#cleaned it up and then let her keep a dog (almost two!) also bought her childhood home and then got her a freaking garden PLUS getting her
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absentlyabbie · 1 year ago
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i'll tell you what converted me to being all-in on keeping cats indoors only:
living for a year and a half in a rural area with a sudden feral cat colony explosion on the property.
i moved in with my folks for a bit and at that time, one (1) stray cat mama had taken up residence on the property, but was too feral to let my mother anywhere near her. but especially after she brought three kittens around, mom fed her and the kittens in hopes they'd grow trusting enough she could catch for spay and neuter at the minimum. momcat stayed mean and hella wary, but the kittens would hang around a little nearer and play with my mom via long stick, but still wouldn't come close enough to touch or catch.
unfortunately, two of the three kittens were girls and started having kittens of their own before further progress was made, shortly after i moved in. and that was pretty much instant doom.
there were so many kittens. SO MANY. multiple litters. every time we turned around, more kittens.
we fed them. we hunted for and located the kittens every time anywhere on the property and would move them to a repurposed doghouse anytime a mama cat had them somewhere else, so that they could grow up human-socialized and we could spay/neuter them when they were old enough. (also it was a handy tactic to push the issue of the mamas getting more used to/trusting of us themselves. only really worked with one of them, though.)
and we watched them die.
we watched litter after litter of kittens never make it to the age they could be spayed or neutered. the moms stayed, for the longest time, too skittish to more than briefly touch, much less catch and crate for a vet visit.
it sounds like a silly joke to say i have kitten-related ptsd, but i absolutely do.
too many goddamn times i'd walk out of the garage and find the carport and gravel drive strewn with tiny bodies. others simply went missing, never to be found.
one in particular, i wish i hadn't found, and the visual literally haunts me still, almost a decade later.
i saw so many kittens die of snake bite, spider bite, wild dogs, birds of prey, hit by cars, respiratory illness, covered in fleas and eyes crusted with infection.
and we loved them all. scrimped for antibiotics if the vet could be convinced to give it to us despite our being unable to bring them in. bought flea collars and ointments. we cared for them and fed them and petted them and played with them, brushed their fur and cleaned up their little faces, put ice in their water in hot summer, rigged a heating lamp in their house in the winter.
and they died. horribly. that property is pocked with unmarked graves of kittens and cats.
all the best intentions, not enough resources, and it didn't matter anyways because the population went from three to almost twenty (at times, over thirty) in the blink of an eye.
they died and died and died. our hearts broke over and over again. the stress and anxiety wore us down like sandpaper. i think, by the end of it all, we managed to find less than 10 of them all homes, including batman the disabled kitten i found a home across the country through tumblr.
it was carnage and tragedy, frankly. and we were helpless.
it only ended because they started dying faster than they could be born, and because we finally caught the two remaining mom cats in traps and got them spayed.
the points about outdoor cats being invasive predators devastating to local wildlife populations is true and valid and important.
but i know cat people, and cat people who don't know better than to let cats outdoors. what matters to you is the cat itself, generally. the cat being happy and taken care of.
keeping cats outdoors, letting them outdoors, is not taking care of the cats. it's not protecting them. it's not giving them any happiness or invigoration that couldn't be provided to them as indoor-only pets with just a little research and effort.
they die. they get ill. they get hurt. they're at risk of predators, and cars, and disease, and carelessly cruel children and deliberately cruel adults. they're at risk of disappearing on you because someone else saw a cat outdoors and intervened to give it a better, safer life not in conflict with the local environment.
and if that offends and angers you that someone would just take a cat they saw roaming outdoors, even collared, and that it sounds like i'm endorsing that, i am, but not if you intervene and be that person yourself for your own cat.
if what matters to you is doing right by your cat because it's family and a living creature whose happiness and health and safety is important to you,
keep them indoors. not part time. always. exclusively.
edit: since apparently i need to clarify this, i'm saying cats should live inside, that they should not live outdoors, even part time. visiting the outdoors supervised on a leash or in an enclosed catio is not the same as even part-time living outside, and i am certainly not advocating against it.
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apenapaperandadoofus · 1 year ago
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OH GOD I love this so my theory is:
Howl loves superficially- like it’s not that he can’t love (as proven by how he cares for his nephew and niece plus Michael and later on Sophie) it’s just that for romantic love it’s more of an experiment- he says he keeps trying to love bc he knows bc of the deal with Calcifer he can’t so now he’s just shooting his shot whenever he can because he desperately does want to love.
The thing is- what’s different between the other girls and Sophie?
Calcifer.
The one who has Howl’s heart.
Who spends 24/7 with Calcifer? Sophie. Who sews and talks endlessly with him? Sophie. Who’s the one that he lets cook on eventually without any grumbling? Sophie.
The thing is, Sophie by being with Calcifer is literally being with Howl’s heart- I’ve seen people say he fell in love with her too which is bc he also has Holws heart which makes so much sense. At the end of the book I’m the interview Diana said Calcifer sides over Sophie in most situations which means he cares deeply for her. And the reason why Howl went from the superficial idea of love to the true one he has with Sophie is because she forcefully wormed her way into his heart <3 and I think that’s beautiful
I thought of something and now I can't stop thinking it.
From what I recall (and based on the radio drama which also skips a lot of events but keeps to the characterisations of the book more or less) Howl is stated to love the girls he chase after until they love him back, right? He's basically incapable of loving properly despite how he tries because he lacked his heart, right?
Thing is, Calcifer has his heart. How do we know that Calcifer isn't able to influence Howl's feelings?
Why would he do this? Maybe he was waiting for someone who could actually save him and Howl, I don't know. Calcifer knew about Ms. Angorian all along but like Howl said one fire demon wouldn't betray another, so goodness knows how trustable Calcifer is.
No I'm not actually accusing Calcifer of messing with Howl's feelings and romances, I just thought of this and thought it was interesting.
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lunaekalenda · 1 year ago
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first day of school!
warnings: reader is refered as mom and gojo as dad, dad!gojo, baby daughter!
"Give dad a kiss before leaving." Your husband kneels, making his 1'90 meters accessible for your toddler, who presses a kiss on his dad's cheek with a huge smile. When Satoru asked for the kiss, his eyes were full of love and pride towards the little girl, as they keep shining when he looks back at her. He kisses her temple softly, as he has been doing since she came to your life. "I love you, sunshine. I want all the details of your first day at school when you're back!" She nods quickly before running towards you, hugging your legs. You caress her hair with softness, fingers taking the locks she already took away of the bun to fix them. "You're gonna love the school, I'm sure. Make a lot of friends, yeah?" Your daughter looks at you from her small height. Kneeling softly, you kiss her cheek and she hugs you in return. "Dad and me will come to pick you up later, alright? We'll go have dinner at your favorite place with Megumi." The girl's big blue eyes shine with happiness as she nods, before the bus monitor asks all the kids to sit inside. Almost crying and hugged by your husband, you wave your hand towards your daughter, so little yet so grown, before letting her go. Satoru sighs and starts walking with you towards home. He hands you a tissue, walking at a slow pace towards your home.
"She was so little..." you murmur. He nods softly, his hand searching yours before tangling his fingers with yours. "Feels as if it was yesterday when she would show up in diapers on our bed to get cuddles from her dad." Satoru smiles luminously, as his dad ego gets boosted with your words. Your daughter loves him beyond anything, she's such a daddy girl, and he loves her as much. It's common for you to find both of them spending time together, and even when you join almost every time, there are still those tiny moments you adore finding, such as a sleepy baby on top of your husband, as he reads a book and caresses her back to keep her calm, or how he always puts her on his shoulders so she's able to see everything from his height.
"Will she be alright?" You find yourself wandering in silence what your husband just put in high voice. Will she be alright? Will she miss home as much as you miss her? Will she cry, will she feel overwhelmed by school? Will she adapt to the teachers, to her classmates? She's your very first child, and it's normal to feel that way about it. You smile at Satoru, finding his blue eyes looking worried at the floor, before facing him.
"She'll be alright. She's the strongest, after all." Your husband lets a smile brighten his face as he takes your cheeks on his hands, getting close for a kiss.
At home, you both take the time to clean, tidy up and do the chores, before it's time to wait for your daughter again. You put her drawings in order on the fridge, making room for more, and put her favorite plushies back on her bed. Her fluffy white cat feels raspy under your hands, too used over the years. You need to put her to wash urgently. Satoru got that kitty for her on one of his long trips with the Jujutsu School, one of those days when you feared your husband wouldn't come back home, although he always does, before Megumi took his place as teacher and sorcerer, taking most of the missions, what still leaves both of you on sleepless nights.
The drawings fill also her walls, draws of your family, the dogs, drawings of her, of Megumi, of Yuji and Nobara by her side. She loves them a lot, and you're happy to see how the three young pupils of your husband merge so well on your little family, making friday nights way more fun and happy. Her shelves are full of books and gifts she got from everyone, a cow figure Nanami bought for her when she was two, a fairy house Megumi helped her to build on her third Christmas, a pair of sunglasses matching with his dad. She's so loved by everyone that you feel like your heart might explode.
And him.
The man that looks at you from the corridor door with a side smile, body resting against the wooden surface as his intense blue eyes follow your movements on her room. He takes a couple steps in, touching the girl's bed with his fingertips. "The crib was here." He murmurs, smiling lovingly. "We spent so many sleepless nights by her side, we always ended sleeping cuddled on that brown couch Geto bought for us. Always alert in case she cried. And now, she asks us to read her a tale and sleeps soundly all night on her bed." He looks at you from all his height before sitting on her bed. You take a seat by his side and he kisses your forehead lovingly.
"Believe it or not, I kinda miss that. Watch our tiny baby sleep, feel as if all tiredness disappeared as soon as she called us for the first time." Satoru puts his arms around your shoulders. His grin tells you he's gonna say something.
"Well, you know, if we both liked the experience that much, we can always repeat." you laugh against his body before tangling your hand on his. He kisses it sweetly.
"Let's experience her growing up before, should we?"
He leaves another kiss on your forehead before standing up. Satoru takes your hand and the car keys, since the restaurant it's quite far from the bus stop to go walking, especially, since your daughter will probably be tired after the very first day, before leaving.
When you arrive to the stop, where more parents are waiting for the kids, Satoru holds your hand firmly, checking both sides of the street, to see if he can spot the bus, and his blue eyes shine with emotion when he sees the vehicle. Your daughter runs towards you, your arms and your husband's open for her to hug. Her smile warms your heart as your family hug makes you sigh.
"How was school, sunshine?" Satoru asks, and your daughter smiles excited.
"It was fun! There are a lot of kids in my class!" You smile when you hear her words, before standing up. Satoru cleans a tear that falls down your cheek slowly before taking your daughter's hand on his, and you do the same on the other side, walking towards the car hand by hand. Your husband sits her and puts her belt on, before sitting on the driver's seat and, with your hand between his and the gear level, he starts driving softly towards the restaurant, as your daughter's happy memories of the day fill the car on her sweet voice.
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red-dye40 · 4 months ago
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Please, I beg, a director's commentary on Ancaux or Sexual Trauma Clipshow. Also, P.S, thank you for being the first to plunge into the untapped territory of Phlegm.
PHLEGM MENTION!!!!!!!!!!! ok i can do a little for both :) for you
first is chapter 5 of ancaux which i weirdly have a lot to say about
This apartment has become a hole. No sunlight, no air, no food besides a surplus bag of stale circus peanuts.
when i was little there was this extremely old grocery store in my town, like truly it was 1999 and everything looked like it hadn’t been changed or cleaned since the early 60s, and the most vivid memory i have is this lazy susan of candies near the cash registers and exactly at eye level with me were bags of dusty stale circus peanuts. like the weird orange marshmallow candies?? i remember feeling so. upset by them. and thinking like. this is something a person with no hope left would eat.
i always go back to those circus peanuts when i’m writing a person at their wit’s end.
“Alrighty then…” The employee peers a little deeper into her cart. “Heh. Must be some project you’re working on.” “Home renovations.” “We got a beautiful collection of wall finishes in the paint department if you’re interested.” “I’m not.”
i rewrote this interaction soooooo many times, i had so many different plans for it. originally i had devi ask the guy something like “i’m going camping do you have anything that could kill a bipedal feral dog in one hit” and he would be like “oooh let me consult our expert!” and would lead her to nny. i thought it was too gimmicky and fanservice-y, and it also kept backing me into a corner where i wouldn’t know where to go from there.
something about me is i write little clues in everything bc i love dramaturgy and i love making sure stories are watertight. i put the little mention of the paint department in hopes that maybe readers would be able to connect it to the previous chapter (the little itty bitty one where nny is painting) and figure out ahead of the reveal that nny works at the hardware store??? i truly don’t know if it was obvious from jump or no one even thought about it, bc at this point i didn’t have a tumblr yet and was only posting to ao3 and instagram and had NOOOOOOOO reader interaction. so! who knows. but you can keep that knowledge in your pocket for future chapters, that i’m always dropping lil hints :)
Devi stands in uncomfortable silence while the register sings a little waiting tune. She looks up, into the eye of the camera mounted above the register’s display, and watches herself in the monitor while a message below it flashes RECORDING IN PROGRESS.
one of my first days living in the city i went to a home depot and bought a bunch of sharp things bc i was working on a cosplay and needed to carve a bunch of foam, and i got ID’d for all of it and i was so so fresh to the city and so young and probably very high and just felt mortified, like i just stared at myself in the monitor being like “you’re not cut out for this world” HAHAHAHAHAH anyway. that stuck with me.
The two of them stand at the same height, almost elbow to elbow, wearing distant familiarity and abject horror as they stare into each other’s pixelated faces. Devi watches him in the display as she reaches into her pocket, produces her wallet, pulls out her ID, hands it to him with a shaking hand. He punches in her birthdate without having to look.
somethin else i love is vagueness n ambiguity in writing. i haaaaate when writers spoon feed things to their audience bc it implies TO ME that they don’t trust them or think that they’re smart enough to connect the dots. it really offends me!!!! i made sure i didn’t ever explicitly state that devi is interacting with nny because in a traumatic moment like that it’s hard for my brain to even really put words or a name to it, if that makes sense?? i wanted to try and evoke that feeling of like, you know what’s happening and it’s so bad you can’t even really say it.
Her heart is beating fast against her ribcage, but maybe out of exhilaration more than panic or paranoia. She saw him. He was smaller, more human-like than her brain had crafted him into over the years.
you ever have an absolute mortal enemy, like an ex or a bully in school, and then you get a glimpse of them years later, after you spent so much time molding them into like an evil dastardly goblin in your brain, and they’re just like. a person?? with other shit going on, just like you? and it kind of feels like. huh. okay. and you can suddenly move on??? a special kind of spooky.
and now here’s a lil from stixxx :)
Penetration is penetration, Johnny. What difference does a few inches above or below the belt make, in the grand scheme of things? “That’s a gross oversimplification.”
i remember so vividly getting this little bit of dialogue in my head during work and writing it in my notes app to remember it. it sat at the bottom of the doc for MONTHS (i started writing stixxx back in june 2023 and it was in a much different place) and when i finally was able to place it into the fic proper it felt :) so good
The girl’s been splayed out on her back, propped up on a cinder block that places her a foot off the ground. Her arms are pulled over her head, both wrists zip tied to their own blocks. The same for her legs. With her wavering strength it seems hard for her to keep steady; she shakes visibly on camera.
this whole setup is based on a jthm strip i wrote when i was 13 after /i/ was watching robot wars while eating a chick-o-stick (i was addicted to chick-o-sticks for a while. and charleston chews.)
Her eyes pop open. Purple, syrupy vomit bursts from under her gag and through her nose and fills her throat, stopping up her windpipe.
fun fact about me! i was once severely emetophobic! scariest thing in the world to me! i think the reason i write about vom so much is because 1) it used to evoke such fear in me and i know it does for a lot of people 2) it’s such an insane pretty involuntary thing we do as creatures??? and i think it is one of most vulnerable states to be in tbh. i still think it is icky and i would prefer to never interface with it in person ever but! endlessly fascinating to write about ????
He meanders down the hall. Opening doors. Closing doors. Dining room. Linen closet. Foyer. Staircase leading to the ceiling—how original.
staircase leading to the ceiling is a reference to this little lady at the winchester house
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i know lots of ppl make connections between 777 and house of leaves, but i always assumed the influence was very much attributed to the winchester house since jv grew up in san jose (n because jthm predates hol!) those wacky stairs are my favorite part of the whole house. the first time i saw them i felt unease that stuck with me forever :)
Since when do we have a ball pit? My little film screening was only to illustrate just how much you’ve suppressed through the years. But at some point you have to jump in, Nny. Swim through the proverbial multicolored plastic balls of your memory. Fish out all the band-aids and… and missing socks and… little parachuting army men. Johnny stares into the gaping maw of the in-ground ball pit that’s apparently in his house now. “That one got away from you a little bit.” Metaphors ain’t really my thing.
when i wrote this i was like “i am so funny” and i read it now and am still like “i am so funny”
i love to write rev meat. he’s so fascinating to me. i love that he was introduced and barely explained right before jthm wrapped up. so much mystery. what a freak.
thank you for ur interest :) i love to talk
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phoenixwwitch · 2 years ago
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some eddie munson hcs i have and are very correct because me and him are basically the same person:
he is a cat person and takes care of every stray cat in the trailer park. there is one orange tabby that sleeps on his trailer’s roof that he buys toys for all the time.
he is constantly listening to music, i mean constantly he needs the noise because he hates getting stuck inside his head for too long and he cant focus properly without noise of some kind
he cannot cook jack shit he has almost burned the trailer down like 6 different times. once he forgot to put water in to cook pasta and set the kitchen cabinets on fire
he hates getting angry because it reminds him of his father so instead he digs his fingernails into his palms and tries to memorize his friends facial features
wayne is the one that got him into metal and bought him his guitar because he saw how happy his sweet eddie was listening to iron maiden and only wanted to see him smile like that
he says his favorite color is black but its actually green
he collects rocks he randomly finds in the trailer park or over by lovers lake and sometimes he’d save the prettiest ones to give to a future boyfriend (steve)
he keeps a picture of his mom on his nightstand so hell always remember what she looks like since she died when he was so young, her name was mariann and so he names every cat in the park after her (or variations of it)
he hates getting sick because it reminds him of his mom stuck in bed until she.. he refuses to let anyone help him when he’s sick until wayne finds him crying one night just knowing he’s thinking about her (she was his sister)
he kinda flirts with everyone a little because even though he’s comfortable enough being a “freak” he still craves people’s attention and he wants to be seen out of fear of being left behind
he spent years hating who he was and trying to hide his interests until one day in freshman year when he only had a clean iron maiden shirt left and steve fucking harrington walked past him after 3rd period, looked him up and down and said “cool shirt, munson. their mascot’s name is eddie too right?”
he has admired steve since 6th grade and he skinned his knee during gym class and steve helped bandage him up. they didn’t speak again until that day in freshman year and then once again in eddie’s 3rd senior year.
steve actually made the first move and it sacred eddie to death because he did genuinely think it was a joke. he saw steve’s face fall and he fiddled with a single flower in his hands- a sunflower (eddie’s favorite) and then kissed him.
steve will request eddie to make them fancy dinners and eddie will literally just shove spaghetti noodles in hot dogs and cook them (after many tries and a lot of wayne’s help)
the first time he watches the lost boys he makes it his mission to get steve to dress up as michael and him as david for halloween that year (steve always caves because he cannot resist eddie’s doe brown eyes)
steve had come over once with a book in hand and stupid cute reading glasses on and told him that he finished lord of the rings but he was confused they never got to mordor. eddie stood there shocked, grabbing him by the neck and kissing him but before it turned to a full make out session he handed steve the next two books and burst into laughter
steve and eddie will say ‘i love you’ to each other every waking moment possible because they both need the reassurance and eddie just likes seeing steve blush (and steve is obsessed with eddie’s dimples when he smiles)
eddie steals steve’s tears for fears shirts because he secretly also likes them and thinks steve doesn’t know but he has like twenty pictures of eddie asleep in them
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miekasa · 3 years ago
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any spare levi headcanons tonight????? 😁😁😁😁
Sure, why not, he is the love of my life after all. These are pretty random, and fit in some sort of generalized modern boyfriend au. Hopelessly domestic, as that is the nature of nearly everything I write for Levi, anyway. Also still terribly obsessed with the idea of him with a motorcycle, so there’s that.
