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vettelsbitch · 5 months

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i've been plagued by kidfic thoughts about Bezz/Cele so of course I had to write a little blurb about it thanks @dobbiamo-capire for looking it over <3

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Coming back from the store with two full grocery bags is making Marco regret not taking the stroller. Even if Matteo is growing less and less fond of it, he could use it to carry some groceries. The couple blocks they have to walk back seem eternal when your hands are full.

Matteo had insisted on putting on his spiderman onesie that morning and Marco knew better than trying to convince him otherwise if he wanted to get to the grocery store before noon. At least this time Teo had conceded not doing the face paint in exchange of wearing his light up sneakers.

He walks next to Marco, his little hand grabbing onto one of the heavy bags, the other clutching a juice pack. Peach flavor, his favorite. Every now and again he stomps his feet to make the sneakers light up and Marco can't help it but chuckle.

"Hey, Teo," he says, catching the kids' attention. "Are you enjoying your juice?"

"Yes, papà," Matteo nods, his wild curls flopping in front of his eyes. "Can I give Rubi' his candy when we're home?"

"Of course, amore, we can give him treats."

They're getting close to the front entrance to their building when Marco feels Matteo let go of the bag, and before he can react his child has already started running in front of him. One second he's looking at him standing next to him and the next he's seeing his little legs stomping and his curls bouncing with his sprint. His heart gives a jump and starts running after him, the bags swinging wildly. He doesn't even share a thought for the egg carton that's probably getting hit against his leg.

When he finally catches up with Matteo he finds him animatedly babbling to a neighbor, the juice pack thankfully empty. "Teo!" Marco raises his voice, he immediately feels bad when he sees Matteo jump in place, turning his little face to look up at him with big eyes. "Teo you can't start running away like that! It's dangerous. You scared me."

He can see Matteo's lip tremble, his eyes shining. Teo turns into him, hugging his legs. "I'm sorry, papà," he mumbles with a little hiccup. "I was just talking to 'ele."

That makes Marco look up at the neighbor finally, and of course it's no other than the cute guy he's absolutely not been crushing on for weeks. Marco lets out a little breath, dropping one of the bags (hopefully not the one with the eggs) so he can bury his hand in Teo's curls.

"I'm sorry if he was bothering you." He says, looking up still.

The guy raises his hands, a small smile on his plush pink lips. "Don't worry, man-" he gets interrupted by Matteo, who shakes his father's hand out of his hair to look up again.

"'ele likes Spiderman! See," he says, pointing to the backpack, which had a pretty big Spiderman patch.

"Ele?" Marco looks back up, feeling his heart skip a beat when he sees the guy's pale skin blushing a soft pink.

"Cele, well, Celestino really. He asked my name, you have a very polite kid."

"Marco," he says. "I mean, my name's Marco."

They keep looking at each other for a second, the grocery bag forgotten on the ground, Cele's keys hanging limp from his hand. Marco can't take his eyes away from Cele's face, his lips, the faint blush that still permeates his cheeks, his dark doe eyes, the long slope of his nose. Before, he had just caught glances at him in the building hallways, probably leaving to go to school, sometimes coming back in the early hours of the morning, clearly, from a party. They had barely exchanged polite nods and hushed greetings. For the first time he took his time taking Cele in.

He comes back to earth when Matteo tugs on his shorts, trying to get his attention. "Papà, I'm hungry, can I eat piadina? Please."

"Of course, amore." He bends down to grab the bag again, giving Matteo a kiss on the forehead. "I'm sorry for bothering you, Cele."

Celestino turns around, opening the door for them and walking in behind Marco. "Do not worry, I started liking Spiderman when I was his age, so I get it. My parents probably dealt with worse," he looks at Matteo. "Spidey is the coolest, isn't he?"

Matteo nods animatedly, next to them. "He is, see papà, he's the coolest superhero."

Cele laughs and Marco feels his breath catch, maybe he is crushing on him, just a little.

#bezz/cele #kidfic #motogp rpf #bezz has a kid and cele is his neighbor AU

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jomiddlemarch · 2 months

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With you nothing is simple yet nothing is simpler

Rose stood before her, drooping, her braids coming undone, shoes scuffed, a new rip in her overalls, giving Hermione a look of absolute incredulity when faced with the undeniable truth:

Hermione had forgotten to pack snacks.

She didn’t even have a bloody Polo mint somewhere in the recesses of her beaded bag, Transfigured to look like an ordinary mum’s ordinary leather handbag, designed to carry her through her day at the Ministry and any trips she might make to Muggle London.

Forget about something healthy.

She had planned to rely on the water fountain, that wasn’t another complete miss on her part.

She opened her mouth to begin the explanation-slash-apology that would not satisfy either one of them. Rose already had that furrow in her little brow that meant she planned to invoke Nan, which only ever meant Molly, and how important Nan said it was for growing human beans to have good homegrown food and not that muck Mum bought from Tesco’s.

“I have plenty, if she’s hungry. The fruit’s already cut, it won’t keep, and these pesto egg muffin bite things he said he liked yesterday, so of course I’ve gone and made far too many.”

That was Draco Malfoy, sitting on the bench just next to hers, a rucksack and some sort of sport-inspired hamper beside him, unable to resist rubbing it in, that he was a better prepared and more attentive parent than she was, the he his neatly and comfortably dressed five year old son Scorpius, who somehow made the jersey and shorts he wore look like the ideal outfit for a Wizarding child. His fringe was the proper length and not slicked back with some imported pomade like Draco’s had been for the first three years at Hogwarts, and he was busy constructing something tower-like from the stones, twigs and other assorted detritus he’d scoured the park for while Rose ran around, screaming like a banshee and climbing halfway up a tree before scuttling down again before Hermione had to call out to tell her too high, Rose!

Hermione turned her head to convert her explanation-slash-apology into a far more gratifying coldly cutting retort that she had to trust to inspiration to supply, since she had nothing approaching the moral high ground, when she actually looked at Draco’s face, which was tilted in an encouraging and frankly kind manner, and consider the tone of his voice, which had been commiserating and not the least judgmental. Hermione was quite familiar with the myriad shades of judgment and Draco’s voice hadn’t held even one.

He was also incredibly fit.

(That wasn’t really relevant to her decision-making, but it was note-worthy as a general fact.)

“Rose, Mr. Malfoy has some fruit if you want a snack. And something else tasty and homemade, just like Nan would have given you for tea,” Hermione said. Rose sized up Draco in an instant, pivoted to rifle through the sporty hamper, retrieved a little baggie of apple slices and another of the unexpectedly attractive pesto egg bites that reminded Hermione she’d also forgotten lunch and a stale ginger biscuit at her desk was going to have to hold her until after Rose was asleep.

Again.

“Ta,” Rose said, about to fly. It was impossible that she wouldn’t be Quidditch-mad.

“Rose,” Hermione said.

“Thank you, Mr. M’Foy,” Rose said. It was anyone’s guess if she would have gotten Malfoy correct without her mouth half stuffed with Braeburn.

“You’re quite welcome,” Draco said.

Hermione nodded and Rose scrambled away, as fast as her hand-me-down trainers could take her.

“Thank you. I appreciate it. Her wild magic on an empty stomach is terrifying,” Hermione said. Was she bragging about Rose’s magic, when she’d heard rumors Scorpius Malfoy might be a Squib? Probably and she wasn’t proud of it, but that wasn’t unfamiliar either.

“I find them terrifying full-stop,” Draco said. “Adorable, would lay down my life for him in a heartbeat, makes me question every decision my own parents ever made on my behalf, but terrifying nonetheless.”

Hermione laughed. It was the first time she could remember laughing at something Draco said without there being any seething vitriol or tearful desperation she’d had to tamp down or put aside. It felt…nice.

“I have a bit more sympathy for my parents,” she offered. “My wild magic started when I was a toddler and they had no idea what to make of it. No context at all. My mother told me, during out sixth year, that she’d thought she was losing her mind. I was well on my way to inventing Leviosa before I got a hold of the first year spellbooks.”

“Yes, I can see how that might be where one would go. Madness, that is,” he said. There was a frankly companionable silence between the two of them and then he spoke again. “Sometimes, I can’t help regretting it.”

“Regretting what?”

“I love him, with all that I am, my heart and soul and magic. And I can’t help regretting sometimes I agreed to it, having him when I, when we did,” he said. He turned away slightly, so that she saw him in profile, a face like a god’s on a coin, the straight nose, the full lower lip, his jaw held tightly.

