#sometimes i sit down and really think about st peter and like. why did they do this. i cannot even begin to fathom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theramblinghockeydude · 1 year ago

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My faith

I have been asked many times in my life why I believe in Jesus. What is the basis for my faith? Why would you actively believe in something that you can't see, touch or feel? Mind you, I don't come close to having all the answers, there are many things that happen in my life and this world that I cannot explain or that even make sense to me, but faith is trusting in what you cannot explain or see or feel or touch. So, why do I believe?

I don't remember a time in my life when I didn't believe in Jesus. Growing up I went to St. Peter's Lutheran Church in Sawyer for sunday school. Pastor Peterson was awesome, loved that guy. I don't know, it all just felt very comfortable and normal from an early age. I'll admit, when you are young you usually believe because you are told to or that is what those around you are doing, the true test of of faith, at least in my eyes, is when you get older and you being to see more clearly how things truly work in the world and you are able to develop your own thoughts. To be honest, most of the time I didn't really even think about why I believed, I just knew I did and that was good enough for me.

I didn't really start to truly think about it until after I graduated college. I went through a time where I questioned a lot of things about my faith. I felt like a lot of Church was showy and judgemental. Mind you, I knew a lot of great people in the Church and those thoughts were no reflection upon them, just the Church as a whole. Why was it so important what I wore to Church? I mean, yeah, I'm not going to show up all dirty and ripped up, but I wasn't someone who was comfortable with dress attire, I was more comfortable with casual, maybe some black slacks (yes, I just used the word slacks, thank you grandma Helen, next thing you know we will all be sitting on the Davenport) and polo shirt or button down, but for some that was never enough. I always thought to myself back in those days, does God really care what somebody wears to come and worship Him? What if somebody was down on their luck and they didn't have anything special to wear on that particular Sunday, pretty sure God would still welcome them with open arms. My favorite was those that like to play the "I have more Jesus points than you" game. I have done more good than you. I know more about the Bible than you do. I can recite names from the Bible and who belongs to what family better than you. Let's play some Bible trivia so I can show you how many more Jesus points I have accumulated. It was very off putting to me when around those types. Being told that I wasn't quite doing things correct, no, you need to pray like this. You can't listen to that type of music. You can't watch that show. Maybe I am wrong here and when I get to the pearly gates I will be corrected, but I have always believe that what is in a persons heart and how they react to certain things is much more important. I mean, I can listen to 80's glam rock and I have yet to live the life of sex, drugs and rock 'n roll. I just happen to like that particular style of music and how it sounds. So, I was kind of lost for a while and searching. I knew I still believed, but what did that really mean. Was I doing it all wrong? Was I not good enough?

It was sometime in 1998 and I was still trying to figure it all out. I had went through a phase where I had scrapped listening to the music I grew up loving and was listening to "the appropriate" style of Christian music. Thing is, I could get on board with what they were saying, but musically it just wasn't hitting for me. I also learned during that time that "breathing" is super important to being a Christian. I was in Gideon's Trumpet one day and just for giggles I went over to the music section to see what they had, maybe I could find something that I could get on board listening to. They had a "Rock" section. I use the quotations because, up until that day, I was not aware that there were bands that rocked and also worshiped the Lord. I was told quite the opposite actually. I grabbed the first one that looked cool. The cover art had a bee on it and was all purpley and cool looking. Grabbed the head phones and scanned the cd in and that my friends was the first time I heard the glorious sounds of Disciple. The first song that played was entitled "I Just Know." This was it, this was the sound I was looking for, this was the lyrics I was looking for and more important, this song actually spoke to me in ways nothing else ever had. The jist of that song is, each branch of Christianity has it's way of doing certain things, but at the core of it all is Jesus. I just know Jesus is the way, Jesus is the truth, Jesus is the life, Jesus is my God. The semantics of it all really didn't matter as we will all have our different views and interpretations of things, but Jesus, that is what it is all about. If Church A does things this way and Church B does things this way that is ok as long as Jesus is at the center of it all. Preach on brother Kevin! I grabbed up the other Disciple cd's they had and took them home and listened for hours. Mind you, back in those days, lyrically Disciple was fairly simple, but it all just made sense to me. My prayers had been answered.

I also had some really good friends that I could talk to and get their opinions on things. There was one friend in particular, she was the one who really kind of put things in perspective for me and she asked me one day when we were in her apartment chatting...have you accepted Jesus into your heart? I answered with a yes immediately, but when I went home that night I thought about it. Had I really? What did that actually mean? So, I did some research on the subject. Mind you, when I would go to Church they always had alter calls and such and I never answered those because I just didn't think it was necessary to make a spectacle of it all, that is what I thought back then at least, I think a bit different now. I realized that, yes, I do believe, but I haven't actually asked Jesus into my heart. Kind of like asking a girl you like to go out with you, she doesn't just automatically go out with you and become your girlfriend, you have to ask her and that is kind of how this is. So I asked somebody in the Church that was an important part of my life at the time about it and was given some things to think about and was told, here is a simple prayer you can pray when you are ready. It wasn't long after that I did pray that prayer and accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior. Mind you, that didn't mean that from that day forward my life was super duper awesome and I never had any pain or issues because that is not how it works. We will all struggle in this life, that does not go away, but I have found throughout the years, that it is a bit easier to get through those things with faith and prayer.

I have been told many times in life that the Bible is just a work of fiction. Believing in Jesus is silly because it is just a fairy tale. I have seen too many things, felt too many things to believe that in my heart. There have been and are times in my life that I truly feel a presence when I am praying. Things that have happened certain ways that I can't explain other than to know that God had a hand in it. My most recent example is how things played out to get me to where I am right now with my sister and her husband. I can look back and see God's hand in how things worked out. This one may seem to silly to some, but for many years I had this weird "rash" type thing on the side of my face and on my scalp that just wouldn't go away. I prayed about it so much because it was just uncomfortable and embarrassing and I wanted it gone. One day it was gone. I hadn't done anything different to make it go away, it was just gone. Some say that Jesus isn't some genie that grants wishes and I agree with that, but I also believe that He still performs miracles for us...on His time. That being said, I know the question on your mind. Why doesn't Jesus heal your knees and your legs and give you mobility back? I honestly can't answer that question other than to say that there is a reason for it that I may never know, but the fact that I pray for healing and have yet to have it in that respect of my life does not hinder my faith one ounce. I have been through too much and seen the Lord work in others and myself to not keep my faith. There is no way that I made it through the months and months of constant pain when I had a bleeding ulcer without some sort of divine help. I barely missed any work during that time. I rarely ever slept, and yet I could function, for months. The past few years when it was just me at 3 am, not being able to sleep, not wanting to be here anymore, wanting to just drift off and never wake up. How am I going to make it through another day feeling like this? Not being able to do anything, not being able to feel anything. God was there with me, still is and always will be. I am still going to hurt and I may not be able to get up the stairs, but I can still get through each day with a smile on my face and love in my heart.

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no-reply95 · 3 years ago

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Jealous Guys

Something I’ve been thinking about for a while now is the different ways jealousy manifested for John and Paul over the course of their friendship.

I’m going to look at John and Paul in turn and have a look at some of the key ways jealousy appeared, before, during and after the Beatles period. This will be a looooong post so if you want to go on deep dive keep reading below.

John

Jealousy was something that John acknowledged as a big part of his personality, as far as I’m aware, he only acknowledged his jealousy publicly in terms of his relationship with Yoko but I believe jealousy was a feature of all of John’s major relationships. John’s first real partnership was with Pete Shotton, his childhood best friend, and Pete has outlined how John’s jealousy and possessiveness was a feature in their friendship with them falling out when Pete first started showing interest in girls and with John acting out when Pete started to spend more time with other friends, instead of him, here Pete recounts John’s reflection on this period of their friendship:

“Years later John confessed to having felt acutely jealous throughout that interlude: “I was scared shitless I’d lost you after our fight in science class, when you starting playing with David Jones. I really thought I’d gone too far with you that time.“

Pete Shotton, John Lennon: In My Life , 1983

Pete’s recollections establish a pattern in John’s life of acting out due to a fear of abandonment and losing those who are closest to him so it’s not surprising that once John had formed a strong bond with Paul that would stir similar fears in him.

Below I’ve categorised the groups of people that were the focus of John’s jealousy and have picked one person from each group as an example:

Family - Jim McCartney

Paul’s family was and continues to be a big part of his life. From the outset of their friendship, John was made aware of how important Jim was to Paul and vice versa. John and Paul had to skip school to hang out together because Jim wouldn’t have John in their house initially and John confessed his resentment of Jim’s influence over Paul’s life. It appears that after some time John grew tired of having to contend with Jim for the position of the most important person in Paul’s life, and this culminated in John giving Paul a pseudo ultimatum as John discussed in 1971:

“But Paul would always give in to his dad. His dad told him to get a job, he fucking dropped the group and started working on the fucking lorries, saying, "I need a steady career." We couldn't believe it… “So I told him on the phone, "Either come or you're out." So he had to make a decision between me and his dad then, and in the end he chose me”

St. Regis Hotel interview, Sept. 5, 1971

Friends - Mal Evans

Throughout the active years of the band it was typical of them to refer to each other as their best friends and, given the lives they led, I think the simple fact that no one else could understand what it was like to be a Beatle would have meant they all shared a special bond. However, they all had friendships outside of the band and this was something that could cause issues for John when it came to Paul.

According to Tune In, Mal initially became friends with Paul during the band's initial shows at the Cavern Club then, after a suggestion from George, Mal became a part of the Beatles entourage thereafter. Mal had friendships with all the Beatles, as part of their inner circle, but from his comments it appears John took umbrage with the closeness of Mal’s friendship with Paul:

“Paul would suddenly come in with this circle saying, “This is Magical Mystery Tour, will you write that bit?” And I was choked that he’d arranged it all with Mal anyway, for a kickoff, and had all this idea going”

St. Regis Hotel interview, Sept. 5, 1971

Mal also comes up when John discusses his recollections of the writing of Eleanor Rigby:

“So rather than ask me, “John, do these lyrics—” Because by that period, he didn’t want to say that – to me. Okay? So what he would say was, “Hey, you guys, finish off the lyrics,”... “ Now, I sat there with Mal Evans, a road manager who was a telephone installer, and Neil Aspinall, who was a not-completed student accountant who became our road manager. And I was insulted and hurt that he’d thrown it out in the air”...” There might be a version that they contributed, but there isn’t a line in there that they put in.“

Playboy interview, David Sheff 1980

John’s discomfort with the closeness of Paul’s relationship with Mal was something that wasn’t lost on Mal’s wife Lil:

“He was always at their beck and call. He was a nice fella to have around, so much so that it could provoke little jealousies within the band. When I met Yoko years after Mal died, she said John had told her he’d been very jealous at one point of Mal’s relationship with Paul.”

Lil Evans interview with Ray Connolly, 2005

Love interests - Linda McCartney

Throughout their friendship both John and Paul had quite a few love interests, which (to varying degrees) prompted jealousy between them.

Although John displayed jealousy of a few of Paul’s love interests this was no more apparent than with Paul’s first wife Linda McCartney, which is confirmed by both John’s words and actions regarding Linda and her partnership with Paul:

“"Then Klein informed Lennon that McCartney had secretly been increasing his stake in Northern Songs. ‘John flew into a rage,’ recalled Apple executive Peter Brown. ‘At one point I thought he was really going to hit Paul, but he managed to calm himself down.’ One unconfirmed report of this meeting had Lennon leaping towards Linda McCartney, his fists raised in her face"

Peter Doggett, You Never Give Me Your Money

"Int: When did you first meet her [Linda]? John: The first time I saw her was after that press conference to announce Apple in America. We were just going back to the airport and she was in the car with us. I didn't think she was particularly attractive, I wondered what he was bothering having her in the car for. A bit too tweedy, you know. But she sat in the car and took photographs and that was it. And the next minute she's married him."