He owns at least six black blazers. They’re nearly identical; slight differences in texture and cut, one with lapels, one that’s boldly all leather that you swear you’ve never seen him wear. They’re kind of his go-to staple, other than a sweater.
That being said, he doesn’t exclusively wear all black. His closet leans towards more neutrals, sure, but he’s not allergic to color. You might not catch him wearing neon orange on the average day, but he’s not averse to a nice shade of green, any shade of purple that suits his mood, even a softer pink.
He has towels and rags he sets aside especially for you when he comes over. He always washes them and put them back in place when you leave so that they’re ready to go for next time.
Claims to not have any attachment to the shows/dramas you watch, but he’s totally backseat watching. Halfway into every single series, he starts sitting down when you turn it on, and scoffs at dumb decisions the characters make.
He splurged on one of those frame TVs that look like a painting when they’re idle. It was a good investment in his opinion.
He doesn’t hate Starbucks drinks—there’s worse things out there in terms of quality of tea. What he despises about the establishment is the way they call out names for you to pick up your order. He’s learned that mobile order ahead is the way to go.
Has slippers for around the house, so consequently, you have slippers for walking around his house. He keeps both pairs (and a few extra for friends and guests) tucked neatly beside the door for easy access; yours always go next to his.
Does not understand the purpose of a robe. Buy him one tho and he will suddenly find an excuse to wear it: making breakfast, lounging around watching TV, doing some light cleaning and dusting. It’s comfy, alright, he can admit that much.
The little puppy you got him that he swore he was not going to warm up to now gets the royal treatment. The best doggie goods and treats, top rated shampoos, cutest drying towels, even a miniature couch he constructed just for the pup. They’re best friends, there’s no breaking that bond now.
Speaking of the puppy, affectionately named Captain, Levi can be found walking him every day shortly after work. They have a few different routes, but they always pass by the local vendors/market, who enthusiastically anticipate their appearance every day. Some of the older ladies running stands have even taken to bringing a few treats with them for Captain—after bundling up some goods for Levi, too, of course.
Captain also has a special doggy backpack Levi uses for when he’s on his motorcycle. If you follow anybody on TikTok in his area, you’re bound to see at least one video of the pup while Levi’s out riding. He’s become viral on social media without even knowing it.
(When you show him a video someone posted of him and Captain with well over 100k likes, and a million views, he only rolled his eyes. But remembers that particularly day; remembers the folks had a kid who politely asked to pet the dog, so he let him. He also maybe asks you to send the link to him).
On the subject of the motorcycle, there was a good few weeks he wouldn’t let you on it. Always found an excuse, a smart reply that was punctuated with gentle push on your forehead and calling you too clumsy for it. Later, you found out it’s because he’d ordered you a helmet; didn’t want to risk you riding without one.
He always keeps it in the storage compartment should he make a stop to pick you up while he’s riding; and he usually wears at least two layers to have a spare to wrap you in before you get on.
When he cooks, he always makes sure there’s enough for leftovers and/or to give you some later. He also bakes frequently, and at least once a week, he stops by with some kind of treat for you—“Trying out a new recipe, let me know if you think it’s missing anything.”
On the subject of food, he won’t police what you eat to annoying extent; he knows that not everybody has the time or will to make pasta from scratch like he does. But, he will smack your wrist if you consider ordering fast food when you’re over at this place. Give him 30 minutes and a single pan, he’ll make something much better than whatever you can find on Uber Eats.
Really, though, he doesn’t mean to obnoxious about the homemade food thing, it’s more habit for him. Growing up, he had to learn to be resourceful, so buying fast-food isn’t ever at the forefront of his mind. Cooking for you also turns out to be something somewhat intimate that he enjoys, so just let him.
Once bought an Apple Watch because he liked the look of them, it wasn’t insanely expensive like other high end watches, and it could connect to his other devices, so why not? A week later he returned it, the ping of his notifications were in one too many places for his liking.
You tried to convince him to keep it—“At least for when you’re jogging! It can track your activity and calories!”—but he clicks his teeth. He’ll survive without keeping track of them.
He learned the hard way that jogging with Captain is no good. His legs are too tiny and Levi ended up carrying the puppy the entire time. Captain is more of a walk dog… or ride on the back of his bike dog.
If you changed anything in his phone settings—like the ringtone for you contact, or the sound his keyboard makes—he wouldn’t go back in and try to figure out how to reset it. Unless it was something obnoxious, like adding an autocorrect shortcut to say something lewd.
He doesn’t really listen to music when he’s just walking. When he’s on a run, that’s fine, but he somewhat prefers to just… hear the environment around him when he’s on a stroll or a break from work. The only reason he’d have headphones on in public is to take a phone call, but even then, he’d prefer to wait until he’s somewhere more private.
He likes having you over at his apartment and has contemplated asking you to move in. He doesn’t want to rush anything, though, so he’s content with your sleepovers for now. (Though he really cannot fathom that you call them “sleepovers” like you’re 14. Please).
He speaks to his mother at least once a week, and she always asks about you. Levi tells her that you’re fine, gives her small updates about you, but Kuchel really just wants to know when the wedding is. He pretends to be busy whenever she starts asking and conveniently ends the call.
Occasionally, he’ll stop by and take you out for lunch. Depends on how much time he has during the day for himself, but he always enjoys sharing a meal with you.
Whenever you’re out with your friends drinking, Levi will pick you up. Even if you already told him that you’d Uber home; as soon as you text him that you’re going to leave soon, he’s already on his way.
He makes pretty good cocktails himself. Teases you for running his alcohol supply dry when the truth is he has more of your favorites in his cabinet than his own. He secretly likes the way you flirt with him when you’re tipsy.
You don’t always cuddle on top of each other when you sleep together. You can just lay by each other and that’s enough; but sometimes, you catch Levi turning towards you in his sleep, reaching for your hand. His body seems to search for yours subconsciously, and you swear there’s a hint of a smile on his sleeping face when you put your hand within reach.
Do not try to pay for dinner when you’re out with him. He’ll pull the “I’m going to use the restroom” move and pay the bill behind your back if he needs to. Open your own doors, maybe; pull out your own chairs, sure if you want; but not this.
He flosses very diligently every night. Mostly because he fucking hates the dentist, so if he takes the extra steps and is extra careful with his teeth, he doesn’t have to go as often, right?—Wrong, it’s the one time the roles are reversed, and you and Hange have to wrestle him into the doctor’s office.
On the flip side, if there are any doctors you routinely avoid and/or forget to schedule check ups for, fear not, because Levi will do it for you. He’ll drive you there, too—the only caveat being, that he usually doesn’t tell you where you’re going until you’re almost there. You think he’s doing the mysterious man surprise date thing and then boom, he’s pulling up to the ophthalmologist. Good luck.
He’s purchased a physical, paper copy of the news on every one of your anniversaries, birthdays, and other special occasions. He keeps them all neatly tucked away in a drawer. Sometimes, he looks back on them—sees what was happening in the world around you on that day. Maybe someday he’ll cut them up and bind them together in a book for you.
He doesn’t like having headphones in when you’re home with him, and preferred if you didn’t either—unless it was for work or school. He welcomes you to use his speakers and play your music aloud; he likes listening to what you listen to. If you look closely, you can catch him humming along or tapping his foot when he really likes a song.
Saves pictures you send him in an album in his camera roll. Occasionally can be found scrolling through them—particularly if you’ve been away on a trip, or he hasn’t gotten the chance to see you because of conflicting schedules.
He takes relatively short showers and doesn’t have a strong preference for the water temperature, so he lets you shower first. Unless you want him to join you, of course.
It’s not hard to tell when Levi wants you. He becomes noticeably more touchy, even if that margin isn’t too wide by anyone else’s standards; and he rarely tries to hide it. It only happens in the privacy of your apartments; but he’ll come on to you—leaning a bit further into conversations, a hand on your knee, a kind of cloudy look in his eyes.
Sometimes he forgoes the attempts at being subtle, just kisses you out the blue, carefully backs you up against the wall, puts his hands on your hips. He can be awfully direct when given the opportunity.
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thekisforkeats · 4 years ago
Text
Love Languages
Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T probably for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set post-MAG 22, with a coda post-MAG 159. Everyone is ND and everyone is trans because that’s just how my personal S1 Archives gang rolls.
CWs: Mentions of ableism and Martin’s mother. I’d say canon-typical worms but the worms don’t really come up except in passing.
I do not know anything about BSL, so I did not try to describe the signs.
Summary: A love language is not just about how you best show love and affection; it is also about the ways you best receive love and affection. And so, for someone like Martin, who shows love by going out of his way to help others, someone going out of their way to help him, well. What better way for him to realize just how loved he is?
--------------------------------------------
The first time Martin went completely non-verbal after starting work in the Archives, it was the morning after giving Jon the statement about Jane Prentiss.
It wasn’t a surprising development, really. Martin didn’t go fully non-verbal that often, but when he did it was almost always a thing that started in the morning and lasted most of the day. Sometimes it wore off by the time he went to bed, sometimes it lasted until the next morning.
After his mother’s diagnosis, he’d been unable to speak for an entire week. That hadn’t gone over well--as much as his mother wanted him to be quiet, she didn’t like the “silent treatment,” as she called it.
Martin hated that she’d called it that, as though his non-verbal episodes were anything he did on purpose. Some days talking just felt like a chore; those days he could get by only forcing words out when he had to. But some days, the worst days, he just couldn’t talk. He could understand other people just fine, he could make noises, sometimes he could even hum. And he could definitely read and write. But speaking words, aloud? No. He could not speak, on these days, however much he may have wanted to.
As Martin grew older and learned more about himself, he learned words and reasons and coping mechanisms. He realized that some of the problem came from dysphoria and the longer he was on hormones the less often it happened. He realized that he was autistic (even if he never got diagnosed), and learned how to handle the episodes that still occurred. He took sign languages classes because it was a good and useful thing to know regardless, to be able to communicate with more people.
As many Deaf people had learned before Martin, he’d found himself in plenty of situations when nobody around him knew BSL, so he’d found a phone app that let him type out things he wanted to say and repeated them in a tinny, mechanical voice. Feminine, but he found it didn’t cause dysphoria; it wasn’t his voice. It was the app speaking for him, a robot lady translating his words.
Martin was fairly certain he was going to need the robot lady to speak for him today, and he was dreading the whole idea. The app got him a range of reactions from scorn to derision to faux sympathy. The last time he’d done so at work, the Institute library staff had regarded him with such pity that he’d called in sick the two other times it had happened since.
He’d woken early, because he was always awake fairly early, to ensure he looked presentable and got to work on time. He did not want Jonathan “Crisply Professional At All Times” Sims giving him that look again. The particular look that was “I highly disapprove of your sartorial choices but I’m not going to get into it right now because I have so very much else to do. Nonetheless, if I could fire you for what you’re wearing I would.”
Jon had a lot of looks. Martin fervently wished he could stop categorizing them; he very much disliked his boss, and very much wanted to stop thinking about Jon quite as much as he did.
Jon was attractive, that much Martin had noticed the first day he’d come in, with a jawline Martin would’ve loved to trace with his fingers, eyes sharp and deep and intelligent, salt-and-pepper hair that Martin would have tangled his fingers in gladly.
Except, of course, that Jon was also a prick who didn’t like Martin one bit and made that very clear. He’d put down on record that he thought Martin would “contribute nothing but delays.” Martin was not such a sucker for punishment that he would put up with someone who hated him just for a pretty face. The tiny potential blossom of a crush had been, well, crushed five seconds after it had poked its head above ground, by Jon’s declaration that he could dismiss Martin if he didn’t resolve the “dog situation” immediately.
Martin counted his lucky stars every day that Jon had not, in fact, dismissed him, despite having had to deal with a doggy mess. The luck was really in having Tim around, Martin figured; Jon actually seemed fond of Tim, and the other man had managed to smooth the entire situation over.
Martin had fallen asleep last night thinking about the new look Jon had given him yesterday: concerned. Truly, genuinely concerned, which had rather taken Martin aback. He’d been certain Jon wouldn’t believe him, would scoff and roll his eyes at the entire statement, and instead he’d just looked… concerned. 
And then Jon had offered Martin the cot that he’d woken up in this morning.
It wasn’t the look of concern that had Martin non-verbal, though; of that he was certain. It was the stress of the last two weeks, and dumping out the statement yesterday, and all the whirl of figuring out how to live in the Archives. Jon’s insistence on going with him to pick up basics with a toothbrush at the convenience store, and then coming back to be sure he was okay. Jon finding clean sheets and discussing how he’d do his laundry. Jon had expensed clothing bought online to the Institute, including next-day shipping, because he’d “lost access to his flat and thus his wardrobe in the line of duty.” It had all been bewildering and overwhelming and it was no real surprise that Martin was in the state he found himself when he woke.
Martin had known as soon as he’d opened his eyes. It was just there, the feeling of nope can’t talk today. He’d pulled on his binder and the same clothing he’d worn the day before and then fumbled around for his phone. Which… he didn’t have. The damn worm-hive-lady had stolen it from him. Well, shit.
He managed to avoid having to figure out how to talk while he went out to get breakfast, just pointing at a scone in the display and smiling at the guy behind the counter as if he wasn’t secretly irritated by the price of everything in Chelsea. By the time Martin got back, Jon was already in his office, so thank God he’d avoided that awkward interaction. He went to make himself tea, and had his breakfast in the breakroom, and brushed his teeth, and then went to get started on…
Wait. He didn’t even know what they were working on right now.
Well, he wasn’t going to bother Jon about it; however nice he’d been last night it surely must have worn off by now, and Martin had no interest in summoning one of his boss’ looks this early in the morning. Normally he’d still be on his commute at this hour.
After a moment’s thought, he went to go see what they’d recorded in his absence, and soon had a stack of statements on his desk. They’d gotten through five statements in the two weeks he’d been gone. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe Martin did contribute “nothing but delays.”
Pushing the thought aside, Martin focused on listening to the tapes, and was just finishing up listening to the second half of Father Edwin Burroughs’ statement when Tim came into the shared office the assistants used.
“Hey, you’re in early. You get the email?”
Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
Tim snorted. “Jon claims he’s got something to warn us about, something that ‘won’t parse properly through digital means.’” He rolled his eyes. “Which is Jon-speak for ‘it’s a weird thing and I don’t want to admit it’s a weird thing because I have to keep my skeptic hat on to preserve my self-image.”
Martin chuckled in solidarity, then gestured toward the door to Jon’s office, to indicate that’s where their boss was.
“Not coming?” Tim asked, his own eyebrow raised. When Martin shrugged, he said, “Well, I guess if you didn’t get the email…” Tim also shrugged, then said, “Guess I’d better get it over with. Wish me luck!”
Martin gave him a thumbs up.
When Sasha came in, Martin silently directed her to Jon’s office as well, then heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had to explain being non-verbal at all yet, and it was already nine o’clock. Maybe if he was lucky, Jon would warn them off talking to him and he’d manage to make it the entire day without having to explain the whole “non-verbal” business to anyone he saw on a regular basis.
Alas, it was barely thirty minutes later that Tim and Sasha returned to talk to him, both wearing expressions of mingled concern and guilt. When they spoke it was a flood of the usual, expected platitudes:
“We’re so sorry!”
“We didn’t know!”
“Are you okay??”
And such like.
Martin shrugged and nodded and shook his head in all the right places, and evidently Jon had played them the tape of his statement so he didn’t have to explain it all again (thank God), and he thought maybe, maybe he could even figure out what statement they were working on right now if he just listened to their chatter after they were done with the niceties, but then…
Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.
Which is to say, Tim actually looked at Martin, and said, “You’re being awfully quiet. You sure you’re okay?”
And then he and Sasha just… sat there, looking at him expectantly.
Martin sighed and reached for a piece of scrap paper and wrote, I’m autistic and sometimes I go non-verbal. Today’s one of those days, but I don’t have my phone anymore, so no communication app.
As he held up the paper so the others could read the words, Martin braced himself for the ensuing reactions. Pity, probably, like those in the Institute library, and he couldn’t even call in sick to avoid it; he’d rather have scorn and derision. At least those reactions were honest.
What he got from them was not pity, however, nor even scorn.
Sasha hummed. “Autism explains a lot, actually. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”
Tim grinned and clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Yeah, why didn’t you just say so? It’s fine, you’ve been through an ordeal. And so you know--you’re hardly the only neurodivergent in the Archives.”
Martin blinked at Tim, then wrote: Wait, what? Who…?
“Would you believe me if I said all of us?” Tim said with a grin. “I have ADD, Jon’s… well… he’s Jon, and as for Sasha…”
Sasha sighed in fond exasperation and cut in, “Tim…”
“I contend that you cannot be neurotypical, Ms. James. You fit in too well around here.”
“I am not admitting to anything on Institute property,” Sasha said with aplomb. “And you shouldn't have either, but here we are.” She looked at Martin. “If HR finds out and they give you any trouble, let us know and we’ll figure out what to do.”
Tim, in the meanwhile, pulled out his phone. “Here, go ahead and use mine for now, until your replacement gets here or whatever. What’s the app so I can install it for you?”
Martin’s jaw had dropped open. Tim having ADD made sense; what did he mean about Jon, though? And Sasha? And what did Sasha mean about HR? And… and why were they being so… nice? So… understanding? It wasn’t an act, or at least he didn’t think it was. They seemed… genuinely fine with it. Accepting, even.
It was the strangest thing Martin had experienced in a while, and that was including the worm-riddled woman who’d stood outside his door for two straight weeks.
From there the day just… went on as normal. Tim installed the app on the phone, Martin’s robot phone lady spoke for him, the three of them did their work, and everything was fine.
Until, of course, the nature of their work reared its ugly head. They were discussing the statement of Leanne Denikin, case #0051701, which they had yet to attach a pithy name to; hence the discussion. It had long since become standard practice to attach a name to the “weirder” statements, to make them easier to discuss. (Jon insisted on using the case numbers on tape still, which was annoying, given that was the only place he did that.)
Martin was reading through the statement, and he typed into Tim’s phone: What do you think of this bit? “Be still, for there is strange music.”
What came out of the phone’s speakers, however, was garbled static followed by high-pitched screeching that startled Martin so much he actually dropped the phone.
