Don't try to be me. It aint worth it

𝑍𝑚𝑥𝑐ℎ𝑠’𝑠 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

♕ 𝚉 \\ 𝚜𝚑𝚎/𝚑𝚎𝚛 \\ 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗

𖦹 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚌: Boss (part 2) | Draco Malfoy|

𖦹 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚌: Thunderstorms | Remus Lupin |

𖦹 Harry Potter MasterList

𖦹 Twilight Masterlist

𖦹 MCU Masterlist

𖦹 Famous People Masterlist

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𖦹 dm and inbox always open || open to post about any topic || some nsfw posts || daddy issues are at 100% || shifter || tumblr gf @morwap ❣︎❤︎︎, she is one of the most amazing people ive ever talked too

𖦹 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood, Fred Weasley, Carlisle Cullen, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Chris Evans

𖦹 I basically write for anyone based on my masterlists!

𖦹 Become a emoji anon just by asking :)

☘︎︎ 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 - 𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐲 ☘︎︎

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

➤ Summary: With the Volturi threat behind them and their new home nearly complete, Carlisle and Victoria step into a future they never thought they’d be allowed to have. As the Cullen family settles into peace, the love that began in darkness finally blooms in the light. ➤ Warning: Tender romance, healing, references to eternity and mortality, and soft closure. ➤ Word Count: 1,087

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🌸 Part VII: Where the Light Stays 🌸 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Forks, 2009

The house was finished in the spring.

It wasn’t large—at least not by Cullen standards—but it was elegant, warm, and quiet. Hidden beneath a veil of trees and moss, sunlight spilled through the tall windows in scattered gold, pooling across dark floors and pale walls.

It smelled of pine and jasmine and old pages.

Victoria stood barefoot in the center of it, a paintbrush between her fingers, the final stroke of soft green still drying on the wall behind her.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered.

Carlisle appeared in the doorway behind her, carrying a worn book and two steaming mugs of her favorite blend—caffeine-free, of course. Habit and sentiment, more than necessity.

“Didn’t I tell you it would be?” he said with a small smile.

She turned to face him, cheeks flushed in a way no vampire’s should be.

“I never believed we’d have this.”

He handed her a mug. “We made it.”

They stood there in silence for a long moment, taking it all in.

A home. A haven. The culmination of nearly three centuries of quiet survival and fierce devotion.

This was theirs.

✦ ✦ ✦

The first night in the new house was still.

No voices. No footsteps above. No battles in the air.

Just wind in the trees and the soft tick of an old grandfather clock Carlisle had salvaged from a London estate nearly a hundred years ago.

Victoria lay with her head on his chest, the rhythm of his breath unneeded, but grounding.

“I keep thinking it’ll vanish,” she murmured. “Like a dream I’ll wake from.”

Carlisle stroked her hair. “It won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I do,” he said. “Because we’ve both fought too hard to build something false. This isn’t a dream—it’s the reward.”

She smiled faintly, tracing his collarbone with her fingertip. “I’ve never really stopped fighting. Not until you.”

“You still fight.”

“Not for survival,” she corrected. “Now, I fight for us.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “That’s all I’ve ever done.”

✦ ✦ ✦

The family came the following week.

Renesmee brought a wildflower crown she made herself and insisted Victoria wear it the entire afternoon. Jasper and Emmett helped plant fruit trees along the edge of the forest, laughing like boys as they argued over spacing and sun exposure. Rosalie brought antique curtains she’d altered herself, while Alice performed a one-woman interior design miracle.

Even Edward seemed more relaxed, playing soft piano in the sunroom as Bella and Nessie danced barefoot across the wooden floor.

And in the center of it all, Carlisle and Victoria stood side by side, watching the life they’d built ripple outward.

“I always thought love had to be loud,” Victoria whispered to Rosalie that evening, watching Carlisle carefully position a row of books. “But it’s this. It’s quiet. Steady.”

Rosalie gave a rare smile. “That’s what makes it last.”

✦ ✦ ✦

That night, beneath the silver hush of a full moon, Carlisle lit the first fire in the hearth.

They sat together in the quiet glow, fingers intertwined.

“Do you miss the old world?” Victoria asked.

“Sometimes. But not in the way people think.” He looked at her. “I miss moments. Not eras.”

“Like what?”

“The night I turned you,” he said softly. “I remember the snow in your hair. The weight of your life in my hands.”

Victoria closed her eyes. “I thought I was dying.”

“You were. And I couldn’t bear it.”

She turned to him. “And now?”

“I’ve never been more alive,” he said.

She leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “Then let’s live, Carlisle. Let’s stop drifting from one century to the next. Let’s finally be.”

✦ ✦ ✦

They planted a garden.

Not for food, of course—but for memory.

Rosemary for resilience. Lavender for peace. Ivy for the strength of love that clings through every season.

And when the rain came down in thick sheets, they sat on the porch in silence, watching the drops trail down the glass.

Sometimes Carlisle read aloud. Sometimes Victoria painted. Sometimes they simply existed.

In the quiet.

Together.

✦ ✦ ✦

On their anniversary—March 9th, the date Carlisle had found her in the snow—he gave her a necklace shaped like a falling star. Small, silver, and delicate.

“For the wish I made,” he said.

She looked up. “You wished for me?”

“I wished for something worth saving.”

Her lips curved softly. “You found it.”

He slipped it around her neck. “And I’ll never let go.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Years passed. Decades would follow.

They changed homes, as all immortals must. Moved when curiosity stirred or time demanded it.

But they always built new lives with the same foundation: each other.

Through cities and wilderness, across oceans and centuries, one truth remained—

Carlisle had saved her life. But she had given him something he hadn’t expected:

Someone to share it with.

Someone who never made him choose between duty and desire.

Someone who stood beside him in both war and peace, in ruin and renewal.

And she—Victoria—who once believed herself doomed to drift forever, had finally found her place.

Not just in the world.

But in his arms.

➤ Summary: After the Volturi retreat, peace settles over Forks—but not without the weight of what could have been. As the Cullen family begins to rebuild a sense of normalcy, Victoria and Carlisle are left to reckon with everything they’ve survived. Now, without war looming over them, they must ask themselves: what comes next? ➤ Warning: Emotional vulnerability, romantic tenderness, introspection, and themes of immortality and future-building. ➤ Word Count: 1,042

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🌤️ Part VI: After the Ashes 🌤️ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Forks

The snow had melted.

