mentioned: hermione granger . narcissa black . lucius malfoy . briefly .
the dimly-lit lamp is the only source of light that fills the nursery . hues of green and red cover the walls , large murals filling the corners of the room . the wooden crib , carved with intricate details , sits empty . the matching rocking chair , creaks against the hardwood flooring , echoing against the walls .
his silver hair is ruffled , out of place from it’s usual styling . draco’s reading glasses rest on the bridge of his nose , his eyes darting to the clock . it’s a little before 3am , the sky outside completely shadowed in darkness . it’s peaceful . beautifully peaceful .
hermione resting in bed , draco had refused to let her stir this early . they had been released only the morning before , and in draco’s eyes , she had gone above and beyond , as hermione granger always did . having showed strength that the silver- haired man could only dream to muster . he was in awe of her — as draco always was .
his shirt is unbuttoned , revealing his bare chest which rose and fell with a calmed nature . against it , rests the cheek of a tiny baby . his hand holds the warm bottle , the contents scarce now . a clean fresh diaper worn and a yawn that seemed to move her whole body . her doting father looks over her , a protective hand keeping her stable .
it’s silent in the room . even the birds occupying the trees outside barely make a hum , and draco allows himself this peace .
a peace he didn’t deserve . or perhaps , he believed he didn’t . refined , reinvented , revived or not . such a peace was a gift , one for those who were fortunate enough to pave the path for one .
but there was something . something inside him . that the small little child in his arms , who he loved so dearly already , would be the first being he’s loved that had not known his past . who’s vision would not be tainted by the mistakes that plagued draco’s conscience . it was with this , that he felt hope .
a human . a little girl . with a muggle-born mother . carrying the malfoy name . no greater joy brought to draco , in knowing that lucius malfoy would find himself repulsed at the very concept of it .
ophelia stirs , allowing a large yawn to escape . draco readjusts her , grey eyes absorbing every perfect detail of her . he understood , in the very instant that she took her first breath , that every single thing his mother had done , every stride taken to protect him , it had all made complete sense . ophelia narcissa . even now , his eyes water — it was a miracle to him that it had even lapsed over the course of the last few days .
“ i’m sorry , darling . i’m not always such a mess , i promise you .” he mumbles to the sleeping bundle , pulling himself from the chair and returning to the side of the crib .
as he places her down , he leans his elbows against the railing , his daughter’s eyes have fluttered open — a rich brown , just a few shades lighter than her mother’s . they remain only for merely a second before slowly lulling shut once more .
he knew . it didn’t seem to matter what , somehow conrad always knew. he knew the greatest spots for hide and seek , exactly what to say to avoid trouble with his mother , how to succeed in nearly any hobby or sport and conrad fisher knew , in no uncertain terms , that he would do anything and everything isabel conklin ever wanted. he was sure his mother knew that too. maybe that’s where he got it from.
conrad had known years ago , the summers now having melted together but the details remained always seem to have more in common than the last. he could admit the first few times was his own mother’s doing , that her and laurel would maintain their spot on the couch while insisting belly join the boys on their excursion. it had extracted the same whine from the three of them. conrad was ten , steven not far behind and jeremiah had mastered riding his bike the summer before — their backpacks were packed , bikes prepared for the long journey into the coastal town streets. it was somewhere between this summer and the following that there was a shift — from steven’s tattletale sister and the shadow of their mothers’ to a friend.
steven and jeremiah did not endorse this. in fact , conrad’s fondness teetered on the butt of a joke , though neither boy ever stood up against him for it , nothing more than a snide remark here and there. it had grown more difficult to tease her when the leader of the group rejected it — every ball thrown out of her reach retrieved , accepted dance offers at her request and his eagerness to join her on her own adventures — the belly flops remained however , but that was tradition.
it was a warm fondness , one that childhood had allowed conrad to accept. their summers spent together were looked forward to , the calendar countdowns in their home to the day laurel would arrive with the kids in tow.
