up away in the process (he was frowning very deeply)

He can tell right away that you're not doing too great yourself, but he doesn't want to rush you so he gives the child a wildflower and makes sure they're safe before walking back home while holding your hand

He wants to make sure that you have the time and space to find the words you need, so he gets you situated in front of the fire and sits next to you with a project

Invites you into his lap as soon as you start to sniffle

Listens for as long as he needs to for you to say what you need. All he wants is for you to know that you're not alone anymore

He remembers what it was like to believe that he was unwanted and what a relief it was to learn the truth

He can't imagine how much it must hurt to go through the reverse

Will hold and comfort you for as long as you need it

He'll blush and need to pause a few times, but he'll tell you that he wants you to be part of his family now, both the family of his past and whatever family you find together in the future

Portia

She doesn't even notice that you're upset

She's too busy storming out of the Palace to where the shouting is happening on the bridge and outdoing the angry adult in both volume and fury. How dare they speak like that to a child!

The kid in question stops crying pretty quickly because they're too busy watching in awe as your beloved Portia verbally beats the adult into the ground

She pauses to give the kid a sweet smile and piece of candy before booting the grown up on their way and storming back inside

Continues to rant while she picks up what she dropped. No child deserves to be treated like that! Who does that adult think they are? If a kid is crying, they need comfort, not yelling! What kind of -

Somehow her passionate ranting is both validating and soothing, but even after you've calmed down a bit you still look upset enough for her to pause when she finally looks at you

"MC? What's wrong?"

Starts pacing and tugging at her hair halfway through your answer to keep herself contained and then hugs you so tightly you feel your ribs creak once you're finished talking

Takes five minutes to tell you how loved you are and how mad she is at your parents before bundling you out the door and into town

She's taking you to eat Mazelinka's soup and become her honorary grandchild. She's also threatening Ilya into becoming your adopted older brother (he doesn't need convincing)

Lucio

Genuinely doesn't think anything's out of the ordinary until he sees you becoming visibly upset

He figures that it must be the person getting obnoxious in a public place, so he flies in their face and tells them to shut up and get lost, they're being too loud and bothering his MC

Surprised when you show some compassion for the crying kid. What are you talking about, kids are there to be yelled at - wait - what do you mean they deserve to be treated gently? He wasn't!

... oh

Awkwardly throws the kid a sympathetic smile before pulling you somewhere less vulnerable to continue your conversation

The treatment you describe isn't foreign to him, but when he imagines it happening to you, someone he wants to protect, his perspective starts shifting and he works himself into a rage

Will suggest hunting down and beating up the yelling adult since he can't do it to your parents

Ultimately begins breaking down a little himself, because his need to protect child you from harm is throwing his own past self's need for safety into sharp relief and he doesn't know how to proceed

Ends up back at your living quarters with you and huddling down on the bed together with the dogs to work it out

It's going to be a long journey, but finding a piece of hurt from his past that lines up with yours gives both of you the courage to start the healing process together

[cocogum]

So I woke up today and chose to cry cuz omg Amalia’s life is shit compared to her friends:

1) Her dad, the only one in her family who let her out to go adventuring and live a free life for a temporary time, is dying and is highly likely that he’ll die in season 4. (Season 3-4)

2) Armand keeps judging her every action and doesn’t take her seriously. (Seasons 1-2-manga-OVAS-season 3)

3) Aurora and Armand keep trying to marry her off by making her interact with princes from other kingdoms. (Season 3)

4) Amalia can’t even talk about anything else other than politics with her family, so she now wants to eat in her room. Alone. (Season 3)

5) Yugo clearly said that he puts his and Amalia’s relationship to the back burner because he has other more important things to worry about, making her think that she’s not as important as she thought she’d be to him. (Season 3)

6) Not getting the respect by the men she started to like and gets used by them (Count Harebourg and Oropo) (But Harebourg did like her tho I mean why else would he obsessively stalk her during her adventures??) She technically gets heartbroken three times because of the conversation she overheard with Yugo and fake Ruel (Sipho). (OVA BOOK 1 - Season 3)

7) Getting rudely told by fake Ruel (Sipho) that she’s not important and that he personally doesn’t understand why Yugo likes her because of the way that ‘she looks’ which makes her now feel self-conscious. (EXCUSE ME BITCH WHO TF ARE YOU?!?!? YOU’RE SO UGLY YOU HAVE TO PRETEND TO BE ANYONE ELSE OTHER THAN YOURSELF. Bitch is blind cuz he can’t see her hourglass figure with that big ass, perfect pretty chocolate brown skin with no wrinkles or acne problems, luscious green hair with no knots perfectly tied up, and a cute face. No wonder Yugo likes her, the dude is into adorable flowers.) (Season 3)

I MEAN JUST LOOK AT HER ‼️‼️‼️‼️

8) Getting told by her own friends that she acts like a spoiled brat when she clearly stopped being too bratty and literally TRIED THROWING AWAY HER LIFE FOR HAREBOURG TO SAVE HER PEOPLE FROM OGREST’S BULLSHIT. (OVA BOOK 1)

9) Is absolutely not even comfortable in her own kingdom to the point that even her own dying father can tell she’s not feeling well. (Season 3)

10) The only thing she has ever genuinely smiled at (besides her kiss with Yugo), was meeting Dathura for the first time. (Season 3)

11) Didn’t get taken seriously when she tried telling Armand about Yugo and Adamaï. (Season 1)

12) Didn’t get taken seriously by Eva when she told her about the dream she had of Sadida telling her to search for Yugo. (Season 1)

13) Got called a ‘salad’ by some guards from a city and by Toross in a sneak peek from Season 4 (Seasons 2-4)

14) Her best friend, Eva, is now too busy with her family to be in touch with her like they used to so Amalia pretty much has to deal with her problems on her own most of the time and can’t rely on a close friend for support. (OVA BOOK 1-2-3 - Season 3)

15) Everyone in the Brotherhood of the Tofu has someone in their life that makes them a duo whether it’s romantic or familial: Dally and Evangelyne, Yugo and Adamai, Elely and Flopin, Ruel and Arpagone. Amalia has no one. (Seasons 1-2-OVAS-3)

16) The queen of the Sadida Kingdom died when Amalia was just a young child. Because of the death of her mother at such a young age, Amalia already had some family trauma from the start. She grew up with two men, with no motherly or feminine presence in her life. With no exemple from any female role model, she became spoiled, bratty, and rude to the people she deems as inferior to her princess status. (Seasons 1-2-manga)

Please I just want season 4 to do her justice cuz at this point, I’m just genuinely impressed that she hasn’t cracked yet.

The fact that season 1 only gave us hints of the beginning of her troubles is wild tho…

[tomsretales]

Retales Retold - Day Fifteen

-My first guest today was an elderly woman who had never used a card reader before. Teaching her how to swipe her debit card was the single most pure moment of my life.

-A mother bought her infant child a fedora. I worry for his future.

-A woman’s total was $100.00, not a penny more, not a penny less. I could not have cared more. She could not have cared less.

-A woman refused discounts in all forms: Target card, Cartwheel coupon app, paper coupons. She insisted that any form of discount was akin to selling the store her soul. 

-Overheard at the Starbucks: “I don’t want to get AIDS, so I have to be careful how I chew my gum.”