Jon was walking in just as this happened; he stopped in the doorway, blinking. “What on Earth was that?”
“Martin’s robot lady gave Tim’s phone an aneurysm, I think,” Sasha said, eyeing Martin as well.
Martin scrabbled on the floor for the phone, pulled up the app (which had crashed), and typed, I don’t know what happened!! I was just typing in something from one of the statements!
Jon frowned at him sharply. “What are you doing with Tim’s phone? Are you quite well?”
“No, Martin is not ‘quite well,’” Tim said. “Non-verbal for the day.”
Then Jon did something that stunned Martin: Jon signed at him, specifically, “Do you know sign language?” He spoke aloud as he said this, too, but also raised his eyebrows and gave a quizzical tilt to his head to convey that he was asking a question.
Martin blinked rapidly, then signed back: “Yes, actually. But Tim and Sasha don’t.”
Jon nodded, then said aloud, along with signing, “Why are you non-verbal, exactly?”
“I have autism,” Martin signed. “Sometimes talking is overwhelming and sometimes, especially in stressful situations, I can’t talk at all. Woke up that way today. It should be gone by tomorrow morning.” Why was he explaining so much more to Jon than he had to the others? Maybe just because Jon knew sign, and thus could communicate in a language Martin found much easier than even the typing.
Jon frowned thoughtfully, then nodded again. Then, still speaking and signing both, “What were you typing into your phone?”
“Be still, for there is strange music. From the statement.” Martin gestured to the statement on his desk.
Jon’s frown deepened and he repeated the words. “‘Be still, for there is strange music….’” His expression went slack for a moment, and then he shook himself. “Right. Well. Just… just… I’ll be right back.” Then he abruptly turned and left the room.
Tim and Sasha exchanged bewildered looks. Then Sasha asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”
“I forgot Jon knows BSL,” Tim replied thoughtfully. “Hard of hearing on one side. Not that he’d have agreed to interpret all day or anything.”
Martin shrugged. It’s alright, he typed. This works just fine.
“Well, no, obviously not for some things.” Jon had reappeared as suddenly as he’d disappeared, holding a small brown notebook the size of Martin’s hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting the notebook at Martin. “This will work better, for communicating about the statements. You needn’t use it with me, of course, unless signing is also taxing.”
Martin stared up at Jon. There was an entirely new look on his boss’ face. Not any level of scorn or sneer, nor even concern. He was… nervous. Fidgety. Like he was offering a gift that he was afraid might be rejected.
Something went flip in Martin’s stomach and it was like the entire world turned upside down. Suddenly, in light of Jon’s actions in the last 24 hours, he saw the way his boss had acted toward him the last six months for what it was: a defense mechanism. Armor pulled up around someone fragile and soft and sweet, someone so terrified of rejection that he went about making sure it happened preemptively so he wouldn’t be hurt.
Martin had a sudden, fierce desire to hug Jon and tell him everything would be okay. It was so bewildering a sensation--he didn’t even like the man! At all!--that he just took the notebook with a nod and a signed “Thank you,” eyes still very wide.
Jon nodded in return. “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, and seemed to relax a little. “Well. Then. I think we’ve found the name for this one, given the way Tim’s phone reacted to those words. ‘Strange Music’ it is.” He straightened himself. “Tim, you said something about the organ reminding you of articles you’ve read…?”
Tim nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can find them for you.”
“Right. Well, then, Sasha, if I could ask you to look through the Archive like we talked about? I’m certain we’ve had a statement from Jane Prentiss.” Jon then turned to Martin. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping me with ‘Schwarzwald?’ You used to work in the library, right?”
Martin was still staring at Jon in confusion, but nodded.
Jon actually smiled at him. Faintly. “Well, then, I’m certain you must know where to find the German history reference books, if you could go grab whatever they’ll let you bring down?”
The strangest thing about it was, Jon seemed sincere. Like he actually believed Martin did, indeed, know the library well enough to just… go up there and find the German history reference books. The faint, confident-in-his-assistant smile was a new look, at least directed at Martin; he’d seen Jon look at Tim and Sasha that way many times before.
Martin’s stomach was doing cartwheels. There were butterflies taking up residence in his intestines. His heart was pounding. How had he never noticed how nice Jon’s smile was? Soft and small, like he was afraid to let it actually take up residence on his face for too long.
Oh, God, oh, no. Martin could not fancy his boss. Jon hated him. Or, well, no, evidence suggested that perhaps Jon did not hate him, but Jon most certainly did not fancy him. This crush had to disappear, just as fast as it had come. This would not do.
He was going to be writing poetry again tonight, wasn’t he? Crap.
“Martin?” Jon’s tone was concerned rather than sharp, and the way Jon said his name made Martin want to sink into the floor.
Instead, he scribbled furiously in the notebook and held it up so all three of the others could see: Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about where that’d be. I’ll bring them down as soon as I find them.
Jon practically beamed at Martin’s use of the notebook and he nodded briskly. “Right! I’ll be in my office when you have the books, then.” He started to turn away.
Martin’s heart went pound pound pound because oh wow Jon was really cute when he let that smile take up more of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he made a noise to get the other man’s attention.
Jon turned around, quirking a brow. “Yes, Martin?”
Martin signed, “Tea?” He, too, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to indicate the question.
Jon nodded. “Tea would be lovely, yes.” He smiled at Martin for a brief moment, and then suddenly looked flustered. He glared at them all. “Anyway,” he snapped in his ‘boss’ voice, the impact of which was ruined by the flush rising in his cheeks, “there’s still work to be done. So let’s… do it.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the office.
Had Jon blushed because Martin had offered him tea? Did Jon like his tea that much? Was Martin imagining things? He had to be imagining things. He put his head down on the desk and wrapped his arms over it so he could grab at handfuls of hair. What was happening to him?
Sasha tried to make her voice serious, but couldn't quite manage it past quite clearly holding back giggles. “Mourn for poor Martin, working alone with Jon.” She looked at Tim. “We should call HR preemptively, it’ll be a bloodbath.”
“Nah, I think Jon’s softening on our boy,” Tim said with a laugh. He reached over to ruffle Martin’s hair with one hand while he took his phone back with the other. “Don’t worry, Marto. I told you he’d come around one day.”
Martin looked up at Tim with a stricken, betrayed expression. In the notebook: Is this how you comfort me in my hour of need??
Sasha shook her head. “For once, Tim’s being serious. You weren’t in the room when Jon explained things to us. He’s worried about you, he doesn’t want you to have to leave the Institute alone, he doesn’t want you to have to look for the Prentiss statement in case it’s ‘too traumatic’ for you to run across on your own. He actually asked us if we thought we should avoid any mention of Prentiss altogether in your presence.”
“I told him no,” Tim said. “I hope that was okay. You seem like you’d rather deal with trauma by facing it and figuring it out, rather than avoiding it entirely.”
Matin gaped at them. Really? he wrote. Jon’s… worried about me? Really? As if he hadn’t seen the evidence just now that Jon was, indeed… softening.
Tim gave Martin a very serious look. “I’ve told you before… I’ve known Jon, well, not as long as I’ve known Sasha, but for a long while now. He’s prickly and thorny, even to people he cares about, but that’s a front and I’ve said so. You just didn’t believe me.”
“In Martin’s defense,” Sasha put in, “Jon’s been awfully ‘prickly and thorny’ to him specifically.”
Tim put up a hand. “Oh, I agree. I have had words with our dear boss about the way he treats Martin, largely because I’m one of the few people he might actually listen to.” He looked at Martin. “I don’t want to take the credit, because it’s really been a remarkably fast turnaround, but I’d like to think I helped, a little.”
Martin frowned thoughtfully. Thank you, he wrote. If Jon’s at ‘I can stand Martin’ instead of ‘Martin is the source of all bad that happens in the Archives’ work might be… better than tolerable, for once.
“That’s the spirit!” Tim said with a grin. “Now, then, Jon did say to get back to work…”
Jon gave Martin another of those soft smiles when Martin brought in the tea, a smile which widened on seeing the stack of books he carried in right after. That afternoon, spent sitting and going through books and discussing the Schwarzwald statement, was the first of many they’d spend together, reading and talking and comparing notes.
Martin was feeling verbal again the next morning, but he kept the notebook. If nothing else, it was a good place to jot down poetry. And it came in handy when he found himself unable to speak the morning after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives.
And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.
And the morning after Jon disappeared, leaving Jurgen Leitner’s body at his desk. (Martin blamed that on the corridors more than the body, really.)
Funnily enough, he didn’t need it the morning after the Unknowing. But he kept it with him that day all the same, the first gift Jon had ever given him, and one of the few things he had left of him with Jon in a coma.
--------------------------------------------
When they reached Daisy’s safehouse in Scotland, Martin had hoped he’d somehow manage to dodge the threat of going non-verbal. He’d been the one to drive the car, over Jon’s protests; it was something to focus on, to keep him remembering he was alive and real. He’d clutched the wheel and driven north north north with Jon giving directions in the passenger seat.
Martin had finally figured out that it was the chance to stop and think about trauma that led to his being non-verbal, which was why it was almost always a thing that hit in the morning. Adrenaline would keep him running after a stressful event, and then he’d carry himself through the rest of the day trying to clean up whatever mess had been caused. But sleep was enough for his body and brain to both tell him to stop, to process, to deal with whatever he’d run into.
It was possible, in hindsight, that he’d gone non-verbal more than once since the Unknowing and just hadn’t noticed because he’d been barely interacting with anyone. He’d certainly had a bad bout the morning after his mother’s funeral, dealing with so much misgendering and fake smiles. And there had been more than enough trauma to try to process in the past year, so it must have happened before.
He’d just really, really hoped it wouldn’t now, because he didn’t want to put Jon through that. (Why he thought he was putting Jon through anything he didn’t really want to examine. It made him feel Lonely, and that was bad.)
At any rate, the realization of why he went non-verbal had led to him keeping busy in order to hold it off, in order to hold himself together. So he drove, and he puttered about the cabin poking into cupboards, and he talked to Jon, and he talked to the shop lady in the village, and he brought back food and made dinner with Jon, and everything was good and fine.
And then he woke up the next morning, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, and he could not speak.
There was the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes cooking, and Martin made his bleary way out into the main room of the cabin and peered at Jon, already up and dressed and cooking.
His boyfriend turned to look at him and smiled, one of those soft smiles Martin had come to love so much. “Sleep well?”
"Not really,” Martin signed. “I mean…” He gestured at his throat.
Jon nodded. “I figured you might feel that way this morning. I, uhh… hold on a moment, I need to….” He grabbed the pan of bacon and moved it off the heat, pulled a pancake off the griddle and deposited it on a plate, then turned off the stove and went to poke around in one of the bags.
Martin chuckled fondly. “What’re you looking for?”
Jon was still digging through his bag. “When I was grabbing essentials at the store, back in London, I was thinking, you’ve been through a lot, and the notebook I gave you before must be full if you even have it anymore. I know you were writing poetry in it, and… oh, here we go.”
Jon came up with another small notebook. This one was not plain and brown, the way the first one he’d gifted Martin all those years ago had been. This one was black, and had silvery stars on its cover that, as Jon held out the book and thus tilted it through the light, shimmered into rainbows.
“Just in case, you know, the shop lady doesn’t know BSL.”
Martin blinked at the notebook.
“It, uhh… I know it’s not your usual style,” Jon said, his voice suddenly nervous. He was looking down at the notebook as he spoke, instead of at Martin. “Not… retro. But… I saw it and I thought of you.” He paused. “That tape, where you were talking to Simon Fairchild. He talked about the ‘cosmic scale,’ and how we’ve never even been alive on that time frame, and you said… what was it? You said, ‘I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.’ And I just… that was… maybe the most… it was very… you. And there were other options, flowers or cursive writing, o-or… I don’t know, they all seemed so obvious, but this…”
Jon swallowed, and finally looked up at Martin. “I thought, after the Lonely, you might like a reminder that, you have value. That… that to me, you shine as bright as any star.” And then he flushed, and Martin knew it was for him, just as he now knew the flushes about tea all those years ago had also been for him.
Martin was gaping. Oh. Oh. Jon… loved him. Which he’d known, intellectually, but the emotional knowledge of it hit him suddenly, took his breath away. He knew it, all at once, in that “oh we could spend the rest of our lives together” way he’d never really thought he’d ever feel.
Jon had clearly misinterpreted the expression; he started stammering, “I-if… it it’s bad, I can… well, no, I can’t take it back, stupid, I should’ve just grabbed the one that had--”
Martin cut him off by reaching out to take the notebook from Jon and reached out with his other hand to cup the shorter man’s cheek. He smiled, and because he’d realized long ago how well Jon responded to physical touch, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.
Then he pulled back to put the notebook aside on the counter and signed, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”
Jon smiled, both speaking and signing, “I love you, too.”
And for once in his life, Martin knew that to be true, and trusted that knowledge. He was loved. He had been loved, and he would be loved for the rest of his life, whatever state his voice was in.
309 notes · View notes
libraryofloveletters · 4 years ago
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Golden Boxes
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Luke Alvez x Reader 
Warnings: None I think 
Category: Fluff 
Word Count: 1.8k
Author’s Note: this is dedicated to the Luke to my Matt @luke-alvez 🥰 not sure if it's still your birthday where you are but this is my gift to you :) <3
----
The house was filled with boxes and bubble wrap. The plan was to be unpacked for your birthday but it seems things didn't go as planned. Luke had returned form case later than expected and there was the huge storm that seemed to last for days. A week later and all the boxes had arrived and were being unpacked. 
Luke’s footsteps echoed through the house as he jogged down the stairs, “baby, have you seen the hammer anywhere ? I need it but I can’t find it” he leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, your back was turned to him as you unpacked the dishes. 
“Check the living room” you mumble, turning your attention to the cupboard. Luke shouted from the other room that he found it and ran back up the stairs. The door slammed upstairs, making you shake your head. 
“Yeah! Break it before we unpack!” you yell, you can hear Luke’s boisterous laugh from upstairs, he shouted back a sorry. 
Your morning was spent in the kitchen because if you couldn’t unpack everything, at least you could have clean dishes to eat from and you know what they say, the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach. It was around lunch that Roxy brushed up against your leg, “hey girl, where’s dad?” your fingers run through her fur as you put some pots in the bottom cupboard. On cue, Luke comes down, “hey, I'm gonna run to the store. We’re out of screws” 
“What do you need screws for ?”
“Uh, the bed, I might have cross threaded the other ones” he gave you a tight lipped smile, you chuckled. “Okay, pick up some of the tacks to hang the frames too” Luke comes over and kisses the top of your head before leaving the house. 
-- 
A few hours later, he returned to the house with more bags than screws could be in. “Uh, did you buy out the store? And what took so long?” Luke was already halfway up the stairs when you got to the bottom of the staircase. “No. No,” he laughs and totally ignores your question, returning with the tacks to hang the frames in hand. “Do you need help hanging the frames?” he asks and you shake your head. 
“I’ll be upstairs then” and once again, Luke headed up the stairs and back into the room. Half of you wanted to go up and see what he was doing but the other half was much too lazy to walk up the stairs just to check on the man you saw less than 10 seconds ago. You made your way to the living room, Roxy trailing behind you as you sat on the floor and started opening the boxes. The amount of pictures, framed or in albums that you two had was unnecessary. For two people and a dog, it didn’t make sense that at least 4 large boxes had photo albums and pictures frames. Nonetheless, you begin hanging up the frames, rearranging and changing positions until you were pleased with the order. The fireplace was bare, the mantle covered in dust, you couldn't have it. Wiping the dust away, you tumbled through the boxes for pictures that deserved to be front and centre 
The first one on the mantle was from your 4th date and the first picture the two of you had together. Luke had invited you to a party that the BAU was having at Rossi’s place and Penelope had taken a picture of the two of you cuddled up next to each other outside. The second one was from your wedding, a picture of your first dance. It felt like only yesterday that you met Luke. It was hard to believe that you were married and had bought a house together. The third one was on you, Luke and Roxy. It was just some random picture that you had taken one morning. The two of you were in bed and you had your phone in your hand when Roxy jumped up onto the bed and amid the confusion, you accidentally took the picture. Neither of you are looking at the camera but you're both laughing. 
The sound of something falling pulled your attention away from the photos. “Luke?! You okay ?!” you shout from downstairs, he doesn’t answer so you head up, making your way to the bedroom. 
“Love, are you alright?” as soon as your hand reaches for the knob, Luke sticks his head out. “yeah, I'm okay” he smiles, “do you need some help ? I've had enough of downstairs” chuckling, you go to push the door open. 
“Oh it’s fine, there’s something propped against the door. I’ll finish up there and come down and help you” Luke shuts the door before you could protest. 
“Oh uh okay” mumbling, you head back down the stairs. The banging and thudding did not stop for the next 3 hours. Surely, it couldn't take that long to put together a bed. When it finally stops, he comes down as you had moved on from the living room to the pantry. “Y/n? where are you?!” he called, his footsteps sounding closer with each step. You had headphones in because of all of the noise he was making upstairs and when Luke’s hand rested on your waist, his touch startled you. Your hand coming up and gripping to your chest, Luke held back a laugh. The stupid smile on his face was enough to earn him a small whack to the side. 
“Don’t do that!” you shout,
“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I thought you heard me calling” 
“Well did I answer ?” you ask him, he shook his head as he watched you from the doorway. 
“Anyways, I'm running out to pick up a pizza. Unless you want something else?” 
“I’m fine, pizza is good” you smile, Luke leans in and gives you a kiss before walking towards the door. He stops halfway and looks back at you. “The room is still in a mess so don’t go up” he tells you, you nod and mumble okay. 
You didn't think anything of it. 
It’s not like you were in a rush for the bedroom to be done but it would be nice. The more you thought about it, the more you realized something seemed off. Luke had been upstairs all day and the bed still wasn’t put together? 
Walking up the stairs, the sound of your steps echoed through the almost empty house. You stopped in front of the door, half of you wanted to go in and see what was happening and the other half was shouting no in big red flashing lights. There had to be a reason as to why Luke asked you not to go in, he wouldn’t say that for no reason. Which only made you wonder even more. Stepping towards the door, your hand was just about to touch the knob when Luke shouts for you, once again, starling you. 
“What were you doing upstairs ?” he was at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you as you made your way down. 
“Looking for the box with the kitchen towels” 
“Did you find it ?” 
“Must be in the kitchen, I think I saw it earlier” you give him a small smile, feeling kind of bad for lying to him. The half eaten box of pizza was discarded on the floor beside you and Luke, his arm around your shoulder as your head rests on his. 
“I have something for you. Let me go get it” untangling himself from you, Luke gets up. Your brows furrow, watching your husband jog up the stairs. “Babe?! Can you come up here?” you follow the sound of his voice up the stairs and into the room. You stop in your tracks when you step into the room. Not only had put the room together but he had also fixed your vanity. The movers didn't wrap it properly and it got damaged, it was the first time you had bought yourself when you moved out on your own so you had wanted to keep it. 
“You fixed it” you smiled at him, your hand running around the top of it. “Is that what you were doing all day ?” 
“Mhm hm, you looked so sad when it arrived. I couldn't leave it like that” Luke pulls you into his side, his arm around your shoulder once again. He kisses the top of your head, “I take it that you’re happy ?” he asks, turning towards you. “Of course” flashing him a smile which turns into a loud squeal when Luke picks you up, he drops you on the bed and then lays beside you. 