St. Regis Hotel interview, Sept. 5, 1971

“I was reading your letter and wondering what middle aged cranky Beatle fan wrote it... "What the hell—it’s Linda! . . . Linda— if you don’t care what I say—shut up!—let Paul write—or whatever.”

"Of course, the money angle is important—to all of us—especially after all the petty shit that came from your insane family/in laws—and GOD HELP YOU OUT, PAUL—see you in two years—I reckon you’ll be out then"

Draft letter from John Lennon to Linda McCartney, circa 1971

"The presumption is a) the Beatles would get together again or are even thinking about it and b) if they got together, John and Yoko split, Paul and Linda split"

John (with Yoko) talks to John Fielding on Weekend World, 1973

"John often speculated on why Paul and Linda remained married while, at the same time, resenting their evident happiness, to the extent that he had Green do a tarot reading to ensure him that Paul and Linda were really secretly miserable and were going to divorce within a year"

According to Fred Seaman and John Green, source

Paul

Of course jealousy wasn't a one-way street in the Lennon-McCartney relationship. Unlike with John, for Paul I'm focusing more on the key people I believe his jealousy, regarding John, was directed to:

Stuart Sutcliffe

John met Stu at Art College and struck up a really close friendship with him. At the point that John met Stu, John had already become friends with Paul so Paul felt threatened when Stu entered the picture:

"When he [Stu] came into the band, around Christmas of 1959, we were a little jealous of him; it was something I didn’t deal with very well. We were always slightly jealous of John’s other friendships.

When Stuart came in, it felt as if he was taking the position away from George and me. We had to take a bit of a back seat."

Paul McCartney, Anthology 2000

"Paul was saying something about Stu’s girl – he was jealous because she was a great girl, and Stu hit him, on stage. And Stu wasn’t a violent guy at all."

John Lennon, 1967 Anthology 2000

"I looked up to Stu. I depended on him to tell me the truth. Stu would tell me if something was good and I’d believe him. We were awful to him sometimes. Especially Paul, always picking on him. I used to explain afterwards that we didn’t dislike him, really."

John Lennon, The Beatles Hunter Davies 1968

Yoko Ono

Of all the relationships I've already discussed, the relationship and jealousy displayed from Paul towards Yoko is probably the most widely discussed in Beatles historiography and general discourse. From the official start of Yoko's relationship with John in 1968 it was clear that Paul resented her presence in John's life and her proximity to the band:

"He even sent them [John and Yoko] a hate letter once, unsigned, typed. I brought it in with the morning mail. Paul put most of his fan mail in a big basket and let it sit for weeks, but John and Yoko opened every piece. When they got to the anonymous note, they looked puzzled, looking at each other with genuine pain in their eyes. ‘You and your Jap tart think you’re hot shit’, it said."

Francie Schwartz, Body Count 1972

"Cause she’s [Yoko] very much to do with it from John’s angle, that’s the thing, you know. And I – the thing is that I – there’s— Again, like, there’s always only two answers. One is to fight it, and fight her, and try and get The Beatles back to four people without Yoko, and sort of ask her to sit down at the board meetings. Or else, the other thing is to just realize that she’s there, you know. And he’s not gonna sort of – split with her, just for our sakes."

Paul McCartney, Let It Be Sessions, 1969

"I told John on the phone the other day that at the beginning of last year I was annoyed with him. I was jealous because of Yoko, and afraid about the break-up of a great musical partnership. It’s taken me a year to realise that they were in love. Just like Linda and me."

Paul McCartney, interview with Ray Connolly, 1970

What are the similarities and differences in the way jealousy manifested for John and Paul?

I think it's obvious but bears repeating that both John and Paul displayed jealousy towards other people who they felt would threaten their relationship so that's central to all the instances I have flagged, Jim, Mal, Linda, Stu, Yoko all posed real or imagined threats to John and Paul's partnership.

However, you'll note that I included more sources to display John's jealousy regarding Paul and that I categorised John's jealousy targets whereas I only pulled out two key individuals for Paul, this isn't to say that John was more jealous than Paul was, as jealousy isn't something you can quantify, but to highlight my opinion that Paul's jealousy regarding John was more targeted than John's jealousy regarding Paul. I think what stands out to me is that, I think generally Stu and Yoko are held up as the prime examples of Paul's jealousy of other people getting close to John, as far as we know, Paul never had significant issues with other people who formed close relationships with John like Pete Shotton, Cynthia Lennon, Magic Alex etc., why was that? I think that Paul was more threatened when he felt that John was replacing him so by bringing Stu into the band (even though he wasn't a musician) and Yoko into the studio (one instance where Paul was especially hurt was when John gave Paul's line in The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill to Yoko to sing), Paul perhaps felt that his place as John's primary collaborator was in jeopardy and that he could lose a partnership that had become central to his self-worth as a person - that, I believe, was when his jealousy was most likely to rise to the fore. John, on the other hand, had a much wider range of targets when it came to jealousy regarding Paul, why was John jealous of Linda? Linda wasn't trying to replace John as Paul's collaborator, if anything she wanted the Lennon-McCartney partnership to be stronger. Why was John jealous of Mal? Mal wasn't a musician, Mal was a huge fan of the band and constantly worked to fulfil their requests, so why was John so threatened by his friendship with Paul? For me, John's jealousy regarding Paul was more than just a fear of directly being replaced, I believe John's jealousy was fundamentally triggered by a fear of abandonment. I think the childhood trauma John experienced, of being left by both his parents, meant that whenever any of his close friendships and relationships were threatened, or he felt that someone close to him may leave him, he would act out. John fell out with his childhood best friend Pete when he got a girlfriend, John hit Cynthia when he saw her dancing with Stu, John was rude to several of Paul's love interests and ultimately John never fully accepted Paul's relationship with Linda because, although he could see that she could offer Paul the family life he always wanted, John didn't want Linda to take Paul away and give him a family that meant that Paul would no longer be able to prioritise John in his life as he had in the past.

Ultimately, we'll never know all the ways that jealousy factored into John and Paul's relationship with each other and those around them, as I'm sure it impacted several relationships in more complex ways than I can articulate (i.e. I suspect jealousy played a part in Paul's initial resentment of Brian but they grew closer over time so maybe Paul's jealousy lessened over time or Brian became less of a threat?). I do think it's important to consider that jealousy was present on both sides and was likely a factor in the breakdown of John and Paul's relationship, the breakdown of the Beatles and was a continued factor in disrupting reconciliations between John and Paul into the 70s and 1980.

#the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #john and paul #paul and linda #john and yoko #jealous guy #linda mccartney #yoko ono #stuart sutcliffe #mal evans #jim mccartney #brian epstein #long post #thoughts

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jamesandthedog · 3 years ago

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I think it’s still @blitheringmcgonagall ‘s birthday where she lives so happy birthday you vaguely shining light of my life! No present could express how glad I am to have you as a friend, but have a little bit of fast written and very unedited Jily:)

Stuffed in Sirius’ drawer

James remembered Lily’s voice and how her hand felt wrapped around his own. At least he thought it was her hand. He remembered seeing the familiar features of his best friend hovering high above him and he thought he had heard voices. He may have slept somewhere between those thoughts, he wasn’t sure. Everything felt a little groggy, dream-like, just like the pain he remembered vaguely in the back of his mind, or those white-clothed witches and wizards he thought he’d seen walk by.

When he really put his mind into it, he could remember fighting Death Eaters near Portobello Road, but now it all seemed fuzzy. It had been late evening, but it wasn’t dark anymore. Where was he?

“James, are you awake?”

There was the voice again, her voice. This was James’ favourite dream, the one were Lily talked to him. Sometimes it was just a voice, sometimes a touch or blurry outlines of her face disappearing before he could quite see them. Though now something in this drowsy state of mind felt different, as if she was closer.

When James tried really hard, he could imagine Lily was holding his hand with both of hers, sitting beside a hospital bed. The image was shattering, there was too much light and he thought she looked tired, worried.

“Great. We’ve wanted him to shut up for years and this is when he decides to listen.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” Lily said and it came out almost as a cry.

“He’s going to be alright,” said a third voice, more soothing.

Remus, James realised.

This dream felt more real than the ones before.

“Stop pissing her off, Padfoot,” James muttered.

He heard Sirius laugh. Maybe he heard Lily whisper a Muggle prayer.

It took James some time to open his eyes and realise that Lily really was there. He couldn’t see her properly, he didn’t have his glasses on, but she was there, smiling, her lips kissing his fingers. Then he saw Remus, one hand on Lily’s shoulder as if he’d been massaging her shoulder to calm her down. Sirius was on the other side of the bed, leaning on the window frame, looking like he hadn’t had a shower in days.

“Should’ve known you’d come back from death just to defend Lily,” Sirius said.

James smiled.

“How are you?” Lily asked, placing his glasses on his face and kissing his forehead.

James thought about it. He felt a little sore, not much.

“You’re in St Mungo’s. You’ve been passed out for three days,” Remus added as Sirius walked on the edge of the bed.

That explained the bandages. Three days? Had they given him a sleeping potion? Shit. He moved a little and his whole body ached, making him grimace. Shit.

“Never better,” he smiled.

Lily took a long, shaky breath. James looked at her, and now that he was able to see her clearly, he could see she was upset. She had tears in her eyes. It felt was worse than the actual aching in his chest. James squeezed her hand that was still holding his.

“Good. You really scared Lily,” Sirius grinned.

“Scared me?” Lily scoffed. “You were the one considering going back to your parent’s house to do research on dark magic in case we needed to bring James back from the death!”

“I’d say it’s fair to say you scared all of us,” Remus concluded. “If Peter wasn’t on Order duty, he’d be here to worry over you too.”

James looked at them. He could see the worry boiling in Lily, and he knew Sirius could act calm but the idea of losing any one of his friends got to him. Remus was probably the most sensible one when it came to death, he’d given the idea some thought a long before the war started. He’d probably been the one to guide the others through the past three days, and James didn’t think he could even thank Remus enough for doing so.

“So… You all got out of there unharmed? What happened?” James asked.

Lily bit her lip. She didn’t look at him.

“Snivellus hit you with that curse. Remember the one that cut you at school?” Sirius said, anger in his voice. “Only he’s gotten better at it because it wasn’t just a cut of two, you were bleeding all over. And you know how Bella gets, I couldn’t get to you past her and fucking Snape.”

Lily looked down at their hands and took a long breath collecting herself. James hated putting her through this. Whatever Snape did wasn’t her fault. James squeezed her hand.

“I managed to disparate you, but that was after Snape had thrown a Crusiatus at you,” Lily said quietly. “It took ages for the heelers to stop the bleeding.”

“Your girlfriend hasn’t left the hospital since. And neither has Padfoot,” Remus concluded.

James took a breath and nodded. That explained why he felt his whole body ache. James remembered some of it now. Battling against Snape, the man had sought him out like he always did when he couldn’t see Lily around.

“Thanks. For getting me out of there and, everything,” James said, looking at each of them.

“Thanks for not dying,” Sirius shrugged.

“Me, shutting up for live?” James asked remembering the first words he’d heard Sirius speak. “No way I’d give you the pleasure.”

“I’d hit you if you weren’t looking so crappy already, you know?” Sirius grinned.

“Can I… Can we have a moment?” Lily asked, looking at the two boys.

Remus nodded. “Yeah. I’ll take Sirius home so you can talk. That mutt needs a bath anyway.”

They left, and James was left with Lily. Now that the others were gone she had hard time keeping her eyes dry.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m okay,” James said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her palm. “Are you okay?”

A sob escaped her lips, but she nodded, pressing her lips together.

“If you ever – EVER – scare me like that again I swear I-“ Lily started.

“Showcase your Muggle swearwords?” James raised a brow as he interrupted her. He loved listening her swear the Muggle way with all her Gods and Christs.

“Don’t start joking mister couldn’t-wake-up-for-three-days,” Lily snapped, but he knew she was relieved to hear him being back to his joking self. “Besides you told me you’d always win him in a battle!”