the summer following his mother’s first stint in chemo had been different. though her optimism had never faltered — it was her nature. that summer had felt real , it was this summer that he experienced the tightening within his chest. like every ounce of air had left his lungs , the aching for a breath was painful. it lasted a few minutes , with his hands shaking , legs hanging off the foot of the bed before the feeling dissolved. he never thought about it again , and never spoke a word of it. it was better that way.
it was this summer , faced with a different perspective and with a slap of reality that he had questioned the nature of fondness towards belly. having found himself awake , wondering the origin of it. that the object of steven’s complaints , spoken over energy drinks on a make-shift wooden raft had become someone entirely different.
the last summer spent in cousins had an unspoken finality to it. that he knew. because that year , conrad had known three things , all of which rested within him.
he knew that his mother was sick again , that the cancer was back and that her attempts for a perfect summer were due to this being her last summer.
he knew his father had cheated , that his mother knew and that their separation was coming. the heroic idol shattered within months , filled with a newfound hatred for the man that he once molded his entire being to impress. conrad held no hesitation in this , he would take his mother’s side , always.
he knew the fondness was more. he knew it was love and had been developed over the many sunsets shared throughout the summer. conrad had purchased a necklace that may , the symbol of infinity tucked within a small black bag. it was for her birthday , a special meaning between the pair.
the third , unfortunately , was swept over by the first two. the drastic change only manageable with the numbness of weed , alcohol and of ending his nights alone. all three things were secrets , ones that needed to remain unspoken. his mother had wanted a perfect summer , and he would do everything in his power to ensure her wish was met.
belly’s arrival had forced a very different route — and conrad couldn’t exactly understand why he had underestimated it. she simply had that effect on people. that summer had caused an entirely new set of challenges , conrad even attempted to tell belly about his parents — hoping that it would make things easier , to have someone to speak to , having refused to place it on jeremiah. it seemed that every moment was cut short , which only seemed to make it worse.
it was the hardest summer , conrad would admit. the brief moments of himself brought out only in her presence , the very idea of her reviving him.
the final moment , spent on cleveland’s boat had seemed to be closure needed. he wanted belly , but it was selfish. the very idea that his actions could cause any hurt towards her was enough for him to back away , to force the distance needed to ensure that it was best for her. he needed to work on himself to be what she wanted , and he would , in time.
the pain in her eyes had haunted him since then. although it had been the final push he needed , and her birthday crept up faster than expected. it always seemed to. their family dinner , missing jeremiah and steven had left conrad quickly scarfing down every last bit of food on his plate. he had texted her just after leaving the table , to meet in one hour , 7pm at the deck.
his mother's conversation , scheduled for after the dinner had as many tears shed as expected , with conrad , tearfully explaining to her that he knew. he knew it all. begging her for treatment. his fingers listing off the reasons he needed her , how they all needed her. it was wrapped in his mother's arms that he explained the necklace , as it sits in the pockets of his beige shorts. and why he was giving it to belly.
she knew.
and he knew that too.
with his face still blotchy , conrad opted for a quick shower. his brown hair darkened , a few pieces held together as they fell over his face. 6:45pm.
7pm , and the sound of footsteps . his chest is tightening but this reason is not unknown. it was her effect , one of comfort. of a thrill he never could explain. he's placed the necklace into her hand , a connie smile having completely taken over his features. " i'm sorry it's a little late. i had some things to figure out. but -- i would never forget your birthday. you probably know that. " nervous. his cheeks are flushed , and it's almost like he's been transported to the glasses-sporting connie in the living room , counting out their steps as he teaches her to dance.
" you are everything that i want. everything i need. " the sound of blood is rushing through his ears , he's ignoring it , as best he can. " i love you , i've always loved you. " one hand has moved to her face , a thumb against her sun-kissed cheek . his eyes are on her , her alone . as they always seemed to be . they gravitated toward her , even when he couldn't help it . " i will infinitely, i know that. "
mentioned: tony stark, morgan stark , peter parker .
the suit was a symbol . steve had once embraced it , just as he did the silver star so prominent on his shield . it stood for strength , resilience and a destiny of freedom . but not of his own .