-A woman spent five minutes explaining to me that it is of the utmost importance that I get out and vote, so that I can ensure that card readers are the same at all stores. I had no idea that the stakes of the upcoming election were so grave, but now I will surely be getting to the polls.

-The HR head entered the store as I was working at the counter. She pointed to me and loudly whispered, “I have something for you.” This was ominous and concerning. She later brought me an entire roll of Christmas-themed Target stickers, telling me that she knows how important stickers are to me and my people. This made my day and I am now thrilled to begin handing out Christmas stickers during Halloween. 

[drkmgs]

Shapeshifters

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warning: mentioned of death, poisoned

Story type: multiple chapters

next chapter

Shapeshifters — were hunted down by people who were envious of their power. They made up stories and marked shapeshifters as criminals. Thousands of shapeshifters are getting killed day by day. Until it's only Hundreds of them left in hiding.

Your parents were one of them, even though they're educators, who had a better chance of hiding their powers, but they were more concerned about your upcoming powers, having them at an early age in this era was dangerous. People started getting suspicious and children your age started to cast you out.

At the age of 5, you have mastered your powers and that's when your parents decided to send you to Nevermore Academy. You were exploring the school premises when you overheard your parents and the newly appointed principal of the Academy.

Your mom: Larissa. Please. You have to take care of Y/N. The Hunters are after us as soon as we left the country. It would be dangerous if Y/N tagged along with us.

Your dad: and as an educator to an educator, Y/N has potential. They already managed to master their power. They're highly aware of what is happening. They won't cause any trouble.

Larissa: You don't have to worry. I will take Y/N under my wing. I promise.

You respected your parent's and Larissa Weems's decisions. As years went by you grew closer to Larissa Weems, so close that she's already a second mother to you and on your 14th birthday, you received devastating news. The hunters got to your parents. You cried your eyes out in the arm of your mother.

Ever since your parents died, you weren't the same and Weems noticed. So she sent you on a quest. Find and Explore. Find your purpose in life and explore the world. At the age of 18, you've completed your quest. You have published 4 books about your journey, about your parents, about shapeshifters and their truth, and most of all about Nevermore Academy.

———

As you arrived at the Nevermore Academy, you got a very odd feeling, something is wrong. You flew over to Ophelia Hall, where your old room was. You swiftly landed on the balcony, changing your form from a raven to a human with your Nevermore uniform. You soon realized you landed on the wrong balcony.

Larissa: What a pleasing surprise, Y/N.

Y/N: It's nice to see you, mother.

You smiled at her. Larissa got in front of everybody standing in the room to hug you. Of course, you hugged her back. You notice the unfamiliar faces and turned your attention to them.

Y/N: I am very sorry for interrupting. I'm Y/N Weems.

Morticia: It's alright, child. I'm Morticia Addams. This is my husband Gomez Addams and our daughter Wednesday Addams. She'll be attending Nevermore starting today.

Larissa: This is Enid Sinclair, Wednesday's roommate. Miss Sinclair, would you be so kind to take them to the registrar's office to pick up Wednesday's new uniform and their schedules and also give them a little tour?

She turned to the blonde girl standing beside you and then she looked at you putting a hand on your shoulder.

Larissa: I'll see you later, Y/N. We'll talk about your journey.

With that Wednesday's parents and Principal Weems left the room.

:I'm Enid Sinclair! That is Wednesday Addams. She just transferred here. By the way, I'm a big fan of your books!

She turned to you as soon as the door slammed shut.

Y/N: Nice to meet you, Enid, and thank you for reading my books.

Enid: You should have it online, so a lot more people could read it and share it. What's your Instagram account, I'll follow you.

Y/N: I'm sorry but I don't have a phone or social media. I also want my books to be authentic and not influenced by people who assume to know everything because they have a search engine.

Enid: Well, you have a good point. How about you Wednesday?

Wednesday: I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation.

You were quite impressed with her comment. Something about her sparked your interest. She wasn't like any other people you meet. She was out of the ordinary. Enid showed both of you the school and the quad. Where she introduced each Outcast sitting in the quad right now.

Whenever you had the chance you'd steal a glance at Wednesday, but as soon as you laid eyes on her you would curse yourself for being a creep. This never happened to you. You weren't interested in relationships. Sure you have met people along the way but they weren't interesting as the pigtailed girl standing beside you.

When Enid slipped into a conversation with her crush. Well, it was obvious to you that she has a crush on this gorgon guy Ajax, who she just introduced. You took the chance to talk to Wednesday.

Y/N: So, Addams. Why did you transfer here?

Wednesday: I dropped piranhas in a swimming pool, where my brother's bullies were training. My parents managed to get me in here, so I wouldn't have any criminal charges.

Y/N: Huh. How's your brother's bully?

Wednesday: Lost his genitals.

Y/N: Great. No more asshole kids from him then. One way to save the human race. Would you like to flee this gruesome scene?

You nod to Enid and Ajax's way, who were still invested in their conversation. Wednesday nods and you showed her the way out.

[soulgazingwithbucky]

protect, ch. 1 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You've spent your whole life protecting your younger brother, until an invitation from Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes turns everything on its head.

Warnings: mentions of parent death, swearing, mentions of food, mentions of blood

Word count: 5k

A/N: this is another short series y'all, probably only gonna be two or three parts! also realized this could also work as a mom!reader fic too...if anyone would be interested i would be more than happy to post a different version. divider credits to @lesbiacebian!!!

Masterlist: {one} | {two} | {three}

You used to find it difficult to grasp that you were the painfully mortal older sister of an enhanced individual.

Even when your mother stomped off school grounds with you two in tow, having received word that your five-year-old brother displayed an impossible amount of strength against an older bully.

Even when your tween brother returned early from his first hunting trip, his best friend’s dad barely able to sputter praise at his near-professional level of expertise.

Even when he was accused of sneaking into the teacher’s lounge to get test answers, only to find out he had overheard the answer key…from three rooms over.

For better or for worse, it finally clicked when your nineteen-year-old brother proudly arrived home, one hand on his hip, the other shoving a recruitment letter from Captain America and the Winter Soldier in your face.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what this was. Steve Rogers passed his shield to Sam Wilson. Clint Barton was seen running around New York with a young archer. And you can’t forget when you turned on the TV to see the Hulk’s cousin, her emerald skin glowing from the bright camera flashes.

You’d be damned if your brother became some brooding stranger’s ticket to retirement.

But Tomas would be damned if you stopped him from working alongside his heroes. He was absolutely starstruck, having looked up to the captain’s predecessor his whole life. He would consume stories about Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, wondering who would be his right hand man in life.

So, you planned to do what anyone would in your shoes: go up to these buff-ass, tough-as-nails men who've seen war and tell them there was no way they would even get to touch a hair on your brother’s head. After all, it was now your job to keep him safe, lest you be eternally haunted by your mother’s ghost for forsaking her youngest child.

So when Tomas leaves for his daily martial arts practice, you march your ass on over to these alleged “mighty heroes” to give them a piece of your mind.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure I understand what’s going on here.”

Sam Wilson has no choice but to be completely honest with you. He sits across from you, arms across his chest, shifting in his seat. His partner, Bucky Barnes, sits silently beside him. This entire time, the only change in his expression has been the slight squint of his eyes as he assesses you.