Where once there was a field of frost and dread, spring had begun to creep in—green and quiet, as if the earth itself was trying to forget the ghosts that had almost returned.

Victoria stood at the tree line where they had faced the Volturi, the hem of her coat brushing new grass. She didn’t know why she kept coming here. Perhaps to remind herself it was real. That they had survived.

She heard Carlisle’s approach before he spoke, his presence familiar as breath.

“Still haunted?”

“Not haunted,” she said. “Reflective.”

He slipped an arm around her waist. “Do you regret staying in Forks?”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I don’t regret anything that keeps me near you.”

He kissed her temple. “It’s time to start thinking forward.”

“To what?”

“To life,” he said. “The one we fought for. The one we chose.”

She nodded, but didn’t move.

✦ ✦ ✦

That afternoon, she helped Rosalie reassemble a greenhouse window Edward had accidentally shattered during a sparring session with Emmett.

“He was showing off,” Rosalie said dryly, carefully aligning the pane.

Victoria chuckled. “Doesn’t he always?”

Rosalie looked up. “How do you feel now, with the Volturi gone?”

Victoria considered. “Lighter. But… uncertain.”

“Why?”

She pressed the glass into place. “Because I never thought about what came after.”

Rosalie nodded. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Peace.”

“Unnerving.”

Rosalie looked at her. “You deserve it. You and Carlisle both.”

Victoria didn’t reply—but her fingers paused on the frame just a little longer than necessary.

✦ ✦ ✦

That evening, Carlisle found her sitting on the back porch, wrapped in one of his old coats.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said gently, sitting beside her.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

She stared into the trees. “We’ve never really talked about what we want.”

He raised a brow. “Haven’t we?”

“We’ve talked about surviving. About choosing each other. But now…” she trailed off. “Now we get to think beyond the next fight.”

Carlisle was quiet for a moment, then took her hand. “Then let’s talk. What do you want?”

She was still. Then:

“I want… to be rooted. For once. I’ve never had that, Carlisle. Not even before I was turned. You’ve always belonged to something—your family, your purpose, your compassion. I’ve always floated.”

He turned to her fully. “Victoria, you belong. Here. With me. With us.”

“I know. But I want to build something now. Not just exist beside it.”

Carlisle’s eyes softened. “Then we’ll build. Whatever you want. A home, a sanctuary, a legacy.”

Her smile was quiet. “I like the sound of that.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of parchment.

“I wasn’t sure when to give you this,” he said, placing it in her hands.

She unfolded it. It was a deed—to land just north of the property. Untouched. Quiet. The border where sunlight pooled through the trees in the morning.

“A place,” he said softly, “for us to shape as we see fit.”

She stared at the paper, then at him. “You’ve been planning this.”

“For decades,” he admitted. “Waiting for the right time.”

“And now?”

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Now is perfect.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Over the next few weeks, the Cullen family watched as Victoria became a storm of energy and intent.

She walked the new land with Jasper, mapping paths and sunlight angles.

She spoke with Alice about aesthetics, and with Emmett about how best to build against a storm.

And every evening, Carlisle stood with her beneath the trees, listening, sketching, dreaming.

It wasn’t just a house they were planning.

It was a life.

✦ ✦ ✦

One night, as twilight sank into the woods, she and Carlisle stood in the frame of what would become their new home.

The bones of the building were simple for now—piles of stone, support beams, a half-raised wall—but it was enough to imagine the future.

Carlisle took her hand. “Do you remember when I found you?”

“In the snow,” she said, smiling faintly. “You thought I was already dead.”

“I almost didn’t turn you.”

“I know.”

“But I couldn’t leave you there.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “You gave me a second life.”

He looked around them. “And now we have a third.”

She looked at him, eyes glowing gold in the dusky light. “This—this is the life I choose. Again and again.”

Carlisle smiled, then pulled a small box from his coat pocket. Inside was a ring. Simple. Elegant. A single pale diamond set in gold.

Victoria blinked.

“I know we don’t need ceremonies,” he said. “But I wanted you to know—formally, irrevocably—that I am yours. That I always have been.”

She stared at the ring, then at him. “You’re really doing this?”

“I am.”

She took the ring with shaking fingers, then slipped it onto her hand.

“I would have said yes in 1721,” she whispered.

He pulled her into an embrace. “Then say it now.”

“Yes,” she said. “Forever.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Behind them, the wind carried the scent of pine and possibility.

➤ Summary: With the Volturi threat approaching Forks, Victoria finds herself at the center of a different kind of reckoning—not with her past, but with the legacy she and Carlisle have built together. As war threatens their peace, she must confront what it means to stand beside the man she loves when everything is at risk. ➤ Warning: Emotional conflict, references to potential violence, romantic angst, and themes of devotion vs fear. ➤ Word Count: 1,034

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ❄ Part V: Steady in the Storm ❄ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Forks, 2007

Snow clung to the treetops like breath to glass, and with every passing hour, the air thickened with dread.

Victoria stood in the clearing long before the others arrived, listening to the forest. The silence wasn’t peaceful—it was anticipatory. The kind that always came before something was lost.

Behind her, she heard Carlisle’s approach, footsteps light as snowfall.

“You’re out here early,” he said gently, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“I don’t sleep,” she replied. “And neither does fear.”

Carlisle turned her to face him. “We’ve faced worse.”

“Not like this,” she said. “Not them.”

The Volturi were coming. The ancient rulers of their kind, with their black cloaks and unyielding judgment. For Renesmee. For the illusion of law.

“They’ve made their decision,” Victoria said. “They just want to dress it up in diplomacy.”

“Then we show them the truth. Together.”

She leaned into him, letting his warmth—or the memory of it—soothe the sharp edges.

“I’m not afraid of dying,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m afraid of losing this.”

His lips touched her forehead. “You won’t.”

✦ ✦ ✦

The house buzzed with planning.

Allies arrived one by one—garbed in old coats and older power. Some of them greeted Victoria with cautious curiosity; others with wary admiration.

She didn’t care for either.

She moved like a shadow through the rooms, keeping her gaze on the horizon. On the storm that was coming.