He had sworn that not too long ago, when Lily had witnessed Snape seeking James out in a battle two times in a row. It had happened earlier too, and James had a feeling Snape only did it when he thought Lily wasn’t around. But she had caught up to it, so James was forced to talk to her about it. He didn’t want her to worry, and honestly he was better at combat, so he had told her she didn’t need to worry about it.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, apologetically.

“I don’t need you to be sorry, I need you to stay alive, you idiot!”

She was sobbing now through the anger and yelling. James tried to sit up, but it was too fast and hurt his chest where Snape’s first curse had hit him. Lily stood up to stop him, but he got up sitting anyway, this time slowly. He pulled Lily closer by the hand until he could hug her. It wasn’t a full hug, not the type of warmth and comfort he was able to give when his chest wasn’t covered in wounds.

Lily cried, her tears wetting the skin on James’ neck as his fingertips draw calming patterns on her back.

“I am alive. I’m not going anywhere,” he hushed, pressing a kiss into her neck.

“You better not,” Lily said. “I’m pregnant.”

James’s fingers stopped petting her back. He let the air escape his lungs and pulled back just enough to see her face, it still hurt but it was the fastest thing on his mind.

“You what?” He asked, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“You heard me, Potter,” she said with defiance in her voice.

James snorted at it and glanced somewhere above just to take time to comprehend it. It was definitely not something they had been planning. They had been careful. Except maybe… Well, they may have not always waited quite as long as they should have after Lily took the potion preventing this sorts of thing from happening.

“And I’m keeping it so you better not die on us,” Lily added when James looked at her again.

It was a war and bringing a child into that certainly didn’t seem like a responsible thing to do. But when he looked at Lily, he knew what he had known for years. He wanted her. The chaos of war had only made him more certain of it. He hadn’t dare to dream of live after war for quite some time, but there had always been that distant idea of creating a family with her. Their little life together.

James nodded, giving her a smile. “Can you send an owl to Pads?”

Lily raised her eyebrows.

“You really want to write Sirius a letter right now?”

“I need him to bring me something,” James smiled.

“I tell you I’m pregnant and the only comment I get is your need to write to Sirius?”, she asked.

James rolled his eyes and kissed her softly.

“Fine,” he gave up on the letter and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “But if this is going to be very lame because I can’t even get off the bed, you’re the one to blame.”

“James? That makes literally no sense,” Lily frowned. “Are you alright? I’m going to call a heeler.”

James laughed and kissed her again before she had time to move away from him.

“No,” he shook his head and kissed her once more, slowly, bringing his hand in her neck. “I just mean, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. And I can’t promise you I won’t ever die. But I swear I’ll do anything to keep us all safe. I can’t get on one knee-“

“James what-“

“And the ring is stuffed in Sirius’ drawer –“

“James-“

“I fucking love you, Evans-“

“Oh my god.”

“I love your laughter. I love your fierceness. I love your wit. I love how big heart you have. I loved to wake up to your voice today. I love everything about you, even the things that annoy me. And I’m not saying this just because you’re pregnant. Will marry me, Evans?”

There were tears in Lily’s eyes again. His hands had moved to cup her face as he’d spoken and she was holding onto his wrists. He tried to read her expression but he was too nervous to catch her thoughts just by reading her.

“You have a ring stuffed in Sirius’ drawer?” She asked.

“He said I should commit to a ring at least for three months before chaining myself for life.”

“How long has it been there?”

“Around two months.”

Lily nodded. “He’s going to be pissed.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiled.

“You’re really going to marry me, Evans?”

“I’m really going to marry you, Potter,” she laughed, and pulled him gently closer, pressing her lips on his.

In that moment James was sure no death eater, not even Voldemort could stop them from winning the war. He had simply too much to live for. So he kissed her back, and felt nothing but utter joy until twenty minutes later when the tiredness took over his aching body and he fell asleep smiling.

#Jily #Jily fanfiction #James Potter #Lily Evans #writings #my writings

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

Text

Out Of Time ~ 140

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,325ish

Summary: The Starks receive unexpected visitors, that come with a plan.

Warning: Possible gif overload. Gifs aren’t mine. I just love Tony and Morgan.

Before the small Stark family knew it, it was October of 2023. And their house had become a wonderful home for them.

Morgan was four and almost the spitting image of her father. She was smart like him too. She loved working with her father in his workshop or playing outside in the tent Tony bought for her.

Y/N had got into gardening, especially because they were kind of far away from any grocery store. Tony was a willing helping hand and was slowly becoming a small farm boy. It bought a few small goats, an alpaca, a couple of chickens, two cats, and was planning on getting a dog for Morgan for Christmas.

Steve and Natasha only visited when Tony was gone or Y/N and Morgan went to them. Tony was still struggling to forgive after everything, and Y/N wasn’t willing to push Tony more than he had willingly done himself.

Y/N was currently in the kitchen, making lunch, while Tony was “being helpful”.

“Are these our gojis?” Tony wondered, looking at the bowl of berries.

“They are not,” Y/N answered as she cut tomatoes.

“What’s wrong with ours?”

“Your alpaca ate them all.”

“Oh.”

“All of them.”

Tony laughed, moving to the other side of Y/N. “What a glowing endorsement. First of all Gerald is our alpaca.”

Y/N scoffed out a small chuckle. “He’s not my alpaca if he’s eating my goji’s.”

“Okay.” He grabbed a handful of berries. “They’re gonna be nice in the salad right there, right?”

“No.” Y/N quickly reach over to stop Tony. “Don’t, don’t, don’t!” Tony looked at her with big doe eyes. “Could you put it down?” She gently pushed his arm away. “And get out of my kitchen.”

“Okay.” He turned towards the stove and crashed into some pots. “Whoops.” Trying to bite back a smile, Y/N looked up at the ceiling. “We’re good here, right?”

“Yeah, we’re great.” She got back to chopping. “Tell Madam Secretary that lunch is in five.”

“I will collect our alpha female, posthaste,” Tony replied, before exiting the house.

Y/N couldn’t help but grin as she focused back on the food. She was so lucky. So very lucky.

~~~

Tony walked down the porch steps, clapping out a beat.

“Chow time!” He called out to his daughter, heading towards her little play area. “Maguna?” He sat on a small chair outside of her tent. “Morgan H. Stark. Want some lunch?”

Morgan appeared from the fort with a suit helmet on and a fake suit glove. She had her gloved hand pointed at her father.

“Define lunch or be disintegrated,” she demanded in her young voice.

“Okay,” he ran his fingers down the helmet to the edge. “You should not be wearing that, okay? That is part of a special anniversary gift I’m making for mom.” He kissed the side of the helmet before removing the helmet from Morgan’s head and brushing the hair from her face.

“Okay.”

“There you go. Are you thinking about lunch? Wand a handful of crickets?”

“No,” she laughed.

“That’s what you want.” Tony held up the helmet. “How did you find this?”

“Garage.”

“Really? Were you looking for it?”

“No. I found it, though.”

“You like going to the garage, huh?” Morgan nodded as Tony lifted her up and set her on his hip. “So does daddy. It’s fine actually. Mom never wears anything I buy her.”

As they made their way to the house, a black car pulled up and parked in the driveway. Steve, Natasha, and Scott Lang stepped out as Y/N came out of the house to see what was holding Tony and Morgan up. They all were looking at Tony, who was avoiding Steve’s gaze and gave a slight nod to Natasha.

“Uncle Steve!” Morgan exclaimed, trying to wiggle out of her father’s arms. “Auntie Nat!”

Tony failed to keep her there, and let her run to welcome the guests. Y/N and Tony shared a look. They knew that, since Scott was with them, this wasn’t just a friendly visit. Y/N walked down the porch, to where Morgan was chatting Steve’s ear off in his arms.

“Hey, Mo,” Y/N called to her daughter. “Why don’t we go inside and make drinks for everyone? Then you can talk your uncle’s ear off.”

“Okay,” she sighed, turning to reach Y/N. Y/N took her from Steve.

“Please don’t ask anything stupid of him,” Y/N whispered to Steve. “He’s—we’re finally happy.”

Steve didn’t bother to answer, which Y/N huffed about before heading into the house with Morgan. Tony, Steve, Nat, and Scott gathered on the porch as Morgan and Y/N made drinks inside. Scott was explaining something when Y/N brought a tray of drinks out to Tony. She wished she could hear what they were talking about, but she needed to stay in with Morgan. Y/N watched from the window as she fed Morgan.

“Now, we know what it sounds like—“ Scott said, finishing his story.

“Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” Steve interrupted.

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?” Tony asked, handing out drinks.

“Thank you.”

“In Layman's terms, it means you're not coming home.”

“I did,” Scott said.

“No, you accidentally survived. It's a billion to one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull off a... What do you call it?”

“A time heist?”

“Yeah, a time heist. Of course, why didn't we think of this before? Oh, because it's laughable? Because it's a pipedream?”

“The Stones are in the past. We can go back and get them.”

“We can snap our own fingers,” Natasha stated. “We can bring everyone back.”

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?” Tony responded.

“I don’t believe we would,” Steve said.

“Gotta say, sometimes I miss that giddy optimism. However, high hopes won't help if there's no logical, tangible way for me to safely execute said time heist. I believe the most likely outcome would be our collective demise.” Tony sat down.

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel,” Scott replied. “That means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events—“

Tony held a hand out. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Scott. Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back To The Future?”

“No.”

“Good. You had me worried there. 'Cause that'd be horse shit. That's not how quantum physics works.”

“Tony…” Natasha called. “We have to take a stand.”

“We did stand. And yet, here we are.”

“I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did,” Scott was pleading.

Y/N could see that Tony was getting overwhelmed and she quickly told her daughter to go and save him.

“And now, now we have a chance to bring her back,” Scott continued. “To bring everyone back. And you're telling me that won't even—“

“That’s right, Scott, I won’t even. I got a kid.”

Morgan ran up to Tony, who quickly set her in his lap. “Mommy told me to come and save you,” she said.

“Good job. I’m saved.” Tony stood up, facing his friends. "I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and table's set for six.”

“Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you and Y/N, I really am. But this is a second chance.”

“I got my second chance right here, Cap. I can't roll the dice again. If you don't talk shop, you can stay for lunch.” He headed inside.

“Talk to Y/N about it. Think it over.”

“No need. We can’t risk this.”

Tony entered the house, holding Morgan close. He went straight into the kitchen to get washed up for lunch. Y/N watched as their three visitors walked back to Steve’s car. Steve looked back at the house, making eye contact with Y/N through the window.

~~~

Tony was quieter than usual the rest of the day. This worried Y/N, but she couldn’t let it get to her. She needed to take care of Morgan. They made dinner together and Tony and Morgan chatted loudly over dinner. He even offered to do the dishes while Y/N tucked in Morgan.

As Tony finished the last of the dishes, he lost hold of the hose, causing water to spray everywhere. Including the small shelves beside the sink that held a photo of Howard and a photo of Tony and Peter. Seeing the photo of Peter slightly wet, Tony grabbed it to dry it off. Looking down he say Peter’s face. He missed that kid so much. He looked up, with a determination he hadn’t felt in a while.

When Y/N came down from tucking in Morgan, Tony was at a table. He was talking to FRIDAY and playing around with a hologram. She knew very well to leave him alone when he was like this, so she grabbed her book and curled up on the couch.

Tony was still going strong about an hour and a half later:

"Look at a mod inspiration, let me see what check out,” he told FRIDAY. “So, recommend one last sim before we pack it in for the night. This time, in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted, please.”

“Processing,” FRIDAY responded.

“Give me that eigenvalue. That, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp. That will take a second.” He stuffed some food in his mouth.

“Just a moment.”

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out. I’m just kinda—“

“Model rendered.”

Tony fell back into a chair, in complete shock and amazement. “Shit!”

“Shit,” Morgan giggled.

Tony turned around to see Morgan sitting on the stairs behind him, large smile on her face.