“You know I love you right ?” rolling onto your side, your hand cupping his cheek. Luke kisses the palm of your hand, “I know. you know I love you right ?” he smiles which makes you smile too. “That’s not the real gift though” Luke sits up, he pulls out a little box from the bedside table. 
“This is for you” he hands it to you. Unwrapping the ribbon, you pull the lid off the box. A gold charm bracelet sat in the box, there were a few charms evenly spaced from each other. The first charm was a little paw print which was for Roxy of course. The second being the palm tree because the two of you went to the tropics for your honeymoon. The third was a tiny hockey stick, seeing that you loved hockey. There were a few more that reminded you of your trips and your time together. 
“Oh Luke,” you breathed, he gently picked up the bracelet and placed it on your wrist, attaching the hook and turning it the right way. “Do you like it?” he asks, his hand still holding yours. “It’s gorgeous Luke, thank you” you smile. His phone buzzes, he picks it up. 
“Do you have to go ?” you ask him, hoping that it wasn't Emily telling him that they had a case. Luke shook his head and showed you his phone instead. the clock had just changed to 12, the beginning of a new day, your birthday.
Luke’s hands cupped your face as he leaned in, his lips inched away from yours, “happy birthday mi amor” he pressed his lips to yours. You know he could feel your smile through the kiss, “thank you” you mumbled, as your arms wrapped around him and pulled him back into bed with you. 
---- 
Taglist: @mac99martin @aaron-hotchner187 @fanofalltheficsx @luke-alvez @lieberhers @pumpkin-reads @ssa-volturi @katexrichardson @sluttytears @thelukealvez @scandinavian-punk @pagetsimp @morcias @shotarosleftpinky @mrs-dr-reid @hqtchner @averyhotchner @willlemonheadsupremacy​ @mggsprettygirl​ @simxican​ @venusrosepetal​
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ironmandeficiency · 4 years ago
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that’s not a shirt
pairing: marcus pike / reader
word count: 1584
summary: marcus comes home from work & finds the strangest thing in the laundry.
a/n: for @autumnleaves1991-blog and her wednesday writing challenge! writing domestic marcus pike is my therapy. unbeta’d and posted from mobile (honestly my laptop is becoming less convenient to post from even tho posting fic on tumblr is literally the reason i bought it last year)
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three long, miserable weeks. that’s how long marcus has been out of town for a case that had him jetting all across the country, far away from you and your comfortable bed. he’s almost never at the apartment he pays rent for every month. most of his clothes and his favorite pillow are at your place, and the small quilt his grandmother sewed decades ago is draped over the back of your couch. in everything but name, he lived with you.
when he entered your apartment with his key, he took note of the fact you weren’t there and got set to cleaning up a bit. work leaves you exhausted more often than not and he doesn’t want to leave everything undone for you to worry about when you get home.
upon first glance, he could see the laundry was half done. a heaping load of clean clothes was in the hamper in front of the dryer and there were wet clothes in the open washer. when he looked further, there was also a load in the dryer, which told him that you stayed up late to get things done then fell asleep on the couch waiting for the dryer to finish. with a fond smile, he started the dryer for a few minutes to get wrinkles out of what’s in there. when those are done, he can get what’s in the hamper unwrinkled and hung and folded.
dinner was next on the to-do list. something nourishing to welcome you home after a long day but simple enough to do while catching up the clothes: spaghetti. there’s something about his mom’s recipe for the sauce that makes his spaghetti absolutely heavenly — your words, not his — and he can’t wait to see your reaction to having marcus home two days earlier than planned along with his best dish.
in the time it takes him to get the sauce cooking and the water boiling on the stove, the dryer announces that it’s finished with the first load. he hums as he folds the bath towels and dish rags without a care in the world, making the trip to stow them in the bathroom cabinet with a spring to his step.
checks the sauce for flavor and consistency before putting the second load of wrinkled clothes in the dryer, finding it needs just a smidge more rosemary before it can be left to simmer. picks another sprig from the plant you keep on the windowsill and cuts the leaves very fine before sprinkling them in with a flick of his wrist.
satisfied with his efforts, he turns back to the laundry. he dutifully empties the lint filter (you’re adamant on emptying it after every load and the trait passed onto him) before he begins to grab things to toss into the dryer. about a third of the way through the basket, his hand grabbed onto something weirdly solid and plump.
“mroww!”
last marcus checked, shirts don’t make noises like that. he tore his gaze from the inside of the dryer to the hamper to find a grey and white kitten lounging in the hamper. the little thing was nudging his hand with their head, clearly wanting the attention of the man slowly depleting its bed. he was perplexed. you didn’t have a cat when he was last here, but there was one seeming to be perfectly content in making itself at home in your apartment.
“where did you come from?” he knew the cat wasn’t going to give him a coherent answer but he felt the need to voice his confusion anyway. the first thing to do now: check to see if it’s male or female. it’s a female, looks to be about three months old and is perfectly content with being handled by marcus.
marcus can’t recall the last time he had a pet. with him being too busy with work, he never thought it would be fair to a pet to have an owner constantly gone. he didn’t have enough stability in the past with where he lived and didn’t want to only be a half ass pet parent. the past several months, however, have been nothing but stable. not counting the seldom out of town cases, he goes to work in the morning and comes home to you in the evening, and he rinses and repeats as needed. maybe this kitten is the perfect prelude to taking the next big step in his relationship with you.
for now though, marcus doesn’t let himself get carried away with his daydreams about living with you full time. he’s got laundry to finish and dinner to cook, and now he has a sous chef to accompany him. he holds the kitten to his chest, scratching her chin with a hooked finger and melting at the way she looks up as if telling him to keep going. “alright sweet girl, let’s finish up dinner.” a soft “mrrow!” is her reply and it makes marcus huff a quiet laugh.
dinner is completed with marcus using one less hand than normal, his sous chef being fabulous company. the few times he had to use both hands, his feline friend perched on his shoulder (which he thought was the best thing ever) and waited to be held again. however this cat got here, marcus didn’t know; the one thing he did know is that it wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
the front door was unlocked when you came home and you knew with absolute certainty that you locked it before you left. your walmart bags filled with cat supplies were immediately dropped to the hallway floor as you began to inspect your front door and the area around it. marcus taught you how to spot the basic signs of forced entry (like the protective sweetheart he is) and when none of them were there, you cautiously entered your apartment, mace in hand.
the adrenaline washed away when you spotted your loving boyfriend in the kitchen, gently bobbing his head along to whatever music he had playing. one hand was stirring a pot on the stove while the other was plenty preoccupied with the kitten. shit, you forgot to warn him about the kitten before he got home!
this was the last thing you thought would be here to greet you, but it was a very welcome sight; the feline was finicky and marcus wasn’t due home for another few days, a double whammy. “i see you’ve met the kitten.” you’re honestly just thankful he didn’t get upset about the little thing. neither of you have talked about pets or whatever your living situation is becoming, so the way he seems so taken with the kitten is a sign pointing in a great direction.
when he hears your voice, marcus visibly lights up. “hi honey!” the hand with the spoon immediately drops the wooden utensil into the pot and waves at you happily. “this is my sous chef, say hello, pasta!” he grabs one of her little paws and waves it at you before resuming his stirring, a beaming smile on his face.
did he really just name the cat pasta? and how in the world is she so calm with him right now?
you found the kitten, now known as pasta, huddled in a cardboard box beside a gas station dumpster headed home from work. she was mewling her little head off back there and you were lucky enough to hear her. taking her and her box, your list of things to do was thrown out the window as you rushed her to the vet. they cleaned her up real good and schedule her vaccinations, and sent you home with a list of supplies to buy and advice on how to take care of the little thing.
she was pissed at you after the vet trip. didn’t let you pet or hold her unless she was in the mood for it and if you tried to pick her up otherwise, she would scatter and give you a glare from a safe distance away. but here was marcus holding her like a baby, and the little brat was eating it up! to be fair, you were the same way with marcus when he was being affectionate so you didn’t completely blame her.
“why pasta?” you knew that cats were more likely than dogs to have strange names. you just didn’t think your boyfriend would be the type to give a cat a name like pasta. at that rate, you might as well name a dog goose and call it a day.
he smiles at the furball, giving her a few affectionate pets while he talks. “i was cooking spaghetti when i found her in the laundry hamper, and then i noticed a little spot right on her hip that looks like penne. i couldn’t choose between the two so i went for the middle ground. is that okay with you? or did she have another-”
“marcus, i love it.” and you really do; that sentimental dork just made you love the name pasta with nothing but two sentences. “and honestly, i’ve just been rotating between baby girl, squeak toy, and dumbass since i found her the day before yesterday.”
he scratches pasta under her chin as he laughs at the thought of you calling his sous chef a dumbass. “pasta is not a dumbass! you tell ‘em sweetheart, tell them how smart you are!”
“mroww!”
“see? she’ll be the next einstein.”
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marcus pike taglist: @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @obirain @themarcusmoreno @catsnkooks @torradoza @stardustsunrisekisses @darthadeline @max--phillips @jedi-mando @darklingveracruz @andysficrecs @pedropasscals @qhbr2013 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @greeneyedblondie44 @princess76179 @kaermorons @lv7867 @whovianwar @purelypascal
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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years ago
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Sweatpants SZN (Angel Edition)
Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader
Summary: Angel goes out dressed like a hoe. Inspired by this post about my frustration by the boys wearing jeans when they sleep.
Warnings: it’s long 3k worth 😬 and a whole lotta filth
A/N: Here’s another series for my Mayan men! I already have plans for Nestor, EZ, and Miguel.
A/N 2: Special dedication to @starrynite7114​ thank you for always indulging me and being a wonderful friend
To check out more here’s my masterlist and if you want notifications here’s my taglist.
Photo cred: @starrynite7114​
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When you first found out that Angel sometimes wore jeans to sleep it boggled your mind. You were the type of girl that took off her bra, kick off her shoes, and take off your pants as soon as you got home. So, to see Angel sleeping in his jeans was lowkey traumatizing.
As a dutiful girlfriend (and also a partly selfish girlfriend) you bought Angel some gray sweatpants. You wanted him to be as comfortable as possible and looking good at the same time. What you didn’t count on was that everyone else could appreciate the goods.
You were pouring yourself a cup of coffee of when Angel came home. He’d left early this morning before you woke up. “I’m back, querida.” You could hear him setting down bags on the table.
“Good morn-ingg,” the cheerfulness dropped out of your voice when you saw what Angel was wearing. A plain white t-shirt that was getting too tight, because of all the working out he was doing which made him almost as cut as EZ and a pair of those damn gray sweatpants you had bought for him.
“What?” Angel asked, confused at your sudden change in mood. “Do I got something on my face or clothes?” He started swiping his face and body, trying to clean the imaginary dirt off him.
“Nah, you’re good. Did you really wear that to the store?” Angel was genuinely confused. He didn’t see anything wrong with his outfit. “Yeah. Does it not match or something?”
“You really went out like that without me?” It finally dawned on Angel. He heard hints of jealousy. He didn’t know why he didn’t hear it at first, because he was so used to asking this same question. Angel did his best to keep his smile to himself, you were gonna pop a gasket when he told you where he went after the grocery store. “Yeah, you were sleeping. I doubt you wanted me to wake you up to go to the store and Vicki’s place.”
You almost spit out your coffee when Angel mentioned Vicki’s place. “YOU WENT WHERE?!” Angel began putting up the groceries because if he didn’t, he would’ve burst out laughing at you. “Vicki’s. Bishop called when I was at the store and asked if I could drop some things over.”
He was fucking with you. He was avoiding eye contact with you for a reason. “Angel!” He stopped putting the cereal on top of the refrigerator and turned towards you. He didn’t even last thirty seconds of you staring at him before he started laughing. “Screw you, Angel!” It didn’t even bother him that you were angry, your jealousy was cute to him.
Too enraptured in aggressively washing out your mug, you didn’t notice Angel walking up on you until he wrapped his hands around your middle and rested his chin on your shoulder. “C’mon you can’t really be mad, can you? Remember I’m a grown man and can wear whatever I want.” He threw the line you used at him the many multiple times when he didn’t agree with the outfit of your choice.
Damn it! You couldn’t think of a great comeback. “Its not the same!” Angel’s laugh vibrated throughout your body. “Someone sounds jealous.” He sung into your ear. You elbowed him off of you and started putting up the rest of the groceries. “No! You not even all that cute to be doing all of that for.”
“Oh really?” He arched his eyebrow at you before he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Angel just made you eat your words. It was like you had a golden god standing before you and the only appropriate response would be to get on your knees to worship him. Thankfully, you had a modicum of dignity and only salivated at the man in front of you.
You were so spaced out that you allowed Angel to pick you up and set you on the counter. “What you staring at, baby?” Angel nudged his nose against yours then ran it along your neck.
“Nothing,” you pouted. Angel kissed your nose then your lips. “You sure?” He took one of your hands and ran it along his body. “Because it seems like you were appreciating my arms, my abs,” his voice got lower as your hand went lower, “my dick.” He emphasized the k. “You feel that? That’s all yours, mami. No need to be jealous, ok?”
“Okay.” You resigned your jealousy and tried to kiss Angel, but he pulled away from you. He reminded you of your agreement last night. No sex today until you and him were finished with cleaning the house, and he knew if he let you kiss him then he would end up fucking you right on the table.
Reluctantly you got up, but at least you were motivated to clean the house faster. Angel took on your shared bedroom and bathroom while you had the front of the house. There were stolen kisses between switches of cleaning supplies and smacks on the butt whenever you passed each other (which Angel pretended he didn’t like when you did it to him.)
You had just finished cleaning your part of the house when you finally allowed yourself to watch Angel cut the grass in the backyard. Grabbing two glasses of sweet tea, you went to stand in the doorway and watch Angel work. Even though they were gonna be trouble those grey sweatpants were a gift from god. They slung low enough on his hips that you could appreciated his Adonis belt. The sun beating down on him made him sweat and if it was possible you would pay an insane amount of money to be one of the sweat droplets rolling down his body.
He finally cut off the lawn mower and smiled at you perving at him. “Thank you,” he took the glass of sweet tea and chugged it down, some of it getting into his beard which made you think of other ways to get his beard wet. “All done cleaning?” He asked, backing you into the house. “Yeah,” you pulled him by the drawstrings until his phone started ringing. “Angel, no,” you whined, knowing it either wouldn’t be a short call or it would be call for him do club business.
Unfortunately, it was the latter. Angel apologized for the inconvenience and jumped in the restroom for a quick shower. Before he left, he apologized again and promised to make it up to you after the party at the clubhouse.
Angel dressing like a thot, being denied sex twice in one day, and being left alone to your own devices was not a good combination. You were doing a good job with keeping your brattiness tucked away, but when you were looking for an outfit for the party, your brattiness in the form of dark Kermit was bubbling up. In the end Kermit won.
As Angel predicted, you made it to the party before him and you were wearing the skirt, he specifically told you not to wear without him present. “Y/N, I’m begging you. Please, please go change.” The last time you wore something this risky at the clubhouse, Angel shoved you into EZ’s trailer and screwed you into tears on his bed. “Chill out, I brought my own car tonight. No one is going in your trailer.” That calmed him down only a tiny bit because he knew once his brother saw you, he was going to lose it.  
“He’s gonna kill you, Y/N.” Gilly told you while glaring off anyone thinking of trying to talk to you. No one was gonna approach his friend’s girl while he was around. “The only thing he is gonna kill is,” EZ quickly interrupted you, “Please do not finish that sentence.”
Outside Angel and Coco had just arrived from across the border. “Hey man, y’all got some honeys down here.” Paul from the San Bernardino chapter ran up on them. Coco entertained him while Angel listened. He honestly hasn’t paid attention to any other women since you’ve came in your life. “Then there’s one chick, mannnnnnnn. If Gilly wasn’t acting like some damn guard dog I would’ve talked to her already.”
“Gilly got a girl?” Angel asked, opening the door. “Not to my knowledge.” Coco responded stepping in after his friend.
“Oh, there she is!” Paul pointed out to you talking to EZ and Gilly. “Man, it look like she got some good dick sucki-,” Abruptly Angel grabbed Paul by the collar. “I dare you to finish that fucking sentence.”
Paul saw the fire in Angel’s eyes, and he knew he made a big mistake. “Shit, Angel! My bad! I didn’t know she was your old lady. I won’t even look in her direction.”
“Keep it that way!” Angel pushed Paul away and made a beeline towards you. First, it was EZ that noticed him. Suddenly, the prospect was really into keeping the glasses clean. Then it was Gilly who walked away from you in mid conversation, leaving you confused until you felt the familiar mold of Angel’s body against. “You got ten seconds to walk to the backseat of your car or I’m throwing you over my fucking shoulder.” He whispered into your ear harshly while deceiving everyone else into thinking he was just giving you a hug and whispering sweet words in your ears.
The ten seconds started once he released you and you wasted no time. When Angel got like this it was better to shut up and listen. Angel ignored the ‘hellos’ and ‘what’s up, man’. He was on a mission and nothing would stop him. You were just about to open the car door when you noticed that your car was parked in front of the clubhouse. It was close enough for everyone to hear all the ungodly things Angel was about to do to you. “Aren’t you gonna move the car?” You asked when he was still behind you when you opened the back door. “Get in the got damn car,” he ordered through clenched teeth. You scrambled to get inside, from his tone you knew you didn’t want to press your luck. Once inside, Angel wasted no time. He folded you in half like a table, moved your panties to the side and dived in.
Usually when Angel ate you out, he’d warm you up. A kiss here, a kiss there, small slow torturous licks, but right now all that was thrown out the window. This was as brutal as to all the actual rough fucking he would do to you.
His teeth ran across your clit and it felt like he hit every single nerve. “Angel!” You shout out, reaching out to grab his hair, but he slapped your hand away. “Did I say you could touch my shit? Keep your hands to yourself.”
“But Daddyyy,” you whined, still making grabby hands. “What the fuck did I just say?” Angel grabbed ahold of your wrists in one hand and choked you with the other. “To keep my hands to myself.”
“Then do that shit,” he growled. He released you and went back to work. You had to settle for the handlebar by the window because Angel wasn’t easing up. In fact, he added two of his fingers furiously pumping into you. “Look at you creaming all over my fingers. You don’t even deserve them. What did I fucking tell you about this damn skirt?”
“Not to wear it.” You whimpered about to reach for his wrist, but then you remembered his warning to keep your hands to yourself. “Then you understand why daddy’s pissed. Especially when I got brothers from other chapters talking about how fine you are and how you got some good dick sucking lips.”
“I’m so sorry, daddy.” He hovered over you to give you a quick peck. “It’s okay, baby. You’ll make it up to me by screaming my name.”
Still keep his fingers in you, Angel suckled your bud. The combination of his cold rings in your heated core and his tongue flicking your clit, your orgasm hit you like a freight train. “ANGELLLL, FUCKKKKKKK!” You screamed, beating on the surprisingly strong window.
“Keep cumming.” Angel’s voice was muffled by your pussy in his mouth, but you heard him clearly.
Finally, you calmed down but now you were jonesing for Angel’s dick. You went for Angel’s belt but he back away from you as far as the car allowed you to. “Daddy, I need you to fuck me please.”