“I said no.” You cross your arms over your own chest, tilting your head and raising your eyebrows.

You say it with so much confidence that the captain almost hesitates to continue questioning you. But he presses on, anyway, asking, “To…?”

“You both seem perfectly capable of fighting evil on your own,” you say, making a show of raking your eyes over the both of them. You tap your fingers along your bicep, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. “Not sure why you need children to do your dirty work for you.”

Bucky has already decided that you irritate him. His patience is running thin, and your grating voice and superior attitude are only serving to make it worse. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out at this point, but the older hero chides, “Sorry–who are you?”

Though his display of hostility is less outright than yours, you still easily pick up on the insulting tone and judging stare. You give him your name, inflecting as much scorn into your voice as possible. They recognize Tomas’s shared surname right away, and you don’t miss the knowing glance they exchange.

“Listen, I understand your concern–,” Sam begins, but you quickly raise a hand to stop him. His eyebrows furrow at your abrupt response.

“Don’t get too excited to lecture me, Captain,” you inform him with a scowl. “I’m not one of those senators you have to bend over backwards for.”

Bucky grits his teeth, reading your ploy to get under their skin like a book. Sam Wilson’s first notable moment as Captain America was him standing up to politicians. Who bends over for whom, again?

The hero formerly known as Falcon has had his fair share of difficult conversations. In fact, he’s impressed at your stubborn determination, but he knows better than to tell you that. But he can feel his partner seething beside him, and Sam speaks up before Bucky gets a chance.

“He won’t be out on assignments with us for a long, long time. We’re just hoping to give him guidance, given his abilities,” Sam continues his attempt to explain their perspective.

You scoff. “He has enough guidance, thank you.”

It’s true. You pushed your grief aside to keep your brother’s life stable. You dropped out of university to work full-time, determined to continue your mother’s goal of cultivating his skills. Martial arts training, gymnastics teams, and language tutors were not cheap. Even if you didn’t fully agree with your mom’s vision of developing Tomas’s talents, you’d be damned if you let all of her efforts go to waste. In your own way, it was the only way your grief could manifest: continuing your mom’s version of parenthood, even if all you wanted to do was hide him away from the horrors of the world.

“Guidance from the right people, though?” Bucky says. You’re ready to snap at the perceived jab at your guardianship, but Sam’s hesitant expression makes you think Bucky’s question has a different motive.

Your smart-mouthed reply melts away, replaced with, “What does that mean?”

“Bucky–”

“No, you know what, she should know, Sam.”

“Know what?” you demand.

The heroes hear the vitriol, but they don’t see it. Your arms have dropped and you’re now leaned forward, eyebrows raising rather than scowling. Sam’s eyes flit between the both of you, trying to make the most informed decision in the next five seconds. Finally, he sighs with the slightest shake of his head.

“Trust us, we had no plans to bring Tomas into any of this,” Sam begins carefully, evenly. “But we received word that he was on a lot of radars.”

“Radars,” you huff. You’re not sure what’s worse: that you don’t know what he’s talking about, or that you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Your brother’s skill set is valuable,” Sam continues. He leans forward, resting his clasped hands on the table. “In the right hands, he could help a lotta people. And in the wrong hands, he could hurt even more.”

Lips pressed into a hard line, you say, “And which are you?”

Bucky’s response earns an astonished look from both you and his partner.

“Come find out.”

And so you find yourself at a training facility, your posture as stiff as the bench you’re sitting on as Tomas warms up on the punching bag. Beside him, Bucky absentmindedly throws punches at a speed bag, the object swiveling into a blur as its assailant mutters to Sam under his breath.

“Hot in here, no?” Tomas says, cutting off the heroes’ conversation. Sam furrows his eyebrows at the comment, but shakes his head in response.

“Oh right, it’s just the steam coming off my sister’s head,” he says, shooting you a cheeky grin.

You mockingly laugh before Sam tells him they should get started. You watch as the three make their way to the boxing ring, where they take your brother through a series of drills. Tomas is eager as ever to show his skills off to them, landing punches and kicks on Sam’s mitts with a huge smile. 

You stand abruptly when you think Bucky is aiming a punch at Tomas’s face.

“Hey! He’s just a kid!” you shout from the bench.

Tomas throws his hands up in frustration, but turns to show you his clearly unmarked face.

“I’m nineteen,” he tells his newfound coaches.

Bucky sighs at the way Tomas’s chest puffs slightly. “Elbows down, kid.”

Later, Bucky comes over to you–well, more like his duffel bag, which sits discarded on the floor beside you. He rifles through it, pulling out a new pair of hand wraps. He fiddles with the fabric, leaning against the water cooler. The awkward silence is pervasive as you both watch Sam run agility drills with your brother.

“He’s good,” Bucky says.

“I know,” you reply curtly, making a note to tell Tomas to stop hyperextending his elbow.

You both allow the silence to fall once again, amused by the way Sam rubs his temple when Tomas throws yet another unnecessary flip into a fight combination.

“You could be putting a bigger target on his back, doing all this,” you say.

“Could be,” he echoes. “But whoever’s coming for him won’t stop. Better to have backup.”

“Captain America is backup?”

Bucky cracks a smile, watching as Sam breaks and sets off on a lecture on why a back handspring doesn’t make a jab stronger.

“Something like that.”

And so you find yourself sitting next to Tomas, absorbing every one of Sam’s words. In front of you, an entire pile of Tomas’s…recruiters sit in a chaotic pile. Foreign government entities, underground crime organizations, maybe a fucking alien spaceship or something? You try to memorize every name, every detail, but they’re all blurring together. On top of that, you’re in a completely unfamiliar location. The meeting space could barely be considered an office, and you wonder how anyone could feel comfortable in the barren sterility.

When you shake yourself out of your thoughts, you’re surprised to find a glass of water waiting for you. You glance at Tomas, then at Sam, who are completely engrossed in their conversation. You look at Bucky, who meets your eye for a second before quickly turning his attention to Sam.

Swallowing a shaky breath, you bring the cup to your lips.

“So what do we do?” you finally say, eyes laser focused on the ripples in the water, thrumming your nervous fingers along the glass. You’re not even sure what they’ve been talking about. 

“We focus on what we can control,” Sam says firmly. “We can’t make them forget about your brother, or turn their attention to something else.”

Sam turns to your brother, aiming his next words at him.

“We can focus on making sure your mind and body are strong. Stick to our training sessions, and it’d be a good idea to set up some counseling, too. You can do it with me, if you want.”

Tomas scoffs at Sam’s earnest gaze.

“You guys, I’ve been training my whole life. I’ll be fine. Shouldn’t we be hunting them down, anyway? Making sure they can’t hurt other people?”

At this point, your voice should be breaching stadium crowd levels, chiding your younger brother for his foolish determination. Instead, you can’t focus on anything else but the panicked thoughts swimming in your brain. No matter how powerful your brother was, you never relinquished your self-appointed role as his protector. You would practically bark at anyone who even looked at him in the wrong way, even as he grew older, bigger, taller. No one was safe if you felt your kid brother was in danger–not the geometry teacher, not his first boss, and definitely not that sophomore that called him an orphan in front of you.

But how could you stop a powerful crime boss? A cruel dictator? An otherworldly being with abilities beyond your comprehension? They would kill you without a second thought, wiping your blood off of their boots before stepping over your body to get to Tomas. 