“Sshhh,” Tony shushed, finger over his mouth. “What are you doing up, little miss?” He whispered.

“Shit,” she repeated.

“No, we don't say that. Only Mommy says that word. She coined it, it belongs to her.”

“Why you up?”

“'Cause I got some important shit going on here.” Morgan raised a brow at her father, not impressed. “What do you think? No, I got something on my mind. I got something on my mind.”

“Was it Juice Pops?”

“Sure was. That’s extortion.” He stood up and took his daughter’s hand. “Great minds think alike. Juice Pops, exactly was on…” Tony looked back at the model before heading to the kitchen with Morgan, “…my mind.”

~~~

“You done?” Tony asked with a smile on his face. Morgan was lying in her bed, finishing a Juice Pop. “Yeah, now you are.” He took the popsicle stick before wiping Morgans lips with his sleeve and pushing her head onto her pillow. “That face goes there.”

“Tell me a story,” Morgan said.

“A story… Once upon a time, Maguna went to bed. The end.”

“That’s a horrible story,” Morgan giggled.

“Come on, that's your favorite story. I love you tons.” He kissed Morgan on the forehead as he stood up.

“I love you 3000.”

Tony grinned, “wow,” he mouthed, putting the popsicle stick in his mouth. He turned off her lamp and headed to the door. “3000. That’s crazy. Go to bed. Or I’ll see all your toys. Night, night.”

Tony shut the door and heading to the living room. Y/N was still curled up reading.

“Not that it's a competition, but she loves me 3000,” Tony stated as he came up to the side of the couch.

“Oh does she now?” Y/N questioned.

“You were somewhere on the low 6 to 900 range.” Y/N scoffed as Tony chewed on the stick and looked at the fireplace. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, it's just a book on composting,” she responded.

“What's new with composting?”

“Just—“

“I figured it out, by the way.”

Y/N looked up at Tony. “You know, just so we're talking about the same thing—“

“Time travel.”

“What? Wow… I… That’s amazing, and… terrifying.”

“That’s right.” Tony sat down on the other end of the couch.

Y/N reached over and squeezed Tony’s shoulder. “We got really lucky.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

“No, I can't help everybody.”

“It sort a seems like you can.”

“Not if I stop. I can put a pin in it right now, and stop.”

“Tony… getting each other to stop has been one of the few failures of our lives.”

He smiled lightly at her. “I sometimes feel I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of a lake... go to bed.”

“But would you be able to rest? Cause I sure as hell won’t be able to… I’ll stand by your side no matter you choose.”

“You already know what I’ll choose though, don’t you? Cause you’ve seen in.”

“I haven’t seen it… but I know that last fight isn’t the last.”

“I just… I can’t lose you and Morgan.”

“You won’t.” Y/N grabbed Tony’s hand. “We’re going to do this. Together…” She leaned in and kissed him softly. “Your lips taste like Juice Pops,” she giggled against his lips.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.”

She shook her head before kissing him again, this time more heated. Tony pulled her onto his lap.

“What would you say to grabbing some Juice Pops and taking this upstairs?” Y/N panted slightly.

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” He placed on last kiss on Y/N’s lips before standing them both up. “I’ll grab the pops, meet you up stairs.”

“We have to be quiet though. Last time Morgan almost walked in on us.”

“Oh, don’t worry. FRIDAY won’t let that happen again.”

next chapter >

NOTES: Sorry about the time jump. Please send in requests for one shots or questions you want answered about the missing time. Try to be specific.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x rogers!reader #tony stark imagine #marvel x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x sister!reader #morgan stark x reader #morgan stark #morgan stark x mom!reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #tony stark #iron man x reader #iron man imagine

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spooderboyandtincan · 4 years ago

Text

You’re Gonna Miss Me

(When I’m Gone)

Read on Ao3

/ST*RKERS DNI/

~~~~~

Tony doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

That’s a lie. Utter bullshit. He’s lying to himself. Tony knows exactly why his heart is fluttering in his chest like he’d run a marathon, why his chest struggled to rise like there was twenty pound weight rested on it.

Though to be fair, when he made an anonymous donation of a meager 50,000 dollars to Midtown Science and Technology, he hadn’t expected Peter’s decathlon team to put in a request to the school board to travel abroad, and he definitely hadn’t expected the school to immediately approve it. He thought they’d use it to replace the sudsy water in the bathrooms they called soap with the real stuff or some shit, not whisk his kid away to Vienna for a whole week where Tony couldn’t even hug him, couldn’t protect him.

Peter is thrilled, though. Ecstatic. When he’d broken the news to Tony and May, he’d been over the moon with excitement, his round cheeks flushed pink and his eyes gleaming. Even two weeks ago, Tony had felt a deep sense of apprehension kindling in his chest, but with the date seemingly so far away, he’d pushed it to the back of his mind.

He wishes now that he’d done something. He should have told Peter he couldn’t bear to be without him like he was an actor in a cheesy soap opera (it was true, he couldn’t); tell Peter he needed him on a “mission” that would mysteriously be canceled. Though they’d probably end up taking a plane or a suit to Vienna anyways (despite what he liked to say to Rhodey, he was not at all immune to Peter’s puppy eyes); hell, he should have purposely tripped on the stairs and broken his leg so Peter, sweet, kind, empathetic Peter, would immediately decide to stay by his side where Tony could keep him safe.

He missed Peter when he was at his apartment in fucking Queens, thirty minutes from Stark Tower. He didn’t know how he’d handle having him 4,222 miles away. He didn’t know if he could.

“Damn,” he hisses, pushing himself from his bed with a grunt and making a beeline towards Peter’s room. He dashes in. The sight of his sleeping son (read: lump of blankets) is enough to take his breath away.

Tony had missed him. It had been four hours since he’d tucked him in and kissed him goodnight, and Tony had missed him. Peter was fifteen feet away.

This trip is going to be the death of him. He’s going to drop dead of a goddamn heart attack before Peter even gets on the plane.

Tony sinks carefully onto the mattress and rests his hand on the boy’s neck, some deep, parental instinct in him immediately soothed by the slow, steady beat of his pulse. Peter is curled under the thick blue blanket, only his chestnut curls visible which are tinged blue from the Iron Man nightlight on the wall, his breath puffing out in those little snuffling snores that Tony absolutely adores.

He leans down to kiss his temple, inhales the familiar scent of his favorite strawberry shampoo and is overwhelmed by the wave of infinite love that washes over him. He loves this kid so much it sometimes hurts.

Leaning back, he smooths his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone. He doesn’t want to leave the boy’s side. He doesn’t know if he physically can. Maybe asleep Peter has somehow sensed this, because there’s a small mewl from the bundle of blankets, and two bleary doe eyes flutter open.

“T’ny?”

“Hey,” Tony whispers, running a hand through his curls. “Hey, jellybean. Sorry I woke you up.” Peter rolls over with heavy limbs and rubs his eyes with a fist in a childlike motion, yawning in a way that resembles all those yawning kitten videos he’s made Tony watch.

God, he’s adorable, Tony thinks. His heart is melting. He’s so small, so young. Tony feels an instinctual, almost uncontrollable urge to protect this kid, to wrap him in his arms and keep him from harm for the rest of time.

Peter is oblivious. “‘S… s’okay,” he mumbles. His hand sneaks out of the blankets and tugs on his arm lethargically, which the genius knows is sleepy Peter language for “cuddle with me.” Tony chuckles fondly and slides under the covers.

He props himself up on an elbow and gazes down at his beloved boy, stroking a finger down his cheek. Peter smiles sleepily up at him from his assortment of pillows. “Hi.”

His face splits into a wide grin. “Hi, Pete.”

Peter frowns at him then, a sudden change from his drowsy, half-asleep state. “You… you ‘kay? Wha’ time’s it?” He tries to sit up, but Tony hushes him gently with a “Everything’s okay, bud, just a typical 2am visit from your friendly neighborhood Iron Man.”

He smiles, so Tony counts the joke as a win. It’s not one of his best, but hey, forgive him if he’s a little anxious about his kid going to another fucking continent.

(He refuses to acknowledge that it’s not just being away from Peter that’s stressing him out, it’s the fact that anything could happen to him while they’re apart.)

Tony looks back to Peter, opening his mouth to talk, only to find that he’s completely conked out. He balls up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and wipes the line of drool tracing down the boy’s chin away, finding that a soft smile has formed on his face, the one that only makes its appearance around Peter.

Peter snuggles into him the second he lies down, resting his curly head just over his heart. Tony wraps a protective arm around his back and rubs small circles on his soft blanket hoodie. “G’night,” he whispers, bending to kiss the top of his head. “Sweet dreams, baby. I love you.”