“I needed you to be a good girl and listen, but we all can’t get what we want.” Angel felt bad when he saw your dejected little face. He decided to give you a little something else also you didn’t say his name enough for him to let everyone know you belong to him. “If you promise to be a good girl, I’ll give you something to hold you over.”
“I promise, I’ll be good!” Angel laughed at how quickly you agreed to it. He slid your panties off and scooted you closer to him. He grind his clothed groin against your bare one. The friction of the fabric of his jeans on your sensitive clit had you on the verge of tears. “Nah, don’t start that shit,” Angel slapped you. “We still have a party to attend.” Was this man fucking crazy? He expected you to face everyone after this?
Angel proceeded to dry hump you as if he was actually fucking you. “Oh my god, Angel! Just like that. Keep fucking me just like that daddy.” He bent down and wrapped his hand around your throat. “Yeah? You gonna cum all on Daddy’s jeans like a good little slut, huh?”
“Yes, please. I need it so bad, daddy.”
“Ok, just for you.” Angel pressed down on your hips and pummeled into you. “Angel, Angel, Angel,” you chanted his name over and over again while you came for the second time in less than fifteen minutes.
Angel enjoyed your shuddering underneath him, but he couldn’t enjoy it for too long. You two had a party to get to. Taking your panties, he rolled them back up and then fixed your skirt. “When we get out of here you stand in front of me since you made a mess on my jeans, ok.”
“Ok,” Angel pulled you out of the car and smoothed out your clothes. While he did that you tried to clean his face since it was soaked with your juices, but he wouldn’t let you.
The two of you came back in the clubhouse, where the lights illuminated Angel’s face. Gilly was outside when everything happened and when he just saw Angel’s face he shuddered in disgust and called Angel a nasty fuck.
After Gilly left, Liza, head of the Angel Reyes fan club walked up to you two, but she completely ignored you. “Heyy Angel. You looked really good this morning. Sweatpants season suits you very well.” With no shame she dragged her eyes all over his body but was disappointed when you were blocking his crotch.
“Yeah, my girl got them for me. Thanks babe.” Angel turned to you, gave you a kiss, and allowed you to take advantage of it. You took control and basically were swapping spit with him in front of this girl. “Mmm, you taste just like me.” Swiping your thumb across Angel’s bottom lip, you collected some of your lip gloss and juices, and then put it in your mouth. Liza stomped off and Coco called y’all sick fucks.
Just like Angel said, he used you as a shield. The entire night you were stuck like glue. His beer got empty and when you attempted to get up to get him another, he slammed you back down on his lap and yelled at EZ to bring him another. Soon, you figured it had less to do with his now dried and stainless crotch and more to do with your short ass skirt.
The evil bastard also did it so you could constantly feel his erection. It was so bad that you would zone out and think about how great Angel would feel inside of you. You were so deep in your thots thoughts that you hadn’t realized Bishop came and asked you a question. The men around the table laughed at your confused huh and Bishop repeated his question. Quickly you recovered and gave him a smart answer.
“Can’t focus, mami?” Angel smiled against your neck and thrusted his hips, causing more friction between your legs.
Fucking tease! Two can play at that game. The rest of the night you would grind in his lap, making him lose his concentration. You were the reason he lost poker twice that night. Eventually he got tired of your antics and you two finally left the party.
“Imma hit the shower and get all this desert off me. How about you sit and get ready for daddy, hmm?” Angel didn’t wait for your answer and began stripping, leaving a trail of clothes from your bedroom to the bathroom. While he showered you put on your canary yellow Fenty lingerie set. It was one of the few Angel didn’t rip because he loved how it complimented your skin.
Usually Angel came out in a towel or butt ass naked but this time he came out with those damn sweats on. And just like that all the pumping up and the shit talking you did was gone. At this point you were gonna let Angel ruin you.
“Fuck querida, you’re beautiful.” Still standing, Angel bent over, buried his hands in your hair, and kissed you to the point that you almost forgot your own name.
When he ended the kiss, you could feel the energy shift. Daddy Angel was back in the building. He backed away to sit in the chair, but never turned his back on you, so you could keep an eye on his dick print. “Come crawl to Daddy, hermosa.” He crooked his finger at you.
As you made your way to him, he pulled his dick out. You wanted to get to him faster, but that wouldn’t be sexy at all, so you paced yourself. Angel didn’t make it easy for you though. He took his dick out and started stroking it.
Fuck that slow shit, you sped up some more causing Angel to chuckle. “Grab it.” Angel took his hand off of himself and you quickly replaced it with yours. “Feel that, mami? That’s all because of you.” It felt amazing to know you could cause this type of reaction out of Angel.
Normally, Angel would slap his dick in your face, but since he gave you free reign you did it yourself. You enjoyed the hiss that came from you slapped it on your tongue. “See that’s your dick, baby. Now suck it like it yours.” Angel laced his hands behind his head as you went to work.
Keeping your eyes on Angel, you swirled your tongue over the salty mushroom head and kissed the underside. “Stop teasing, querida.” Fluttering your eyes, you tapped his dick against your pursed lips. “What do you mean?” Taking a chunk of your hair, Angel pulled back your head. “You know what I mean. Start sucking or I’ll fuck your throat until no sound can come out of that smartass mouth of yours.”
It really shouldn’t have, but that little threat turned you on more. Behind your back you grabbed opposite elbows, you were gonna make Angel lose his mind with no hands. Easily (thanks to much practice), you took all of Angel in. Bobbing your head up and down you made your man squirm underneath you. “Fuck, just like that baby.” Angel was close, you could tell by the hitch in his voice. So, you played the dangerous game and backed off, only to give him slow, long licks.
“Y/N,” he growled your name in warning. “What?” You asked innocently while unhooking your bra, letting your breasts fall out. “Keep playing this game if you want to. You won’t think it’ll be funny in a little bit.”
To appease your man, you wrapped your tits instead of your mouth around his cock, stroking him that way while occasionally licking the head. “Shit, shit, shit.” Angel abruptly pulled away from you, lifted you from the ground, threw you on the bed, and ripped your panties off. “Angel!” He shoved his sweats off and pumped his cock while he climbed into bed. “I’ll buy you another set. Fuck I’ll buy you all the sets.”
Just like in the car Angel had your ankles by your ears, but this time he actually had his dick inside of you and your orgasm was automatic. “Damn, already? Who’s making you cream like this, mami?”
“You are Daddy,” you whined, clutching onto him. “Mmhmm that’s right. Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours!” You screeched when Angel’s fingers found your clit. “And whose dick is this?”
“Mines,” you yelled as Angel kept hitting that golden spot. “Then start acting like it! Ain’t no other bitch about to take it. This all your dick.”
Pulling Angel by the back of the neck, you kissed him. “Keep fucking me just like that, Daddy. I wanna cream all over my dick.”
“Yeah?” Angel tilted your chin and nipped at your lips. “You like when I fuck you like a whore?” Angel drew back, almost pulling all the way out and then snapped his hips against yours. “Good fucking pussy. Can I cum in my pussy?” You nodded your head furiously. “Yes daddy, fill me up please.”
With a couple of more snaps of his hips Angel had both of you screaming in ecstasy. Each of your orgasms prolonging the other’s. It felt like hours before either one of you caught your breath.
“Sooooo, is it a good or bad thing that I bought some more sweats?” Angel asked, already going down on you, not waiting for an answer.
“Good, definitely gooood!” You shrieked when you felt the first lick.
Thank god for sweatpants season.
Tags: @starrynite7114​ @ourlittlesecretsoveragain​ @sambucky8​ @mygirlrenee​ @richonne4life​ @readsalot73​ @chaneajoyyy​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @angrythingstarlight​ @brattyfics​ @lovebennycolon​ @langiinspirations​ @chibsytelford​ @trulysuccubus​ @spookys-girl​ @brownsugarcoffy​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @theartisticqueen​ @vsfavs​ @ifoundmyhappythought​ @angelreyesgirl​ @marvelmaree​ @strawberrywritings​ @blessedboo​ @sadeyesgf​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @woahitslucyylu​
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hiiro-writes · 3 years ago
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zhongluc single dad au part 4 :D
heya! i thought it would be nice to post this on father's day so here's more of my zhongluc brain vomit
also i decided on making this a fic when it's all over and i'm gonna call it "a cup of you" because i'm cheesy like that
《♡》
so diluc and zhongli have been going out together a lot these days and everyone's been talking about it and/or noticing the subtle differences
for zhongli, ningguang mentioned he smiles a lot more to himself during their meetings and likes how his smile suits him
even her wife, beidou (who sometimes brings their son kazuha to visit) says he changed
while he was hiring his niece yanfei, who just recently finished her master's degree in law, as one of the company's lawyers
she comments how happy her uncle looks these days before making her way to her new office
but the ones that notice the change most are childe, xiao, and ganyu
he atmosphere at home is a lot livelier than before too
sometimes zhongli would catch xiao and ganyu whispering amongst themselves and laughing
childe would even join them whenever he was at home
zhongli himself can feel that he's in a better mood. how diluc is able to bring out this side of him is a mystery he's willing to discover
meanwhile diluc sometimes gets distracted and daydreams during work
other times kaeya catches him smiling more when serving his customers, which brings a smile on his face
since lisa was so perceptive, she asked kaeya what was going on and decided to tell her
who told jean
who in turn told eula, who used to be her roommate in college (omg they were roommates)
rosaria (who's also working part time like eula) find out soon after when she snuck into the break room during her shift, to find lisa and eula talking about it
then there would be constant gossip among them whenever diluc was out on a date
then it devolved into placing bets on when they'll get together and bone (kaeya is pretty confident that he will win since he knows his brother best)
everything was going great. perfect really. it all felt so good, and maybe even too good
lately when zhongli and diluc were on a date they would go to guyun stone park afterwards (which was a good distance from the cafe and about a 30 minute drive from zhongli's office)
they often talk about mundane things and then have such deep conversations while walking around or sitting on a bench with a cup of coffee in hand
diluc had never felt love like this before and zhongli didn't think he'd be able to love like this again
every time they're together they would forget about their worries and troublesome responsibilities
after going out together every week for 2 months they both decided to have a family dinner together
diluc will bring kaeya and bennett while zhongli will bring xiao and ganyu (when childe heard about this family dinner, he insisted on being the designated driver so that he could join. but let's face it, he wants to have a nice dinner with his boyfriend kaeya)
the dinner was simple but it was probably due to the fact that zhongli and diluc only talked to each other and basically ignored everyone else
the rest would just glance and wink at each other whenever the two would smile
bennett, xiao, and ganyu are still wondering when they would kiss
while kaeya and childe are wondering when they would bone already
it was cute seeing the two together and it was kind of a pain seeing them as a couple even though they hadn't made anything official...yet
which took diluc another month to summon up his courage
he decided that today, after three months of dating they could make their relationship official
also he was kind of fed up with the ladies (mostly lisa and rosaria) referring to zhongli as "mr hot shot ceo" and "not your boyfriend"
he wanted it to be perfect of course, and so he decided to dress well, get his hair done, and even bought a gift along with zhongli's favourite flowers, glaze lilies
unfortunately zhongli had an important meeting that day but they both agreed to meet at their usual place at guyun stone park
it made diluc nervous but karya reassured him that everything would turn out just fine since they both evidently like each other already
after zhongli finished his meeting he headed towards the park right away, only to discover that diluc wasn't there yet
when he checked the time he realised he was an hour earlier than expected, which was also fine
he didn't want to call diluc and make him rush (in case he had to do something prior to their meeting) so he decided to just stroll around the park
there were still a lot people there going about their day and zhongli wanted to observe them
a few couples, a family packing their things after a picnic, someone walking their dogs and—
"morax? it's been a while."
at the mention of his childhood nickname, zhongli spun around to find retuo
he was different. a lot different when zhongli last saw him in person. the more he stared the more he realised that even though he changed over the years there were still some things about him that never changed. such as the fond look in his eyes whenever he saw zhongli
"morax?" retuo chuckled, and when zhongli finally snapped out of his thoughts he smiled
retuo and zhongli used to be neighbours when they were younger and did everything with one another
they clicked so well together since they had the same interests and hobbies
some people around them even joked that they're glued them together
at the beginning of high school they both started to have feelings with each other and their love only grew deeper as the years passed
retuo and zhongli were together all the way through high school except on their second year of college
they hardly spent time together (even though they shared the same apartment) but classes kept piling up, and so did the workload
college was already too much for them to handle along with their crumbling reltionship
they never made anything official so they often miss each other (due to miscommunication) and would often fight about the little things
zhongli was satisfied with their relationship while retuo wanted more out of it
retuo would often be possessive about him which made time spending with friends really uncomfortable
one day they had a really bad fight and retuo mentioned the dream they had together back when they were children
zhongli shouted "you're still dreaming about that? what are you a child?"
retuo with tears in his eyes replied with "you don't have to be a child to dream"
both of them agreed that day to never see each other again since even looking at one another would inflict pain
retuo also decided that he'll move out of their shared apartment instead since he told zhongli "you bought it, you keep it"
the first few days were quiet. almost too quiet for zhongli to bear
every morning was devoided of the sound retuo cooking them breakfast while humming to their favourite song whenever zhongli would come back from his early morning walks that the other despised so much
he started to notice how everything he finds in the apartment reminded him of retuo
the table set they bought together, the matching mugs, the couch they spent 10 minutes debating over the colour, the table for two, everything
it somehow served as a "wakeup call" because after that zhongli became destructive and did things the thought he wouldn't do for a time
his friends (especially venti) would do their best to try and cheer him up and help him whenever they can, such as visiting him in his apartment and cleaning the mess he would make
he thought that he wouldn't be able to recover, that is until he met his second love, guizhong
she was patient and kind with him and accompanied him at the time he needed it the most, which filled the hole in his heart that was left behind by retuo
a few years after graduation college they decided to settle down and get married
guizhong started to get more sickly years after having ganyu and it took a toll on zhongli because he didn't want to lose someone important to him again
he had another period in his life where he had no idea what to do anymore
guizhong was gone and he hasn't heard from retuo in years but luckily for him, he still had the comfort of his friends and the company of his kids
he met retuo once again during the funeral and from there they made amends and became friends again
he told zhongli that he moved on after seeing pictures from his wedding since he saw how happy he was.
he wanted to stop by as well and pay his respects to the person who made his first and last love whole again
and of course to see how zhongli and his kids were doing
for a few days retuo stayed at their house to keep zhongli company in case he needed someone to cook with or a shoulder to cry on
retuo even took on of being ganyu and xiao's godfather, who never failed to send them gifts from overseas on their birthdays and on christmas
it was years before they met in person again here at the park but they never failed to keep in touch at least once month
they sat down together on a bench nearby and zhongli told him all about diluc and how the kids were doing
retuo was happy to hear his dear friend all happy and excited when talking about a certain someone
he even joked about wanting to attend the wedding this time to which zhongli turned red, but tried to laugh it off
they talked for a while until zhongli realised it was time to meet with diluc when he noticed the sun was nearly set
as much as retuo wanted to meet diluc, he told zhongli that he needed to be elsewhere but promised to make time if he wants to introduce his new love
before they parted they hugged each other and gave zhongli a kiss on the forehead for good luck
what they didn't know was that diluc was some distance away and saw what had happened
at first he tried to make sense of what was happening but then his mind started going off
who is that man? why is he with zhongli? are they close? why do they look perfect together?
that last question struck him and felt everything come crashing down beneath him
as he turned around and walked away his heart felt heavy yet somehow the small bouquet of glaze lilies he bought felt just as heavy as well
things can't get any worse right?
that is until he got a call from kaeya who told him not to panic
he explains to diluc that he was on the way to the hospital since bennett fell down a flight of stairs and possibly broke his arm
he also asked how his son was doing and kaeya mentions that he passed out due to the pain and that he didn't need to worry too much since bennett didn't hit his head and they were 5 minutes away from the hospital
diluc dropped the flowers and started running back to his car, telling his brother that he was on his way
there was a small traffic but fortunately diluc made it in time after the x-ray was done
the doctor told them that bennett would require surgery since his elbow hit the ground first and fractured his arm
after thanking the doctor, diluc didn't notice his knees giving into stress when he nearly sank to the floor
kaeya was able to catch him just in time and made jim sit down on a nearby bench so he can regain his bearings
he also reassured his brother that he didn't have to worry so much since barbara, jean's sister who happens to be a nurse here, is keeping an eye on bennett and making sure he isn't feeling uncomfortable
when kaeya asked about how his confession went to brighten up the mood, diluc only looked at with with tired eyes and shook his head
as much as he wanted to get answers from zhongli about what he saw, his son comes first above all else
meanwhile zhongli decided to go back home after trying to call diluc several times and waiting all by himself
he also stumbles upon a bouquet of his favourite flowers tosses aside
《♡》
happy father's day :D
okay yeah i'm a slut for angst that's all
and just to clear things up retuo is azhdaha since his name in chinese is 若陀 which is ruotuo but pronounced as retuo i believe but correct me if i'm wrong
i used the name retuo more since it felt more natural?? and because i wanted to give that name more justice
part 5 will be the last one!! hope ya'll enjoyed the series as much as i did writing it and i promise to give a happy ending to this series (not sure about the other one tho but we will see)
zhongluc single dad au series:
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5
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unnecessarywriting · 4 years ago
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Loneliness is Not an Option - Remus Lupin
A/N: Here is my last Christmas fic for this year. I hope you all enjoyed all of them that I uploaded. This is one that I’ve had on my mind for a week now. It’s short and sweet, although it starts a little angsty. It came from the song “Please Come Home for Christmas” and I couldn’t help but give a little love to Remus. Thank you all and I hope you all had a Merry Christmas!
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Loneliness is Not an Option
How do we define loneliness? Such an existential question comes with a backstory, so here it is. It was Christmas night. Yes, you had spent the holiday completely on your own, but it wasn’t Remus’ fault. It also wasn’t the fault of any of your friends. It was quite depressing how you had no one to comfort you, or send you fun Christmas cards, or even just wish you a Happy Christmas. They all had duties to the Order. You tried to join, but Remus was insistent that he keep you safe. You still participated in certain activities, but he had wanted at least one person from the friend group to live their dreams. That’s what you were supposed to be doing, except it wasn’t going as planned.
You and Remus had bought a house right out of school. You were excited to start living with the love of your life, but you hadn’t anticipated how often he would not be home. You knew it wasn’t his fault. You honestly thought that he wanted to be home with you more than you wanted him home with you. In the beginning of the holiday season, you thought that you would be lucky, but when he walked into the living with a sunken look on his face, you knew he wasn’t going to be around often. You were rightfully disappointed that you wouldn’t be able to celebrate your first Christmas outside of Hogwarts with Remus, but you understood that the war was a bit more pressing. 
The sadness didn’t really sink in until you decorated the tree. You had always dreamed of the situation being filled with laughter, playful kisses, and new memories, but that isn’t how it happened. You were alone, drunk, and singing along to muggle Christmas songs that came on the radio. It was about a week before Christmas when you put the tree up. You tried to put it off so you could decorate it with Remus, but when a letter came from him telling you that he might not be back until after the holiday, you stopped waiting and pulled out the firewhiskey. When everything was on the tree except for the star on top, you sat down on the ground. Your eyes traced over the outline of the tree, but the Christmas spirit avoided your soul. You sighed to yourself.