“Do you regret it?” Rosalie asked quietly, finding her alone in the den.

“Regret what?”

“Staying. Building this. Tying yourself to us.”

Victoria’s lips twitched. “That’s a dramatic question.”

Rosalie shrugged. “It’s a dramatic week.”

Victoria looked at her. “No. I’ve never regretted it. I chose this life, every day since he turned me.”

Rosalie glanced toward the nursery upstairs. “Then fight like it.”

Victoria smiled—sharp and bright. “I intend to.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Two nights before the Volturi arrived, she stood outside with Edward, watching Renesmee chase snowflakes with Jacob in wolf form.

“She doesn’t understand,” Edward said, voice low. “What’s about to happen.”

“She shouldn’t have to,” Victoria replied.

He turned toward her. “I didn’t thank you.”

“For what?”

“For standing by Bella. By Nessie.”

Victoria tilted her head. “I wasn’t always certain about her. But I believe in love.”

Edward gave her a soft smile. “Then we’re not so different after all.”

“No,” she agreed. “We’re not.”

✦ ✦ ✦

The day arrived cloaked in silence.

The Volturi came like shadows stretching across the snow—line after line of red-eyed soldiers, cloaks whipping in the icy wind.

Victoria stood to Carlisle’s right, her expression unreadable. He hadn’t asked her to fight, but she knew she would. For him. For what they had built.

When Aro stepped forward, Carlisle met him with dignity.

“Aro,” he greeted.

“Carlisle, old friend,” Aro said, smiling like a knife. “And… this must be Victoria.”

She inclined her head. “We’ve met.”

“Briefly,” he agreed. “I’m glad to see you’ve found peace here. With him.”

“I made my peace the day he saved me.”

Aro’s eyes sparkled. “And would you stand beside him if war comes?”

Carlisle’s hand brushed hers—a silent question.

Victoria didn’t hesitate. “I would stand in front of him.”

Aro chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. “Fierce love. Beautiful, but dangerous.”

“So is your thirst for control,” she said calmly.

For a flicker of a moment, the charm dropped from his face.

Tension crackled.

But then Alice emerged from the trees, proof of a peaceful future in hand.

Everything shifted.

Aro reeled, the balance of power slipping through his fingers like ash. He offered pleasantries. Feigned understanding. Turned away.

The Volturi retreated, one by one, vanishing like fog.

Victoria remained motionless until the last cloak disappeared into the trees.

✦ ✦ ✦

Later, back at the house, silence fell—not of fear this time, but of release.

Carlisle found her upstairs, gazing out over the snow-covered forest.

“It’s over,” he said.

“For now.”

He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “You were magnificent.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You stood by me. That’s everything.”

Victoria turned to face him. “I thought I might lose you. All of this.”

“But we didn’t.”

“No,” she agreed. “And I will never let them take you from me.”

Carlisle kissed her, slow and steady, like a vow. “Then stay. Always.”

“I’ve never left,” she whispered. “Not once. Not in three hundred years.”

He smiled, resting his forehead against hers.

And in that moment—after the threat, after the frost, after the storm—they were just two souls who had found each other and refused to let go.

✦ ✦ ✦

Downstairs, Renesmee giggled in her mother’s arms. The house was full of light again.

Victoria smiled softly.

Tomorrow, there would be peace. Perhaps not forever—but long enough.

➤ Summary: As Bella becomes a permanent presence in Edward’s life, Victoria feels the shift in their world—and in Carlisle. Her carefully measured calm begins to fray as the family's safety and unity are tested. ➤ Warning: Emotional tension, protective instincts, jealousy (non-toxic), references to vampire thirst, discussions of morality, soft domestic conflict, and slow-building angst. ➤ Word Count: 1,051

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⚡ Part IV: A Crack in the Glass ⚡ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Forks, 2006

Victoria didn’t hate Bella Swan.

She hated what Bella meant.

The girl was a catalyst—a sudden, blinding star that upset the delicate orbit of their quiet life. Since her arrival, Edward had grown erratic. The family dynamic had shifted. And Carlisle, ever the calm center of the storm, was now filled with cautious hope.

Hope was dangerous.

Victoria knew. She had once clung to it like driftwood, and it had nearly drowned her.

✦ ✦ ✦

“She’s just a girl,” Carlisle said gently as they walked the forest edge one morning, the mist coiling around their ankles like ghosts.

“No,” Victoria replied. “She’s a choice. And Edward’s not ready to make it.”

Carlisle sighed. “He’s stronger than you give him credit for.”

“I give him enough credit to know he’s never been in love. Not like this.”

They stopped beneath an old pine. He turned to her, concern softening his expression. “You think this will destroy him.”

“I think it could destroy all of us,” she said quietly.

✦ ✦ ✦

At dinner that night—an unnecessary formality they observed to maintain routine—Bella sat beside Edward, her heartbeat thrumming like a metronome through the room.

Alice chattered. Emmett laughed. Rosalie simmered in silence.

Victoria simply watched.

Bella laughed at something Edward whispered. It was soft. Human. Briefly beautiful.

Victoria’s throat tightened.

Carlisle reached beneath the table and touched her hand. His warmth—centuries-old, steady—reminded her who she was.

Afterward, as Bella left, Carlisle turned to her. “You haven’t said a word to her.”

“She hasn’t earned my words.”

“She’s not the enemy, Victoria.”

“No,” she murmured. “But she’s not a friend, either.”

✦ ✦ ✦

The next night, Edward came to her.

“I want your opinion,” he said without preamble, standing in the doorway of the library.

Victoria marked her page and closed the book. “On Bella?”

He nodded.

She studied him. “You love her.”

“I do.”

“But you’re afraid.”

He sat across from her. “She makes me feel… alive.”

“She makes you reckless,” Victoria corrected gently.

“I’ve never felt this way. It’s terrifying.”

She exhaled, rising to kneel in front of him. “Then listen carefully, Edward. Love should steady you—not unmake you.”

He frowned. “You and Carlisle—”

“We were built slowly. From pain. From time. From choice.” She looked up into his golden eyes. “You’ve had none of those.”

Edward said nothing for a long moment. Then, softly, “Will you ever accept her?”