“You’re doing it,” you find yourself saying. At this point, you’re gripping the cup tightly with both hands, the tips of your fingers paling from the sheer force you’re exerting.

“What?!” Tomas cries, exasperated you’re not on his side.

“You’re doing it,” you repeat. “Chrissake, Tomas, these are heroes who have saved the world. You’d think they would know a thing or two.”

Tomas huffs at you, crossing his arms defiantly across his chest. It kills you, bringing you back to moments in childhood where he would be told no to a shiny toy, or moments in adolescence where you told him he couldn’t stay out late. How small those moments feel now.

Your brother looks around the table, realizing he’s outnumbered. He mumbles his reluctant agreement as Bucky silently takes the cup from your vice grip. Feeling returns to your fingers, radiating throughout your body as you feel the slightest bit of relief. You’ll accept it, for now–you know it won’t last.

And so you find yourself straightening your back, trying to elongate your posture to match the two men in front of you.

“Absolutely not!” you tell them.

“Sis–,” Tomas begins, and you snap your hand up to quiet him.

“You’re training with Bucky nearly every damn day, and Sam, you’ve got him at your stupid therapy sessions–which you weren’t even in favor of, Tomas, need I remind you–this is so unnecessary–”

You slam your fork onto your plate, appetite gone.

“They’re not stupid,” mutters Sam, glancing at Bucky, who gives him an assuring shake of his head.

“He’s never been on a plane before,” you continue. “He’s barely even left the state–”

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Sam insists. “I’ve never even seen Kamar-Taj before–”

“So what, my brother should feel so lucky?”

“I kinda do,” Tomas pipes up.

“Shut it,” you and Bucky pipe up. You shoot him a glare, and Bucky uses your theatrics as an opportunity to get a word in.

“He needs this,” he insists.

“And you know what’s best for him?” you spit, slamming your palms on the table and standing up.

“Apparently,” Bucky shoots back, lifting himself out of his seat. All your prior glowers have merely been practice for the look you give Bucky now. He seems completely unphased, meeting your eyes with an unnervingly calm stare. You’re ready to give him a piece of your mind, index finger pointed accusingly in his direction, but Tomas cuts in.

“I’m going,” he says. You laugh in disbelief, but he repeats himself in a tone you’ve never heard from him before.

“I’m going, sis,” he repeats sharply.

“And you don’t get to speak for me,” he continues, rising abruptly. “None of you do. None of you are my parents.

“And you never will be.”

Tomas’s final sentence hangs in the air. His face falters for a brief second, but he quickly regains his composure, stiffening up before stomping off to his room. You and the two heroes seem frozen until the door slams. Sam recovers first, shaking his head and glancing at the both of you with his eyebrows raised in sympathy, before heading in Tomas’s direction.

You and Bucky let the silence continue. It feels like the echo of Tomas’s slammed door is still bouncing within the walls of your mind. You step away from Bucky, turning your back to him.

“Hey–”

You flinch, though Bucky’s voice is barely a whisper. He reels at your fearful response.

“No. No,” you say, almost automatically, though you’re not sure exactly what you’re saying no to. Your hand is gripping the back of the couch, and Bucky thinks you’re about to inadvertently break off your own fingers. He wants to reach forward, peel your hand off, and shake some sense into you. Instead, he does the opposite, creating more distance between you and sinking back into the dining room chair.

“I was always in there,” he starts. He keeps his voice low. It sounds like gravel in your ears.

“I remember everything. I tried to stop. Every day for ninety years. I begged my body to listen, but it was like I was in the backseat. You know, even if your possessions burn up, even if the clothes off your back melt away, even if everyone you love leaves, you’ll always have you. But I didn’t even have me. It took nearly a century and almost killing my best friend to come back.”

He looks up at you, eyes searing with pain. 

“I look in the mirror, and I gotta be honest, sometimes I don’t know who it is staring back. So who was it that came back? And at what cost?”

He rips his gaze away from you, burning holes into his metal arm.

“I couldn’t stop my body. Because I didn’t have my mind.”

“Bucky–”

"Let him go to Kamar-Taj. Don’t take away that chance from him. The world doesn’t need another…me.”

You take a deep breath.

When Sam eventually coaxes Tomas out of his room, he’s surprised to hear lighthearted quips. Tomas looks sheepish, trying to shrink himself behind Sam.

You’re speaking to Bucky: “So I’m guessing this elusive Camatidge–”

“Kamar-Taj,” Bucky interrupts.

“–Kamar-Taj doesn’t have wifi? You can only communicate with some sort of spell?”

The relic looks to Sam, hoping to tap him in for the modern technology question.

“I actually hear their wifi is crazy fast,” Sam chuckles.

While Bucky and Sam step out to call Dr. Strange and confirm their attendance, you focus on tidying up the kitchen. Tomas joins you, rinsing grime off of the dishes so you can load them into the dishwasher.

“Mom will never be you,” he finally says. “In the same way that you’ll never be her. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He chuckles as he watches the water run down a plate. “You’re both insufferable in your own special ways.”

You shake your head, meeting his mirth with a laugh of your own.

“It’s true–imagine if I got mad at you for leaving the house without ironing your shirt,” you chuckle.

“Or imagine if Mom yelled at my lit teacher because I got a B instead of a B+,” he retorts.

“It’s not your fault he had a personal vendetta against the Oxford comma,” you say. “...She would be proud of us, wouldn’t she?”

He passes you a mug. He knows you better than he knows anyone, which means he fully understands that your choice to continue his training was for Mom, not for him or you. He sees the way you wince when his capoiera opponent lands a strike, how you’re instantly on your feet when he doesn’t land quite right off of the parallel bars. He’s grateful, knowing the alternative would be doing nothing at all, but he wonders how much you allow your mom’s perceived influence to affect your decisions.

“I think she would want us to be proud of ourselves, sis. That’s all she ever wanted.”

You stop to stare at your brother. Though the bar’s low, that is the wisest thing he has ever said. You take him in, his tall figure, his lean muscles, the nose that was always a dead giveaway that you two were related. For once, you don’t see the little kid in overalls with melted popsicle on his shirt. You don’t see a scraggly teen looking at you in disbelief as you hunch over a “How To Shave 101” YouTube video together. You see a powerful, strong man who has more ambition in his pinky finger than most people have in their whole bodies, who wants nothing more than to make the world a better place.

You and Tomas snap your heads towards the door, watching Captain America and the Winter Soldier re-enter your home.

“We’re all set,” Sam confirms. “Pack your bags, kid.”

You can feel Tomas’s excitement radiating beside you. He looks ready to take off before he realizes he has a sponge and bowl in his hands. You nod at him and he drops the items in the sink, running to his room and inadvertently splashing you with soapy water on the way.

Bucky takes his place, rinsing off the dish before handing it to you. Sam follows Tomas once more, realizing your brother probably doesn’t even know what to pack.

“You were wrong,” you say as he hands you the final piece of cutlery.

“Here we go,” he muses as he rinses off the sponge, completely unaware that your next words would take his breath away.

“The world could use a lot more of you.”

And so you find yourself biting the edge of your thumb, trying your best to focus on the book you had selected from your shelf without much thought. It was an ill attempt to escape from the reality that your brother was in a foreign country, in the hands of two people you had just met a couple of months prior.