“Why are you telling me?” she asked.

“For one, I don’t think you can think any worse of me than you already do, so that makes you perfect for such a shameful admission,” he said, shrugging. “Secondly, you let your daughter eat the snacks I made. Not that I’m trying to make you feel like you owe me something, that I’ve caught you out. You trusted me with your child, that’s what I meant.”

“I think you underestimate how I think of you,” she said slowly.

“Is that better or worse? Do you mean you think well of me and now I’ve dropped in your estimation? Or did I somehow go from sniveling worm beneath your heel to abysmal slime-mold you wouldn’t use your wand to scrape off with magic from said heel?”

He sounded resigned, amused, self-deprecating. His voice was low, a rich baritone, only a little of that drawl he’d had at Hogwarts left. The perfect amount.

“I wear flats unless I’m in court,” she said. “I don’t hold the past against you anymore, we were children, child-soldiers, pawns moved around by people who should have known better. Played a better game of Wizarding chess, given that it was our lives they used. I regret it, myself, having her so young, though I don’t let myself think it if I can help it. I can’t, if I want to keep being a decent mother.”

“You are clearly an exceptionally fine mother. Why did you do it? You’re Hermione Granger, you don’t make decisions you regret,” he said.

Now she laughed, a bitter sound, that kept the tears in her eyes from spilling.

“Don’t believe everything you hear. Or read,” she said. “I lost my parents in the war. They were both only children, my grandparents were gone a long time ago. Rose was my one chance to have a family, someone who belonged to me.”

“I’m terribly sorry. I hadn’t heard they’d died,” he said.

“They’re alive. Just…lost. Turns out, if you do a thorough enough Obliviation, there’s no return. The person they were before is effectively dead. They’re just not sad about it. That’s for other people,” Hermione said.

“Astoria told me it was her dying wish to have a child, even though it would kill her,” Draco said.

“That’s why you agreed?”

“No. I refused when she said that. She used blood magic, from the binding. Once that was done, it was either lose them both or just her,” he said. “She didn’t know that for sure, there was plausible deniability and we’d said someday. She made someday happen sooner than I thought possible.”

“You loved her,” Hermione offered. She’d never met Astoria, who’d been a few years behind them at Hogwarts and in Ravenclaw, had only a dim memory of the photo that had been in the Prophet when the marriage was announced, a slim, dark-haired young woman wearing a lot of lace standing next to Draco, who’d been all in black. Wizards wore all sorts of things to funerals. Only Hermione saw him in mourning at his wedding.

“In a way. I hated her too. I didn’t want to be either of my parents and I didn’t know how to be anything else,” he said. “My parents were overjoyed, a Malfoy heir, no miscarriages, no stillbirths. A healthy Pureblood baby. That’s quite rare, all the inbreeding, you understand. They think Astoria was a paragon of virtue and also, they didn’t give a damn about her.”

Scorpius ran over and stretched out a hand to show Draco a stone. It was an unremarkable piece of quartz, though it did catch the light.

“What a find, love. You can bring it home if you like or leave it here. You could even hide it, like goblin treasure,” Draco said, studying the stone, reaching out to straighten the collar of Scorpius’s jersey. He touched Scorpius’s cheek fondly, but he didn’t try to wipe the smear of dirt there, nor did he say anything about his son’s grubby hands. Hermione recalled what a pristine child he’d been, all silver and green, how he’d stand between his parents, very still, as if a portrait were being painted.

“Hide it—” Scorpius said and darted back over to the field, just at the edge where a copse of trees stood, shadows beckoning. The whole playground was heavily warded and there were monitoring spells St. Mungo used for observation. It was safe enough to let him run away.

“That’s what I thought,” Draco said, shooting her that familiar parental glance, proud and powerless.

“Ron begged me not to end the pregnancy. It wasn’t planned. The Healers said the curse damage I suffered from Bellatrix was unpredictable, the interactions with contraceptive charms and potions would have made them less effective. It wasn’t my fault, except I never told them I hadn’t bothered with any spells or potions, so it was, in a way. I didn’t care and then I did. I told Ron I was pregnant and he told me he was gay and in love with Theo and it would break his mother’s heart if he never gave her a grandchild. My parents were gone. Harry and Ginny were expecting, Andromeda was raising Teddy, Bill and Fleur just had Victoire. It was easier to say yes. It made so many people happy and Ron did what he said he would,” Hermione said. Andromeda knew most of it, but Hermione had never told anyone all of it, certainly not in one sitting, not sitting on a park bench in the weak English sunshine, without a Polo mint to her name. Augusta Longbottom had said Hermione should do as she liked but it was rare to see such a strong magical signature in the first trimester, though likely it would happen again, for a witch of her abilities. Likely hadn’t seemed like a good enough bet, not when Ron’s blue eyes had pled with her and he’d held her hands in his instead of touching her completely flat stomach.

“What he said he would?” Draco repeated. He sounded encouraging, not nosy. Not prepared to made a rude remark about Ron or the Weasley family as a whole. It felt…good.

“Molly wanted me to name her Frederica. Winifred. Or Elfreda. It was ghastly. Even I knew Fred would have loathed it. Ron put his foot down and told her we weren’t doing that to a baby and that I had final say on her name. Then he came out to them, Molly and Arthur, so the name part receded as something anyone cared that much about,” Hermione said. “I don’t have to tell you how Purebloods feel about that, however warm and Muggle-forward they seem to be.”

“Bloody hell,” Draco said.

“There was a lot of screaming. Arthur finally told Molly to be grateful she had a son alive to tell her what made him happy and she piped down,” Hermione said. “She started knitting a jersey for Theo as soon as Ron let it slip they were involved. It was a little forced, but I think the knitting settled her down, let her feel like she was back in charge of the family. Molly had a great need for that.”

“Ah, the famous Weasley jersey,” Draco said.

“Infamous is more like it,” she replied. “Fleur won’t wear hers at all. But she’s married to Bill, so she can get away with it.”

“I gather you don’t have the same option,” he said.

“Molly watches Rose when Ron and Theo and I are all working or busy, always sends home dinner, invites me to Sunday lunch even when Ron and Theo have Rose. She’s Rose’s only grandmother. She means well,” Hermione shrugged. “Fleur wears cashmere and Molly sniffs. I Transfigured mine into a cardigan. Molly didn’t mind that, as long as the H is all on one side. I hid the pockets I added.”

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” he said, squinting a little against the light, the sun lower in the sky. Rose had approached Scorpius and now they were working on something with less height but a larger area. Hermione suspected St. Mungo’s had tracking spells to evaluate wild magic. At Rose’s last Healer’s visit, Hermione had been advised to stock up on Easiheal and beginning Arithmancy books, as if she and Ron hadn’t already done so (plus the Wizarding chess set Theo had brought out to let Rose watch them play.)

“It beats the alternative,” Hermione said. He shifted, faced her full on. They both looked older than they were, Draco with shadows under his grey eyes that spoke of broken sleep, Hermione with a streak of white in her hair like a ribbon, neither of them partial to glamours. He’d grown a fair amount after Hogwarts, his shoulders broader, his lanky frame filled out, and he dressed the part of an older man, much as Hermione had her mum’s uniform on. For a moment, she only saw the boy he’d been, too clever by half, preening, insecure, nervous he’d be caught caring. He’d taken the Dark Mark or rather, it had been forced on him, hidden by the sleeve he had securely fastened with monogrammed cufflinks. He could be the Dark Lord’s deputy, she could be dead in a ditch, both their first wands broken.

“I don’t think that’s as true as people say,” he replied. “We could have been given a chance to grow up. To put ourselves first, not the survival of the Wizarding world or the Noble House of Black. We could have found ourselves here in another ten years or twenty, with children we had chosen to have. Had wanted to bring into existence from dreams. We wouldn’t have to be alone, here, and at home, sitting by ourselves with a drink after we put them to bed, wondering what happened—”

“It’s hard,” she said, to stop him, because he was so right it hurt. She drank tea at night, even though it kept her up, because drinking wine or whiskey alone was worse. Ron and Theo encouraged her to go out when they kept Rose, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to explain who she was and she couldn’t bear it they already knew. She drank oolong, Darjeeling, PG Tips, always black, and she never read the leaves.

“What if it were easier?” he asked.

“Easier?”