He can feel Peter’s heartbeat thumping steadily against his chest- can hear his soft kitten snores. The warm weight of his body is so comforting that for a moment he thinks that maybe, just maybe, this trip isn’t going to be the end of him. That everything’s going to be okay.

~~~~~

Peter’s starting to regret eating all those waffles for breakfast. He feels shaky all over, like he could collapse or throw up any second. He’d told Tony he was going to pop in the bathroom, but he’s been in there for at least ten minutes, settled back on his heels on the cold, grimy floor of an airport bathroom, trying to breathe properly.

Speaking of Tony, he can hear the man just outside the door, typing on his phone and sipping from a cheap cup of coffee. Peter immediately experiences a hot flash of guilt, realizing that he must have grown worried while he was gone.

Sure enough, the door swings open and there’s a soft knock. “Pete? Everything okay, bud?”

Peter stands up and unlocks the stall. “Tony,” he sniffles, taking an unsteady step forward. Tony rushes forward and gathers him in his arms

“Whoa, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he says gently, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “You’re okay, Pete. Breathe, just breathe, bud. It’s okay.”

“I don’t-” Peter whispers. “I don’t know, Tony, I-I wanna go, but I can’t, I don’t know w-what to do.”

“Breathe, honey. It’s okay, I’m here, we’ll figure this out, okay? You just gotta take a breath, alright?”

Peter tries- fails. Tries again, and manages to gasp a breath in. “Sorry,” he croaks, when he can properly breathe again. “Tony, I-I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” Tony murmurs, squeezing him tight. “Nothing to be sorry for, Pete.” After snatching a paper towel and soaking it in the sink, he runs the scratchy cloth over Peter’s face and kisses his forehead when he’s done. “Okay, bubba. You wanna go back out or stay in here?”

“Out,” he replies without hesitation. The flickering white lights above are starting to give him a headache, not to mention the leaky faucet and the freezing tile floors and the faulty air conditioning. Tony leads him out with an arm around his shoulder and guides him to a little nook, where they both plop down on a neon green beanbag.

“My parents died in a plane crash,” Peter whispers.

Tony squeezes his shoulder. “I know buddy. I’m sorry.” Unlike a lot of the “sorries” Peter has heard, this one is sincere. Sometimes he forgets that Tony is an orphan too.

“I- I mean, logically, I know the plane won’t crash,” he continues, “But I guess it’s still hard for me to believe that. Like a- a gut feeling?”

The man nods in understanding. “I know how you feel, kiddo. I was terrified of cars after my parents died- I took the subway everywhere despite the paparazzi bloodhounds.” Tony doesn’t broach the subject of his parent’s deaths often, especially not in a crowded public airport, so Peter makes sure to pay attention.

“Then, the fear just kinda… vanished.” He wiggles his fingers dramatically. “I started driving without even thinking, didn’t realize I was in a car ‘til I got on the highway. I had to pull over when I did, but since then, I’m perfectly fine with cruisin’ at 80 mph. But,” he says seriously, meeting Peter’s eyes. “I think you should listen to what your gut’s tellin’ you, buddy. It’s important to listen to yourself- what inner you is saying.” He pokes Peter’s belly a couple times for good measure, which makes his face scrunch up adorably.

Peter nods, and really tries to listen to his gut. The pair both go silent in concentration, and then- his stomach grumbles. They both burst into laughter, born more from nerves than hilarity.

“Inner you wants to eat,” Tony snorts. “I think I saw a place with the biggest blueberry muffins of my life by the escalators, wanna stop there?”

Despite eating a huge stack of waffles just hours earlier, Peter wolfs down two of the gigantic blueberry poppyseed muffins, much to the amusement of Tony.

They made their way to the gate, where Peter’s teacher, Mr. Harrington was lounging, dressed in an ugly red sweater, his long legs stretched in front of him.

“Peter!” he cried as he spotted them, scrambling to his feet. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I had the wrong date! We’re leaving today, right?”

“Oh, yeah Mr. Harrington, we’re going today!” Peter laughs. He’s used to dealing with his scatter-brained teacher. “I’m actually here early, the plane’s supposed to leave at 1:00.” He gestures vaguely to the big digital clock over his head reading 11:54 AM, EDT.

Mr. Harrington frowns. “I thought it left at 8 am! You mean I’ve been here for hours in this awful chair when I could have been sipping a piña colada in my jacuzzi?!” He collapses back in his chair and pulls a sleeping mask over his eyes with a sigh.

“Sorry, Mr. Harrington,” Peter chuckles, then pulls Tony to a row of uncomfortable seats in the corner of the waiting area.

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, just watching the various travellers rush past. A little girl, around two or three, comes up and shyly asks for Tony’s autograph, but no one else recognizes the genius. (Thanks to his foolproof disguise of a baseball cap and scarf covering up his iconic beard, the genius claims.)

“So, what are we thinking?” Tony asks after about half an hour. “Do you wanna go?” He secretly hopes Peter will say no, hopes that they can go home and binge watch all of the Star Trek episodes and fill their bodies with junk.

Peter nods hesitantly. “I think so. I-is that okay? I might change my mind, but- yes. Yeah, I think I want to go.”

Tony squeezes his hand. “Of course it’s okay baby, that’s perfectly fine. If you change your mind, you know what? That’s great too. Whatever you want, that’s what’s important.” He kisses Peter’s forehead and lets his hand linger for a moment where it rests on the boy’s cheek. “If you change your mind at any point, I’ll come pick you up, okay?”

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter breathes, slumping heavily against his side.

“Of course, bud. Anything for my Peter.”

They stop for lunch at a cozy little coffee shop, which is thankfully devoid of fans and paparazzi. Peter orders (or rather, makes Tony order) a small hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows and whipped cream) even though drinking a lot before a non-stop ten hour flight is probably not the best idea. (He can’t help it. He’s nervous.)

When the pair gets back to their gate, they find Ned and his family. The boy’s greet each other enthusiastically, performing their signature handshake, while Tony simply throws up a peace sign to Ned’s rather stunned parents.

The friends pull out their phones -probably playing one of those ghastly animated games that Peter is always quoting. Tony pretends to look busy on his phone, but really, he’s just trying to distract himself from the terrifying fact that he’s not going to see Peter for a week.

Too soon, the speaker crackles, a crisp voice announcing, “Attention. We are now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria. Now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria.”

Tony’s heart stops. Peter freezes.

No, they think at the same time. Not yet.

Peter turns to Tony, panicked. “Hey,” the man says, pushing away every anxiety, every worry away so he can focus on his kid. He sees Ned approach them, but stop when his father places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Breathe, baby, it’s okay.”

“Tony.” Peter wraps his skinny arms around his waist.

“I know, baby, I know.” Tony kisses the top of his head and hugs him close. “Follow my breathing. You’re okay. We’re good.”

Around them, the members of the decathlon team are rising, but Tony and Peter sit in those unforgettable chairs, clutching each other tightly, not yet ready to let go.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Peter whimpers.

“I know kiddo, me too. I’m gonna miss you so much, but I’m always gonna be here, okay? If you need me, just call, or text, use morse code, doesn’t matter. I’m always here for you.”

“I’m here for you too,” Peter says. “I- I’ll call you every day.” Peter’s bottom lip is trembling, just barely, but enough for Tony to hug him a little tighter and kiss his forehead. “I love you, Tony,” he sniffs.

“I love you too, Pete. I love you so much.” Tony’s not crying. He’s not. The restaurant a few stores down is just cooking onions, that’s why his eyes are watering.

Peter pulls away and grabs his duffel bag, taking a step toward the loading dock. Tony tries not to burst into sobs. Stay, his mind whispers. Please stay.

Then Peter turns around, eyes full of tears, and slams straight into Tony’s chest, hugging him so tight he can barely breathe. Tony rocks them back and forth, cherishing everything about his sweet boy. When they finally break apart, Peter says, “I’ll be back before you know it,” echoing what Tony has said to him so many times before he leaves for a business trip.

Then he smiles a watery smile and runs to catch up with his best friend. Just before he disappears into the loading dock, he turns around and waves wildly at Tony.

Tony waves back, grinning. “I love you,” he mouths.

“I love you too!” Peter mouths back, and steps into the dock.

“I love you,” Tony whispers, hastily wiping the dampness from his eyes. “I love you, Peter.”

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

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#chapter 1/2 #peter parker #tony stark #ned leeds #anxious thoughts #panic attacks #peter parker needs a hug #peter parker gets a hug #tony stark needs a hug #tony stark has a heart #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #other tags to be added #no st*rker #st*rkers dni #my writing

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thatsamericano · 4 years ago

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Pink Sky up on the Roof

Pairing: America/Romano

Rating: Teen, only for cursing. No warnings.

Word Count: 1409

Summary: When the world meeting has a short break, Romano goes up to the roof to smoke a cigarette and watch the sunset. America joins him, and they have a meaningful conversation, just like they did the first time they sat on a roof together nearly a century ago.

A/N: Written for day 7 “sunrise/sunset” of @aphrarepairweek2021. The fic is loosely based on “It’s Nice to Have a Friend” by Taylor Swift, and the title is taken from the song too.

Romano sat on the roof of the building where the world conference was being held, and he leisurely smoked a cigarette and gazed down at the view of his people bustling along the Piazza del Popolo. The sky had turned into a warm palette of orange and pink, and he could see the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica in the distance.

A sudden noise made him turn to the left. He relaxed when he saw it was just America.

America grinned. “Hey, Vinny. Wasn’t expecting to see you up here.”

Savino turned to look back over the horizon and took a draw of his cigarette. “I needed a smoke break. You?”

He heard America’s footsteps scuffing along the concrete, then heard Alfred sitting down next to him on his left side. “I needed a break in general. I just checked my phone, and I’ve gotten 52 emails since lunch.”

“Fifty-two? That seems excessive.”

“Forty-eight of them were from various government officials.” America sighed. “They give me so much work, but most of the time it’s just paper pushing. They never let me do anything substantial, but then of course, they blame me the second anything goes wrong.”

It was rare to see America like this. Usually he projected so much optimism, especially about himself and his people, that one would never suspect he might feel cynical or disappointed with his own government. Alfred kept any sadness close to the vest, but Romano knew him better than most other nations did. They’d lived together, after all.

“You don’t deserve to be treated like that. Next time one of them blames you for shit that isn’t your fault, you ought to tell them to fuck off.”

Alfred laughed. “You know, sometimes I wish I could.” He scooted close enough to bump shoulders with Savino. “But thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

“Don’t mention it.” Savino forced himself to act casual, as if the fact that Fredo was technically touching him now wasn’t bringing to life feelings that should have died a long time ago. Or that, frankly, should have never existed in the first place.

A couple minutes of silence followed. Alfred seemed to be contemplating something deeply, and Savino was content to let him.

Suddenly, Alfred let out a laugh. “You know, this kind of reminds me of that time we hung out on a roof before. Do you remember? It was about a week after you moved in with me.”

Savino cast his mind back to an evening long ago on a different rooftop much closer to the ground, with only the view of an unfamiliar backyard instead of his home. He’d felt so lonely and lost back then. “I remember.”

“Before you told me what was going on with you, I just figured you hated me. It really surprised me when you shared all of that.”

“I needed someone to talk to,” he admitted quietly. He put out his cigarette and smirked over at Alfred. “And you asked me if I knew how to make Italian food.” Alfredo had said a lot of goofy things over the years, but that had to be by far one of the stupidest.

Alfred’s face now matched the pink sky. “But it worked, didn’t it? You realized you had more choices than you’d thought, and that all that stuff about you not being capable compared to your brother wasn’t true. In just one night, we went from you thinking I was an annoying jackass you had to live with to actually being friends.”

“You’re right. Asking me that did work, ridiculous as the question was.” Something had changed in him that night, and he had begun to see Alfred differently, just as Alfred had said. After that night, Romano slowly became comfortable being in America’s presence in a way he wasn’t with most people. Living together had worked so well that part of him regretted having to move away, and not just because of the sad look on Alfred’s face on the day he said goodbye.

But sitting next to Alfred posed a danger that scared him far more than falling off this building would. The longer he sat with America, talking about the past and the present, the harder it became to suppress the urge to grab America’s hand, which was resting a few precarious centimeters away from him. Yet holding Alfred’s hand would require an explanation Savino wasn’t prepared to give, and Savino was even less prepared for Alfred’s potential reaction to receiving any kind of romantic overture from him.

It was best for him to keep his feelings locked up inside, just as it had been for nearly a century.

Alfred swallowed so heavily that Savino could see his Adam’s apple move, then stared out at the city underneath them. “That night meant a lot to me. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I think part of it was that I just liked being close to you.”