“Stupid retreat,” you muttered, flipping the page as though you had any idea what you just read.

You pick up your phone for the umpteenth time in the past twenty-four hours Tomas has been gone. It’s like you’re stuck in time, picking up your phone with the same hope of a notification, then feeling bitter disappointment when it’s only your bare lock screen. A few minutes of fruitless distraction later, and you lift your phone again, restarting the cycle.

The stupid novel is doing a terrible job at distracting you, so you think of Sam and Bucky’s advice. They’ve said it an infinite amount of times at this point, but it can’t seem to get through your thick skull.

Tomas is an adult, not a child. You can’t keep him sheltered, protected for the rest of his life. You can’t keep him from all the evils of the world, even if he was just a normal kid. The best way to protect him is to equip him with those tools and skills instead of expecting him to rely on you.

It’s great advice. Wise words, definitely. Just a lot easier in theory than in execution.

“Fuck!” you hiss, your nervous nibbling finally drawing blood. You quickly rush to clean and dress your thumb in the bathroom. You freeze. Is that–?

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

You run like you’re in the Olympics, damn near throwing yourself over the back of the couch to grab your device before the call goes to voicemail.

“Tomas! How is it? Did you get there okay?”

“It’s…Bucky,” he says. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Bucky,” you say, massaging your temples. “No, no, thanks for calling. How was the trip?”

“Great. Couldn’t have gone smoother. I tried to wrangle the kid to make this call, but he’s stupefied by the people making sparkles with their fingers.”

You find yourself laughing. “No, okay, that’s good. I’m glad he’s having fun.” You press your lips together, wondering if you believe yourself. “But if my brother comes back through a portal, Barnes, I’m coming to you first.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles. You express your gratitude at his call and give your salutations.

Though you’re met with silence once again, it doesn’t hang as heavy.

And so you find yourself staring at the door. You sure as hell weren’t expecting company. With all the magic and supernatural in the world, maybe someone psychically divined that you really wanted a bowl of soup delivered to your doorstep. The past few days without Tomas have left you sleepless, and reprieve in the form of a comfort meal would be all too perfect.

Gingerly, you approach the door. Despite your hopes, you also acknowledge that the presence on the other side of your door could be dangerous. Fortunately, the brand new Stark security system can tell you who awaits beyond the wooden frame.

From the camera, Bucky adjusts the backpack clinging to his shoulder, waving a gloved hand at your camera. He’s back a few days early…without Sam or Tomas.

You fling the door open, and Bucky raises a hand to quell you before you’ve even started. You’ve never been on the receiving end of that before.

“He’s okay. I had to come back early to handle something.”

You stare at his muscular frame in your doorway. “Is that something me?” you question with a tilt of your head.

He furrows his eyebrows at your statement, then realizes the implication of his words.

“Oh, no–,” he begins, then pauses. “Just a quick check-in. Figured you were probably anxious and, I don’t know, rearranging the furniture for the seventh time.” He peeks over your shoulder jokingly, but you move to block him. His attempt at a jab was actually the truth, and you didn’t need him to know the dining table made a new home along the opposite wall.

You scratch your neck. “Even if it’s your mug I have to see,” you tell him, “I could use the company.” You step aside, beckoning him in.

He hesitates, and your eyes widen. He was expecting to make sure you were okay before retreating to his home across town.

You stammer, “Oh–sorry–you probably have places–”

“No–”

“–hero stuff–”

“I was just–”

“–shouldn’t have assumed–”

“Move,” he damn near barks. “Mug’s here to stay.”

You sit in silence for most of the night, save for your questions about Tomas, sitting on opposite ends of the couch and watching a silly slapstick comedy film. Though you can count on one hand how many words you speak to each other, you can’t deny the feeling of relief that washes over you.

In the morning, you wake up to sunlight filtering in from your living room window. You’re wrapped in a throw blanket, and you can feel the impressions your couch has left on your face. You’re groggy, and kind of confused.

But damn if that wasn’t the best sleep you’ve gotten all week.

As you pick up your phone to type out a mesasge, you wonder if it would be so bad to see if he could join you again.

Heyyy

Stop. Erase that now.

Free tonight?

What are you, a frat boy? Be serious.

I really appreciated you stopping by last night. I was wondering–

Is that bile rising in your throat? You would rather be the frat boy. You stare at the blinking cursor before opting to press the telephone icon in the corner instead.

“Hey,” you greet.

“Hi.”

“I, um–”

“I was actually in the area. You hungry?”

Your teeth find your bottom lip.

“Starved.”

You and Bucky are hunched over the dining room table, picking at the array of food he has brought over. You’re not sure if he’s aware that he bought so much food that you can barely see the color of your dining table, but you don’t mind. You hum as you bring the cup of chicken noodle soup to your lips.

Eventually, you’re stuffed, and Bucky huffs in amusement.

“What?” you say, leaning back in the chair.

“You both do the same thing,” he comments, drawing a circle over his own face with his finger. “When you’re full.”

Your eyebrows flick upward in amusement before you absentmindedly start replacing the lids on the takeout containers. He tries to help, but you smack his hand away. Bucky scoffs, but relents, leaning back with his arms comfortably resting across his torso.

“So he’s doing okay?” you say.

This is probably the third time you’ve asked, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind.

“More than okay,” he says. “Fantastic.”

“That’s good. You all haven’t suffocated him like I have.”

He lets out a long exhale.

“You’re just trying to protect him.”

Your nervous fingers trace the edge of the table, having lidded every container on the table.

“So you don’t disagree.”

There it is. That squint again, like he’s coming to conclusions about you that will forever be a mystery.

“I hope…,” he starts off slowly, “wherever my sister is…she has someone like you. The big sibling I couldn’t be.”

Your eyes widen at the confession.

“Dining table looks awful over here, by the way.”

And so Bucky has made your couch a temporary home for a few days, at your timid request. He has no issue honoring it, more than happy to keep you company. He's through ruining people's lives, but he realizes his and Sam's presence has only seemed to make things more difficult for you. He has been anxious knowing you were anxious, and staying over helps him just as much as it helps you. Though it does cause concern for your little brother, who is surprised to throw the door open and see Bucky stationed at the stove.

If Sam feels the same shock, he is much better at hiding it. He simply throws his bag at his feet as he settles on the couch with a plop, complaining, “Kid fell asleep on me for both flights.”

“Both?” Bucky humors him, shuffling a spatula underneath an egg.

“That’s, like, twenty hours each, man. Couldn’t even watch Cars in peace.”

“Your shoulder is surprisingly comfy.” Tomas can’t miss a chance to get a quip in, though he’s busy scanning the apartment you share. He approaches the couch, grabbing the throw blanket that he’s sure used to be buried in the back of the linen closet. Sam glares at him, feeling the tug underneath his bum. “You’d think with all those lateral raises you do…”

“I’m glad you think so,” Sam says wryly.

Come to think of it, isn’t that the pillow from your room that’s now under Sam’s elbow? Tomas reaches for it–is that a strand of Bucky’s hair that he’s seeing? Sam shoots daggers at the man invading his personal space yet again.

“Tomas, can I help you?” the hero demands, turning around to deliver yet another glower to the younger man.