“What if you told me what happened and I told you, after we put them to bed. What happened that day, not just what Rose did and what Scorpius said, but how you dealt with that stroppy minister from Croatia and how I heard back from Damaris, in Alexandria, about that manuscript revision, and what we could bring to the potluck Neville’s insisting on hosting instead of getting a proper caterer,” he said. “Samosas, for the record. Though I can manage vol-au-vents in a pinch, if you wanted to be Muggle retro about it.”

“That’s a lot happening,” she said. It was a leap, an enormous, across-a-chasm leap, he was describing and also just words, a possibility she could dismiss with a shake of her head, a slight frown, some politeness he’d accept instantly. His eyes, though, were hopeful, watching her.

“Scorpius will probably interrupt. He usually wants a glass of water exactly when I’m at a good part,” Draco said.

“Rose talks in her sleep. In French. It’s quite distracting,” Hermione said. When had she ever backed away from something daunting? Granted, she usually did some research first. Draco knew what a vol-au-vent was; she clearly wasn’t the only one who prepared. “It’s better than mine. She talks to Fleur and Gabrielle a lot.”

“I’m fluent,” he said. “In French and wheedling.”

“I’m good at pouring a glass of water wandless. I make the water take the shape of a dolphin going into the glass but I can do a Hippocampus too,” Hermione said.

“Are you hungry? I have apple slices and pesto egg muffin bites going begging,” he said, smiling. He had a sweet smile and a gleam in his eyes that was positively, gratifyingly filthy. She blushed, dropped her gaze from his.

“You’re a very pretty mummy, Hermione,” he said softly. “But it can be whatever you want, however you want. It can be maybe later, after you look at your calendar. Half-past never. Whatever’s easier—”

“I didn’t bring any snacks to the park and I have nothing planned for dinner unless we get Indian takeaway again. For the third time this week,” she said in a rush. “It would be easier to have someone else take care of dinner. I’m not picky, Rose isn’t either.”

“Bolognese or carbonara?” Draco asked. “Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy is made 98.2% from pasta. Don’t be deceived by the organic apple slices and pesto egg affectations.”

“Carbonara’s faster,” Hermione said.

“But what do you want?” Draco hit the you and want with a perfect balance of emphasis. It made her remember she was only twenty-four years old. Hermione, not only Madam Granger and Mummy and ‘Mione.

“Bolognese,” she said. She reached over, touched his hand where it rested beside his leg. He couldn’t mistake her intention. “Everyone calls her Rose, but I named her Roseline, from Shakespeare. Roseline’s the one Romeo liked first. She goes away. Lives her own life off-stage.”

“I had to pick a constellation. I wouldn’t do it again,” he said.

Ten years later, after a long day and a longer night, he arrived, only a little later than they’d planned and just as they’d hoped. They named him Hugo.

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densewentz · 5 months

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Have you or anyone else written fics with sweet Kian? I'm loving Dreamling Dads and I wanna know if I'm gonna have to be the one to fic them up.

To my knowledge no one has written any yet. So far Kian is just my itty bitty art brainchild but I would be totally jazzed for people to write fic with him!! If/when anyone ever does guys please link me I eat that stuff up I swear. 💕 I'm glad other people are enjoying my self-indulgent AU baby

#anonymous #ask replies #anon ask #kian gadling #dreamling #im making it my mission to shove my kidfic aus into every fandom i touch and they're always just a little Cursed #Kian Gadling and Hanna Crowley becoming the best of mates in school #and Crowley and Dream seeing one another while picking up their respective charges like [insert umbrella academy car pass meme]#but seriously i love when people ask if they can write fic using characters from my aus #the answer is going to always be yes so long as you share with me #art too

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jungle321jungle · 1 month

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Something Worth Stealing: Five

“What do you think?”

Truthfully Virgil was terrified at the very prospect. There was a reason each nanny didn’t last long, and Virgil had heard enough horror stories about the Ackroyd boys to avoid them at all costs when he had worked in the past. Hell the only reason he still got some to come in now and then was because the job was so high paying. Mr. Ackroyd knew exactly what he was doing advertising with all those zeroes, he was reeling in any nanny who would skip talking to peers at the sight. And now by some twist of fate that very bait was dangling above Virgil, and even worse there wasn’t anyway he could feasibly afford to ignore it. A sigh escaped his lips as he looked the man in the eye, “I think it is more than a generous offer that I would be happy to accept.”

(Virgil becomes the newest nanny for his very attracti- for Logan.)

Ao3 - Previous Parts - Masterlist

Five

Virgil was burning up. He wasn’t sick or anything, but the nerves surrounding this date had every nerve on fire to the point he was surprised he hadn’t melted into a puddle. Was it possible to get heat stroke while blasting AC in a car? If not, he’d likely be the first victim of such insanity. There was just too much riding on tonight. Sure, romance was on the line- but more than that, his job was on the line, and so were his relationships with Logan’s sons.

Because what if he did something so horribly stupid tonight that left Logan’s fancy suit covered in fancy dinner? Surely, he’d be fired on the spot. And just like that, no job. No money. He wouldn’t see the twins or Patton. Janus would lose some friends. Janus would never get his own room. He’d-

“Are you okay?”

The deafening silence that was swirling around Virgil began to splinter at the sound of his nephew’s voice. Glancing in the rearview, he could see that Janus had looked up from the book he had been reading- was it too dark to be reading that now? The sun was beginning to set, so he shouldn't be straining his eyes. Virgil opened his mouth to tell his nephew so when he saw Janus frown, “So you’re not okay.”

“No-no! I’m fine. I’m fine! I was just going to say you should stop reading for now. But I’m fine!”

“You said that three times.”

“Because it’s three times the truth.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, yes, um… it doesn’t matter. I'm fine, Janus.”

“No, you’re not. Are you worried about your date?”

“A- a little- just the tiniest bit. It’s been a while since I was even on a date.”

“Was that with the guy who cheated on you?”

“W-what? What?” Virgil sputtered.

“When I talked to Mom this morning, I told her you were going on a date. And then she said that the last guy was really mean, and he cheated on you, and he made you cry. So she said it’s now my job to watch out for you ‘cause sometimes you have bad taste like she does. But Mr. Logan is nice, so I don’t think you need to be nervous.”

Virgil gave a long and heavy sigh before he couldn’t help but smile, “Well, I’m always grateful to have you on my side, Jan… But what else did your mom say about me? Or my past boyfriends?”

“Nothing really,” Janus shrugged (to Virgil’s relief). “Just that you should take her advice more.”

Virgil gave a frown and mumbled to himself, “Did she tell you she’s a hypocrite too?”

“What’s that mean?”

Apparently, Janus had good hearing. Good to know. “I’ll tell you later,” Virgil said, pulling into Logan’s driveway. “For now, let’s head inside.”

Inside the home, Virgil found Logan in the family room talking with three other staff members, likely talking about watching the children for the evening… Virgil wished them luck. Upon realizing their arrival, Logan turned to grave Virgil with a small, slight, barely there smile, which somehow made Virgil’s knees feel like goo. He was dressed nicely (as always)- Logan’s attention snapped back to the few he was speaking to, and hushed voices were heard as they crowded Logan before they abruptly shoved Logan in Virgil’s direction.

Virgil was about to comment on it, when he noticed that in the second he had turned around Logan’s perfect hairstyle had been messed up the tiniest amount in what was clearly an intentional way. Perhaps those three weren’t discussing babysitting at all, had he asked them for advice? The mental image was one Virgil couldn’t help but smile at.

“You look nice,” Logan said with a nod.

“You as well, I-”

“Mr. Logan?” Janus interrupted.

“What can I do for you, Janus?” Logan asked, redirecting his attention. “If you’re looking for my boys, they’re in Roman’s room.”

“Okay! But first, what’s ‘hypocrite’ mean?”

Virgil gave a heavy sigh as Logan answered the question. “A person who says one thing then does another. Like if I told you to eat your vegetables but I never do. Does that make sense?”

Janus pondered for a moment or two before he nodded and turned to Virgil, “Then my mom’s one for not listening to you but wanting you to listen to her?”

“…She listens sometimes.”

“No, she doesn’t. I’m gonna go upstairs to play. Have fun!”

When his nephew disappeared, Logan let out a slight chuckle, “It sounds like you two are having quite… intellectual conversations.”

Virgil’s huff in reply only made Logan’s smile widen, so he turned away. “Let’s not miss our reservation.”

Dinner did not go as planned.