“You must have, since you followed me out onto the roof,” Savino joked. He felt a little uneasy at the abrupt mood change. Why was Alfredo acting so nervous all of a sudden?

“I… I still like being close to you. Only, I think I’d like to be even closer, if that’s okay.”

America’s words were cryptic, and they didn’t make much sense at first. Romano frowned as he puzzled them over, but right as he was about to ask Alfred what the hell he was trying to say, he felt a touch, featherlight, and barely there. He glanced down and saw Alfred’s pinky hesitantly brushing the side of his hand.

A smile broke out on his face as he took Alfred’s hand. “It’s okay, Fredo.”

Alfred laced their fingers together, but he looked worried, as if he wasn’t sure if that was allowed. “It is?”

“Absolutely. If I didn’t want this, I would’ve told you, wouldn’t I?”

Alfred grinned in that so bright it almost hurt to look at way that Savino loved so much. “Oh, that’s good. I’m glad.”

His heart was hammering inside his chest, and just the idea of saying it made Savino feel incredibly vulnerable and embarrassed. But he would’ve regretted not saying it more, so he avoided direct eye contact just to get the words out of his mouth. “If, um, if you wanted to kiss me, that would be okay too.”

America’s smile somehow got even bigger as he started to lean in, and Romano closed his eyes.

Alfred tasted faintly of leftover soft drink, and his glasses were pressed into the corner of Savino’s eye. His kiss was clumsy, like he hadn’t ever done this before, but Savino didn’t mind. Alfred’s free hand was cupping his cheek, and when he pulled away, Savino couldn’t help whining in protest.

Alfred chuckled. “God, Vinny, I could look at you forever.”

Savino opened his eyes to squint at him skeptically. “Really? Even with all that gorgeous scenery right in front of you?” He gestured out to the view that Alfred was ignoring in favor of staring at him with an unbelievably sappy gleam in his eyes.

“Even then.”

America was so damn sincere that Romano just had to kiss him again. But only a couple seconds later, both of their cell phones went off.

Alfred pouted when Romano pulled away to check his phone messages. “It’s Germany. Apparently, the meeting was supposed to resume five minutes ago, and everyone is wondering where the fuck we are.”

“Can’t we just skip? Making out with you is way more important than whatever the rest of today’s presentations are.”

“I wish we could, but that would probably lead to too many questions we don’t want to answer. Not just from the other countries, but from our bosses too.”

“Fine. We’ll go be ‘responsible representatives.’ But you owe me lots of kisses after this meeting is done.”

Romano rolled his eyes as America stood up and helped pull him up too, but he was pleased that Alfred wanted this to continue. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving you, tesoro.”

Alfred swung their hands back and forth as they walked to the door that led back into the building. He only let go for a couple seconds to open the door for both of them, then started holding Savino’s hand again with a firmness and certainty that made it clear he wouldn’t let anything or anyone pry them apart.

#hetalia #aphrarepairweek2021 #aphrarepairweek #romerica #hws america #hws romano #hws south italy #aph america #aph romano #aph south italy #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #hws fanfic #hws fanfiction #aph fanfic #aph fanfiction #my writing #original post

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thebonerpit · 5 years ago

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home with you [fic]

Starkercest, 1596 words, [E]. TW: inc*st, alcohol

A brief interlude when Tony is home from college on a break. 100% transparency here, this is actually part of a fic I wrote AGES ago for a completely different fandom. I can’t remember if I ever posted it or not? But I found it in my drafts and liked the scene so I repurposed it. I’m hoping to have actual new content to share soon!

“Peter, what the hell is this?”

Tony gingerly lifted the box off the counter, holding it away from him as if it had some kind of infectious disease. The remaining liquid sloshed around in the bottom as he held it out towards Peter, who was currently lying upside down on the couch, his face flushed bright red.

“Wine.”

“No, Peter, this is not wine. This is wine in a box. It’s barely even deserving of the same name.”

Peter shrugged (upside down) and didn’t seem to notice that his t-shirt was slipping down his body, exposing his taut stomach. Tony exhaled lowly and dropped the box back on the counter before going over to sit on the floor by Peter’s head.

“Is this some kind of teenage rebellion thing?”

Peter looked up at Tony with an expression that might have been approaching innocence had he not been too drunk to prevent a small smirk from twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“What if I just like box wine?”

Tony sighed. “No one likes box wine, Petey.”

Peter frowned slightly. “Do you think if I stayed like this long enough my head would explode?”

“I don’t know, but how about we avoid the possibility all together, huh? Come on.” Tony pushed himself up on the couch and reached down to grasp Peter’s bare waist. His skin was almost hot to the touch and Peter blinked his eyes furiously, trying to focus as the rush from being suddenly upright caused him to sway precariously on the edge of the sofa.

“Hey,” Tony said quietly, holding Peter’s face with one hand, “don’t fall, you’ll crack your head open. Mom would kill us if we got blood on her new carpet.”

Peter giggled and threw Tony a lazy smile before swinging his legs off the back of the sofa. He clumsily shifted around before settling himself down on Tony’s lap.

“Here, now you can hold me up.”

“Not exactly what I had in mind, but sure.” Peter had draped himself over Tony’s body and his warmth break tickled Tony’s neck. “Peter...”

“What?” The voice was muffled as he had now rested his head on Tony’s shoulder and was practically breathing in the fabric of his shirt.

“Peter, listen to me. Dad’s home, remember? We agreed never to do... this when he’s here.”

“Dad can kiss my ass.” Peter giggled again and brought his hands up to caress the back of Tony’s head, raking his fingers gently through the dark hair.

Tony closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy it for a brief moment before pushing Peter away. “Peter,” he said with as much sternness as he could muster.

“Tony,” Peter replied playfully.

“He would kill us.”

“I can be quiet.”

“You’re never quiet.”

Peter considered that for a minute, biting his lip thoughtfully before nodding in agreement. Tony prepared himself to get up but was interrupted when Peter leaned in and started nibbling on his neck.

“Did we not just have a conversation about how this was a bad idea, and that you – especially drunk you – would wake up the entire house with your... enthusiasm?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter whispered between wet kisses, his breath bringing up goose bumps on Tony’s neck. “It’s not going to be me making all the noise tonight.”

Tony’s eyes widened with surprise. “Apparently box wine makes you almost as cocky as me.”

Peter just laughed and began trailing kisses along Tony’s jaw line. Tony grasped the back of Peter’s head and wound his fingers through his thick, wavy hair. He always said that haircut made Peter look like he was perpetually fifteen, but secretly he loved being able to run his hands through it like this. It was soft, and warm, and it made him feel at home.

Peter had made his way to Tony’s mouth and was now kissing him in earnest. He tasted sour from the cheap wine, but Tony barely noticed as their tongues wound together and tiny moans escaped from both of their mouths. Peter squirmed in Tony’s lap, grinding their bodies together, and Tony grabbed his hips in an attempt to hold him still.

“Lemme go,” Peter said with a hint of a pout playing across his face.

Tony shook his head. “You’re always so eager, baby. Sometimes it’s better if you slow it down.”

“What, like now, when Dad could come downstairs at any minute?”

“... good point. Maybe we’ll save that lesson for another time.”

Peter rolled his eyes but he was grinning widely, and he dove back in to capture Tony’s mouth again. The room was quiet save for the ticking of the old grandfather clock, and the rustling of clothing and frantic breathing from the two boys entwined on the couch.

There was a sudden absence of warmth on Tony’s lap, and he began to protest until Peter shifted down to his knees on the floor in front of him. His face was still flushed, now from both the wine and the heat of his own pleasure, and he looked up at Tony through that one loose curl of hair that never seemed to stay put.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Tony breathed, running a thumb along Peter’s lower lip. Peter opened his mouth at the touch, flicking his tongue out to taste Tony’s skin before taking his thumb wholly in his mouth, sucking on it gently, never breaking eye contact.

Tony was beginning to ache, his erection straining against his pants. He started to undo the top button but Peter quickly took over (always so eager) so all Tony had to do was lift his hips as Peter pulled the pants and boxers away. He immediately took Tony in his mouth, moaning around his cock and sending vibrations up through his body.

“Oh, god,” Tony said, probably too loudly, before he remembered they were trying to be discreet. Peter released him for a second and smiled.

“Told you.”

“Shut up,” he said in a much quieter tone, although it was gentle... he was always gentle with Peter. He wasn’t sure why, really, although he never stopped to think about it until now. Perhaps it was because he felt safe, private, like no one but Peter would ever see this side of him. He wasn’t able to be this kind of a person in public. He just... couldn’t. Tony knew Peter probably resented him for it, but he had a reputation to uphold. He was acerbic and cocky, the smartest one in the room, the playboy, the party boy, wild and chaotic and free. People like that don’t hold their brothers close in the middle of the night as if they were afraid they might float away at any minute...

“Hey.” Peter had sat up taller on his knees and was staring at Tony, eyebrows furrowed together with concern. “You disappeared there for a minute.”

Tony smiled and leaned down to kiss Peter warmly on the lips, long and soft and tender. “I haven’t gone anywhere,” he said, letting his forehead rest against Peter’s. Peter smiled in response, and Tony reached up to brush a thumb across his eyebrow that had been slightly crooked ever since Tony could remember, adding endearing personality to his handsome face.

Peter slithered back down Tony’s body and grasped his cock firmly before taking it in his mouth again with renewed enthusiasm. Tony bit his lip to keep himself from moaning out loud as Peter licked and sucked and enveloped every inch of Tony with his wet, hot mouth.

Peter’s technique kept getting better each time and Tony couldn’t help but be jealous as he thought of who else Peter might have been practicing on while he was away at college. He gripped Peter’s hair a little harder, clinging on to him as his head bobbed up and down.

“Look at me,” Tony rasped lowly. Peter flashed his eyes towards Tony, gazing up at him through thick eyelashes. He smiled as much as he could, Tony’s cock still full in his mouth, and hollowed his cheeks as he took all he could, his tongue continuing to trace slow, lazy trails up and down Tony’s shaft.

Not allowing himself to look away from Peter’s eyes, Tony shuddered and gripped on to Peter’s shoulders as he came. Peter’s eyes widened a bit, not expecting Tony to finish so soon, and he gagged slightly. A small amount of come that Peter wasn’t able to swallow dripped from the corner of his mouth and down his chin, and Peter blushed furiously, embarrassed that the brief illusion he had of being in control of the situation had vanished.

Tony, still breathing hard and shuddering with the aftershock of his orgasm, cupped the side of Peter’s face clumsily, wiping away any remaining wetness. “C’mere,” he said lowly and brought Peter up close to his chest, wrapping him up in his arms.

“I love you,” Tony whispered, a sentiment that was only ever whispered, and he was so quiet he wasn’t sure if Peter even heard him properly, but he felt Peter’s body relax into him and mirrored the action with his own. Their breathing became low and even as they both drifted in and out of a light sleep, the warmth of the wine still running through Peter’s body and Tony fading into the feeling of his own spent pleasure.

Neither of them heard the soft footsteps as Howard stepped out from behind the doorframe, an indiscernible expression on his face as he watched his two sons curled up on the couch like lovers.

#starker #nff #tony x peter #starkercest #tbpwrites

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nah-she-didnt · 4 years ago

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Toujours Aimé

Read on AO3!

Four fifteen year olds, a bottle of fire whiskey, quill ink, and a sewing needle do not mix well together.

**Disclaimer:** sitck and poke tattoos scare the shit out of me and I only vaguely know how they work, so kids, don’t try this at home! And definitely don’t let a fifteen year old dumbass (affectionate) sitck and poke you in the woods with only fire to sanitize...

“OUCH!” James yelped dramatically.

“Hold still!”

“I can’t! You lied, you said this wouldn’t hurt a bit!”

“I said it wouldn’t hurt that bad, you big baby. I’m repeatedly stabbing you with a needle, of course it hurts!”

“I am not a baby! I just wasn’t properly prepared for the pain and suffering that I would have to endure for this.”

Bemused, Remus shook his head. He was trying very hard not to laugh at his friend’s surprisingly low pain tolerance, for at this moment Remus was trying to keep his hand as still as a statue has he held the needle next to James’ skin.

“It’s a stick and poke tattoo, James,” said Remus patiently, “the stick and poke part should have been a dead giveaway. Now, will you sit still so that I can finish this?”

James sighed, slumping back against the tree stump behind him. “Alright then, just hurry up. Muggles are mad, mad! I don’t know why I ever agreed to this in the first place!”

“Because it looks badass,” smirked Sirius, “Admit it, you’re hoping Evans will swoon when she sees that snitch across your shoulder blade when you inevitably take your shirt off in the common room gain.”

James blushed furiously. “Shut it.”

“I don’t think Evans seems like a tattoo-girl,” said Peter thoughtfully, “she’s rather uptight, wouldn’t you say?”

“Principled,” protested James, “she’s principled, not uptight.”

“Yeah, and her first principle is that you are an absolute git.”

“Shut it again.”