“This next one is a new release from the Eagles. Here is “Please Come Home for Christmas,” you heard the radio spit out. You laughed at the irony, but listened anyway. As the lyrics flowed through your ear, you felt the first tears of the holiday season start their journey down your face. You were completely alone. 
The following days, it seemed like the world was playing some sort of prank on you. Everytime you turned on the radio, you heard that song’s melody flow through your body. It was catchy, you were not going to lie, but the words haunted you as you dreamed of being reunited with your love. Christmas Eve, you sat alone in your home, thinking about Remus. You hoped he was safe, but you wanted to be selfish. Just this once. You wanted him home with you. You stared into the fire and thought back to the last Christmas you spent with him.
“Moony, stop eating all of the chocolate. Share some with me at least.” He smiled with a bit of guilt. He was like a puppy who just got caught tearing up someone’s slippers. He was absolutely adorable. You fell into his embrace on the couch.
“I can’t wait until next Christmas,” he spoke earnestly. “It will be just the two of us, in our home. We will decorate the place to be the most comforting and joyful place. And, we will have plenty of chocolate on standby. Then, we will exchange gifts, and just spend the day with each other. No one to interrupt us.” You giggled at his plans. He was simple, but he meant the best. He wanted the both of you to just have each other. You knew that it was likely that a certain group of boys would ultimately crash your day, but you weren’t complaining. You were just excited to have a future with the man who was holding you.
How naïve you two were. If only you could see yourself and tell you to not get your hopes up. Your bitterness was ruining the holiday. You wanted to turn it all off, and you did. You unplugged the lights, and took down the stockings. The tree remained in its place, but you took off the star. You would take care of the tree the following day. You then went to bed.
The following morning, you slept in. You had no reason to get up early. The rest of the day was filled with moping around the house. You looked at some of the photos that rested above your fireplace. One in particular caught your eye,
“James! Sirius! I swear, if you break anything, I will make your life a living hell. Remus, stop them. I don’t want to have to clean up after them. Thank you for being a good guest Peter, I just wish the other two would learn.” You face palmed as Lily handed you a glass of wine. 
“I would try to stop James, but he is truly impossible.” You looked at her with misery written on your face. She laughed at your expression. “On a different note, I love this place Y/N. It is absolutely gorgeous and perfect for the two of you.” 
“Thank you Lily, although I don’t think it is going to remain in one piece so long as those two are still here.” You giggled as you heard Remus try to lecture them on what it means to be a respectful guest.
“Do you think you’re gonna have everyone over for the holidays?” You thought for a moment. 
“Maybe, although I think Remus might just want it to be the two of us. I will say that if you did decide to just pop by for dinner or something, I certainly wouldn’t object,” you hinted at her. She caught on and nodded as if she was already making plans. 
“Darling, those two are impossible. I don’t know what to do.” Remus looked exhausted from trying to stop the other two. You laughed at him and pulled him in for a hug.
“Aww, did the two children break you? What was it, two hours? Lily, I think you owe me 5 galleons,” you joked. She laughed with you as Remus rolled his eyes.
Lily looked at the counter and saw a camera sitting there.
“Hey, let’s get a picture of you two to commemorate your moving in here.” You both agreed with her idea, and got ready for a cute pose. What you didn’t see was the two troublemakers sharing a knowing look. 
That photo was one of your favorites. You and Remus looked so happy. That looked changed to one of both fear and confusion as Padfoot and Prongs entered. Yes, the deer and dog made their way into one of your favorite photos. You still hadn’t fully forgiven James for almost denting your walls with his antlers. 
You walked into the kitchen that night to start cooking dinner. It wasn’t going to be anything given that you were alone, but you needed to eat something. You reluctantly turned on the radio to hear that dreaded song. At this point, you just sang along to the song that defined your Christmas. Alone, and hoping that the love of your life would return in time to end all of your sorrow and fill it with happiness. 
“You know, I think I can make the sorrow, grief, and pain disappear.” You whipped around at the sound of his voice.
“You’re home,” you said as more of a statement than a question.
“I’m home.”
“For real?”
“Yes, for real. We finished earlier than expected, and I rushed home to be with you. I promised you a Christmas featuring me, and well, chocolate. I brought both.” He had an awkward smile as he held up some chocolate.
You ran over to him and practically jumped into his arms. He held onto you as you quietly sobbed into his sweater. You had never been happier. The only sounds in the house were your quiet sobs, and the sounds of muggle Christmas music.
“Dance with me,” he muttered. You pulled away and adjusted your body as you two silently danced to the tunes. It was a peaceful bliss. Some time passed as you two enjoyed each other’s company like he promised the year before.
“You know, I told Lily that she could invade our Christmas, but now I kind of hope she doesn’t.”
“Why is that, my dear?” You looked into his eyes, and then looked at what was left of the Christmas decorations in the living room.
“Well, as you can see, there isn’t a whole lot of joy left in this room.” You were feeling a little guilty for taking down everything.
“I guess it’s a good thing that none of us really care. We just wanted to be together anyway!” Sirius was standing with the rest of the group. Everyone looked happy to be safe in the same room. You smiled and got up to hug all of them. 
Was it late? Yes, but none of you cared. You had enough room for everyone, and you weren’t about to kick out the people you desired to see most. Your night was filled with tears from the constant laughter that the group brought, firewhiskey to loosen everyone up, joyful memories that came from the dumb things you all began, and passionate kisses with Remus as the muggle tunes continued to play from the radio.
“You know, as long as I have you, loneliness is not an option. I promise that when this war is finally over, you will never spend another Christmas alone, or any holiday for that matter. I love you so much Y/N. Happy Christmas!” 
“Happy Christmas Remus. I love you too, more than you’ll ever know.” You smiled as you kissed him with all of the love in the world to power it.
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Text
Runs in the Family CH. Three
Book: Prisoner
Title: Chocolate and Flying Aunts
Words: 1950
Warnings: Slight language, mention of drunk driving 
A/N: Sorry this was late! I was having some trouble finding my word document. Hope y’all enjoy!
Previous Chapter - Next Chapter 
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~~~~~~~
It was a semi-peaceful summer up until Aunt Marge came to visit for two weeks. The moment she got there, she was all over you and Dudley and very mean to Harry. You tried to stay away from her and to study for your next year at school, but since she couldn’t find out that you were a witch, you had to do that at night. She wouldn’t let you anywhere with Harry so that was out of the question too.
 You had just about had enough of her and her dogs for a lifetime and was happy that her visit was almost over. It was at dinner when Aunt Marge went too far. You were sitting in between your mom and brother, Marge in front of you. She was making comments about Harry and his parents and when she called James a drunk and other nasty things, you frowned.
 “Aunt Marge, please stop,” you said. “That’s not true.”
 “Of course it’s true. That’s how they died, isn’t it? The bastard was driving while drunk!”
 That made you angry and you clenched your teeth together. Right as you did that, the glass Marge was holding exploded. Your mom let out a small scream and your eyes were wide.
 “I have a firm grip, Petunia. A very firm grip, so don’t fuss,” Marge said. She started to wipe up the mess and you exchanged a look with Harry.
 Aunt Marge told Harry to clean up and while he was doing that, she started talking about Lily.
 “It actually has nothing to do with the father, it’s always the mother. You see it all the time with dogs. If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’s something wrong with the pup.”
 “Aunt Marge!” You said. She went to say something but Harry interrupted her.
 “Shut up!” Harry yelled. Aunt Marge only smirked and held her finger up.
 “Let me tell you—“
 That was when she saw her finger starting to swell. Everything happened so fast after that. Aunt Marge kept expanding, her clothes ripping and buttons popping. When Vernon tried to get up and help Marge, Ripper started biting his ankles. That was when Marge started floating. She bounced off the ceiling and you went to stand by Harry.
 “Well, isn’t this a sight?” You muttered. Your parents were panicking and it took everything in you and Harry to not laugh.
 “They’re going to expel me,” Harry said.
 “Then they’re going to expel me too.” Harry looked at you and you shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that the glass exploding was me, not you. But it was definitely you who blew up Aunt Marge.”
 “I’m leaving, come with me?” Harry said.
 “We shouldn’t leave, Harry,” you said.
 “I don’t know what Vernon is going to do. I’ll take the blame for all of it.” With that, Harry raced up the stairs and you could hear him throwing everything in his trunk before coming back downstairs. That’s when he came face to face with Vernon.
 “You bring her back! Bring her back and put her right. Now!” Vernon screamed.
 “No. She deserved what she got,” Harry said. Vernon went to strangle Harry and your eyes widened.
 “Keep away from me,” Harry said, holding out his wand.
 “You can’t do magic outside of school.” Vernon’s voice was shaky.
 “Yeah? Try me.”
 With that, Harry left and your dad turned to you.
 “You didn’t do anything to stop him. Why?”
 “What?” You said, confused.
 “Why didn’t you stop him?!”
 “Daddy, I can’t do any magic outside of school. You just said that to Harry. And besides, even if I was allowed, I don’t know how to help her without hurting her,” you said.
 Vernon let out a frustrated yell and stomped back to the dining room. You watched him leave then turned to Petunia.
 “Why didn’t you try to stop Aunt Marge from saying those things?” You asked her.
 “Things?”
 “She was your sister and you’re going to let someone tarnish her name?” You sounded disgusted and shook your head in shame. After looking at your mom, you started to go upstairs.
 “[Y/n]—“
 “I don’t want to hear it! All of you just let her say those nasty things and it makes me sick. I’m going to my room.” You heard your mom call after you, but you ignored her.
 After you got into your room, you closed the door and started packing. You had a feeling that someone from the Ministry was going to come and set things right. A few minutes later, your suspicions were proved correct. There was a knock on the door and you went downstairs with your trunk.
 “Is this the Dursley residence?” A voice said.
 “It is.”
 “Ah, good! We have someone for you.”
 You peeked down from where you were on the stairs and saw a dazed Aunt Marge.
 “Marge!” Vernon said.
 “She’s alright and will have no memory of the incident.”
 “Who are you?” Petunia asked.
 “My name’s Kingsley. I’m also here to pick up Miss [y/n] Dursley,” Kingsley said.
 “Why?” Petunia asked.
 “We thought that she might want to join her cousin.”
 “But it’s still weeks before the start of term.”
 “Well, ultimately it’s up to her.”
 They all looked at you and you shrugged.
 “I’m packed and ready. Let’s go,” you said. You walked down the remaining steps and looked at your family. “I’ll see you later.”
 Vernon looked like he was going to explode, he was that angry. Petunia just looked sad and Dudley wasn’t paying any attention. Kingsley held out his arm and you took it. Within a second, you were at the Leaky Cauldron.
 “Go right upstairs. Room eleven is where you will find Harry. That will be your home for the rest of the summer,” He said.
 “Thank you.”
 He tilted his head and disappeared. You took a breath and walked upstairs. You knocked on the door and Harry opened it.
 “[Y/n]?” Harry said. “What are you doing here?”
 “Someone from the Ministry brought me here,” you said.
 “Your parents let you come?”
 “They didn’t want me to, but I was told that it was my choice.” You smiled. “I didn’t want to leave you alone for the rest of summer.”
 ---
 The next few weeks were nice. Everyone at the Cauldron was super nice and friendly, always making sure you and Harry were comfortable. Since your parents didn’t give you any money, Harry loaned you some so that you could get your books for the next term. He also bought you a broom since he knew you were going to try out for the Hufflepuff team and that the school brooms were awful.
 When it came time for the start of term, you happily packed everything up. You had gotten a letter from the Weasley’s saying that they were going to take you to the train that morning and you were excited to see your friends again.
 You woke up before Harry did and you got dressed before heading downstairs. All of the Weasley’s and Hermione were already there and you walked up to the twins.
 “Hey guys!” You said, trying to put your arms around their necks.
 “Bloody hell!” Fred put his hand over his heart.
 “You scared us, [y/n].” Both of them were being overdramatic and you laughed.
 “My plan was a success then.” You gave them a grin then hugged them. “It’s good to see you guys.”
 “You must be [y/n],” a woman said. You turned and saw a man and woman coming up to you.
 “Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. It’s nice to finally meet you,” you said. You held out your hand but Mrs. Weasley pulled you into a hug.
 “It’s nice to meet you too, dear. Harry didn’t tell us that you were a witch so I was surprised when Arthur told me we were picking the both of you up today,” she said.
 “I didn’t learn I was until after Harry had left last year,” you said with a laugh. “It was a surprise to him too.”
 “Well, you’re always welcome with us.”
 “Thank you.” Molly smiled at you and patted your shoulder before walking away.
 You said hello to the rest of the group, shaking your head at Ron and Hermione arguing and waving to Harry when he appeared. Walking with the twins, you sat down with them and began eating breakfast.
 After breakfast was over, it was time to leave. You all piled into some cars that were waiting for you and made your way to King’s Cross. When you got there, you said goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and walked with Ginny and the twins to a compartment.
 “So I take it Egypt was fun?” You asked as you sat down. “I heard Ron going on and on about it.”
 “It was. We saw loads of mummies and tombs,” Ginny said.
 “I learned a little about Egypt in school. I’ve always wanted to go.”
 “We’ll take you with us next time,” George said.
 “Yeah. It’ll be loads of fun,” Fred said.
 “Thanks.”
 The four of you talked and laughed for the next couple of hours and were all very confused when the train started to slow down.
 “We can’t be there already, can we?” You said. Fred wiped some of the condensation off of the window and frowned.
 “I can see something moving outside,” he said.
 “What?” You and George went to look outside, and you saw multiple shadowy figures floating. You tried to look closer, but then the train came to a sudden stop and you flew back onto the seat, landing in Georges lap.
 “Sorry,” you said.
 “It’s fine.”
 “What’s going on?” Ginny said.
 That’s when the lights went out. The train shook a little bit and the windows started to ice over. Looking around, you saw something approaching your compartment.
 “Guys,” you whispered.
 The figure opened the door and you grabbed George’s arm. It was awful. The only thing you felt was the freezing cold and that hope was leaving you. It left as soon as it came and you whimpered, falling back against George. He wrapped his arm around you and you looked over to find Fred holding Ginny’s hand.
 “W-What was that?” You whispered, voice full of fear.
 “I think it was a Dementor,” George said.
 “But why were they here?” Fred asked. A knock sounded on the door and you stifled a scream.
 “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” a man said. He held out some chocolate and George took it gingerly.
 “Eat it. It’ll make you feel better.”
 You took a bite and instantly felt better. You looked at the others and saw that they were the same.
 “Thank you,” you said softly. The man just smiled then left the compartment.
 The rest of the ride was spent in near silence, the four of you worried it was going to happen again. You rode with them up to the castle after the train stopped and gave them a wave before going to sit at the Hufflepuff table.
 Before the feast happened, Dumbledore made a couple announcements. He said that Hagrid was going to be the Care of Magical Creatures professor and that the man who had given you chocolate on the train was going to be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now you knew why he gave you that chocolate. Then Dumbledore mentioned the Dementors.
 “Hogwarts is going to play host to the Dementors of Azkaban until Sirius Black is found and captured,” he said. He warned you about them and told you where they were going to be. You held back a shiver and the feast started soon after.
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thebraxiatelcollection · 3 years ago
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If you are still taking prompts, 10. Wildflowers and/or 30. Nightgown for Romana/Braxiatel please?
September Prompts 🌻 * * * *
Brax closes the door to his apartment behind him quietly, leaning against it for a moment, and lets out a deep shuddering breath.
He clutches a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand that he had managed to pick up from the local market in the citadel on his way home, along with Romana's favourite dark chocolate tucked in his inside pocket with a note, written in a flourish and dramatic handwriting of forgiveness.
He shook his head, dropping his keys into the dish on the mantle beside him and takes his shoes off. "Romana?" He calls, he could sense her but there was no answer. He knew he was in the dog house tonight. He had gone off on a dangerous mission that involved climbing a steep rock cliff, and almost getting bit by a cousin of the Racnoss in the process but he survived. All for the sake of saving innocent children who had been kidnapped from the outskirts.
He had survived, he had to keep telling himself that. He was here, flesh and blood, he was alive and he was home.
Just.
He walks tentatively forward into their kitchen and grabs a delicate vase, putting some water in and chopping the bottom stems of the wildflowers before putting them in. He leaves them on the kitchen island, alongside the chocolate and the note and he glances towards their bedroom door, half-hoping Romana would come out and fuss over him, half-hoping she wouldn't so she doesn't shout at him.
But he did it for her.
Everything he does, it's for her. Even if it meant putting his own life at risk time and time again. It was in his blood, the proud and ancient House of Lungbarrow. He knew, his wife understood that but he also knew she hated it when he went running off without her permission. He didn't need permission, though. Not with his rebellious streak.
He bought the wildflowers and chocolate to lessen the pain, and wrote a note of love and forgiveness for her to always keep should he worry her again.
He runs a hand through his dishevelled hair, glancing at the mirror that lay in the hallway and tuts. He was covered in dirt, his suit torn and spider bites scattered on his arms here and there like criss-crosses, but thanks to his Time-Lord biology and to the drugs in the medical bay of his TARDIS, they were slowly healing and should be gone by tomorrow. To put it bluntly, he looked and felt rough. "Irving, you are a mess."
He grabs a blanket and a pillow, setting up a temporary bed on the couch in the living room before he went and had a warm shower, getting rid of the filth that clung to his skin. He could still feel the spiders crawling up and down his body, the hairs on his arms tingling at the thought.
As he showers, he reaches out telepathically to Romana, but only to be greeted by a thick wall of ice around her mind and not even he, could break through it. He gently strokes against the wall of ice, before retreating back.
By the time he had showered and had a quick bite to eat, along with some well deserved Draconian brandy, exhaustion came upon him and he fell asleep within moments, dreaming about Narvin having a tea party with a group of friendly spiders.
When he was abruptly jolted out of his dream, his arms and leg flailing, he awoke with a yelp as cold water was thrown over him and onto their beautiful couch, one of the first pieces of furniture he and Romana choosen as a couple, and he shivers, the water ice cold and he turns to see Romana in her graceful, Prydonian nightgown sitting on the arm of the couch next to his head, the empty vase on the dining table in front, but it was devoid of water and the wildflowers.
Shivering, Brax looks up at his wife to find her holding the wildflowers, holding them close and sniffing them and she smiles. "Thank you for the flowers." She says. "And the chocolate. I've read your note."
He gapes at her but he composes himself and smiles softly. It seems that all was forgiven between the two. "You are welcome, and for what it is worth, I'm sorry."
"I know." She replies, softly and she leans in, taking his chin by her delicate fingers and lifts it up towards her and kisses him gently. "All is forgiven if you clean up the couch."
Though the act of forgiveness did appear unusual to most of their friends, the brave person who asked Romana found that Romana merely replied, "The flowers and the chocolate helped."
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Inspired by Son-Neko-Art Brax/Romana piece: “The exact volume of tears that I would have cried had you died.” @son-neko
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songtoyou · 4 years ago
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Tempting Fate - Part Six
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Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Warnings: Nothing major.
Word Count: 1,815
Story Summary: Tommy is not a believer in fate or destiny. However, a new resident in Small Heath will question his beliefs and push his boundaries outside his comfort zone.
Chapter Summary: Tommy gets attacked by Sabini’s thugs. You help him recuperate at home. He tells you of his plan to meet with Alfie Solomons to join forces against Sabini.