Despite arriving at their reservation early- their table had apparently been given away which led to waiting. And upon finally being seated their waiter took the drink and appetizer orders and then promptly ignored their existence. The drinks had eventually found a way to them, but as time passed Virgil had the sneaking feeling that the appetizers would never come. This was only proven correct as the waiter vanished from the floor entirely, and according to the whispers of employees in the dining room- he had left the building entirely. Virgil couldn’t help but want to be a tad nosier, but he caught Logan’s amused gaze.

“Any more info?”

Virgil shook his head as he sipped at his near-empty water, “Nothing I can hear from here. But sorry, I forgot what I was saying.”

“I don’t recall myself,” Logan admitted. “I was staring at the couple behind you who received their meal. We have been here far longer than they have.”

“Does the food look good, at least?”

“As hungry as I am, everything does. I neglected to eat lunch today.”

“What? Why?”

“I was distracted by the boys and pulled in different directions. I had to make some calls, and then I had a meeting over Zoom. Ultimately, I didn’t even realize I had missed a meal until I began to get ready. So I simply ate an apple to tide myself over until dinner.”

“That’s not like you at all.”

“I agree. But I digress; how was your day off with Janus?”

“Good, good. I had told him to pick what we would do today, so we ended up at one of those pottery places where kids can paint the pieces. He was very meticulous over a few pieces of dish ware. He wanted a perfect matching set.”

“That’s adorable,” Logan smiled. “I’ve wanted to take my boys to do that, but I have a feeling that Remus would break far more than he’d paint. But he also wouldn’t take kindly to me just taking Roman even if I took him elsewhere.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“What did you paint?”

“I chose a shark piggy bank because… because it was there? Anyway, I made it purple with different colored polka dots because it annoyed Janus.”

“Brilliant reasoning.”

“I think so.”

“You-”

Logan’s words and Virgil’s train of thought flew off the tracks at that moment as a server walked by, holding a tray of dishes that looked beautiful but also smelled divine.

“As good as that looks, I regret not choosing a place I am familiar with,” Logan frowned. Apologies.”

“Don’t apologize; you had heard good things about it. It seems like this is an off day. And I appreciate the thought process that we could try something new together.”

“Why do I sense a but coming?”

“However,” Virgil started because it was a different word than ‘but.’ “It is clear we are both starving, and it’s also clear that our food will never get here considering we still have menus. So, would it be such a bad idea to go elsewhere? I know a hole-in-the-wall a few blocks away with the best tacos I’ve ever had.”

Logan didn’t speak for the longest moment. Rather, his piercing eyes stared into Virgil’s as he folded his hands and sat up straighter in his seat. And in that moment Virgil couldn’t stop the strike of fear that shot through him as he wondered if he had accidentally insulted his date- if he had offended his boss. Logan had put in all this effort for tonight and yet, Virgil just wanted to throw it away. He opened his mouth to quickly amend his statement, but Logan spoke first.

“Couldn't you have said that ages ago? Do they have quesadillas?”

Virgil gave a slight sigh of relief, “Real good ones.”

“No point in bothering for the check, it’ll take forever. I’ll leave more than enough cash for the drinks. Lead the way.”