Remus loved nights like this. There were only two weeks left in the summer holidays, and then they would start their fifth year at Hogwarts. The lads had gathered at The Potters’ house earlier that day to set off on a muggle camping trip. They’d hiked to the top of a wooded hill for about two hours before they found the perfect spot, set up camp, and ate overcooked sausages and lukewarm beans from tin cans as the sun set. They were currently sitting around the fire passing around a bottle of Ogden’s under the vast sea of stars above.

Sirius had brought up a tattoo a lion that he’d seen on the forearm of a man in the muggle village they passed on their hike. Remus casually mentioned the process of how muggle tattoos were performed, and before he knew it the marauders were insisting that Remus tattoo them all there and now. Once he reluctantly revealed that he did indeed have a sewing needle in his camping pack the boys were decided.

Remus paused his poking to observe his work. He was currently working on the outline of a snitch across James’ right shoulder blade. He was pleased to note that the tattoo looked rather realistic. Remus couldn’t help but be impressed with himself, he always had a knack for drawing.

“Peter, distract me,” panted James, still shutting his eyes tight against the prick of Remus’ needle. “Have you decided on yours yet?”

“How about a wheel of cheese?” Sirius said seriously, putting a finger to his chin as if deep in thought, “Or, perhaps Mickey Mouse, right across your left bum cheek. That will surely impress the ladies,”

“Shove it,” barked Peter, looking annoyed. He was a bit sensitive about his animagi form and all cheese-related humor. “I thought about maybe the Hogwarts crest? Or a ‘G’ for ‘Gryffindor.”

Remus shook his head. “It needs to be something personal to you, something with hidden significance. It should be something only you fully understand, but that those who are close to you can recognize and appreciate.”

“Damn, Moony,” grinned Sirius, “that was deep.”

“I have my moments,” Remus said, blushing slightly.

“Right, I’ve picked mine then!” cried Sirius, clapping his hands together for emphasis.

“Go on, then,” James prompted.

Sirius paused for dramatic effect, then threw his arms into the air for emphasis. “It’s going to be a wolf howling at the moon!”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Remus’ needle lay limp in his hand as he let Sirius’ pronouncement sink in.

“A wolf... You mean like a....” James began cautiously, as if he wanted to be incorrect.

“Yeah, like Moony, get it?” Sirius beamed. “You know, because if we hadn’t met Moony and -- you know -- werewolf Moony, then we wouldn’t be the marauders that we are today!” His face was starting to falter now, as if he realized that this idea was not popular among the group at large. He frowned defensively. “The secret that really drew us together, the reason we did all that damn work to become animagi last year. Don’t you guys think that’s the perfect thing to commemorate?”

Remus’ heart had sunk into his stomach. The idea of his secret, the horror that lived so close to his surface every day of his life, would be displayed so publicly was almost to much to bear. So too was the idea that he himself was asked to etch his greatest shame onto his best friend’s skin.

“Mate, I don’t think that’s the best idea...” said James, a warning tone starting to grow in his voice, “maybe you should pick something else.”

“No, listen,” Sirius implored, “It’s going to be so cool. It could be like, I dunno, howling at the moon, or running through the woods, or--”

“Tearing itself apart, alone, in the shrieking shack?” Said Remus, his expression cool.

No one spoke. For a few moments all that could be heard was the crackling of the campfire and the rustling of the trees in the night breeze. Remus did not take his eyes off of James’ skin as he finished the last of the snitch.

“Look, Moony--” Sirius started, then seemed to catch himself, “Remus, that isn’t what I meant. But you’re right,” he looked panicked then, “you’re absolutely right, I shouldn’t have said that. Of course you wouldn’t want that, I was just being stupid. I only meant--”

“I know,” said Remus quickly, “I know what you meant. Let’s just drop it, alright?”

Sirius gazed intently at Remus for a beat, then nodded, “Alright, we’ll drop it.”

The four boys sat in awkward silence, watching Remus finish James’ tattoo. Once he was done, he put down the needle and stretched. “Alright, mate, you’re all set. Sorry that I don’t have a lollipop to give you for being such a good boy.”

“A what?” Asked James, flexing his right arm after over half an hour of sitting still.

“Never mind. Alright, who’s next?”

Peter and Sirius looked at each other. “I still haven’t thought of anything good,” shrugged Peter.

Sirius looked into his lap. “Yeah, well, neither have I, obviously.”

Remus sighed. This was certainly not how he’d hoped the night would go. He started to clean the dirty needle in the campfire flames. There is absolutely no way this is sanitary, he thought to himself, these better not get infected because if James has to go to St. Mungo’s for ink poisoning his mum will murder me.

“What about Sirius?” asked James.

“What about me?”

“No, git, what about ‘Sirius’ the star? What if you got the constellation, what’s it called again? Anus Major?”

“Canis Major,” corrected Sirius quickly, “I dunno, I suppose that could be good. But it’ll just remind me of my dear old mum and dad, and my family’s insane obsession with stars as family names.”

“How about a beater’s bat?” suggested Peter hopefully.

“Seems a bit obvious,” shrugged Sirius. “I need something obscure, something that has meaning.”

“Toujours aimé“ whispered Remus.

The boys looked up. “What?” asked James.

Remus lifted his head and looked Sirius straight in the eye. “Toujours aimé, french for ‘always loved.’ You know, a spin on that ‘toujours pur’ ‘always pure’ nonsense.”

Sirius looked dumbfounded. He sat staring at Remus with glassy eyes as something in his head seemed to click. He then smiled wider than he had all evening.

“My god, Moony, that’s it! It’s wicked cool, a big ol’ ‘fuck you’ to mum and dad, and it’ll look great on.” Sirius hurried quickly over to take James’ place next to Remus. He rolled up his sleeve and pointed to his forearm. “I want it right along here, along my left forearm. So they’ll know there’s no room for the dark mark they surely want to put there.”

Remus smiled at his friend’s conviction. Sirius was ever the Gryffindor.

---

Several hours later Remus lay wide awake staring at the roof of the tent. He’d tattooed ‘Toujours Aimé’ down Sirius’ left arm as requested. He’d chosen a simple yet elegant cursive for the font, and shaded the letters so that they seemed to pop against his soft skin. Remus shook his head vigorously. He had to stop thinking about how soft his best mate’s skin was. Or how his forearm muscles clenched as Remus stuck the needle into his skin over and over again. How Sirius would wince at the pain, sucking in a sharp breath so close to Remus’ ear--

“Remus?”

Remus started out of his memory. Sirius was sitting up on his elbows, looking at him from across the snoring forms of James and Peter.

“Yeah?”

“Are you awake?”

“Nope, just a perceptive sleep talker.”

“Ha. Well, I can’t sleep with these trolls. Fancy a walk?”

Remus nodded, taking care not to kick Peter in the head as he pulled on his long pants before stepping through the tent flap into the cool night air. He and Sirius fell into an easy step next to one another as they made their way back to the campfire. A few small embers still glowed in the hearth.

Sirius looked intently at Remus. “Remus, mate, I have to say again how sorry I am. That must have been awful for you, the idea that I would put you on display like that. That I could risk your secret. I shouldn’t have said it, I just got caught up in the excitement. You know, everything we’ve achieved and everything we’ve done together. I never knew that friends like you lot were possible growing up. I still can’t believe sometimes how lucky I got when I met you... you know, uh, all of you,” Sirius corrected himself.

Remus nodded as Sirius talked and waited until he was sure that Sirius had finished his apology. He was trying very hard not to make eye contact with Sirius for he was sure that his eyes would display the emotion he felt at Sirius’ words. He, too, had never known that friendship like this was possible. Remus had spent so much of his childhood completely without the company of anyone who could be considered a true friend. The day he’d met the marauders had changed his life. He understood completely Sirius’ hunger to brand himself with the connection they’d all forged. Finally, he smiled, looking back into Sirius’ face.

“I know all of that, mate. I know exactly how it feels. My life completely changed the day I met you -- and James and Pete, of course. I know you don’t see me as the wolf. It just throws me off, you know, every time I remember that you all know that part of me. I hate that you have to know that part,” he spat bitterly.

Sirius put his hand on Remus’ knee. “I love that part of you. I love every part of you, Moony. You’re my best mate.”

Remus smiled, suddenly embarrassed. “Come on, mate, be serious,”

“I am Sirius.”

“I really walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“Prat,” Sirius grinned.

Remus took a deep breath. “You know, that’s why I suggested ‘always loved.’ Because your parents and their mania aren’t what matter most to you. You know you would die for your friends, and that they would die for you, because the love you. Because we do, you know, love you.”

Sirius looked into the fire now, nodding slightly at Remus’ words. Remus was sure that he could see tears forming in his friend’s eyes. Sirius sniffed loudly and slapped Remus’ knee with the hand that still lay there.

“Come on, enough of this sappy nonsense. What say we finish off the rest of the Ogden’s and go to bed? We’ll surely have a long day of listening to James whine about his tattoo hurting all the way home tomorrow.”

An hour later, when he was back in his sleeping bag, staring up at the ceiling again, Remus couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to have his friends. They could have so easily denied him when they found out who he was, but instead they changed their whole lives for him. He felt his chest swell with emotion at the thought of all they’d done for him, the thought that they’d achieved the impossible for him... the thought that less than an hour ago Sirius had his hand on his knee.

Remus groaned quietly, rolling over to stuff his face into his pillow. He clearly had much bigger problems on the horizon than whether or not James got ink poisoning. f

#nina writes #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fic #remus lupin x sirius black #remus lupin #sirius black #cw: alcohol #cw: needles #tattoos #don't try this at home #poor baby bisexual remus #we've all been there budy #mine

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imaginejamesandsirius · 5 years ago

Note

James comes back to life and realizes that Sirius, while being strong and tough as always, is also touch-starved but afraid of being close to people because touch always meant pain and now Sirius is back in Grimmauld Place because of Dumbledore and neither he nor James can bear it so James makes sure to take care of Sirius and get him used to being loved again, while also being extremely protective of his husband (sorry, I have a thing for protective James). Thank you!

Sirius wasn't used to people touching him anymore. When he was a kid, Orion and Walburga didn't 'believe' in it. Him and Regulus used to hug sometimes, and when they were really small, sometimes Reg would crawl into his bed after a nightmare. Becoming friends with James had completely turned that around in Hogwarts, and the marauders had been comfortable with each other, nudging and hugging whenever they bloody well felt like it. They'd gotten married, and they could hardly be in the same room with out an arm around each other or a hand on the other's shoulder.

But then James and Lily and Regulus were all dead, Peter had betrayed them, and Remus was in the wind, either with Fenrir's pack or running away from them. And Sirius... well, he'd been in Azkaban for twelve years. Nobody touched him. He barely ever saw another human face, just a few times a year when Fudge would check in on the high security prisoners. He always felt most human when Fudge visited, but that was mostly because it brought Sirius a smidgen of joy to freak him out. Fudge would always leave after a few minutes, and all Sirius had was the company of Dementors, who made him feel like he'd never touched another living being in his entire life.

He wasn't going to let his own sodding problems interfere with Harry though, so he made a point to hug him every time he saw him. Merlin knows the kid needs it.

And now, somehow, James was back. There had been some spell that hit the Veil and the next thing everyone knew, James Potter was falling out of it, alive and looking exactly the way he had before he'd gotten killed. It had been a few days, and Sirius still didn't know what to think about it. James had spent most of that time getting shuffled from St. Mungo's to the Ministry and back, and since Sirius was still a fugitive, he couldn't go with him. Not that he wanted to. Remus and Harry and all other sorts of people were keeping him company as he got used to being alive again, and James was-- if not happy-- okay with it. Remus gave him updates, which mostly consisted of fire messages that James thought he was fine and wanted to go home and everyone else had to force him to stay put for the tests and questionnaires and whatever the hell else they were doing. Sirius wondered if James had asked about him. It used to be that you couldn't tear Sirius away from his side, and while he still felt that way (or close to it, at least), he wasn't the same person James had fallen in love with.

So that's why Sirius was here. Laying on the floor of the Grimmauld Place dining room, staring at the ceiling. That was another thing that he hadn't gotten used to yet: soft beds. He couldn't do it even though he'd been staying in this fucking place for nearly a year. Laying on tile was about as good as it got.

He heard Kreacher's shuffling steps, and then the house elf started to mutter, "Filthy blood traitor son of Mistress getting the floor dirty. Poor Kreacher keeps it clean and he does not-"

"Sod off, Kreacher," Sirius said, and Kreacher turned around and started ambling away, talking about how distressed Walburga would be if she could see the house like this. Sirius rolled his eyes, then went back to feeling nothing but cold from the floor creeping up into his bones. It didn't feel good, but it felt familiar.

He stayed there for a while, and he would've stayed there longer if he didn't hear the front door open and people start pouring in. He sighed, pushing himself up and moving to a chair. He had to pretend to be normal, or Molly would keep on with her campaign that Sirius wasn't suited to raising a child. Not that he'd ever thought he could do it in the first place. It had first been Lily's idea, then James's; Sirius was just along for the ride.