“If she proves herself,” Victoria said. “If she loves you enough to choose your world and survive it… then yes. I will stand beside her.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Carlisle came home late from the hospital two nights later. Victoria was in their room, painting by candlelight—an old habit she had never abandoned.

“She’s asked him to turn her,” he said without preamble.

Victoria’s brush froze mid-stroke.

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her carefully.

“She’s a child,” she said.

“She’s made a choice.”

“She doesn’t understand the weight of it.”

“She will.”

Victoria set the brush down. “You agree with her.”

“I don’t,” he said. “But I understand it.”

She turned toward him. “And if she dies?”

He looked away. “Then we mourn.”

Victoria crossed to him, resting her hand on his chest. “I will not mourn a stranger’s reckless decision. Not when it risks you.”

He caught her wrist gently, holding it over his heart. “I won’t let anything happen to us. Not to you.”

“But it already is,” she whispered. “We’ve spent centuries building a sanctuary. And now it’s cracking.”

Carlisle pulled her into his arms. “Then we reinforce it. Together.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Alice saw it first.

The vision: Bella, pregnant. Dying. A child tearing her apart from the inside.

Victoria was silent as Alice explained, voice trembling.

Carlisle turned to Victoria immediately. “We’ll help. We’ll do what we can.”

“No,” Victoria said. “We need to stop it.”

Carlisle frowned. “Victoria—”

“You know what that pregnancy means. You’ve seen what she’ll become.”

“She’s not a threat.”

“She’s a time bomb.”

He crossed the room, voice firm. “She’s our family now.”

“No,” Victoria said coldly. “She’s your project. Your fragile, mortal experiment.”

Silence fell like ash.

He flinched—only slightly—but she saw it.

Victoria turned away.

✦ ✦ ✦

The night Bella almost died giving birth, Victoria wasn’t there.

She was in the forest, eyes fixed on the stars, begging whatever gods still listened to keep Carlisle alive.

When she returned, Bella was changed.

And Edward held his daughter—Renesmee—in shaking arms.

Victoria looked at the child with ancient eyes. She said nothing.

Later, Carlisle approached her on the porch.

“She lived.”

“And you’re happy,” she said.

He nodded. “A life was saved.”

Victoria folded her arms. “But a family changed.”

Carlisle reached for her hand. “It doesn’t change us.”

“It already has,” she said, but this time there was no accusation—just truth.

✦ ✦ ✦

Still, she stayed.

For him.

For the pieces of the life they’d built—now scattered, imperfect, but real.

She held Renesmee once, weeks later. The child stared up at her with eyes too wise.

“You’ll bring fire,” Victoria whispered. “Let’s hope it warms instead of burns.”

She handed the girl back to Edward, then walked outside to find Carlisle beneath the trees.

“Even now,” she said, slipping her hand into his, “you’re still my reason.”

He looked down at her, his face soft. “And you are mine.”

➤ Summary: Victoria and Carlisle have settled in Forks, Washington. It’s the early days of their new “family,” and Edward is their first adopted child. With the town watching and a new era unfolding, Victoria must learn how to be something she never imagined: a mother. ➤ Warning: Emotional introspection, hints of loneliness, protective love, Edward being a 100-year-old brooding son, Victoria asserting herself against Alice’s visions, and subtle angst. ➤ Word Count: 1,062

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🌲 Part III: The Quiet Years 🌲 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Forks, Washington 2005

Victoria never expected to live in a house full of vampires.

For most of her existence, it had only ever been her and Carlisle—wandering through centuries, standing just outside history’s glare. Now, the house they built deep in the forest echoed with the footsteps of others like them.

Family, Carlisle had called them.

Victoria wasn’t sure she was built for family. But she was willing to try—for him.

✦ ✦ ✦

Edward was the first.

He reminded her of herself once—newly turned, heavy with loneliness but hiding it behind a brittle, intellectual shield. He was fiercely protective of Carlisle. Suspicious of her, at first.

“I don’t need a mother,” he had said the first time they were alone in the library.

Victoria smiled, unoffended. “Good. I’m not offering to be one.”

That seemed to satisfy him.

But over time, he began to drift into her orbit. He’d sit near her in silence. Ask her opinions on obscure literature. And once, just once, she caught him watching Carlisle with something almost like envy.

He loved Carlisle deeply. But he didn’t understand what Victoria was to him.

So she told him.

“I am not his weakness,” she said quietly as they watched Carlisle garden at dusk. “I am his anchor.”

Edward nodded, eyes soft. “I see that now.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Then came Alice and Jasper.

Alice was sunshine dipped in prophecy, and Victoria—accustomed to silent observation—found the girl’s boundless energy almost overwhelming. But she respected her. Even when she hated her visions.

“He’ll meet her soon,” Alice said one afternoon, standing barefoot in the living room.

“Who?” Victoria asked.

“The girl Edward’s going to love.”

Victoria studied Alice’s face. “And that’s good?”

Alice’s grin faltered. “It will be.”

Victoria didn’t press. But she didn’t like the way fate tugged at Edward like puppet strings.

She had lived long enough to know that love—true love—wasn’t fate.

It was choice.

✦ ✦ ✦

Jasper was a quiet presence. Still and cold like the Civil War shadows clinging to him. He didn’t speak often, but when he did, it was always with purpose.

One day, as they passed in the hall, he stopped her with a glance.

“Your bond,” he said. “It calms the whole house.”

Victoria raised a brow. “My bond?”

“You and Carlisle. It’s... strong. Clean. No bitterness. No conflict. It makes everything feel settled.”

She tilted her head. “You can feel that?”

He nodded once. “It’s rare. The kind of love that doesn't drain others—only steadies them.”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t need to.

✦ ✦ ✦

They made a family, piece by cautious piece.

Forks was quiet. Fog-draped. A far cry from the bustling cities they once roamed, but Victoria found solace in the silence. In the ritual.

Carlisle left for the hospital each morning. Victoria tended the house, maintained the illusion of domestic perfection. She cooked meals they didn’t eat. Read human newspapers. Painted in the sunroom.

She did it all for the family Carlisle was building.

But sometimes, when the others were gone, she’d sit alone in their room, eyes closed, remembering the centuries when it was just him and her and endless forests.

A part of her missed it. Ached for it.

And sometimes, she feared she was losing him to this life of pretend.