The food was wonderful, and with it in their stomachs, conversation flowed easily. It was almost scary how easily Virgil forgot he worked for Logan. Right now, they weren’t boss and employee; they were just two (severely overdressed) guys on a date, and that was perfect. There was something alluring about just watching Logan be Logan. Just in the way he spoke and expressed himself as if trying to remain reserved but in the same way allowing Virgil to see his true expressions underneath. Virgil had always known how nice it was to listen to Logan speak of his children, but it was just as nice to hear him speak about his life and dreams. And even nicer was how smoothly he came up with ideas on how to integrate Virgil into them. It was a first date unlike any Virgil had been on, and as Logan took his hand as they walked back to the car- Virgil couldn’t have been more thrilled with that fact.

~~~~

All Parts

#Analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #Janus Sanders #patton sanders #kid!au #kid!remus #kid!roman #kid!janus #kid!patton #KidFic #worth stealing

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dsudis · 8 months

Link

Chapters: 5/7 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Original Child Character(s), Orpheus (The Sandman), Unity Kincaid, Lucien | Lucienne (The Sandman), Matthew the Raven, Modern Johanna Constantine (The Sandman TV) Additional Tags: Family Man AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, two aus in one, Kidfic, Domesticity, Stay at Home Parent Dream of the Endless, Child Abuse, As In That's Why This Kid Lives With Hob And Dream Now, Only Very Briefly Onscreen in Chapter 6, Magic, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Fae & Fairies, It's Mostly Soft Really I Swear, Cuddling & Snuggling, Traumatized Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Panic Attacks, Flashbacks Summary:

Dream of the Endless, two months after his escape from captivity at Fawney Rig, wakes up in a world where he's retired, human, and married to Hob Gadling, and they are raising a Fae foster child together.

Or: Dream finds out what happens to a version of himself who got everything he ever wanted. (He lives happily ever after.)

#fic #dreamling #the sandman #family man au #kidfic

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the-obnoxious-sibling · 5 months

Note

You just become one of my favourite tumblr accounts. Please share more shuggy headcanons

I also adore your translations nitpicking. My favourite moments are when you ask for original panels. I could read them over and over. Sorry for being creepy.

aw, thank you! that’s not creepy at all, it’s very sweet. (and i’m glad somebody enjoys my nitpicking! i’d do it regardless but still—)

here’s a couple headcanons for you, since you asked so nicely—but below the cut because, as often happens, i got wordy:

in the au where shanks gets buggy to stay with his crew, the incident that got shanks his first bounty and the incident that caused items #4 and #5 to be added to that list are the same incident. (a member of his crew getting arrested was a bit of a trigger for shanks at the time, never mind that the marines had no idea who it was they’d arrested. it’s fine, they manage to repair the building eventually. well, repair… rebuild… same difference.)

i am a “the chapter 581 cover image is a canon event” truther, even though the timing is tricky to make work. in my mind, while shanks is waiting to hear back about acquiring some land in sphinx and buggy is waiting to hear back from alvida et al about where to meet up, shanks convinces buggy to come with him into town on the island where the red force and a couple whitebeard ships that survived marineford have docked. (the impel down guys think this is for a private, elite, captain-to-captain conversation; galdino is mildly concerned buggy won't be coming back alive.) they spot the oden restaurant and its tourist-bait gift shop and buy a couple shirts and the lunch special on a nostalgic whim, and spend the afternoon getting lightly buzzed, reminiscing about the old days, and speculating about how things are going in wano. it’s nice. it’s the nicest it’s been between them in at least twenty-two years. (probably twenty-three. that last year, after the crew disbanded, was… hard, on both of them.) neither of them ever speaks of that afternoon or that meal to anyone, but when the news of shogun momonosuke comes out they each spend a subdued day thinking about it and getting a little more than buzzed.

i could be real self-indulgent and tell you about the kidfic i am doing my damnedest not to write, but i won't. unless…

in a future where the one piece is not meant for either of them and retirement, such as it is, is both possible and desired, shanks and buggy do a lot of traveling together. they visit wano and see momo and hiyori (who don’t really remember them) and meet yamato (who recognizes them instantly from oden’s journal). they visit skypeia and buggy nearly convinces someone that he’s very good friends with that monkey d luffy guy and will definitely give him that big ol’ golden pillar of yours… thankfully (?) shanks is there to stop this. they visit the north and south poles and settle that argument once and for all (though buggy will always insist shanks cheated somehow). they visit a dozen other islands they remember fondly. they visit rayleigh and get absolutely wasted together, and maybe rayleigh gives them a few leads on other surviving roger pirates and they visit them too. and once they’ve visited all of them, they visit roger’s grave—the real one, not whatever propagandist tomb the navy set up to further defame him in death. the things they say to him are best left between the three of them. and then they acquire a good map, circle every island on it they don’t recognize by name, and start visiting those. making new memories together, now that they’re done chasing down old ones.

#asked and answered #i love rereading meta (including my own) so pls do not feel weird about doing that!#if my speculation and analysis make you happy then i’m happy :)#shuggy #one piece #shanks #buggy #the no divorce au #…i just have a feeling i’ll be coming back to that #that damned kidfic #(retroactively tagging that one too)#*post-series shuggy speculation

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veg-hotwings · 1 year

Text

🏷️ Baby Keigo, Touya & Tenko, hinted #toukei #dabihawks, fluff, they get adopted together. Lowkey inspired by RowanLewis' thread on twt, but it's actually just me screaming in @electrozookie's chat about my need to adopt and protect them in spite of my distaste for real kids 🤣

- - -

They're such different kids. Touya would be a freaking handful (but just bc he’s way smarter and cleverer than his other pairs back at his old nursery); Tenko’s an angel and Keigo’s super quiet. I’d just spoil the hell out of Touya, play a lot with Tenko and cuddle Keigo every moment I’m awake or asleep.

I pictured a jealous baby Touya always stepping in between the caregiver and Tenko or Keigo, especially “bullying” Keigo bc he’s always curled up in the cg’s arms. Actually he’s just curious and keeps asking him questions. Keigo is shy and prefers keeping to himself, but slowly, little by little he opens up a bit 🥺

Tenko and Touya would play heroes and Tenko, bless his soul, would turn to Keigo with the biggest and most encouraging smile, inviting him to join them with a stretched hand. Keigo is shocked, stills like a doe in front of a pair of car lights as his big, golden eyes zoom from Tenko, to his cg, to Touya, to Tenko, to Touya again, like silently asking him if it’s okay to join them. Touya returns his gaze, his head slightly turned, cheeks puffed and red, arms crossed over his chest as he nods.

Keigo then buckles up and takes some tentative steps towards them, unused to walking; Tenko immediately holds his hand when he reaches them, but Keigo only has eyes for Touya’s grumpy face. Quietly, his expression open and innocent, he extends a small hand towards Touya for him to take it too, and Touya’s face goes all red but doesn’t deny him. He holds his hand, still not looking at him until he does, and almost combusts when he sees the tiny, sincere smile on Keigo’s face.

- - -

I love them so much ç_ç

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scarlettscribbles · 5 months

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prologue

PART OF neither the angels in heaven above, nor the demons by the sea DRABBLE SERIES ↠ masterlist

- Lucy Gray Baird & Daughter!OC, mentioned Lucy Gray Baird x Coriolanus Snow

Summary: 1.7k words - The words were on the tip of her tongue before Coriolanus had let it slip that he'd killed three people.

As Lucy Gray became a ghost lost in the wind, so did her secrets.

a/n: i cannot stop thinking about snowbaird !! inspired by my visenya-verse and also bc i love writing about children being loved :)

also, shout out to PlayingTheGameOfThrones' It's Quiet Uptown! i was reading snowbaird fics and i was so happy to find a secret kid fic. literally squealed in excitement bc i was like, that's what's literally in my brain rn

In truth, Lucy Gray was too young to be doing this. Halfway eighteen, with her heart broken by a man — a boy, really — who almost killed her. Ironically, the suspect of her current predicament was the same person. Oh how Lucy Gray hated it that he still haunted her now.

She had Lucy Gray’s tan skin, her baby girl. The wisps of her hair stuck against her forehead were bright blond. Lucy Gray wondered if her hair would darken eventually.

Annabel Rose Baird was a sickly baby. Her heart was weak and every night, Lucy Gray would have trouble sleeping, afraid that she’d wake up with a cradle gone cold. But she was a survivor, her Annie. Much like her mother. (And father.)

But they could not live on that alone. Lucy Gray, barely recovered from birth, wrapped her baby tight on her back with a sling and took their meager belongings in a bag, setting out to find the community up North Billy Taupe had once talked about. Lucy Gray walked for miles and miles, sometimes wishing she hadn’t left behind that lovely orange scarf her lover gave her. It would’ve made for a more comfortable sleep in their journey. She could’ve given it to Annie as her baby blanket, something to remember her childhood by — the one piece of her father she would ever know or keep. But alas, Lucy Gray had left it behind along with the broken pieces of trust she once thought she could rely on.

Lucy Gray found them eventually. Or rather, they found her. It was in the middle of the night and she’d just put Annie to sleep when flashes of light shone through the gaps between the trees. Cradling her whimpering baby close to her chest, Lucy Gray raised a hand in surrender, hoping that she was saying the right words for them to not shoot her.

They took them to their leader and gave them a small cabin. It was cozy and comfortable but it wasn’t home. Not when their leader, with his calculating eyes and access to Capitol broadcasts, look at her and her baby with such intense scrutiny. Lucy Gray’s paranoia increases every time he “accidentally” chances upon her with questions about the Capitol, about the Hunger Games, about Annie. He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is. Lucy Gray endures his questions, answering casually to alleviate the suspicion upon her. Her heart threatens to beat out of her chest every single time. She could only properly breathe again when she’s back within the four walls of their cabin, with Annie safe in her arms, her little puffs of breath warming Lucy Gray from the inside out.