“Did I hear twenty hours?” you say, stepping out of your room. “Tomas, do we need to make a doctor’s appointment?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve never felt better in my life,” Tomas responds, eyeing Bucky. He looks real cozy, setting four plates of breakfast down on the dining table. “Thanks…Bucky.”

“Yeah, thanks…Bucky,” you echo slowly as Tomas's perplexed eyes turn to you.

Over breakfast, your barrage of questions about Kamar-Taj finally quells the possibilities floating around Tomas's mind. He tells you about Dr. Strange and Wong, the mindfulness training he engaged in, the sorcerer trainings he observed, what his room looked like, how Sam snuck out one night to find pizza, how irksome airport security is, Kamar-Taj’s extensive library, how Bucky wouldn’t help him get the girl in 14C’s number, the protection spell Dr. Strange cast on him…

You let him go on, even when everyone’s plate is clear of food and the feelings of over-satiation subside. When he concludes his recollection with a deep breath of air, you reach over to grab his hand.

“I’m glad you had fun,” you say.

And you mean it.

Masterlist: {one} | {two} | {three}

A/N: next chapter takes a sharp turn ngl lol. excited for you to read it, thanks for reading!!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my brother I won’t be at his birthday?

I (16M) am the oldest brother of three, 9M & 3M. For my birthday this year, I only wanted to have my mum, 33F there as we were going to a place I’ve always wanted to go to that is 15+. Even if I didn’t, I still wouldn’t have wanted my brothers there as I never have. I was an only child for six years and I admit, this makes me crave time with just my mother and I.

My mum has a fiancé, 33M, who has a daughter ?F. For 9M’s 10th birthday, ?F is going to come and they’re going go to the arcade or escape room. Because there won’t be enough seats in the car and because 3M is hard to deal with in public, my mum asked me to stay behind and babysit.

I was okay with this because it was fair since 9M didn’t come to my birthday, and my mum agreed at the time. I must note, I also asked for 33M not to be at my birthday before because we are not close and he was just a boyfriend at the time.

I decided to tell 9M I would not be coming to his birthday because I would be staying behind to watch 3M. He got visibly upset at this and I tried to comfort him by telling him it was fair since he didn’t come to mine. This didn’t help and he curled up into a ball on the couch, looking like he was about to cry.

My mum overheard this and told me off for telling him, insisting that I could now come. I was like ‘okay’ and told 9M such, but I was still unsure about how the whole car situation would go.

This morning, my mum was driving me to school. Something came up in our conversation and she called me negative and brought up what I told 9M. She said I was being mean by saying that she thought it was fair I didn’t come. I pointed out that wasn’t what I said at all and that I said I thought it was fair but she insisted that wasn’t the case because she “overheard”.

She said it was rude of me to have not wanted 9M at my birthday nor her fiancé (then boyfriend) because they just wanted to celebrate me. She is adamant 33M is family but I don’t think that. It’s not that he’s mean, because he’s not, they just haven’t even been together for a year and she used to complain to me about him and I’ve kinda held a grudge even though she’s stopped.

My mum told me it was mean to not want people to celebrate me and asked how I would react if someone told me they didn’t want me celebrating them. I said I wouldn’t care and that it was their birthday, their choice, but she was still mad.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[beanibon]

My turn now! Gimme a story of Eriks with a reader who works as a baker whose shop Eriks frequents as they slowly fall in love >:)

I'll do you one better Ember 💜

~ Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~

Eriks x Baker!Reader - Prequel

Mondays were your slowest days, not even many regulars came in on that cursed day that signalled another week gone by. At least it offered you time to experiment, trying out new flavours, or just simply seeing what new things you could add to the menu.

You were displaying some pastries when the door swung open, a familiar face entered as you greeted Lina, back turned before you could see the company she had.

Lina was certainly a rowdy customer, but the kid had heart. Normally she came by to buy this week's bread, or to occasionally treat herself to a sweet or two.

"What can I do for you today, Lina? Who's your friend?"

As you turned back towards the young girl, startling at the sight of the tall blonde standing behind her, bent like child trying to hide behind their mother. It was certainly something you weren't expecting, and you didn't have a clue who this man was.

"Apologies {name}, this is Eriks, he's new around here," Lina introduced her new friend, gesturing to the man known as Eriks, who gave you a shy wave. "Granny and I are looking after him, do you think we could pick up some extra bread?"

You quirked a brow up at the man, who despite his hunched over form, still towered of Lina. His gaze drifted between you and the assorted box of donuts that you sold, acting childish as he leant over to whisper something in his companions ear.

"Also throw in a box of donuts, please." Lina grumbled, side eyeing Eriks.

"Of course, just be lucky you pick up on Mondays, otherwise I wouldn't have any extra loafs around this time." You huffed, disappearing into the back as Lina shouted a "thank you!".

Once you started packing Lina's bread order, you overheard Eriks speak, eavesdropping as you selected the extra loafs of bread.

"She seems a little scary."

"Ms {name} is always harsh towards strangers, she much prefers the quiet of her regulars. Don't worry, once you come around more often she'll warm up to you." You didn't appreciated them clearly speaking behind your back, but at least it wasn't anything overly negative. That you could let slide.

"Along with the extra loafs and box of donuts, that brings your total today to $25.95." Placing the box of bread down, you turned to grab a box of your signature donuts before getting stopped.

"If you wouldn't mind, can I get that box actually?" Eriks pointed to another box, shyly laughing as you gave him an unreadable stare before ignoring his question.

"You'll get what you're given."

"So cold." Came the wounded tone of the blonde, who now had tears streaming down his stubble covered face.

"The hell's his problem?" You asked as Lina paid for the items.

"He's weirdly sensitive, would you mind grabbing that other box? I'd rather not deal with his whinging."

You wanted to deny her request, just like you'd done with Eriks, but one look at that pathetic excuse of a man, something had you swapping those boxes. That's when you officially met Eriks, leaning back when this sunshine man beamed a blinding smile your way, thanking you profusely for just simply switching a box of donuts for another.

He was odd, not to mention completely weird. But if Lina trusted him, you suppose you could too.

A couple of weeks passed since meeting Eriks, and he'd now become a frequent regular of yours. He mostly came for the donuts and some calming tea, sitting at a spot you associated as his now. Occasionally his order would change, and Eriks wasn't the type to shy away from trying your experimental pastries. He was always polite, but terrible at lying, so you'd catch on if he liked something or not.

Over all you didn't mind the guy, finding his company enjoyable when he wasn't being a complete moron. Hell, the guy made you laugh a few times.

"Morning {name}! How's everything this fine afternoon?" Eriks greeted excitedly, cheeks flushed when you turned to greet him, pushing a plate his way. "What's this?"

"Creme Broulee donut." Came your simple response, boiling the kettle to make him his tea.

"Oh! Experimenting again, are we?" He quipped, happily taking the delectable pastry, admiring the sugary coating that hardened on top like glass.

"Creme Broulee is my favourite dessert, plus you like donuts, so I thought combining the two would be a good idea." You shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, but the sound of sniffling had you groan.

Eriks was all teary faced, dramatically sobbing as he held the donut. "That's the most sweetest thing someone has ever done for me, you're too kind {name}."

As much as you wanted to deny that it wasn't for him, you simply couldn't. That annoying voice reprimanding you for trying to push Eriks away, when in reality you gained a soft spot for him in that walled up heart.