no . steve had been destined for a far different future , treated — programmed — like a machine , seeking for justice — and little else . these things were easy , when it’s all someone has known , there had been no desire for anything else .
his life here had displayed a different path — more so , the ability to take it . a winding road of family , a different form of teamwork and the strange familiar flutter of a heart that he had never been able to act on . until now .
his life here had brought a domestic piece that even steve himself had not known he needed . his time spent with morgan and peter , living in the blissful moments brought with them and with tony . the pair had fought in union — and against each other . though steve would admit , he favoured the arguments over the need of sleep — to the hazy mornings before a run through the park , sliding the sheets back over the sleeping stark . these had become treasured for him .
even now , their plans had changed . the quiet morning taking in the activities of the beach , traded for a few civilian rescues . the storm had torn apart much of the surrounding outskirts areas , trees ripped apart to the roots and the land was completely saturated in some areas . it’s a rumble , with steve ushering a crowd into a secure location further down through the tree line , he realizes he’s lost sight of him .
having dipped back into the area , steve follows his voice — easily locating his boyfriend ( with a soft relieved sigh ) , a flash of white perfect teeth . this smile vanishes as he catches the panic in tony’s voice , having removed his own mask as he attempts to inspect for injuries . tony’s grasp on him is tightened , and steve tries to get his own arms around the large suit , reassuring . “ i’m okay — hey , tony . look . i’m fine . i was jus— “ mm . huh ? it’s a wash of confusion , mixed with some certain shock — but steve leans in , both of his hands finding tony’s face as he crashes his lips against his .
send me “#” for cell phone headcanons about our muses including:
- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone
- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone
- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone
- my muse’s last text to your muse
with a dripping nose and the overwhelming urge to brush her sleeve against it, anne’s eyes remained casting forward, darting amongst the nearby trees. crunch, crunch, crunch. her boots smash through the icy layer brought on from the frigid overnight temperatures, as more begins to fall, snowflakes powdering over the area. this dusting of fresh snow included the bright-eyed redhead and her amusingly eager companion. her voice had not flattered from the moment they began their venture, with anne having covered every topic from subjects, to students, to an important geographic fact pertaining to the town. nothing seemed to have been left unspoken. it had fallen back to her students, mostly due to the overwhelming anxiousness she seemed to feel over the concert the following evening.
“ – and then i had to fish him out of the make-shift boat. can you imagine? fishing the baby jesus out of the frozen river? marilla would have dropped at the very sight of it.” her tone is exasperated, but with a still evident fondness.
the sound of her voice, mixed with the harmonious sound of the wooden sleigh towed by gilbert against the snow had made their hour and a half search bearable but even anne’s fingers had grown uncomfortably numb and she longed to conclude this portion of the adventure. not once to settle, they had neared the two hour mark when anne spotted her.
a mighty evergreen, it’s branches wide and full – looking as though it had been taken straight from a christmas card. taking as large steps as her legs could manage, anne had inspected the tree closely, pulling the small snow-soaked strings of her knit cap tighter under her chin.
“this is the one. i will call her evangeline.” she states, a look of triumph present even in the presence of her wind-burned freckled cheeks.
—
“it was a fluke.” her arms are crossed, rivaling that of a child’s tantrum. evangeline, strapped comfortably onto the sleigh, with a kiss on each knot for luck – given to her by anne. her arms ache, though her admittance of this would not come. gilbert’s impressive – if you would call it that – swing had overshadowed her struggle to even lift the heavy axe but she believed even her measly attempt had somehow made it easier for him.
she trails along with him, her nose a heightened shade of rose and sniffling. there is no hiding her relief as the chimney of her home is visible past the sloping hills, her eyes had moved from this comforting image to gilbert beside her. gilbert, who seemed unphased by the cool situation, and who tugged the sleigh with ease. an internal pause. her glance remains, an expression of amusement flickering across her face.