The one saving grace of the place was Dr. Hartree. She was training under some big shot Capitol doctor when she fled, so she knew more than the District healers did despite the meager hospital equipment she had. She diagnosed Annabel Rose with something called moderate Ventricular Septal Defect; a heart disease she had since birth. Dr. Hartree let her listen to the whooshing sound of her Annie’s heartbeat through the stethoscope. Her baby’s got a hole in her heart. Lucy Gray wept.

Dr. Hartree said that the hole might yet repair itself, that she could look for some medicine that could help strengthen Annie’s heart muscles. But if it did not, Annie would need heart surgery which Dr. Hartree was neither qualified for nor equipped to do. In that scenario, going to the Capitol would be Annie’s best hope, said the doctor. The community’s leader approved Dr. Hartree’s request for getting the medicine. In exchange, Lucy Gray had to take on additional work on top of what she’d already been assigned with to earn her keep. Lucy Gray was both thankful and suspicious. She was no fool, a big favor like that didn’t come without heavier strings. But her baby was alive so Lucy Gray kept her head down. (For the moment, at least.)

Annabel Rose grew up a happy child. She was small for her age but her presence filled the room and her heart was so full of love. Whenever she smiled, a deep dimple showed on her cheek and her warm brown eyes would shine like stars in the night sky. Her baby never did grow out of her blond hair, riotous curls tumbling down her head. She looked like an angel; Lucy Gray’s own angel.

She was truly heaven sent. There were no words to describe how much her daughter made her happy, which was something, coming from a songwriter. Oft Lucy Gray wished the Covey had a chance to know her daughter. Annabel Rose fit in alright with the children of the community, but children can be cruel sometimes. Annie’s body was weak and she ran out of breath fast, making her unable to be included in strenuous physical activities. Lucy Gray was not deaf to the whispers of “runt” that surrounded her daughter, whispers that eventually reached Annie’s ears, causing her to come home tearfully, fisting her mother’s skirt and asking what it meant. Once upon a time, Lucy Gray would have been rearing for a fight but everything was different now. She didn’t have her Covey; her and Annie were alone.

Oh, people were nice enough but, like in District 12, they seemed to be able to sense an otherness in her and Annie that made them unable to accept them fully. It didn’t help that the community leader’s demeanor was like that either. The residents liked and respected him better than the strangers they barely knew anything about, so of course they’d follow his example.

Lucy Gray had been missing her Covey so much that she contemplated going back to District 12, back to her family, when she’d heard that an electric fence was put around it, complete with Peacekeepers patrolling the perimeter. They’d never bothered with that area before, but Lucy Gray had an inkling why they suddenly found it important.

So what else could she do but grit her teeth and bear it? Every night Lucy Gray would sing songs to Annie and tell her stories about the Covey, about her family and the colorful nights and laughter they shared. And Annie’s eyes would shine in the low lamplight, humming along to the tunes.

Lucy Gray did not bring her guitar with her during her journey out of District 12, but she was able to obtain a smaller version — a ukulele — from a traveling salesman. His initial offer nearly took all her saved up money to pay for, but she was able to haggle down to a more reasonable price. At 3-years-old, Annabel Rose learned the basic chords from her mother. The first song she learned was to the tune of Lucy Gray's namesake.

It tugged at Lucy Gray’s heartstrings to hear her Annie’s sweet voice in the warmth of their home. She resolved to write a song for her daughter’s fourth birthday as a gift. Lucy Gray had her song, and so did her Capitol boy. It was only apt that Annabel Rose had one too.

It was the night of Annabel Rose's fourth birthday when everything went wrong. Lucy Gray was humming underneath her breath to the tune of a new song, their tiny kitchen fragrant with the smell of a birthday cake she’d stolen half the ingredients for to bake. She lit up a deformed red candle she attempted to mold from whatever melted wax she could find, cupping the flame between her palms briefly to keep it from being blown out. With a satisfied sigh, she wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the bed to shake her daughter awake.

All Lucy Grey felt was the cold skin of her daughter, her breathing shallow and her skin tinged blue. Her heart dropped to her stomach. With shaking hands, she wrapped Annie in a blanket and lifted her into her arms.

On the way to Dr. Hartree’s cabin, Lucy Gray would not realize that she’d been singing the song she’d written for Annie. And she will sing it under her breath while the good doctor examined her daughter, telling her the heart defect had gotten worse. She’d sing it at the back of her mind while Dr. Hartree tells her that surgery wasn’t an option anymore, that the medicine Annie’ll need is only available in the Capitol, that if she wants her baby to live she’ll need to find some way to get her a heart transplant. She’ll sing it and sing it, hoping the girl she’d written it for would awaken long enough to sing it with her.

She would only stop when Dr. Hartree clasped her hands, telling her in a hushed whisper that she’d found a way to get them to the Capitol discreetly. The doctor’s got family among the Peacekeepers in District 12 who was going to go to the Capitol in two days. Some officer fellow that was high-ranking enough to have his own private train cabin, and kind enough to share it with them. Dr. Hartree had given her temporary antibiotics for Annie with an apology that she couldn’t do anything more. When they arrive in the Capitol, Lucy Gray was on her own. Lucy Gray who had no penny to her name, who would probably be shot on sight once the Capitol had caught wind of her existence.

Her mind was racing on the morn she and a barely-lucid Annie snuck out to the gates. They were met with a heavyset man two heads taller than Lucy Gray, driving a military jeep. Time passed quickly and they encountered no hurdles getting to the train station on time. He lent them warm Capitol-style cloaks so they could blend in upon arrival. He’d even made her a cup of tea, noticing the nervousness in her demeanor. Lucy Gray had not been expecting such kindness from a Peacekeeper, no matter how highly Dr. Hartree spoke of him.

It was nighttime when they arrived, snow falling heavily on the ostentatious buildings. It wasn’t only the cold that made Lucy Gray shiver.

Under the cover of the night, Lucy Gray held her Annabel Rose and rapped on the door of the one she’d hoped would help them. If blood was not an enough reason, she could always appeal to their conscience.

The door swung open.

“Tigris, I need your help.”

#snowbaird #snowbaird drabble #snowbaird kidfic au #lucy gray baird #original child character #tbosas #the hunger games #i've only seen the movie so characterizations are probably off but i just wanna have fun ok

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flamewind · 4 months

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I can be your hero

It’s finally finished and even though I had to cut out two bits, it’s still one of the longest short stories I’ve ever written. And one of my favorites as well. 🥰

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 🙂

A little loosely related, extra rambling:

I just love writing from kids’ POV, it’s always so funny to get into their mindset and see the world as a child for a little while. Even if sometimes it’s a huge challenge to find a way to tell the story I want when kids notice and ‘decode’ the world differently than I’m supposed to show. 😅 It’s always fun to find a way around when you’re working with an unreliable or restricted POV like that. 🙂

#goldenheart kidfic #nimona au #goldenheart #my writing #ballister x ambrosius #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #nimona #fanfiction #ao3 #cw: mentions of child abuse #cw: Ballister's childhood

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vettelsbitch · 4 months

Note

Hellooo, hope you're doing alright!! I wanted to check in and ask if you think Bez and Cele in the kidfic universe would go to a Christmas market?

Either pre relationship with Bez's hands being cold and Cele warming them up? Or post getting together when Matteo is walking with both of them holding one of his hands? Or mix it all together and Teo is the one with cold hands and needs both of them close to him and each other?

Thanks in advance, and don't feel pressured!!! <3

Bestie, babe, I HAVE thought about this, I think Xmas time can have such potential for a kidfic AU. And of course this is no different.

At first I was going to answer this with a series of thoughts and ideas about what could happen, but then it started growing and growing. So I went for a blurb... that also grew and ended up being 2.5k words.

But, merry christmas and happy holidays, there you go, enjoy this unbetaed mess (and as always thanks to @dobbiamo-capire for helping me keep it italian enough)

....

Marco stops for a second in his walk down the building stairs, Matteo in his arms, his eyes drifting to Cele's closed door a little ways down the hallway. They haven't seen each other quite as much, and Matteo has started asking about him. Well, more than usual. He wonders if they should walk up to the door and knock, but what would he say? 'Hey, Teo has been asking about you, and I also miss you a lot'. So instead he just keeps walking down, Cele is probably studying for his exams.

Marco had asked for the day off at work so they could go walk around the Christmas market a week ago. But the mechanic shop was very busy with people wanting to make sure their car was ready for long trips home or up the mountains for the holidays. So it took a bit, but finally, they are on their way to spend a whole day walking around.

When they get to the street, Marco lowers Teo to the ground. He readjusts the backpack on his shoulders, full of juice packs, sandwiches, and some of Teo's favorite snacks, and drops to one knee in front of his kid.

"You have to put on your hat, Teo," he says, reaching for the lump of knit fabric in Matteo's hands.

"I don't like it, papà!"

"It's cold, and your ears will fall off if you don't use it," he says, tugging one of his small ears, prompting a giggle out of Teo. Then he brushes Teo's curls back to make sure they don't get in his eyes when he puts the hat on, tying the little ear covers under his chin and fluffing his scarf so his cheeks get some coverage from the chilly wind too. "How excited are you for the market?"

Matteo throws his arm open and his hands as far apart as he can stretch them. "This much!"

"Wow, that's a lot."

Marco stands up again, offering his hand for Matteo to grab onto, and they start walking slowly towards the city center. His little gloved hand in Marco's big one makes him smile, excited to see him enjoy the holiday spirit that covers the city.

…………………