✦ ✦ ✦

One night, as thunder rolled over the house, Carlisle returned home soaked and weary. She met him at the door with a dry towel and a look that made him pause.

“What is it?” he asked, brushing rain from her cheek.

She looked up at him. “Do you ever miss it?”

“The solitude?” he guessed. “The quiet?”

She nodded.

He pulled her into his arms, resting his chin atop her head. “Sometimes. But I wouldn’t trade this—us—for any silence the world could give.”

“But we were happy before them,” she murmured.

“We’re still happy, Victoria. Aren’t we?”

She hesitated. “Yes. Just… different.”

Carlisle tilted her face up. “Then let’s find a way to hold onto both.”

✦ ✦ ✦

A week later, the girl arrived.

Bella Swan.

Victoria stood at the edge of the trees as Carlisle introduced her to Edward’s newest heartbeat. She watched quietly, her eyes unreadable, as fate marched into their lives on two human feet.

“She’s more dangerous than she looks,” Victoria said softly that night.

Carlisle didn’t disagree.

“But she might be what saves him,” he added.

Victoria glanced at Edward, who stood across the lawn, eyes fixed on Bella’s window like a starved poet.

“Or she might destroy him,” she whispered.

Carlisle took her hand, kissed her fingers. “If she does, we will put him back together. Like we always do.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Later that night, she and Carlisle lay together in silence. His hand rested over her heart, where it would’ve beat if she were human.

“I won’t let us be pulled apart by this,” he said.

“You won’t,” she agreed. “But something tells me the days of quiet shadows are gone.”

Carlisle leaned in, forehead to hers. “Then we face the storm. Together.”

Victoria closed her eyes.

She was not a mother. But for him, she would stand in the eye of any storm and hold the family together.

➤ Summary: It is the early 1900s. Carlisle and Victoria have carved out a quiet life among humans, walking the line between observer and outsider. But love, no matter how immortal, cannot hide forever. Especially not from the Volturi. ➤ Warning: Hints of possessiveness (not toxic), discussions of vampire laws, romantic angst, period-typical gender roles challenged, mild blood references. ➤ Word Count: 1,027

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🕯️ Part II: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 🕯️ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chicago, 1912

Carlisle had taken a position at St. Luke’s Hospital. He wore a pressed white coat, glasses he didn’t need, and a smile that softened the edge of death. Patients adored him. His colleagues envied his quiet perfection.

Victoria watched it all from the window of their modest flat above a bakery.

“He heals them with a touch,” the landlady whispered once. “Like he’s been kissed by heaven.”

Victoria only smiled.

She knew better. He had walked through hell to stand here.

But she loved the man he was in this world. The way he moved with grace through every tragedy, never breaking, never demanding attention. He carried goodness like others carried burdens—always, effortlessly.

Sometimes, she wondered if she even deserved him.

✦ ✦ ✦

“Don’t you miss the wild?” she asked him one night as they sat by the fire.

Carlisle looked up from his journal. “Do you?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “But mostly… I miss being yours without having to share you with the rest of humanity.”

He smiled, setting his pen aside. “You never have to share me.”

“You say that,” she teased, curling her legs into his lap, “but Dr. Cullen has a fan club of dying debutantes.”

He chuckled. “Their admiration is shallow. Yours runs deep.”

“And yet you still spend more time with them.”

He leaned forward then, pressing a kiss to her knee. “Only because none of them set my soul alight.”

She flushed despite herself. Even after nearly two centuries, he still had that effect on her.

✦ ✦ ✦

Victoria could sense them before Carlisle even saw them.

Three shadows on the edge of the crowd outside the hospital. They didn’t move like mortals. They lingered without blinking. One of them smiled when she met their gaze—a smile that chilled her even now.

“The Volturi,” she whispered when Carlisle returned.

He tensed, setting down his gloves. “Where?”

“They’re watching the hospital. You.”

“And you?”

She hesitated. “I think I’m the reason they’re here.”

He was silent for a long moment.

Victoria rose from the settee, crossing the room to cup his face. “I’ve kept a low profile, love. I’ve been careful.”

“I know.” His voice was steady, but something behind his eyes flickered.

“They’re threatened by us,” she said gently. “By what we are. Together.”

“And what are we?” he asked, though he already knew.

“Unnatural,” she said with a smirk. “A vampire couple who do not feed on humans. Who have lived in peace longer than some kings rule.”

He shook his head. “No. We are in love. That’s all.”

She leaned into his touch. “That’s what makes us dangerous.”

✦ ✦ ✦

The visit wasn’t violent. Aro, Marcus, and Caius did not storm their door. No, they invited themselves into Carlisle’s office under the pretense of medical philanthropy.

Carlisle met them with his usual diplomacy, but Victoria stood behind him like a flame.

“You are… remarkable,” Aro said as he studied her. “Most mates are volatile. Possessive. You two? You have… restraint.”

Victoria arched a brow. “We have love.”

Aro hummed, amused. “Dangerous thing, that.”

Caius was less courteous. “We do not approve of your methods, Cullen. You teach weakness.”

Carlisle straightened. “I teach hope.”

“Same difference,” Caius muttered.

Marcus, silent until then, looked between them. “They will last,” he murmured. “Longer than most.”

Victoria met his gaze, unafraid. “Is that a prophecy?”

“No. Just a truth.”

✦ ✦ ✦

They left without punishment. No warnings. No threats.

But the message was clear: We are watching.

Carlisle held her hand that night as they walked through the rain-slick streets, his thumb brushing gently across her knuckles.

“I would fight them for you,” she whispered.

“I know,” he replied, his voice low. “But I’d rather we live.”

“Together,” she said.

“Always.”

They stopped beneath a gaslight. She tilted her face to his, letting the soft glow halo his golden hair. “Even after all these years, I still feel it. The pull.”

“So do I,” he murmured. “Like a compass pointing north.”

Victoria leaned in and kissed him.

And in that moment—beneath gaslight, soaked in soft rain—Carlisle Cullen forgot about ancient vampires, about war, about death.

There was only her.