A/N: While this story takes place during season two of the show, I made some changes to the timeline. For instance, Tommy meets May before meeting Alfie Solomons. Tommy also gets attacked by Sabini’s men long after meeting May. I just wanted to make that clear. The Garrison got bombed and rebuilt before the start of the story.
Please do not post any of my fics to other sites without my permission.
Tag list: @owenniasstars​​
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You knew it was not a good idea for Tommy, Arthur, and John to go to London to appear at the Eden Club. The jazz club was owned by Darby Sabini, the man who currently controls half of the southern racecourses. These are racecourses Tommy desired to take over for himself. To no surprise, the Shelby brothers more than let their presence at the club be known, making sure to cause a raucous and leaving destruction in their path. Typical antics by the Shelby brothers. You and Polly adamantly told Tommy that being reckless was not how to get noticed by Sabini, but Tommy merely brushed them both off.
"Sabini is aware of us now. That was the whole purpose of the trip. He'll make his move, eventually, and when he does, we will be ready," Tommy voiced nonchalantly.
You merely shook her head in disapproval at Tommy. "Okay, the fact that you gave Sabini the upper hand is a really dumb move," you said honestly. "Why would you do that, Tommy? Do you have a death wish or something?" you asked him, concerned for his wellbeing.
Tommy got up from his chair to stand in front of you. He placed his hands on your shoulders and began to gently rub them to help calm your nerves. He softly spoke your name and told you that everything was going to be okay. "You got nothing to worry about, love. You got to trust me on this. I know what I am doing; nothing about my plan is out of place," Tommy reassured you.
However, the small voice inside you was telling you otherwise. It did not take long for your fears to come to fruition. You were at the betting shop helping Polly and Esme on little tasks when they got word that Tommy was in the hospital. Apparently, Tommy got set up by the Jews who asked him for a sit-down only to be attacked by Sabini and his thugs. You told Polly that you were going with her to the hospital. Before she could refuse, you held your hand up to say, "I'm going. Don't try to stop me."
Polly waved you along to follow her to the car and told Esme to watch the house. On the way to the hospital, you kept shaking your leg right leg and fidgeting in your seat.
"I told Tommy something like this would happen, but he didn't listen. He never listens," you almost shouted.
Polly could only sigh, "That's Thomas for you. He always claims to know what is right. He never takes what others think or feel into consideration."
You pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, and let it out. "It's always going to be like this, isn't it?" you asked, looking towards Polly. "Always worrying about him?"
"Yes. If you are going to be with Tommy, then that will be your life from now on. Think you can handle it?"
"I don't know. But I know no other woman would be able to. He needs someone to look after him, even though he may not think so," you told Polly, who let out an amused chuckle.
"What?" you asked her, confused.
"Nothing, dear. You really were made for Tommy. The two of you are written in the stars," Polly praised happily. "I'm glad Tommy has you around to look after him. Helps ease off my load."
When you and Polly made it to the hospital, it didn't take long to find Tommy. The doctor told you both that Tommy was lucky to be alive. Polly asked you if it was okay for her to see Tommy first. You agreed and waited until she was done.
Polly was only in the room with Tommy for fifteen minutes.
"We're leaving," said Polly.
When she reached for your arm, you pulled away. "What? No! I need to see him!" you shouted.
"Shhh!" ordered Polly. "He says he doesn't want any more visitors. He needs to rest, now let's go."
But you pulled out Polly's grasp and walked towards the hospital room. You saw a row of beds, and Tommy was at the very end. You slowly walked up to him and sat down. It pained you to see him in such a state. Cheek cut, eye swollen shut, ribs bruised and broken. It took all of your strength not to break down in front of him.
He looked at you but didn't say anything. Leaning his head back on the pillow, Tommy let out a disappointed sigh. You didn't say anything. The last thing you wanted to do was scold him or tell him, "you told him so." That wasn't what he needed. So you reached for his hand and intertwined it with yours. He squeezed it tightly. It was his way of thanking you for being there with him.
Nothing was needed to be said between the two of you. Tommy was grateful to have you next to him, even if he didn't actually say it. Your gesture showed him that you were not going anywhere and that you would stay by his side no matter what happened.
What's worst is that Sabini's men also accosted Ada. Thankfully, Tommy already had some of the Peaky Blinders watching out for his little sister. But it was Ada who eventually fought off the thugs herself. You had yet to meet Ada but heard a lot about her from her brother's and aunt. You found out that Ada's husband, Freddie, had recently died from pestilence, and they had a young son, Karl. Ada decided not to move back to Birmingham but chose to stay in London for she didn't want much to do with her family. However, Tommy was not too keen on letting his little sister cut him and the others out of her life so easily. Typical Tommy, you thought.
You visited Tommy every day at the hospital for the first week. By the second week, you could tell he was getting restless. "I need to get out of here," he kept telling you.
"Tommy," you began, "You need to rest and heal."
Unfortunately, Tommy didn't listen and checked himself out of the hospital. Luckily, you caught him as he was getting ready to leave.
"What do you think you are doing, Thomas?" you scolded him. But he didn't say anything.
Tommy struggled to put on his coat. You let him struggle as you knew helping would only make him feel emasculated. When Tommy finally looked at you with pleading eyes, you walked over and helped him into his coat. You folded his collar down and smoothed out his shirt underneath.
While his face had healed up nicely, it still pained you to look at him. His ribs were still bruised but still managed to be able to move around. You offered your arm for him to take, which he did.
Slowly, you both walked out of the hospital.
"I couldn't stay there anymore. Sabini's men would have come to finish me off eventually or someone else," Tommy told you. What he did not tell you was that Chester Campbell visited him earlier. Campbell found out that Tommy killed Eamonn Duggan and threatened Tommy to work for him as a spy or be jailed and hanged.
"Take me back to your place," Tommy instructed. "I'll finish healing there, okay."
"Well, that makes me feel a little bit better," you said with a small smile.
When you got Tommy home, you took him up to your bed, where he slept for the remainder of the day. You fed him when he got up and cleaned his wounds. You told him to stay put when you went for your shift at The Garrison. He was already asleep when you returned. You snuggled next to help and held him while he slept peacefully. Polly, Arthur, and John would make trips to your house to check on Tommy and give him updates on the business. This routine occurred for another week before Tommy became eager to get back to work physically.
He told you that he was heading back to London to meet Alfie Solomons, the leader of the Jewish gangsters in Camden Town. "I'm going to offer Solomons to join forces with us. I also need to stop by Ada's home to see how she is doing. If she is going to stay in London, then she needs a better place to stay, so I bought her a house," Tommy shared with you that morning.
"How are you getting to London?" you asked him curiously. "More than likely, Sabini's men or folks he hired are keeping watch to let him know of your whereabouts."
"I got that covered. I'm meeting up with Charlie and Curry in an hour down by the canal. Curry will take me to London on a barge. It will take a couple of days to get there…"
"Is anyone else going with you?" you interrupted Tommy.
He shook his head 'no' and lit a cigarette. "I need to do this myself," Tommy said to you.
While Tommy knew that you more than likely would have wanted to go with him to make sure he stayed safe, you nodded your head as a show of understanding. You realized that it would be in your best interest to trust Tommy and not doubt him.
"Well, while you are gone, Esme and I are going to meet up with Johnny Dogs to head to a fair not too far from here. The kids have been bugging John and her about going to a fair. John couldn't go, so I offered to go with her. I think Esme is a little bit homesick. She misses traveling."
"Please stay out of trouble while I'm gone," Tommy advised firmly. "I don't want to picture the trouble you and Esme will no doubt get into. Both of you, please behave yourself."
You couldn't hold back your laughter. "We're going to have the kids with us, so not much trouble the two of us can get into. But don't worry, we will behave ourselves," you told Tommy and got up to kiss on the lips.
Before you could step back, his hand grasped the back of your head and deepened the kiss. With Tommy's injuries, the two of you hadn't been intimate with one another in a long while.
When Tommy stood up, he began unbuttoning your blouse and walking you back to the bedroom.
"Tommy, we can't. You're still hurt," you pleaded, but it went on deaf ears as Tommy guided you to the bed.
"I need you, love. It has been too long. Trust me, being inside you will make me feel better," Tommy uttered while kissing your neck and chest.
Who were you to deny the man? You needed him just as he needed you.
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sweeethinny · 3 years ago
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The Duke - Chapter 10
A.N: OK, let's go Thank you very much to the comments, really, I know it takes time, but I'm glad you're here always waiting for a new chapter for your understanding: everything in *ITALIC* is flashback, it's a chapter basically made up of that, it explains some things it was the chapter i waited the longest to arrive, i liked it in the end, i hope you did too <3 AO3 | FF.NET | SIYE
It was a cold night, it had rained that afternoon and the sky was cloudy, it looked like it would rain later in the morning, but Arabella was happy about that, as the damp, muggy weather made her sneeze every minute and her asthma was actually getting worse. She should visit a doctor soon. She continued to walk down the empty street, the hem of her dress was getting more and more muddy, no matter how much she pulled her skirt up a little, every time she stepped into a puddle the mud splashed and it was no use effort in trying to get that dress clean. She should have picked an older one to go out with, since she knew the streets would be dreadful after all that rain, not the brand new one she'd bought after working so hard. Was it just a piece of sewn fabric, why was it so expensive? There weren't even enough details or buttons to justify it. But if Isabel was telling the truth, the fabric had come from India, and that in itself had already increased the price twice as much, and Arabella knew that the woman would not lie to her… She hoped at least. As she walked the streets of Godric's Hollow, she thought about how another lonely night would be, and that maybe tomorrow she would send a letter to her great-aunt asking if she could stay a few days at her farm, just to have the company of other people besides the two her cats; Silk and Melindra. “Help!” The scream echoed behind her, and Arabella turned, startled, to see if anyone was hurt or what might have triggered that scream. It was a female scream, and it made her think that maybe a woman could be chased by some maniac, and even though she wasn't very strong, two women fought better than just one, so she ran towards the scream, not caring more about the mud splashing on her dress. Near Ms. Bright’s shop, there was a woman lying down and bleeding, her clothes torn and a baby in her lap. She looked scared, dumped near a ditch that had been made a few days ago to start building a fashion studio around the corner, the scant dress that still covered her was smeared with what looked like blood and mud, and Arabella thought she saw blood running down her legs. Whether it was an injury or something more disturbing, she couldn't tell. The woman held the baby tightly to her chest, wrapped in an old blanket as dirty as she was, and the poor child spared no effort in crying, looking more than scared. “I'm here, what happened?” Arabella ran to her, helping the poor girl to her seat, noticing that the poor baby was also smeared with blood, but she couldn't tell whose blood it was. ‘Come, come to my house, I can help you-’ "No," she cried, brown eyes startled and wide, as if they'd seen death a few feet away. “Someone is following me, I – I'm going to be killed, I know I will, my husband is after me and – you need to get the boy.” She lifted the baby towards Arabella. 'He's trying to kill us, he thinks the child isn't his, he thinks I cheated on him, and he's coming, I-' The woman stopped, as if she'd heard something, but then thunder made the Earth shudder. ‘Please save the boy, I beg you, he already tried to kill the boy but I was always on time, but now I feel like I won't be able to save him.’ “You must come with me.” Arabella pleaded once more, kneeling in front of the woman, trying to get her to rise. When she reached for her forearm, however, her hand was wet with blood, and the tear in the side of her dress let her see a hideous cut in her ribs, the blood running like water in a waterfall, dripping onto the floor and other parts of her dress. "I told you," she muttered, sobbing. 'I'm going to die, I'm not going to make it, I can't stand walking any longer, I managed to run away from him but I can't stand it much longer… Take the boy.' The woman lifted the boy again, who now seemed to cry even more, waking a few neighborhood dogs, as the sky glowed brighter, the earth trembling a few seconds later. "Take him away, don't let him die." 'How-how am I going to leave you here, I can't-' Another thunder shook the earth, and this time, the storm began to fall stronger
than the afternoon, the winds suddenly getting strong, which seemed to scare the boy even more. ‘He will get sick! Get him, take care of him!” As if on instinct, Arabella scooped him up in her arms, wrapping him in her scarf so he was a little warmer. Footsteps were heard nearby, and the woman seemed to despair even more. 'Go! Get Harry and go!’ “What's his name?” Arabella yelled over the noise of the rain, trying to understand what she had said. ‘Henry! His name is Henry!’ ---------------------- “Poor Duchess,” someone says, but all Arabella can see is the white flag atop the castle, an immense sadness shattering her chest into a million pieces. "Who could do something that horrible?" Another says, all paying attention to the newspaper that reports how Harry Potter, the Duke's eldest son, was found dead near a creek not far away. Probably killed by Death Eaters. “They're all nasty human beings!” A man said, looking horrified by the media descriptions, then looking up at the castle again. It's not that far away, it faces the mountains that end Godric's Hollow, separating them from another village, and it's positioned in a way that's seen from anywhere, no matter where you are, you'll see the castle and the huge towers, next to the flags that stand proudly on the masts. One with the English flag, the other with the Potter family crest. But today, both give way to white flags. The boy is dead. Arabella wipes the tears from her eyes and watches little Henry sleep in her arms, oblivious to the commotion. She sympathizes with the Duchess's pain as she looks at that little baby who nearly died along with her mother - Arabella knew that the woman's body was found lifeless the next morning - and remembers the time she too felt the pain of losing a child, of losing the one she loved most to Death Eaters. She kisses the boy's forehead, the pale scar of lightning makes him unique, and Arabella lets herself cry, thinking of the Duchess herself, and how they took away her right to fondle her own son. ---------------------- Arabella did not remember seeing the Duke in public since the incident two years ago. He smiles and nods, but she notices - because she's been there once too - that he's sick, that the gold-and-red scarf around his neck seems to have a lot of fabric left over, as well as his pants. She notices the dark circles under his eyes, and the sunken cheeks, but the man still smiles and waves at people. Henry was on her lap, yesterday he turned two, and Arabella doesn't know very well when he was born, but her neighbor, who is a doctor, said he wasn't much older than four or five months, so she decided that his birthday would be the day before they met, because she thought it was too tragic to celebrate the day she found him in his mother's lap half dead, but she didn't want to stray too far from the date. The Duke smiles and nods to a little girl on his father's shoulders, he is walking through the village as he usually does, something that brings him closer to the people who live there and keeps him in power. He's a good man, after his father, the best they've ever had for sure. He stops when he gets close to Arabella, and she smiles because she used to paint the portraits of the royal family until she had a problem with her fist and was forced to quit her profession, but the man never seems to forget the time she drew him on his 17th birthday. "I'm still waiting for you to draw me and my wife." He says, as he always has since she informed him that she had unfortunately been forced to stop. The man isn't charging her though, he smiles, and watches Henry in her lap, almost sleeping on her shoulder. “It's a beautiful boy.” She thought she saw a shadow in his eyes, but it was so fast she thought it was just her imagination. 'How old is he?' "Two years," she says, and now she's sure the man looks sick, because for a second he stops and stares at Henry, as if wondering what his two-year-old son would be like. Arabella knows because she used to do this. "My condolences, my Lord." "It's okay, I’m fine," the
man says, and he winks at Henry, who hides in his mother's neck, before going off to talk to another woman. ---------------------- “Why are we different?” Henry asks, sitting on the table as Arabella tends to his scraped knee. 'We don't have the same eye color, and my hair doesn't match yours.' She knows he doesn't mean to be mean, he's just a curious and very intelligent child, that he's noticed the dissimilarities between them. She smiles, applying ointment to the wound. ‘Because you are my son at heart, and children at heart are sometimes not like their mothers at heart.’ 'What is a child at heart?' He agrees to be picked up by her, and Arabella leads them into their small living room, sitting on the sofa with Henry on her lap, looking at her with big green eyes gleaming with curiosity, black strands falling over his eyelashes. She needs to cut his hair soon. “It means that you were born from another belly, not mine.” She places a hand over her stomach. “But that's just what separates us, because my love for you surpasses any barrier.” Arabella smiles, kissing his cheek, and Henry seems satisfied with the explanation. 'I love you so much too, this size here!' He opens his arms as much as he can, and the demonstration warms her heart as always, making her smile and hug her son as tightly as she assures him that she loves him even more. | J. P | James was concentrating on the duels when Remus arrived. He was marveling at how well Mr. Figg dueled, neither shivering nor losing time when Mr. Rosier hit back one of his spells, and the man didn't even look tired. He had always found dueling an incredibly boring and dull part of parties when he was younger, accompanied by his father and seeing the men fall in a few minutes, James preferred the parties and the after, when the house was silent and dark and he could go out to meet some woman. It was at one of these parties that he met Lily, during a nighttime getaway he saw her jumping out the window. First he followed her thinking that she was also going to meet someone, and James being a curious young man that he was, he wondered what kind of man that woman liked to sneak with. Maybe he had a chance. But later, when he saw her come out of the house and run towards the lake nearby, James didn't understand. She didn't like him following her, of course, it had been a dumb idea and nowadays he was ashamed of his younger self's actions, but that's what got them talking for the first time. She smiled in embarrassment as he praised her ability to climb a vine. "James!" Remus called after him, cheeks flushed and blue eyes pained toward him. The first thing that came to his mind was that Lily was hurt, and that made him lose all interest in watching the Duel and made him turn to his friend in alarm. “What happened?” He tried to be as discreet as possible, trying to keep other men from noticing his splurge. Sirius did a good job of distracting two young men. "Lily needs you…and she asked me to take Mr. Figg too." Remus muttered the last part, making James frown and look at the boy on his left, who had finally won the duel. Rosier looked tired. 'Is it urgent.' "Is she hurt?" It was a valid concern, James feared his wife would get sicker now that she was surrounded by people, and maybe someone had said something to her and Lily had one of her fits again. ‘And why does she want the boy? Should I tell Arthur? ‘No, don't say anything to anyone, just come… We're in the dungeons.’ ---------------------- Henry did not know how to control his magic, and that distressed Arabella. If he was a Muggle it would be so much easier, she knew that, because when Henry made that poor boy float, and then made a flower vase explode, she knew she would have to explain a lot to him: Why couldn't he go to a proper college and why she didn't do magic like he did. Arabella no longer felt ashamed of being a Squib, she had accepted the condition and lived normally, or at least as she managed to, avoiding whenever anyone asked about it just to avoid people's prejudice. Some thought she was a