Eriks excitedly took a bite of your donut, whimpering as more happy tears streamed down his cheeks. Guess that was a yes on that experiment.

"You haven't ascended to heaven yet, moron." You laughed, sliding the tea over to him.

"I feel like I'm in heaven, are you sure I'm not among angels right now?" He sighed contently, taking another bite.

"Positive, they refused the hit I placed on you." Eriks whined, leaning over the counter pouting.

"So mean, what happened to that sweet girl from before? I gotta say I much prefer her, she doesn't bully me." Your eyes rolled at his antics, scoffing in mock offence.

"Just shut up already, I already tolerate you enough with the trouble you get into," Again Eriks whined, making it clear he found this bullying unfair on his part. "But it's not to say I don't enjoy your company."

Eriks gave you a bright smile, this time you could sense the genuineness behind it, unlike his usual polite smiles that held no emotion. It was refreshing to see, and you couldn't help but give one back, cheeks dusted with a light pink.

"You're rather beautiful when you smile."

"Wha- huh!?"

"I said-"

"I heard you the first time, where the hell did that come from?" You spluttered, flustered by the sudden tenderness his voice held.

All Eriks gave was a small chuckle, leaning forward to place a kiss against your forehead. The small action had you red faced, mouth agape in surprise.

At first the blonde thought he'd done something wrong, maybe took it too far, but those thoughts were all swept away the moment you grabbed his shirt, pulling him into a heated kiss.

Both Eriks and you moaned into the kiss, using the counter between you two to balance as the kiss deepened. The moment you pulled away, panting heavily, Eriks was already moving to come around the counter.

"Can I do something? I've wanted to do this for a while now, but I was scared you'd chase me out with a rolling pin." He sheepishly rubbed his neck, staring at you expectedly.

"Depends, might still do."

Another smile full one genuineness, Eriks now lowered onto his knees, hands rubbing the back of your thighs.

"I think you'll like this."

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

link to the masterlist is here

02. You Were Going to Fall

Days passed and Freddie managed successfully to keep out of Rosie’s way. Really, it wasn’t a problem at all trying to avoid him. Instead, the problem was in trying to avoid talking about him with Millie.

“Fred,” Millie would venture whenever Freddie was distracted with something else. Often, this happened to be when they were all preparing to send a set of crews out on a mission. 

“Yes?” Freddie would answer, fiddling with the frequency of the radio to get it as clear as she could. 

Satisfied that she’d caught Freddie sufficiently unawares, Millie would pretend nonchalance and ask, “Why didn’t you stay to chat with Rosie the other night?”

Mercifully, Millie hadn’t tried to mention it yet today. The crews had all gone out, Rosie’s among them, and Freddie had been certain that when Millie overheard her and realised she was talking to Rosie over the radio that she’d say something. But she hadn’t. Warily, Freddie had started to let her shoulders drop from their requisite position by her ears. 

Rookie mistake. Millie always knew how to lure her into a false sense of security only to catch her off her guard.

“Fred, what do you think of Rosie?” Millie wondered, and Freddie groaned from her position staring at the ceiling while spinning in circles on her chair. 

Sitting up straight, Freddie pushed some sweaty hair off of her forehead - the humidity was killer today - and smoothed over the disarray of her curls. She eyed Millie with both suspicion and curiosity while tugging the sleeves of her blouse back up her arms, hoping some sort of breeze might swoop in at some point and offer a reprieve from the heat to every bit of skin she put on show. If it didn’t cool down soon, she thought she’d have to start undoing buttons, a last resort since her jacket and the jackets of everyone else had long since come off. 

“Why do you want to know?” Freddie asked eventually.

Millie shrugged and made a show of hemming and hawing. “Oh, you know…”

Freddie rolled her eyes. “Just ask him, Mils.”

At this, Millie dropped her act and raised her eyebrows. “What?”

Freddie let out a breathy laugh. “Mils,” she began, with all the patience of a mother doing her best to reassure her child that the dentist really wasn’t that scary, “you’re gorgeous. This isn’t news to you. You’ve already got half the pilots and their crews chasing your skirt. More to the point, you’re smart, you’re kind, you’re funny, and you’re loyal. You’re quite literally any man’s dream. So once he lands and we’re off the clock, go find Rosie and ask him if he’ll save you a dance, or ask him if he’ll take you out some time - or, if you’re that worried about it, ask him if he’ll buy you a drink. I can assure you the only answer to come out of his mouth will be ‘yes’.”

Millie didn’t speak for a few moments. Her eyes were fixed steadfast on Freddie, her eyebrows furrowed, her hands still in her lap.

Freddie stared back at her for a moment, waiting for a response, before she decided she wasn’t going to get one. She offered Millie an encouraging smile and leaned back in her chair again, tilting her head back until she was gazing at the ceiling and then using her feet to twirl herself around and around and around.

The ceiling above Freddie was painted a faded white and dented. And, somehow, dirty. It looked as though it was tea stained, though it couldn’t have been, because how would tea have gotten on the ceiling? The dark marks and tea staining blurred together as Freddie spun herself faster and faster in her chair, seeing how fast she could go, until a hand slammed down harshly on the backrest and jammed her to an abrupt halt. Only then did Freddie notice that two of the four prongs holding the chair to the ground had come off of it.

“You were going to fall,” Millie explained, firmly tipping the chair back down before retaking her seat across from Freddie.

“Yes,” Freddie acknowledged. Though she wasn’t sure why Millie wasn’t laughing about it. Paddy and Amy, from the other end of the room, certainly were - calling over teasing insults about clumsiness and needing to rest.

Millie ignored them. She stared back at Freddie steadily for a moment, and then she started, strangely and inexplicably, to smile. “You think I fancy Rosie,” she said.

Now it was Freddie’s eyebrows which furrowed. “You do fancy Rosie,” she replied.

Millie laughed a little bit. “Well, I won’t argue that he’s handsome. But I’m not interested in him for me, Fred, I’m interested in him for you.”

Freddie frowned. She didn’t know what to say. Instead, she turned her eyes out of the window and watched the grass swaying in the gentle breeze which was the only reprieve from the stifling heat. How desperately she longed to be outside right now. Lying in the itchy grass, the sun warm and calming on her skin, bright even behind closed eyelids, while the breeze cooled the sweat on the rest of her. She’d fold her jacket up behind her head and take her shoes off, scrunch up the grass between her toes, and lie there until evening came and it was time for dinner.

“Fred,” Millie prompted when she hadn’t replied.

“Yes?”

“What do you think of Rosie?” she pressed, repeating the question which had started this whole conversation. Indeed, which had started this enduring conversation which had spanned the entirety of the four days since the night Freddie had first become aware of Rosie’s existence.

Freddie chewed contemplatively on her bottom lip, still gazing out of the window. She tracked fluffy white clouds across the blue expanse of the sky while she whittled away at the stubborn block of her thoughts, chipping at what she knew were half-hearted lies until she reached the truth waiting beneath the surface. 

It took a lot for Freddie not to lie just then. But she didn’t want to lie to Millie, not really. Millie, after all, had never lied to her.

“I think,” Freddie began, mustering her courage, “that Rosie is lovely. I just also think that he’s not Daniel.”

Millie didn’t say anything for a moment. But she rolled her chair across the floor until she was sitting at Freddie’s desk with her and rested her head on Freddie’s shoulder. “Does he have to be?” she wondered quietly.