You get into an accident and Carlisle finds you. You wake up to Carlisle working over you and offers to go back to the house. While you are there he offers to change you. He's super sweet and gentle as possible since you are nervous and walks you through it

You are a friend of the Cullen's. You go over to their house to wait for Alice to get home for a shopping trip. You start to feel an anxiety attack starting and try to hide it. Jasper and Carlisle finds you and helps you out

Hey love I am so sorry that this took me so long to answer. Both of your story request will be in this one post!! I hope you enjoy! @lillybearblog

➤ Summary: In 1721, Carlisle Cullen meets a dying woman on the streets of London. Her name is Victoria. Desperate and drawn to her in a way he’s never felt before, he breaks his century-old vow—and changes everything. (Esme doesn't exist in this timeline) ➤ Warning: Themes of death, turning into a vampire, early 18th-century illness and societal norms. Emotional vulnerability, gentle angst, romance. ➤ Word Count: 1,045

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🕯️ Part I: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘓𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 🕯️ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

London, 1721

Carlisle had not turned a single soul in the hundred years since his own transformation.

He'd seen plague, famine, and war. He’d stood helpless over countless humans in agony—begging, bleeding, dying. But always, he held his hand. He refused to curse another with the monster’s hunger that clawed inside his own ribcage. Mercy, to him, had always meant letting go.

Until her.

She was collapsed in an alley beside St. Bride’s church, her breath shallow, her skin pallid and soaked through with rain and fever sweat. Auburn curls stuck to her forehead. Her eyes—green, bright, and burning with life despite the sickness—met his as he knelt beside her.

“Leave me,” she rasped. “There’s nothing for you here.”

But Carlisle couldn’t move. There was something in her that stilled the centuries in his bones. Something bold. Defiant. Familiar.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Victoria,” she whispered.

And he knew.

He would not let this girl die.

✦ ✦ ✦

She didn’t scream as the venom took her. She gritted her teeth and thrashed beneath the fever of fire, her hands clenching the edge of the mattress he'd laid her on in a physician’s abandoned chamber. But not a single scream passed her lips.

It made Carlisle ache. Not because of her pain—but because of her strength.

He sat beside her every hour. His blood boiled at the scent of her transformation, the predator within him snarling, craving. But he would not leave. Not again. Not this time.

When her eyes finally opened, red and brilliant like coals, she did not ask where she was. She only said:

“You saved me.”

And he, humbled, said: “I damned you.”

But Victoria only smiled.

“I think I was already damned,” she said. “You just gave me the chance to rise from it.”

✦ ✦ ✦

The years between them and that night passed like rivers folding into the sea.

Carlisle taught her restraint, compassion, and silence. Victoria, in turn, reminded him how to laugh.

Where he was composed, she was fire. Where he tread carefully, she danced without hesitation. They hunted deer and wolves in the forests of the north, and she teased him for always apologizing to the animals.

He adored her for it.

He thought at first that she needed him. That he’d made her. That he must guide her.

But the truth bloomed slowly: he needed her more.

✦ ✦ ✦

A winter evening in 1783—Scotland.

Snow blanketed the hills and Victoria was pacing beside a frozen stream, her curls wild beneath the moonlight. Carlisle stood beneath a tree, watching her, his breath fogging the winter air though he didn’t need to breathe.

She turned. “You’re staring.”

He smiled. “I often do.”

Victoria approached slowly, every step a temptation he resisted less and less.

“I used to wonder,” she said, brushing snow from her shoulders, “if you only turned me out of pity.”

His chest tightened. “Never.”

“I believe you now.” She stepped closer. “It’s more, isn’t it?”

“It always has been.”

There were no more words.

He kissed her then—slow and reverent, like she was both prayer and answer. Her lips were cold, yet her presence burned brighter than any fire. When she kissed him back, Carlisle felt something in him melt, ancient and stubborn.

And for the first time in over a century, he allowed himself to hope.

✦ ✦ ✦

They stayed far from human cities for decades, perfecting their thirstless peace, learning one another. While the world waged wars, Victoria painted wildflowers in books and read Shakespeare aloud by candlelight. Carlisle taught her Italian. She taught him how to dance again.

And every night, they watched the stars.

She never questioned their love. She never needed declarations. But Carlisle gave them anyway.

“You are my redemption,” he told her once beneath a Spanish sky.

➤ Summary: When you arrive in New Orleans to settle your late grandmother’s affairs, you never expected to be swept into the supernatural politics of the French Quarter—or to meet a man like Elijah Mikaelson. ➤ Warning: Mild supernatural elements, suggestive romantic tension, mentions of blood (typical for The Originals setting). Fluff-heavy. ➤ Word Count: 1,030

The city smelled like sweet decay—jasmine, old brick, and something darker woven through the air like shadowed thread. You stepped out of the cab with your suitcase in one hand and your grandmother’s worn leather journal in the other. She’d left you a key to her apartment above Royal Street and a list of “important names to avoid.”

You hadn't believed in her stories. Not really. But now, standing in the heart of the French Quarter with the sun slipping below the rooftops, you felt watched.

The iron-gated courtyard was still when you entered. Ivy curled like tendrils over stone and lanterns glowed softly, despite no visible source of power. You found her door, unlocked it, and stepped into her world. The scent of cloves and old paper greeted you.

You didn’t expect a knock at the door within the hour.

You opened it cautiously—and froze.

The man before you was impossibly composed. A charcoal gray suit hugged his tall form like it had been tailored for his very bones. His dark eyes scanned you with the kind of quiet intensity that made your lungs forget how to work.

“Elijah Mikaelson,” he said smoothly, as if that explained everything.

You blinked. “I’m sorry…?”

He offered a subtle smile. “I was acquainted with your grandmother. She was a friend to our family… in her own way.”

“Our?”

“Elijah,” came a voice from behind him—careless and clipped. Another man stepped into view, blond, scruffy, dangerously charming in that storm-before-the-fight way. “You’re scaring the poor girl.”

Elijah didn’t so much as flinch. “I believe she’s more curious than afraid.”

You should have shut the door. You should’ve called the police or told them to leave. But your body betrayed you, rooted to the ground by the sheer force of him—Elijah. His presence was gravity.

“What do you want?” you asked.

“I only wished to welcome you to New Orleans.” His eyes softened, something respectful yet terribly ancient hiding in their depths. “And to offer you protection, should you find yourself… overwhelmed.”

You scoffed. “Overwhelmed by what?”

The blond one smirked. “Oh, she’s going to be fun.”