— in avonlea .
the fortress is steady, well-built and the packed snow has been smoothed to form the perfect snow fort. anne sits inside, awaiting diana. but at the very moment, she is protecting her fortress from a dragon. a large icicle for a sword, anne’s imagination had depicted a bright red dragon, with flames ignited from it’s nostrils. lady princess cordelia of green gables, the mightiest warrior known to man. beautiful but powerful. queen worthy. now, she defended her village from attack, bravely serving seven as the dragon had wiped out her entire army. she stood alone. the dragon had charged, and lady princess cordelia had held her sword high, until her day dream had been shattered. a boy’s face had appeared from what felt like thin air, destroying her illusion. dark curls tucked under a cap, he rested his arms and chin on the ledge of the fortress. it was the smirk, essentially, that had set her off.
“can i help you, gilbert blythe?” her voice is sharp and raw, angry.
the day had ended with anne storming from the fortress shortly after, kicking it until it collapsed. in her rage, she had pushed past him, refusing to even look at his face. it was handsome and she was in no mood to find herself flushed over it. he was the worst.
“i don’t need a knight in shining armor. i am a knight and i was doing just fine until you ruined it.”
—
even her dislike then had been from her own bubbling grudge that had hovered over gilbert for much of her adolescence . anne struggled when it came to succumbing to her own anger . now , she looked on him with a fondness that had been buried beneath it . love , she knew this for certain . the redhead slides her arm under his, hooking it as she walks in mirrored pace with him. her knit-gloved hand then slides into the pocket of her jacket, eyes leaving him and returning straight ahead. .
—
“left.. no, wait. right. left. left.” gilbert’s arms are locked around anne’s waist, her feet dangle off the ground and both arms are upwards with a golden star in her hands. a crackle of the fireplace illuminating the living room area, and allowing heat to fill the home. anne was readjusting the final decoration, and although it had taken nearly five times to get it into the correct position. the star was finally placed in the center. her hands leave the ornament, resting on gilbert’s forearms before she taps them and requests to be brought to the ground. once her feet had touched the ground, anne had smoothed her skirts, taking a step back to admire their progress.
as if sensing it’s completion, the kettle had whistled, and anne had removed it from the stove before pouring their mugs with the tea. her return to the living room was prompted, but she did not hand the mug to gilbert. not yet. instead, she had approached her china cabinet, taking a small box into both of her hands and covering it from his view.
“ i spent most of the last few weeks going over what i would say.” anne begins, one of her hands had reached for his, taking it tenderly as her speech continued. “i needed it to be perfect, one can say so much of nothing but i had to make sure each word was carefully picked and processed. i had not wished to make it too long. though i could, there is no lack of things to say. ” her throat has cleared, her strong voice burning with the passion it so often did.
“ your patience is something that i admire, i do not know whether i would have the resilience you did in this situation. i know i have made you wait a very long time, i had grown worried that maybe your feelings had faded. you have made it more than known that they have not. you have asked nothing of me but to love you and allow you to love me, and though i had forced barriers on the second, let me assure you that the first has always been present for me. those barriers will be lifted, as much as i can possibly lift them to allow you the freedom to love me as you have wanted to. whether i was willing to admit it or not, the love i have harbored for you has always been evident. i have loved you dearly, and i will continue to do so. i believe i will forevermore, if i may be so candid to say .”
anne has dropped onto one knee, her skirt pinned down by the opposite knee, which rested on the floor. her hand still holds onto one of his, the free hand holding up the box and opening to reveal the diamond studded band. bright eyes are wide, one of her most distinguished features, and hopeful as she fixated on him.
“ i want to spend the rest of my life with you, it has and will always be you. i will love you until my very last breath, and i will never allow you to go a day not knowing that. i ask you to please, marry me, gilbert blythe. you will be mine forever, and i will be yours. ”
she concludes, her grip on his hand a bit tighter, the anxiousness undeniable. his face brightens, anne watches a brilliant smile, his beautiful smile, take its place. an answer, she eagerly awaits, soon sounds. a held breath releasing.
“ no. ”
he’s smiling still, as anne clambers to her feet. her cheeks are hot, heat licking against them as if to burn them, turning them as harshly red they almost melted into the freckles so prominent on her cheeks. she stares, tears almost threatening but her stunned exterior did not allow them to fall. had she been wrong ?