Muggle who had married a wizard, and that's why she knew so much about it. Others thought that she just hadn't had a chance to go to school, and that's why she didn't know how to properly control magic. "They made fun of me!" Henry said, annoyed, his eyes red from crying. “They said things—horrible things to me!” He sobbed, which made Arabella even sadder and more worried. His green eyes glistened with tears, staring at her for answers. "They told me I-I'll never be good at-at anything." He sobbed louder and louder, the scraped knee now forgotten, as if the internal pain was much bigger. She was about to cry with him. “Henry, honey, listen to me.” She took a deep breath, thinking that conversation had come earlier than she'd planned. ‘What they said is a lie. They don't know how to control their magic either, they probably won't for a good few years, and you're already good at a lot of things, of course you are, Henry. You're much better at putting together puzzles, and you're much faster too, I mean, you always win at the races.' Arabella smiled sweetly, smoothing his messy hair, thinking how unfair it was that such a sweet little boy already got to know this side of life. She wished she could just show the good side of life, and leave the thorns and stones for when he understood things better. Arabella wondered how her mother managed to do this so masterfully, because right now, she wanted to be able to hex the parents of those boys and force them to teach their children more respect for others. She wished it had been her who had been pushed and thrown out of the game, not her child. Her heart broke even more, feeling helpless. ‘Don't listen to what they say, ok? You're amazing, a very smart kid, and your future will be bright.” She promised, because it was true. Arabella would do anything for her son. ---------------------- Henry ran as fast as he could, passing through the trees and not even bothering with the branches that scratched his skin, he just needed to get out of there. He knew he shouldn't have pissed off those boys, but they were scaring another younger boy, and just because they'd now gone to that stupid school of stupid people, they thought they were even better than the rest of the people there. Henry wished he could go to Hogwarts, but his mother had told him that you needed to receive a letter, and that they were only sent for a few families - maybe if you're lucky you get the letter, she said smiling, even though the smile didn't reach her eyes. Arabella had never said this, but Henry knew he would probably never get the letter; he wasn't rich and he didn't have a father, and for some reason, that seemed to be enough to keep him away from others. He ran even faster when he heard loud laughter, he wasn't afraid of those kids anymore, Henry had grown up while they were in school, more than they were, but they had one advantage: magic. Arabella couldn't buy a wand, so he didn't have one, and even if he did, he wouldn't know how to use it. “You're a wimpy coward if your only way to fight is with magic…don't you know how to punch?” Henry had said to Jilian, the biggest idiot of them all. Henry wasn't very good at punching, but he was very fast, while when Greg tried to cast a spell on him, he ran off into the forest, barely noticing when his own magic created a dome around him, preventing any spells from hitting him. . ---------------------- “Why are we so different?” Henry asked, taking a seat beside Arabella as she kneaded the bread on the table. She looked at him, noticing that the boy was all sweaty and looking a little smudged with dirt. “How many times have I told you not to go into the woods?” She returned her gaze to the dough, continuing to knead. "It's quieter there." He shrugged, pulling his sweaty hair off his forehead, letting his scar show for a few seconds before hiding it again. “And more dangerous too, and you know it.” Arabella raised her eyebrows, scolding him. She'd heard horrible stories of people meeting a werewolf deep in the woods, and as much as she didn't
know whether or not it was true, she didn't want Henry to take any chances like that. He was only 13 years old, he should have been playing with the other kids on the street and not running into the trees. "Okay, I won't do it anymore." He sighed, but she knew he would break that promise the next time he had the opportunity. ‘But then? Why aren't we alike?’ "Henry, because you were born from another belly. I already said that" She placed the buns in the oven, washing her hands afterwards and looking up at him with a gentle smile on her face. "I met you when you were very young, you know this story." "But why can I make things float and you can't?" His green eyes stared at her with an expression much harder and more serious than she was used to, as if he would know if she lied. ‘Because not all of us are born doing magic. Some of us are good at something other than magic… It's something you need to be born knowing how to do, you can't develop it, just improve it.” Arabella swallowed, trying not to show so much the scars that had left on her. People weren't kind when they found out you were a Squib. He was quiet for a few minutes, looking at his hands as if he wanted to find the right words. The sun streaming through the kitchen windows illuminated his black hair, a few strands reflecting an almost red copper color that Arabella thought was beautiful. 'Can you never do magic?' He looked at her, and all the worry she'd ever felt, scared that maybe Henry would feel sorry for her or ashamed of her, drained and slipped out as his green eyes stared at her, full of affection and sadness. Not the same sadness that always came with grief, but as if he felt bad that he did magic and she didn't, as if he understood now why some people offended her and treated her differently. "No." She gave a half smile. "But I'm not sad about it anymore, I like who I am." And it was true. Henry nodded, still being silent for a while, seeming to absorb the information, then he got up from the wooden bench, walking over to her and hugging her. He was no longer her little boy—as much as he always would be her baby—Henry now almost reached her chest, and it wouldn't be long before he was taller than her. She hugged him back, enjoying this show of affection, imagining that a few years from now he wouldn't like hugs so much. "I love you," he said. ‘I love you very much too. Forever and ever.” Arabella kissed the top of his head, tightening her hold even more, as if she was afraid someone would suddenly take him away from her. ---------------------- It had been a long time since James had been in the dungeons, he didn't like going there, it was cold, wet, lonely, and it made him think too much. It made him think his son's things were there, in boxes organized as if they were just another mess and not everything he and Lily had ever dreamed of. It made him think of the pain that resided in his chest, the emptiness that nothing in the world had ever been able to fill. James hated the dungeons. Lily, unlike him, loved being there, she said it was the best place for her to think, and the calmest of all - 'It's where I feel that no one will look at me with pity, where I can think of my son in peace, you know what I'm talking about," she said when James questioned her about the surroundings. He knew, he understood her, James had changed into Prongs many more times than necessary, he did it every time the pain got too much to take. He walked down the stairs, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine, couldn't anyone make this place something less scary? After Remus left, James warned Sirius, who tried to pretend as best he could and further entertain the men who now looked curious to death, while he went to talk to Mr. Figg. "I need you to accompany me, but I need you to do this cautiously and discreetly," James asked, looking into those green eyes closely, trying to remember where he knew that expression. "I'll go ahead, meet me in five minutes at the entrance to the stone path, do you know where it is?" The man nodded, tucking
his wand into the waistband of his pants and straightening his robes. 'I'll let Arthur know I'll take you, just so he won't be worried, but I think you understand that you shouldn't say anything to anyone, right?' "Yes, my Lord." The man made a brief, discreet bow, and James grimaced, not understanding why that made him uncomfortable. Now James heard footsteps behind him as he walked through the dungeon, neither of them saying anything. Why had Lily asked Mr. Figg to come along? Had she found out something about the boy? Something bad? James glanced quickly over his shoulder, noticing that the man looked warmed too, his hands behind him and his back straight. Has something happened to Miss Weasley? Well, if so, Arthur would be called too, right? James broke off as soon as he reached the last room, the one he avoided the most, and the only one with lighted candles. The first thing he saw when he entered were the boxes, stacked against a wall, then he realized there were some of Harry's things on the floor, smeared with dirt and sticks, and James' heart missed a beat when he saw the Snitch Pajamas The gold one he'd bought when he found out Lily was pregnant was now all filthy and torn. Had they been attacked? Was that why Lily sent for him? Then he saw Remus, opening Lily's herb cabinet and looking for something inside, he looked worried. In the back, near the only window there, was Peter, all smeared with mud too, sitting on the floor with his hands behind his back, his red cheeks making him look like a child caught doing something wrong, and his rumpled clothes hinting that he had fought someone. Finally, sitting on the bench was Lily. Her dress was dirty too, but that wasn't what James first noticed, it was her red face, her pink cheeks like when she drank wine, her hands shaking as she poured something into the cauldron, looking more nervous than ever. "What's going on?" James glanced at the three of them, feeling even more anxious. "Lily, what the fuck is going on?" "Did you bring Henry?" James frowned at her calling the man by his first name, but nodded anyway, Peter sighed in the corner, looking almost terrified, not making eye contact with James for a moment. ‘Great, send him in.’ ---------------------- Henry knew he shouldn't be there, his mother had forbidden him, but he had nowhere else to go. Jilian had come back from his stupid school and he seemed more than happy to train some spells on Henry, and even though he had honed his punching technique, he couldn't compete with magic. So he ran into the forest. It was cold there, it had rained last night and the earth had turned to mud, and because of the tall trees the sun's rays didn't penetrate as much, and the whole environment ended up getting wetter than usual. Henry shivered as the wind made him wonder why he hadn't grabbed a jacket. He was sitting on the usual rock, it was close to the river that separated them from the Muggles, and it gave him a good view across the village. There were houses like the ones on this side, but they always looked a lot less colorful than the ones he was used to, and there weren't as many flowers and trees either, as if the Muggles were willing to clear every bit of land they found, leaving everything gray and monotonous. Henry had asked his mother if they could go to that side of the village, but Arabella had been stern to say he was forbidden to even think about going to the Muggles. He chuckled softly, thinking that if it hadn't been for the river that separated them, he probably would have managed to at least get there, curious as always. A noise startled him, making him jump and hide behind the rock, praying it wasn't one of Jilian's friends, as he would be at such a disadvantage. There wasn't much to run now, Henry had almost reached the end of the forest, and unless he took a chance and ran towards the darkest and scariest part, the other option was to jump into the river. And he wasn't doing any of those things. But when he didn't hear voices or anything to indicate they were people, he stood up,
watching a deer walking around, distracted by everything, as if nothing else mattered. Henry had never seen one this close, and he was a little fascinated by the animal, he understood why there are two deer on the Potter family crest. It really was a beautiful animal, and if he could choose, he would also want them emblazoned on his chest. Henry stepped out from behind the rock, careful not to startle the animal, trying to get as close as he could. “Hey,” he called, even though it didn't make much sense. The animal turned, eyes huge now in his direction. It had been a bad idea, he cursed himself mentally, imagining that that animal was too big and would probably kill him without a second thought… Did deer eat human flesh? Henry didn't know, but they probably hurt anyone who scared them and made them feel in danger. The animal approached, slowly, and each step made the boy's stomach turn and his heart race. Deer were fast, much faster than Henry was. He was dead. But when the animal's black eyes got much closer than Henry had ever thought he saw, the animal bowed, as if saying hello to him. Without thinking twice, he did the same, maintaining eye contact with the deer. Heavens, couldn't he be less weird? Bending over to deer, blowing things up without meaning to... Henry stood up after a while, being careful to do this as slowly as possible, still afraid the deer would decide to kill him then and there. But the animal seemed to have other plans, because he lay down in front of the boy, as if he were an adorable little dog. Henry sat beside him too, having no choice; he didn't have many friends, and he had nothing else to do, so why not? His ass got a little wet from the dirt, but nothing too uncomfortable. The deer shifted and brought its head closer to Henry's crossed leg, as if asking for affection, and the boy didn't wait for another move to do so, leaning his back against the stone and reaching out to stroke the slightly coarse fur of the animal For some strange reason, Henry felt comfortable doing it, as if he had done it before, it was something familiar that burned in his chest. But he didn't think about it much, just fell silent and watched the forest in front of him. ---------------------- "Lily, what's going on?" James asked, feeling uneasy as he watched the tension surround the room, Remus looked nervous and Peter avoided looking up, as if he was suddenly afraid to face one of them. Lily turned to James, her green eyes seemed to glow with hatred, her nostrils swollen, an expression he'd seen a few times over the years, but one that always scared him. "What... What happened?" Her shaky voice made him look at Remus again, the worry growing by the second. "Oh James." She shook her head, as if suddenly too much pain hit her, and he ran to her protection, opening his arms to hold her and protect her from anything that had happened while he was gone. "Guys, anyone…?" He glanced at his friends, but again, Peter didn't look at him. "Tell him, Peter!" Lily yelled, breaking out of James' embrace and turning to the man sitting on the floor, pointing her wand in his direction. ‘Lily, what the hell!?’ "No, James," She held up a hand, silencing him. "Tell Peter, tell him what you did to our son." His world stopped, his eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets as James stared at his friend, begging for all that was most sacred that he hadn't quite understood. Peter was his brother, his best friend, they met when they went to Hogwarts together, he was there when James needed it most, when they decided to become Animagus… Peter wouldn't do that, he couldn't! James doubted that one day the pain of losing a child would be replaced by another, that hellish emptiness that tore at him more and more inside, that made him not sleep well on rainy nights, that still made him walk into the boy's immaculate room and sit on the floor wondering what he should have done differently. He would do anything to get his son back, his boy. But the pain that hit him when Peter shook his head and lowered his head, making him
realize his hands were tied behind his body, came very close. His best friend… betrayed him? "Peter?" James pleaded, begged, for it to be a lie, for Lily to be mad. It was a lie! It had to be. "I had to, James... I... he made me." ---------------------- The weather was not so good, Peter realized when he Apparated, the sky was dark and windy like never before. He should have worn another cloak, this one was too thin and made him cold. And other gloves too, because now these were bloody and torn. Who knew a woman could be so strong? Peter dragged the woman's passed out body with him, feeling a little sickened by that when he realized her wound was getting worse with each passing minute, he needed to be quick. Leaving the body where no one could find it, he pulled a strand of her hair into the potion and then took it, the horrible taste of iron made him want to spit it out on the floor, but now there was no turning back, he would have to swallow and continue with the plan. Lord Voldemort had promised him a great reward in exchange for the boy's life, and for the first time in a long time, Peter felt important and wanted. It wasn't that Black boy who was chosen, or even Snape, no no, he was the one Voldemort thought capable of completing the mission, he thought he was strong enough. How long has it been since? He only stayed inside the Order because James kept him there, no one really wanted him there, not even Dumbledore, Peter didn't need him to say it to know, it was visible to everyone. For the old man, any other man could do the job better than he… Probably if Lily were there too, she would be chosen before Peter. Potter this, Black that, Peter was tired. Why didn't anyone realize he was also strong and smart? Well, now that was over, Voldemort had seen his potential and chosen him to do this mission, and Peter wasn't going to fail now. When he was fully transformed into that whore, he apparated into the castle, glad the potion didn't stop him from doing so. Stupid James should have put in better security than a simple spell. Peter had seen James that afternoon, he said that today was Harry's first night trying to sleep alone and that he and Lily were excited to see how he would react to the change, so the plan would be even easier to execute. As excited as Peter was at the idea of ​​being useful to someone, he knew he couldn't kill James, he had to really want to do it with all his heart. When he reached the boy's room, Peter looked around, noting the choice of bright, cheerful colors, the many teddy bears scattered around, the photos on the walls and in the frames above the dresser. Little Harry slept peacefully in his bed, wrapped in the pale blue blanket, looking peaceful, cuddled up with his deer teddy bear. He was a lot like James, Peter thought, watching the boy move his short legs like he was kicking something in the dream. He hadn't really thought about that part of the plan, he figured he'd have the guts to just take the boy and end his life right there, or in some alley farther along, but when Peter picked him up, being careful not to waking him up, that lavender scent invaded his nostrils and he watched the baby more closely. The boy looked helpless in his arms, like he wasn't even real, and if he wasn't watching the boy's belly rise and fall, Peter would think he was a doll. Voldemort would never know if he had killed the boy or not, and pausing to analyze the situation now, Peter also didn't know if he could kill the boy. He wanted to show that he was strong and useful, but a baby? Harry looked so…small. When he stirred, startling Peter, and seemed to be looking for something - maybe his mother's scent - he realized it was time to act, there was no turning back, it had to be now. And when lightning flashed in the sky, he cast a spell to prevent Harry from listening when he broke the glass to fake an escape, Peter waited for thunder to do so and then Apparated out of the castle, knowing that this was the best thing to do. There were two paths now, and he needed to think quickly
which was better, kill Harry and throw him in some hole, or give the boy to someone else. Of course he would risk this person recognizing the baby, but he would have to bet his luck on finding another baby like this for Lily and James to bury, or maybe even run to the Muggle village and find some woman there. It had to be fast, Harry would wake up any second and Peter didn't have much time after that. As soon as he spotted a woman a few blocks away and Harry opened his eyes in his arms, Peter acted without thinking, taking the knife from his pants pocket and opening a wound in his ribs, before starting to scream for help. ---------------------- James clapped his hand over his mouth, denying it over and over, not believing what he was hearing. No no no no. This had to be a lie, this had to be a lie. Peter would never do that, Peter was his brother, he would never… No, this could only be a joke. He could barely handle the pain right now, thinking he'd rather die than have to deal with it. It hurt so much that James thought he might start bleeding at any moment, his chest lacerated after hearing about it. He couldn't even feel angry. His boy, his little boy, whom he'd loved so much ever since Lily told him she was pregnant, that it made him want to scream from the top of the roof in so much joy… “I could kill you right now,” he said, after what seemed like an eternity, barely able to face the traitor. "But…" James shook his head, closing his eyes to try to make it hurt a little less, his father's voice resonating through his mind; "You must be careful with Peter," he said before he died. "Men like him are easily attracted to the side that shines the most." James had thought his father was delusional when he said that, thought it was the fever, but no, the bastard really was a weakling and a coward. Letting himself be attracted to those he once hated. If he really hated it. "I can't even look at you." James turned to Lily, who looked distraught to death at having to hear that story. He wanted to kill Peter even more for making her suffer like that. The traitor had been there the next day, helping with the searches, he had hugged Lily when she cried, told her everything would be fine. "James, give me your hand," asked Lily, her own trembling, reaching out towards him. 'Why?' "Lils…he could be lying—" She shook her head, telling Remus to shut up. "Give me your hand James." Now her voice was stronger, more determined, and her green eyes sparkled even more. He did so, letting her grab his palm and run the tip of the knife, causing the blood to drip and smear her workbench and floor, before finally dripping into the cauldron. “Lily, what are you doing?” But she didn't answer him, cutting her own palm and spilling her blood along with his, then looking over her husband's shoulder. She looked more nervous than ever, and her severed hand shook even more as she held it out to the man behind James. "Give me your hand, Henry." Her green eyes sparkled with tears, and James didn't know if the man did as she asked just because she was a Duchess, or because she was crying. "Yes, ma'am." He walked over and let her do the same thing with his palm, passing the tip of the knife and then letting the blood spill into the cauldron. The potion began to bubble fiercely, as did James' chest when he realized what Lily was up to. He had seen her make this potion a few times, and if his thinking was correct, then maybe he could vomit right there, his stomach churning and making him feel weak. James didn't want to get his hopes up, it only served to hurt when unrequited, but he was unable to hold back the urge and looked at the man behind him, and then at Peter, who now looked even more guilty, if that was possible. If this was another one of his jobs with Voldemort, James knew he would kill him right there, with his bare hands. Forget magic and wands, he would tear that mouse apart like a hungry lion. James turned to the cauldron again when Lily sobbed and he smelled the lavender scent all over the room, and the once gray
potion was now a pinkish hue, the three drops of blood seemed to dance in the middle of the liquid, before of finally meeting at the end, getting connected. "Harry." Lily turned to the man, but James remained frozen, watching the cauldron in front of him. They had never reached this result, usually the potion would explode or nothing happened, and the smell was never that sweet aroma that seemed to fill all the hollows in his chest, as if he suddenly felt no more pain. As he turned back, as Lily advanced towards the boy, James thought that maybe nothing would ever compare to this. "Harry," Lily repeated, but this time she touched him, and as if the boy felt it too, he lowered his green eyes to her. James remembered then where he knew that look… It was Lily's eyes. Her trembling hand went to his forehead, lifting the hair lying there, just to let them see the lightning scar marked into his skin. It was too much to handle, James didn't know how he was still standing, but suddenly he started to feel tears rolling down his cheeks and as if this was the last drop of water to overflow the bucket, he sobbed. He inched closer to Lily, wanting to take a closer look at his son, as if he was afraid this was a dream and soon he would no longer have the chance to memorize every detail of it. His boy… "You-" Harry trailed off, as if he was feeling like James and Lily, his chest filling up and all that emptiness seeming to finally heal. "My parents?" He looked at James, and it was as if time had never passed. He still had the same expression as that little baby James used to cuddle up to sleep on. "I knew I knew you from somewhere," James managed to say, his throat seeming to scratch with the effort it took. "I would never be able to forget…" He didn't mind the tears rolling down his face, but he tried to wipe the ones down Harry's face. "I would never be able to forget my son."
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