“Elijah,” you repeated, testing the name on your tongue. “Why would I need protection?”

His gaze flickered—just enough to know he was choosing what not to say. “Because your grandmother kept company with monsters. And some of them remember her.”

You thought about the stories she told you as a child—witches, wolves, vampires with endless lives and deeper hungers. They’d been fairy tales.

Until tonight.

“Let me guess,” you said, voice steadier than your racing pulse. “You’re one of them?”

He inclined his head, almost reverent. “I am.”

And you believed him.

Elijah didn’t push inside. He didn’t offer a warning or a threat. Just a business card, thick and elegant, with his name embossed in gold. You took it with trembling fingers.

“If you ever need assistance,” he said, “call me.”

“Why?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “Why help me?”

Something flickered across his expression. “Because kindness runs in your bloodline. And… because I felt I should.”

A beat. Then two.

His gaze locked with yours, and the rest of the world dimmed.

You knew then—soul-deep and silent—that this wasn’t the last time you’d see him.

✦ ✦ ✦

The second time was at midnight, when a spell gone wrong lit up your grandmother’s grimoire and nearly set your curtains on fire. You called him in a panic. He arrived before the smoke cleared, cradling you out of the chaos like you weighed nothing.

You saw the blood on his sleeve and didn’t flinch.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he murmured later, as you sat wrapped in a blanket, sipping wine he’d conjured from somewhere below.

“I think I should be,” you whispered.

He smiled—something sad, something breaking. “And yet… you’re not.”

You shook your head.

He leaned in close. “Then perhaps, for the first time in centuries, I’ve met someone extraordinary.”

You felt it again—that gravity. That pull.

Love at first sight was supposed to be impossible. Foolish. Fleeting.

But with Elijah, it felt like a memory waking up.

A promise whispered across lifetimes.

Father figure!Lin x underage!reader

Fluff ☁️

Trigger: Anxiety; abusive parents

Summary: Draco is the head Healer at St Mungo's. You are the new Mediwitch that Draco can not help but slowly fall for you. You being oblivious to it all. -Both characters are 23 years old. Astoria is affected by the blood curse much earlier in her life. -

Part 1

Part 2-

The following morning, you woke up to a bright, crisp Saturday, with the sun casting golden rays through your window. You had spent the night mulling over Draco’s invitation, unsure of what to expect at his son’s birthday party. Draco had always been an enigma—charming, distant, and effortlessly elegant—but this was a new side of him, one that made your stomach flutter in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

You spent the morning getting ready, taking extra care with your appearance. It was just a casual party, but something about it felt… significant. After all, this was Draco Malfoy, the man who was both your boss and someone you found yourself increasingly drawn to. You pulled on a light dress that hugged your figure just enough to feel comfortable but still polished. When you finished your makeup and hair, you stared at your reflection for a moment, wondering if you were doing this for Draco or for yourself.

The party was being held at his home, not far from the hospital. You arrived a few minutes before two, uncertain of the atmosphere you’d find inside. Draco had mentioned it would be small, but you weren’t sure how small. You couldn’t shake the nervousness swirling in your stomach.

When you approached the large, elegant manor, you couldn’t help but be taken aback by the grandeur. The Malfoy estate had always been impressive, but seeing it from this angle, with the flowers blooming and the warm air, made it feel more inviting than it ever had before. The house was bustling with life—voices, laughter, and the sounds of children playing echoing from inside.

You took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, trying to calm your racing heart. The door opened almost immediately, revealing a house-elf with a broad smile.

“Miss Y/N, welcome! Master Draco is expecting you,” the elf said kindly, ushering you inside.

You stepped into the foyer, your eyes taking in the tasteful décor. There were banners hanging with images of dragons and magical creatures, and tables laden with snacks and treats for the children. The place felt festive, but still maintained that signature Malfoy elegance.

“Y/N! You made it!” Draco’s voice rang out, and you turned to find him standing at the top of the staircase, a warm, welcoming smile on his face.

He looked effortlessly put together, as always. His white shirt was crisp, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his gray trousers fit him perfectly. His platinum blonde hair was just slightly tousled, adding to his charm. You couldn’t help but notice how different he seemed from the Draco you had known in school—more grounded, more approachable. And yet, that same quiet intensity was still there.

“Of course I did,” you replied, your voice a little more playful than you intended. “How could I resist free food and a birthday party?”

Draco chuckled softly, stepping down the stairs to greet you properly. He seemed relaxed, but there was a certain edge to him today—his attention to detail was sharp as ever, and it was clear he was keeping a close eye on everything.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he said, his voice softer now, though there was still that authoritative tone in it. “Scorpius is in the garden. He’s been asking for you since I told him you were coming.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Me? He barely knows me.”

Draco’s grin widened. “He’s heard plenty about you. I may have mentioned the lovely MediWitch who works with me at St Mungo’s. He’s been excited ever since.”

Before you could respond, a small voice broke through the air.

“Daddy! Daddy !” a child’s voice called from the garden, followed by the patter of little feet.

You turned just in time to see a small, blonde boy running toward you. He looked to be about five, just as Draco had mentioned. His bright, curious eyes locked onto yours, and his face broke into a wide grin.

“You must be Y/N!” the boy said enthusiastically, his little hands reaching up toward you. “Daddy says you’re a healer! Can you heal my dragon?”

Draco laughed softly at his son’s exuberance and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This is Scorpius, my little troublemaker.”

“Scorpius, this is Y/N,” Draco added, his voice warm. “She’s a very talented MediWitch.”

You knelt down to the boy’s level, offering a smile. “Well, Scorpius, I’d be happy to try and heal your dragon if you can show me where he is.”

Scorpius squealed with delight, pulling you by the hand toward the garden, where a small wooden playhouse had been converted into a “dragon’s lair.” The garden was alive with the chatter of children, running and playing. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it. There was something incredibly pure and joyful about children, and Scorpius seemed to embody that spirit.

You spent the next few hours mingling with the other guests, which included a few familiar faces from your time at Hogwarts. You had never been part of Draco’s close circle, but you recognized some of the people he interacted with—a few former Slytherins and acquaintances from high society. As you mingled with the adults, Draco remained by your side, always keeping the conversation light but meaningful. He never strayed too far from you, often guiding you from one conversation to another.