They reach the market twenty minutes and a juice pack later. It's filled with people chatting and laughing, looking at the stands offering anything from sweets to Christmas decorations, and Matteo seems to fill back up with energy at the sight of it all, pulling on Marco's hand to go to the closest stall and look at the wooden toys in it.

Every vendor is nice, and the whole square smells of wood and spices. An old man with gray hair, big round glasses, and an apron with a chocolate bar printed on it gives Matteo a little chocolate candy for free, and that makes sure his smile stays firmly in his face while they walk between wooden stalls.

Marco recognizes one of the girls tending the coffee stand, she had brought her car to his job to get a bump fixed not long ago, and she strikes up a conversation while still helping customers, which is quite impressive if you ask him. She's telling him how she can't go back home this year when he feels Matteo pulling his hand insistently. He looks down to see him pointing somewhere in the distance, throwing an apologetic smile at the girl.

"Papà, look, 'ele!"

Marco's eyes snap up immediately, looking towards where Teo is pointing. Between the rows of people having a good time, he can see the archway that serves as an entry to the ice rink, and next to it, in another of the wooden winter stalls, there's Cele. If Matteo hadn't pointed him out, it could have taken Marco a second to realize it was him, his long black curls hidden by his hat. But it's clearly him. Matteo tugs at his hand again.

"C'mon, papà, let's go see 'ele."

Marco smiles at him again, letting himself get dragged away from the coffee stall. He turns around to wave to the girl, and she just smiles back at him quickly before turning around to the next person in line. Teo walks in a straight line, his little hand tight around Marco's fingers. He can see people entering the rink, but Cele seems to not be busy when they get to him, he's talking to another young man next to him. Both of them have the same jacket on, with the university logo on the chest. Marco goes to clear his throat to catch his attention when Teo beats him to it.

"Hi 'ele!"

Marco feels his heart skip a beat when Cele turns around, his nose and his cheeks are flushed red. He's smiling immediately, looking down at Teo and then glancing at Marco. His eyes are crinkling, and his irises are so dark that they reflect the light hanging around him.

"Hey guys! What brings you here?" He says, dropping to his elbows on the stall to look down at Teo more comfortably.

Marco pats Matteo's head, the hat warm against his cold hands. "I promised to take him to the market some time ago, and we finally managed."

Matteo steps closer, rising on his tiptoes to put his hands on the edge of the wooden table. "Look, Cele! I've got Spiderman gloves!"

Cele bends over further, getting close to Teo, and Marco feels like his lungs are on fire for a second, seeing him smiling at his kid, his face soft and open, immediately praising his gloves. He puts his hands in his pocket before he does something dumb, like caressing Cele's cheek.

"Do you guys want to try the rink? Skating is pretty fun," Cele says, pointing at the archway.

Marco looks at the mass of people skating around and then at the list of prices for the rented skates, feeling Teo turn around. Cele must notice because he speaks up. "Friends and family discount, of course," he says with a wink. Marco almost chokes on his own breath.

"Can we papà?"

Bez looks down, patting his head again. "There's too many people, Teo, and you're small, it can be dangerous."

Matteo pouts, his bottom lip pushing forward and his big eyes looking up at him, and Marco knows he's doomed. He can never say no to his kid when he pulls the puppy eyes; even at three years old, he knows it. He looks up to Cele, looking for help, only to be faced with his crooked smile and big eyes filled with twinkling lights. And before Cele can fully open his mouth to speak, he is really doomed.

"I get my break at around 13, in less than an hour, if you guys wait until then, we can all go in, and then there are fewer people since it's lunchtime," he says, tilting his head a little for the full puppy eyes effect.

Marco sighs, shaking his head, the curls poking out under his beanie bouncing with the movement. "Okay, we'll keep looking around and come back then. Thank you, Cele."

"Thank you, 'ele!"

…………………………………

After another walk around the market, a sandwich, two juice packs, and a trip to the bathroom in the mall next to the market, they make their way back to the rink. Cele is no longer standing behind the wooden table, a blonde girl is in his place. Marco is about to walk up and ask when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"You're here, guys, just in time," he says, dropping to one knee to talk with Matteo. "Are you ready to skate?"

Matteo nods quickly, his smile a little tight with equal parts excitement and nerves. Marco feels nervous himself, butterflies causing a ruckus in his stomach when Cele looks up at him.

"Okay, I need your shoe sizes for the skates," Cele starts walking towards the wooden stall as soon as Marco stumbles through telling him the two numbers.

When they reach him, he's struggling to carry three pairs of skates to the bench next to the archway into the rink. It's cute, how excited he also looks to be skating with them, and the butterflies in Marco's stomach start dive-bombing once again.

"Wait, I haven't paid yet," Marco says, helping Teo onto the bench, his legs a bit too short to jump by himself.

Cele shakes a hand in front of his face. "Don't worry about it, friends and family discount, remember," he says as he turns back towards Matteo, kneeling in front of him to help him get his shoes off and the skates on. When he tickles his little socked toes and they both giggle, Marco feels his chest burst with affection.

He's still standing, his skates waiting for him next to Cele's, so he sits down to put them on before he says something dumb. Or incriminating. Like how pretty Cele looks with his cheeks pink from the cold.

Once they're all skated up, their shoes safely back in the hands of the blonde girl, Cele gives them some quick pointers with the ease of someone who's probably been doing it for some days already. When he's done and asks if they have any questions, Matteo raises his hand. Marco can see Cele's mouth tighten to contain a giggle.

"Cele, papà doesn't have gloves!"

Marco feels his cheeks heat up under Cele's gaze. He shakes his head, opens his jacket, and starts digging around in the pockets of the hoodie he has on underneath.

"Well, that can't be, right, Teo? The good news is I always carry extra because I also forget them all the time," he says, pulling another pair of gloves, dark gray like the ones he's wearing, from his pocket. "So I can lend them to your papà while we skate."

Marco grabs the gloves, immediately putting them on under the focused gaze of his kid. They're slightly warm to the touch, probably from Cele's body heat, and feel like heaven going over his freezing-cold fingers. He wiggles his fingers, they're a little big for him, and they look snug on Cele, but he has a bit of extra room at the tips of his fingers. His brain floods with the realization that Cele has bigger hands than him. He's never cared about that, and now his eyes keep glancing at the other's hands.

When they're fully ready, Cele guides them through the archway carefully, Matteo gripping their hands tight to stay upright on the suddenly much more slick surface. The rink is much emptier than before, some couples and one group of teens are the only ones skating around. They start slowly, Cele giving pointers to their form, and quickly enough they're skating around, Matteo grabbing their hands with a huge smile on his face.

Marco looks over at Cele, on the other side of his kid, and mouths his thanks. He swears he sees Cele's cheeks flush darker, but that's probably from the ice underneath their feet.

"So, Teo, have you written your letter to Babbo Natale already?"

Matteo nods, sliding a bit with the momentum but catching himself easily with Cele's help. "Yes, papà is helping me, writing is a bit hard."

"It is, you're right there, Teo."

Matteo starts going on about what he's asking for, and what he's sure he will get because everyone says he's a good boy. Marco feels warm all over—the swirling lights around them, his kid's hand in his, soft gloves, and softer eyes across the ice.

"Cele," he says in a lull of their conversation. "How is it that you're working here? Don't you have exams?"

Cele nods, smiling. "I do, but I can revise here easily, that's why I asked to be at the front instead of in here. Also, the extra cash is nice, I'm not going home until New Year's Eve, so I had the time."

"So you're here for Christmas?"

"Yes, this year is a bit complicated with scheduling, so I can't get up there until afterwards. But it's okay."

Marco knows what he's going to say before he can reel it in and stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. "We're going to Rimini for Christmas, you could come with us and spend the day together," he says. "If you want, I don't want you to be alone."

He can see it hit Cele, the moment the words sink into both of them, at the same time as he loses his footing on the ice, sliding backwards. He lets go of Matteo's hand, not wanting to bring his kid down with him, but it's too late for himself, his limbs flying, trying to catch himself, and Cele moving towards him to try to help.

One second later, he's flat on his back, his ass sore from the fall, the warm, solid weight of Cele on top of him, and his dark eyes worried. "Are you okay, Marco?"

He wants to bury himself in the ice, let the embarrassment pass, he wants to pull Cele closer, he wants to run away. He's stalling until Matteo's laughter next to him brings him back. Teo's sitting down on the ice, giggling up a storm at his dad's fall.

Cele moves back, getting up, and Marco has to stop himself from tugging on his sleeve, so he lays on top of him again. The cold is starting to seep into his back, so he should get up too.

With the help of Cele, they all get back on their feet and skate slowly back to the entrance. There was nothing other than a sore butt and a dent in his cool persona to cry about. When they get their shoes back, Matteo's legs are a bit wiggly from the change back to solid ground, and he starts imitating his dad falling on his ass and laughing loudly.

"Yes, yes, I fell. Very funny," he says.

Cele has been a bit quiet since the fall, so he turns towards him, grabbing his arm and squeezing. "Hey, the offer stands, I think Matteo would really like to have you there, and you shouldn't be alone for Christmas."

He sees him stutter, looking down at Teo, before nodding with a shy smile on his face. "Okay, if you insist, thank you, Marco."

The blonde girl at the stall calls Cele's name, his break is up.

"I had a great time with you guys, I need to go back now."

"Oh, right," says Marco. "Thank you, Cele, we had a lot of fun."

Matteo hugs his legs, thanking him too. Cele's hand comes down to ruffle his head through his hat. Marco finds himself unable to shut up again. "We're going to walk around until they turn on the lights if you want to go see them with us later. When do you get out?"

Cele's smile widens. "My shift ends at 17, and I'd love to go with you guys," he says, walking backward towards the stall.

"We'll be here," Marco says, letting Matteo tug him back to the market.