“No,” Freddie conceded, resting her own head on Millie’s. “No one will ever be Daniel again, not even Daniel. But I am not a single woman -”

“Yes, you are, Freddie,” Millie cut her off. Her voice was firm but not harsh, the voice of a friend who wanted nothing but the best for her. “It’s rotten, what happened to Daniel. Really, really rotten. But you still have a life to live.”

Freddie stared resolutely at the grass, at the peace outside of the window. She willed her voice not to wobble when she spoke. “I had my chance at love -”

“You’re twenty-three years old!” Millie exclaimed. She realised a beat too late how loud she’d projected her voice and made a desperate attempt to divert everyone’s attention back to their own conversations. Once assured they weren’t being eavesdropped, Mille went on, quieter, “You’re a young woman with your life all ahead of you, Freddie. You have love left in you, I know you do - I see it every time you take one of the new girls under your wing, every time you stick up for me or Jem when one of the lads is getting too forward again. And I saw it in your eyes when you were with Rosie.”

“Rosie is a good man,” Freddie said softly. She turned her face and pressed a kiss to the top of Millie’s head, in spite of the sweat sparkling on the gold of her curls. “You deserve a man like that, who’ll look at you like you make the sun shine and hang on to every word you say, even when they’re dreadfully boring.”

“Rosie was looking at you like that,” Millie pointed out. 

“Daniel used to look at me like that,” Freddie countered.

“I’m sure he did,” Millie reassured her. “I’m sure he thought you were the most wonderful person who ever set foot on the earth, because he would have been stupid not to think so. But I’m also sure that there are other people out there who could use a heart like yours to give their love to. You have so much of it to give, Fred. You care about people so deeply. But don’t let the people you cared about and lost stop you from finding new people to adore.”

Freddie let out a choked little laugh. “I’ve spoken to Rosie once.”

“It doesn’t have to be Rosie,” Millie reasoned with a quiet laugh of her own. “You just have to be open to it. If someone asks you to dance and you think he’s handsome - and, of course, if you think he deserves it - then say yes. Just try it. One dance doesn’t mean you’re getting married.”

“I haven’t danced with a man since Daniel.”

“Maybe you should,” Millie told her gently. “This war has been so long already. How much longer will it be - how much longer will the rest of your life be - without dancing?”

Freddie contemplated these words for much of the following hours. She contemplated them when the first signs of life started to pick up on the radio and she was in contact first with the radio operators and then the pilots of the various crews. She contemplated them once everyone was safely landed and the other girls were discussing going to the officers’ club to celebrate, and continued to contemplate them as she let Jem do her hair while she focused on her makeup.

The officers’ club was quiet when they got there. Only the American Red Cross girls were here so far. The men, probably, had only recently gotten out of interrogation and were resting before forcing themselves into dress uniforms just so they could have a drink.

There would be no band playing tonight - not on a Thursday, and not right after a mission. Considering the band was composed of the crews, it would be cruel to force them into it. So, while it was quiet and the gramophone volume wasn’t dialled all the way up for dancers, Freddie excused herself and crossed the room to take her place at the piano.

It wasn’t all that often that she played these days. She hadn’t learnt anything new since leaving home. But, once, she’d loved to play the piano more than she’d loved to dance, which was saying something, because once upon a time she’d really loved to dance. Now, it was a rare occasion, when she was feeling brave or feeling distracted and needed something to channel her energy into, that she even let herself get close. 

But tonight - tonight Freddie wasn’t sure whether it was brave or distracted she was feeling. Perhaps a mixture of both. Millie’s pleas from earlier were still poking around in the depths of her mind, irritating her with their insistence, but the night was breezy, the stars were bright, and Millie had been right to remind her that she was young. She would never be this young again. She had a whole life ahead of her, one that she’d hardly been living for a year and a half, and what would Daniel have given to have had all that time to waste?

Well, he wouldn’t have wasted it, this much she knew to be true. If nothing else, her Daniel lived life like he was daring someone to take it from him. It was just a shame that someone had. More than a shame. A tragedy. The earth had lost one of its brightest sparks when it had lost Daniel Brookings, but the stars had gained one of theirs.

The music flowed freely from beneath Freddie’s fingertips. The song she’d chosen without really thinking about it - Ave Verum Corpus by Mozart and Liszt - was one of the first she’d properly been able to play as a child when she’d still been learning. She’d liked it back then because it felt bright and twinkly, like snowflakes and fairies and princesses being twirled around grand ballrooms. Now, it felt lonely; isolated notes plucked one after another reminded her more of a biting cold than a pretty one, the startling realisation that the magic of childhood was over, a cavernous, empty room that should have been filled with couples dancing but instead was filled with silence.

When she finished she released her breath. At some point she’d sucked it in and held it there. Her fingers hovered over the keys for one beat, two, and then a voice from over by the bar called, “Again!” 

Freddie’s eyes shot up and she laughed when she found Benny grinning at her, the source of the heckling.

“Something a little happier this time, though, Fred, alright?” added Bucky with a conspiratorial wink in her direction. 

Freddie inclined her head at him in acceptance of this request and started to play something lighter, faster, more optimistic. Her fingers had to work hard - it had been a while since she’d given them such a workout - but the pleased cheer she was rewarded with made it worth it. 

From across the room, Rosie sat, mesmerised, as Freddie played her song. Her eyebrows were furrowed ever so slightly in concentration, her eyes shut as she let her hands tell her where the music needed to go, and there was a light flush high in her cheeks which his eyes kept getting stuck on. There was something about her in that moment, he thought, which was pure magic. She’d been lovely the night he’d first met her, when she’d been flushing at all the attention and frowning at her friends just as much as she’d been smiling at them, with those dimples in her cheeks and the warmth in her eyes. But now she was breathtaking, so lost in her beautiful music she couldn’t find the time to filter her facial expressions before she let them show.

“You should talk to her,” said someone seated behind him. Rosie only had to turn halfway to meet Millie’s eyes, since he’d been sitting sideways in his chair, faced away from his table and the crew seated at it so Freddie would be in his direct line of sight over at the piano.

“She, uh, didn’t seem all that willing to talk to me the other night,” Rosie confessed to Millie, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Millie nodded, smiling softly. “She’ll tell you why someday, I think. But tonight, don’t ask her about that. Ask her to dance.”

Rosie considered this for a moment, along with the advice Millie had given him those few nights ago when he’d first laid his eyes on Freddie. “You just need to be patient with our Fred.” He may have had his flaws, but patience wasn’t one of them. And watching Freddie now, with her eyes closed and her lips pursed, presumably humming along to the tune she was playing, he thought if anyone was worth waiting for it must have been her. 

Turning to Millie, Rosie opened his mouth to tell her that he was going to go and ask but was cut off by Millie in her enthusiasm. “Ask her!” she insisted, tugging on his sleeve. 

“Alright!” Rosie replied, mimicking her tone and grinning. He tugged his sleeve out of her grip pointedly before finishing his beer in one big gulp - liquid courage - and rising to his feet. “Gentlemen,” he said to his crew, inclining his head at them.

Pappy smiled around a sip of his beer and raised his hand in a salute.

Rosie laughed and rolled his eyes before starting across the empty dance floor towards Freddie.