At some point, the small party was treated to a delicious feast, complete with a large birthday cake for Scorpius. The little boy was overjoyed, practically bouncing in his seat, eagerly awaiting his turn to blow out the candles.

When the cake was finally served, Draco’s gaze lingered on you for just a second longer than necessary as you took your slice. It was subtle, but you couldn’t help but notice. There was something in his eyes—a warmth, a flicker of something more than the professional distance you had maintained in the workplace. You couldn’t decipher it fully, but it was enough to make your heart flutter.

After dessert, the children ran off to play with their new toys, and the adults started to gather in the living room, talking quietly amongst themselves. You found yourself standing near the window, enjoying the view of the stars beginning to emerge in the evening sky.

Draco appeared at your side, his presence comforting yet stirring in ways you hadn’t expected. “I’m glad you came,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of more than just the words.

You met his gaze, unsure of how to respond. “It’s been… fun,” you said, the words almost feeling inadequate for the emotions swirling in your chest.

Draco’s lips twitched into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe next time, you’ll come for the fun and not just the free food.”

You chuckled, feeling the tension between you both ease. “Maybe,” you replied softly.

For a moment, there was silence, comfortable and full of unspoken understanding. It wasn’t until Draco glanced at his watch that he spoke again.

“Thank you for coming, Y/N. It means a lot to both Scorpius and me.”

You looked up at him, feeling the warmth of his words settle in your chest. “It was my pleasure, Draco. Really.”

Summary: Draco is the head Healer at St Mungo's. You are the new Mediwitch that Draco can not help but slowly fall for you. You being oblivious to it all. -Both characters are 23 years old. Astoria is affected by the blood curse much earlier in her life. -

Part 1- Word count: 1,121

Warnings: None, Fluff,Scorpius (if kids are a trigger for some)

Its your first day of working as a MediWitch at St Mungo. You have studied and worked hard for this job and you did not want to blow it.

As you step out the lift, shaking with nerves and a million thoughts racing in your head you bump into someone, papers and files flying around you.

So much for not embarrassing myself on my first day you think.

Without looking up at the person you fall to the ground and start gathering everything "I-i'm so s-sorry" you stutter out still gathering all the persons things.

You fell the presence drop to the floor across from you, gathering the belongings too. "Its quite alright dear" a deep, husky voice says.

This is when you finally decided to look up at the man that you pumped into. Shit. Your boss and a former classmate. Draco fucking Malfoy.

"M-Mr Malofy. I'm so sorry." You say again finally standing up, him doing the same. You hand him his papers and press down your skirt that had made its way up your legs. You did not catch Draco's eyes lingering on your bare legs before finally snapping out of it and speaking.

"Y/n Y/l/n. Well its been quite a while since I have seen your face." He states playfully, fixing his tie.

You and Draco were not friends at school but you weren't enemies. You would be paired up with him for projects and would be nice to each other at parties. But other than that you guys were apart of two different worlds. You were not one that was caught up in all the mess of the war. You kept your distance from others just due to the amount of losses that many faced during the two wars.

You could not help the blush that started to grow. Just like all the other girls at Hogwarts you fancied Draco when you two were at school. And you could not notice he was still very attractive, now even more than when at school. Then you caught the attention of the gold ring on his ring finger. Of course you idiot. He's married. You think to yourself.

"You could say that Mr. Malfoy" you responded to him formally, he was still your boss.

He looked at you and cocked a brow "Mr.Malfoy? 1. That is a horrid of a father and 2. Why so formal Y/n?" he asks confused.

"Well you are my boss now and this is a working environment, so I have to be polite." You state.

Thats when something dawns across his face "Miss. Y/l/n. The new MediWitch. I thought the name sounded like something i've had in my mouth before, but i could not figure it out for the life of me."

You merely nod, wanted to go and find your post, not wanted to be looked down for being late on your first day. He goes to walk away in the opposite direction of you to the lift and you start to move to the nurse's station.

Not even two steps away you hear him clear his throat and you turn around.

"Where do you think you are going?" he asks

You are beyond confused "To the nurse's station."

He lets out a little chuckle, "I see. Your orders were not passed down to you then. You will be assisting me on my rounds and appointments."

You look at him shocked "O-oh okay." you yet again stammer, still standing in your place.

He moves aside and motions for you to come into the lift "Come on don't wanna be late for our first rounds together" and with that you made your way into the lift next to him not daring to meet his face.

But due to your actions, you missed Draco looking down at you fondly.

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

After two weeks of your job

"Good morning Draco" you say as making your presence known to the blonde wizard as you put your bag down in his office.

After a few days of working with Draco you started to leave his bag in his office instead of the locker room. There wasn't anything wrong with the locker room you just started you day in his office.

"Good morning Y/n. I'm thinking today will be a slow day so I believe we can stay in here and you can help me complete paper work before the weekend." He responds as he separates the paper work into two piles for the both of you to work on. You take a seat in front of him and grab the paper work to start on. "Yes sir" you say jokingly and he sends you a stern look while grinning.

You and Draco have fallen into a easy and comfortable dynamic. It was like you two's relationship back in school but closer now. You really enjoyed his company. After the war you didn't have much friends, and you didn't know if what you and Draco had was a friendship but you will continue to pretend that you guys are friends.

You two stayed in a comfortable silence for a while and the paper work was getting done much faster. It was Friday and it was usually slow, so Draco preferred to get the paper work done so you both could have a free weekend. Draco requested that you work along side him so your scheduled allowed you the weekend off, even though you did not mind working on weekends.

The day went by quite fast. You two finished all the paper work by noon had a few check ups that were scheduled, but luckily there wasn't any emergencies.

You were now back in Draco's office collecting your bag and ready to head off for the weekend. "Is there anything else you would like me to complete before heading off for the weekend Draco?" you ask because you truly did not want to want anything to do this weekend.

"No, it looks like everything has been completed, but I do have a question for you Y/n" he states and you send him a questioning look. "Tomorrow at 2 I am hosting a small get together for my son, Scorpio's 5th birthday and if you are free would like for you to be in attendance. If you want to of course."

This request truly did take you by surprise. Draco had told you a few stories about his son. And as the fact that you did not have any children yourself the invitation was a shock, but you did love children and free food.