He squeezes his kid's hand, his chest feeling raw with emotion, and his brain is busy thinking about how he's going to tell his mom that she needs to add another plate to Christmas lunch. He's still wearing Cele's gloves.

#bezz/cele #bezz/cele kidfic AU #bezz has a kid and Cele is his neighbor AU #but make it xmas themed #motogp rpf #mine #kidfic anon

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jomiddlemarch · 6 months

Text

Alina and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Alina was fairly certain that kindergarten pickup was actually a level of Hell. One of the deeper ones, though she had to admit that waiting for the divorce to be finalized and the week in February that Mal had been away at a conference in Hawaii when Eli got the stomach bug and she’d run out of orange Pedialyte, Clorox, and episodes of Elmo’s World just as she’d succumbed were both worse. She’d gotten a tee-shirt out of the conference and not herpes, so it was slightly ahead, which was the kind of thing she’d say that would make Gen tell her she really had to stay in the here and now and focus on herself and Eli; the fact that focusing in herself to Gen always meant some form of hot/stone/the feminine Divine yoga plus or minus a green smoothie was something Alina figured she just had to suck up as part of the best friend code. Especially if she wanted (needed) Gen to remain on Eli’s emergency contact list and deal with kindergarten pickup if Alina had a deadline or her car decided to call her bluff on her perpetually overdue oil changes.

She’d actually finished the article on affordable housing while sitting at the oil change place, wondering from time to time how oil change places still existed and why they still had a TV mounted on the wall when everyone was on their phone, earbuds in, podcasts and memes washing over them as digital sedatives. When she’d said anything like that at home, Mal would accuse her of being a Luddite, while continuing to shoot some monster on his gaming PC, and she’d launch into an explanation of why the Luddites got a bad rap and remembering it, she once again rejoiced in the finalization of the divorce, despite everything else it had cost her, starting with her rosy ideals about happily-ever-afters. In the timeless, nameless oil change place, happily-ever-after seemed like something that wouldn’t even appear on the TV as an infomercial. On the flip side, she wasn’t worried her car would die in kindergarten pickup.

Instead, she wished for death. Or something that would free her from her misery, besides the over-priced pistachio latte that she promptly spilled as soon as she got out of her car, half of it landing on her already dingy sneakers. She was surrounded by totally put-together, mani-pedi-ed moms in Lululemon or power suits or hand-knit sweaters and $300 jeans, with younger siblings in the latest paisley slings, Labradoodles with monogrammed collars off-leash and milling about, the same women who’d post their freshly washed and fashionably dressed kid holding a “First Day of X Grade” chalked on adorable chalkboard pics on social media. She’d waffled for a good ten minutes over the latte, since it really wasn’t in her budget and almost certainly was contributing to climate change and her chances of developing Type II diabetes, and all for what? Turning her greyish sneakers a bilious shade she associated with Dickensian misers with gout and getting her hands sticky.

“One of those days,” she heard, a man’s voice drifting down from behind her left shoulder. Before Alina could twist around or even cant her neck upward to see who was talking to her, he’d offered her an unopened pack of travel wet-wipes.

“Uh, thanks,” she said, peeling back the sticker closing the wipes and dabbing at her cuff of her cardigan.

“Sorry about your coffee,” the man said. He’d moved into view, tall and dark-haired with a neatly trimmed beard, a sporty fleece vest layered over what he had to have worn to work, suit pants and a dress shirt still wrinkle-free. “I could easily spare a juice-box—apple-carrot ended up being a bust.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Alina remarked. “Plus, juice isn’t supposed to be good for kids.”

“No?”

Alina shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like you’re giving them absinthe. Or liquid plutonium. But yeah, whole fruit is better. And they can just drink water.”

“You’re the first mom to talk to me at pickup,” he said. “I’m Alex, by the way. Cosima’s dad.”

“Probably because you’re like the only dad to show up,” Alina replied. She didn’t say “and you look like you’re on the cover of Vogue except for the navy fleece” but she thought it. Loudly.

“Their loss. Cosima always has so much to say as soon as she leaves the building, I get a play-by-play,” he said. “I’m out of town enough I don’t like to ask her nanny to get her if I can do it.”

Alina knew she should not say it. It was clear as day, as a bell, as crystal. Hell, she only had to make a leading remark and he’d probably volunteer the info, if his unprompted remarks about being Cosima’s dad and having a nanny were anything to go by. She had, however, been known to make bad decisions. See: Mal, though Eli was the most silvery of silver linings.

“Her mom can’t pick her up?”

Alex, who had every right to freeze up or withdraw or otherwise let her know she had far overstepped in her latte-stained sneakers, shrugged.

“She left me to go find herself. That doesn’t make her terribly available for kindergarten pickup. Or bath-time, beginning ballet, or urgent care visits for ear infections,” he said, not as bitterly as he could have but not as Zen as he’d likely intended. There was a look in his eyes that only another divorced, custodial parent could recognize, a pain made of equal parts anger and humiliation, the need to conceal it from the child who shouldn’t see their other parent as a villain. The fatigue from being the one who was there, who couldn’t think about a weekend away or a night out without worrying about whether there’d be a call from the sitter, a fever, a crying jag over the fear of abandonment and the finite quantity of chicken nuggets allotted to a meal.

“I really thought you were going to end on bake sales,” Alina said.

“I always get a pass from the class moms on those,” Alex said. “They don’t expect a dad to bake, so if I do, I’m basically a superhero and if I can’t manage to send in homemade banana chocolate chip muffins and send her in with a box of cupcakes from Kaminsky’s, I’m still in their good graces. It’s completely unfair.”

“It is,” Alina said. She couldn’t be that annoyed because he knew it. “I wish I could get away with banana bread muffins. I sent Eli with red velvet cupcakes once and I didn’t use organic red food coloring or organic, locally sourced cream cheese for the frosting and I got the smoky cat-wing stink-eye for the next month. I should have risen above it, but honestly, it sucked.”

Alex laughed. He had a nice laugh, a nice voice, and seemed like a nice man who was a good dad. With her luck, that meant that he was either secretly an immensely powerful, evil mastermind intent on world domination or that she’d never see him again.

“You’re Eli’s mom? Cosima says he’s very smart and good at sharing and he makes the best dinosaur sounds. Somewhere between a growl and a yodel, I gathered after she gave up trying to describe it and demonstrated her impression,” Alex said. “I hope this isn’t too presumptuous, but would you consider a playdate for them? It’s been rough, these past few months, and I’m trying to make sure she still has a normal childhood, whatever that means these days. My mother thinks I spoil her, but she’s very old-fashioned. My mother, not Cosima.”

“My schedule is a little tricky,” Alina said carefully. She would have been more wary if it had been one of the exquisitely put-together mothers asking, more relaxed if one of the nannies had made the proposal. She wasn’t sure what to make of Alex’s offer, except that she’d wanted to say yes right away and that meant she needed to watch herself. The opportunity to even subtly trash-talk her ex was irresistible, however. “Eli’s father is around, but never when I need to organize anything.”

“We could meet at the park. I can bring enough snacks to last the afternoon, you could come when you’re free,” Alex suggested. He said when and not if, enough hope in his voice and those dark eyes that it sounded like an appeal and not an attempt to control her.

“I wouldn’t want you to go to too much trouble,” she said. She had thought arranging playdates would be easier than actual adult dating, but thus far, she’d been wrong.

“Oh, I won’t. I’ll go to Kaminsky’s and stock up. I’m friends with the owners,” he said. “I should say, I’m friends with Theo and Ivan doesn’t outright loathe me and allows me to eat his pastry. If you are not Theo, that is about as close to friends as you can get with him.”

“Sounds like my friend Gen’s boyfriend David, except substitute updating all my devices so I don’t get hacked or locked out of my bank account for petit fours and apple turnovers,” Alina said.

“That’s what you’d like, apple turnovers?” Alex asked, looking at her with a degree of focus that started out as unnerving and then suddenly felt warmer than appraisal, too thoughtful to be mere flirtation.

“You don’t have to—” Alina began, cut off when the kids were released, much like a swarm of infuriated bees or the Charge of the Light Brigade, Eli running a credible Olympic qualifying sprint with her latte-splattered knees as the finish line, a dark-haired little girl with neatly braided hair arriving slightly more decorously in Alex’s embrace; he’d instantly dropped into an unfairly elegant crouch to receive his daughter, while Alina planted her feet to take on the onslaught of Hurricane Eli.

“Papa, you have to tell Baba not to eat snails anymore because Ms. Costas got one and it’s got a name and snails are people too,” Cosima announced, small hands planted on her father’s shoulders.

“Its name is Greg,” Eli said, as if the four of them were having a conversation, which Alina now supposed was the actual truth.

“So, a boy snail,” Alex said.

“No,” Cosima said. “Just Greg.”

“Can we go to the park, Mommy? You said we could. Can we bring meatballs?” Eli asked.

“Not today, buddy,” Alina said, bracing herself for a tantrum or a closing argument worthy of Clarence Darrow or Judge Judy.

“You said—”

“Your mom said we could have a playdate on Saturday and that is in two days,” Alex interjected. “Cosima and I are going to bring a blanket and some treats. We could include meatballs too.”

“Don’t,” Alina said. Alex’s expression went blank but Cosima and Eli’s both looked mutinous and on the verge of tears. It was amazing Ms. Costas could stand firm regarding quiet time in the face of such unified disapproval. “I just meant, don’t worry about meatballs. Meatballs is Mr. Lanstov’s cat. He’s our neighbor, we help out a little—”

“Yeah, because Mr. Lantsov is a million years old,” Eli said. “He said to call him Niko, but Mommy says that’s not polite because he’s so old.”

“We could bring apple turnovers then,” Alex said. “And maybe some catnip for Meatballs. It would be nice to make everyone happy.”

For @vesperass-anuna and @aloveforjaneausten who were wanting a modern AU for Darklina where our two unhappy characters meet at school picking up their kiddos.

#darklina #modern au #alina x aleksander #dilf!aleksander #fluff #humor #kidfic #mal bashing #prompt fill #fivan #ivan x fedyor

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