James had a sixth sense for his location, he was sure of it. It was the only explanation he could think of for why James entered Grimmauld Place and immediately headed for the dining room, throwing open the door with an excited shout of, "Sirius!" A few people were trailing him-- Harry, Remus, Dora, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny-- but it was obvious that they were there for James, not Sirius. Not that Sirius minded, he wasn't exactly good company. James either didn't notice or didn't care, because he walked right up to Sirius and took the chair next to him, scooting closer and throwing an arm around his shoulders as casually as he ever had. "I'm alive! I know you already knew that, but it took these fuckers three days to make it official. Don't you think they should have been able to put it together before then? It's kinda obvious." Fred, George, and Ginny all went to the kitchen, and Dora followed them after glancing at Remus.

"I think they were making sure you were going to stay that way," Remus said, leaning against the wall.

James waved a hand dismissively. "Whatever. But in even better news, your case is going through!"

A pause.

"I thought you'd be more excited about that."

Sirius shrugged.

"You'll be able to move," Harry said. "I know you hate it here."

"Eh." Of course he hated it here. He kind of hated it everywhere.

"Which brings up a very good question. Why are you staying here?" James asked.

"Dumbledore thought it was a good idea."

"I'm sure he did," James said flatly. "That doesn't explain why you didn't bugger off to one of your houses."

"You have other houses?" Harry asked.

Sirius shook his head. "They're Potter properties."

"Right, which means they're yours. Honestly Si, it's like you're not paying attention. This place is depressing. I think we should pack up and go to the one with the sheep farm next door. Or at least, it used to have a sheep farm next door. I suppose they could've moved, but Mrs. Smith seemed very fond of those things, it's hard to imagine she left. Anyways, there's a pond, the woods, and plenty of green. Anything would be an upgrade from this dismal place-- honestly, who thought this decoration was a good idea?-- but it's by far the prettiest."

Sirius shrugged James's arm off of him, not looking at him so he wouldn't have to see the confused expression that doubtlessly crossed his face. "Yeah, well you and Harry can go live there and visit when you get the time."

"Why wouldn't you come with us?" James asked, innocently confused.

"I'm a fugitive, remember?"

"Yeah, but that's not going to last."

"You could come with us anyways," Harry said hopefully. "It's not as if Ministry officials are going to be dropping by, right?"

"See? The prongslet makes a good point. You, me, Harry, maybe Remus if he stops being such a tosser about everything," James said, shooting a pointed look in Remus's direction. "It'll be great."

"Yeah erm," Sirius swallowed, getting to his feet. "No thanks. You'll be fine on your own." He ruffled Harry's hair as he passed, not making eye contact with anyone as he went up to Buckbeak's room.

James watched Sirius leave, frowning and beyond confused. He shot Harry a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, he gets in moods sometimes. We can look at some of the houses tomorrow, if you like?"

"Er, sure. Are you sure he's okay?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Yeah, he's fine." James gave him another smile, but he grabbed Remus's arm when he left the room, not letting go until they were alone in the sitting room. "Do you know what's wrong with him?" he asked quietly.

"He was in Azkaban for over a decade," Remus replied, keeping his voice low as well. "He thought you were dead that entire time, and he's in hiding. He's never dealt well with being cooped up, and you know full well that you're the one thing he could never stand to lose. He's not... honestly James, there's so much that's wrong with him right now, I can't list it all."

James blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up even more. "Right, I know, it's just. During the war and Harry being born and everything, he used to pretend that everything was fine. I guess I was expecting for him to be more like that."

"Ten years without you," Remus reminded him. "He's not okay. Go bloody talk to him before he starts brooding for the next week."

Remus expected for James to immediately turn and make his way up the stairs, but James stood there, chewing on his lip. "Are we even still married? It's. Y'know. Twelve years is a long time, he may not- I mean- what if he doesn't love me anymore?"

"I can't answer that for him."

"Right." James was worried about more, like how the hell he was supposed to raise Harry when he was only five years older than him now. He didn't know how the hell a relationship between him and Sirius would work even if Sirius did still want it to happen, because James was fifteen years younger than him. He didn't know if he was still considered Lord Potter or not. He didn't know how he'd manage to deal with any of this shite if Sirius wanted to go back to just being friends. How was James supposed to act around him if that happened? He couldn't imagine ever not being in love with him.

He stood there for another minute, then shook his head defeatedly. When had Sirius ever listened to him? But he wasn't going to let that stop him from trying, so he trudged up the stairs, passing house elf heads that he wanted to rip down. Or maybe he just wanted to burn the whole arse place down, which was as much as it deserved.

Sirius's door was open, and he was nowhere to be found inside. Harry had mentioned that Sirius spent most of his time with Buckbeak, so James went to the hippogriff's room next. Sure enough, Sirius was there, stroking his feathers. James wasn't great with hippogriffs, so he kept his gaze averted and stayed in the doorway. "Hey. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure." Sirius gave Buckbeak a pat on the back then left, closing the door behind him. "What's up?"

"Erm, in private? I don't want anyone walking up."

Sirius shrugged, like he really couldn't care.

James reminded himself that Sirius had defenses, and he couldn't expect to get past them just because he felt like he should be allowed through. James and Remus were sharing a room, and it was closer than the one Sirius was staying in, so James led him there. He cast a silencing spell but didn't bother to lock it since being interrupted wasn't the biggest issue, it was them being overheard. James wasn't about to pour his heart out where one of the kids could eavesdrop. "If I ask you one question, will you answer completely honestly?"

Sirius looked at him for a long moment. It used to be that Sirius would say 'yes of course' as soon as James finished asking. "One," he agreed.

James swallowed down the hurt that came from the carefully guarded answer. "How do you feel about me?"

Sirius's eyes sharpened. "I can't believe you even have to ask."

"I can't believe it either, but you don't want to live with me and Harry. You know him better than me, I could use some back up. Besides, I'm- what, five years older than him right now? Six? I'm more like an older brother than a father. And you- okay, I don't know the hell you've been through. I don't understand it and I know I never will, but I love you and you're acting like you don't care. Are we still married? Do you want to pretend that we never were? And why the fuck are you staying here? Because Dumbledore said so? You don't belong here. We should get everyone out and tear it down brick by brick. There are plenty of other places to have a safehouse, and none of them are buildings that you were abused in. When I got you out the first time, I told you that you'd never have to come back, and I meant it."

"Are you done?"

"Hardly, but it looks like you have something to say."

"I love you, but I don't think we fit. That's how I feel about you. I would die for you, but I'm not going to drag you down with me."

"Drag me down? Is that really what you think you'd be doing? No offense Sirius, but I just came back from the dead and I'm not going to let something like this ruin us. You don't want to be with me? Say so, and I'll leave you alone. But if you think you're sparing me or some shite, I'm going to smother you with love until you remember what it feels like."

Sirius sighed. "James, it's not that simple-" he broke off with a surprised squeak as James wrapped him up in a tight hug. "Er, what are you doing?"

"Smothering you with love, step one," James grit out. "Good luck getting rid of me now, you tosser."

After that, James stuck to Sirius's side like glue. Half the time he let him have his own space, but the other half of the time, he was aggressively cuddling him.

"Sirius, I've heard you're thinking about moving," Dumbledore said, and James snorted. 'Thinking about moving' his arse, they were literally in the middle of packing up things from Sirius's old bedroom. "I know you are displeased with your isolation, but the protections here-"

"Are absolute shite compared to the ones where we're going. You don't have to have Sirius watching the Order's headquarters, and he's not going to get caught staying anywhere else. So long as he's not walking down the street as is, he'll be fine."

"I know that the two of you must have missed each other terribly-"

"Let me stop you right there. I appreciate everything you've done in the fight against Voldemort, and I do value the help you've given everyone in the past. But things are different now." They weren't a whole bunch of clueless kids trying desperately to keep their freedom. James wasn't much smarter now, if he was honest, but Sirius needed for him to take a firmer stand. "I'm not going to change my mind on this, and all you're going to accomplish if you keep pushing it, is making me mad. We'll stay in touch, okay?" It was obvious that James couldn't care less what Dumbledore's response to that was going to be, James was going to do what he wanted no matter what the old man said.

James and Sirius were sharing a bed. In theory. James woke up early the first morning to find that Sirius had already gone downstairs. That happened for the next couple of days. Sirius was gone, James went to find him, and Sirius was in the kitchen frying up some eggs while reading a book. He wasn't sure if Sirius was actually reading the book or if he wanted an excuse not to talk.

James woke up in the middle of the night-- one a.m. according to the clock-- to an empty bed. He sighed, throwing off the blankets. He'd thought this entire time that Sirius was just waking early, but maybe it's that he wasn't staying there at all, instead waiting until James fell asleep to go somewhere else. He started shuffling towards the door, rubbing at his eyes when he tripped over something. A very large, human shaped something. "Sirius?"

He'd woken up when James ran into him. "Yeah," he rasped.

James sat down on the floor next to him. It was too bloody early to be awake, let alone having a conversation. "What're you doing?"

"I was sleeping."

"On the ground?"

Sirius didn't answer.

James leaned forward and rested his forehead on Sirius's shoulder. "Will you please just come to bed?"

Sirius sighed, and the motion moved James's head along with him.

"Please?"

"Fine." It was a far cry from the enthusiasm James wanted, but they were working with baby steps. Sirius achingly pushed himself up, rolled over to the bed, crawled up, then said, "Happy?"

James got back in, snuggling against him. "Getting there. Is the bed uncomfortable? We can get a new one."

He said nothing, and James took that to mean this was another one of those ways that Sirius was punishing himself. Their bed was pretty firm as it was, so he doubted they'd have to actually get a new one.

James stood his ground, unflinching in the face of ten aurors on his doorstep. "Can I see the warrant?" he asked, holding out a hand expectantly. They wouldn't be able to get past unless he let them, and they wouldn't get permission until he saw the warrant was in order. Harry was squirming nervously behind him, probably wondering if he should give Sirius a heads-up so he could get out. Fortunately, it wasn't going to come to that. James took one glance at it, handed it back, and said, "Nope."

"No?"

"It's a search warrant for Sirius Black, and there isn't one of those living."

The auror in charge of the group gave an aggravated sigh. "Mister Potter, do you understand that denying us entrance after a properly served warrant is-"

"Is a whole bunch of nothing because your warrant doesn't apply. Who else are you going to try to find? Orion Black? Gideon Prewett? Merlin himself?"

The auror got a very confused look and said, "Sir?"

"Sirius Black stopped existing on the twenty-eighth of March in nineteen-seventy-seven; you can take it up with your boss," James said, then shut the door.

Harry frowned up at him when he turned around. "Really?"

"Yes?"

"I'm confused. Why isn't he Sirius Black?"

"Oh, well me and Sirius got married the day after my seventeenth birthday, and he changed his last name to Potter." James ruffled Harry's hair as he passed.

"...oh. I knew you were together," although that had been a pretty startlingly realisation when he found out a couple months ago, "I just didn't know you were married together."

"Yep."

"What are we going to do when they come back with a warrant with the right name?"

"Well this is where it gets risky. Hopefully they'll realise that they need to reevaluate the case, and from there they'll either realise that he never had a trial or that he was framed. Either way will work just fine for me, but the risk is in if they actually bother to look. But I wouldn't worry about it, we should hear before one of them happens and be able to plan for it."

"Not complaining, but I think you're setting a bad example," Harry said, amused.

"What? How am I setting a bad example? I'm teaching you how to follow the letter of the law and to take care of the ones you love."

"Mostly you're teaching me how to break the law."

James gaped at him. "I most certainly am not! Sirius," he said when he came into the room, "I'm not setting a bad example, am I?"

Sirius looked at James, then Harry, then back. "Er, no?"

"You're a filthy traitor," James accused with fake severity, walking over to give him a hug.

"He's teaching me how to break the law," Harry informed Sirius, jumping into the hug happily.

"Oh James, how could you. Woe is me. A criminal son following in his criminal father's footsteps. I will never survive from this shock to my composure." In a more serious voice, he said, "Haz, why don't you go finish writing that letter to Ron?"

"Alright," he said, holding on for another few seconds.

In a quiet tone, just to make sure that Harry didn't overhear, Sirius said, "You shouldn't lie to him."

"It was just some teasing."

"Not that. The part where you keep convincing him that I'm going to get my name cleared."

"You are."

"Great, you're delusional," Sirius muttered.

James hugged him again, tighter this time.

"What are you doing?"

"You're making me sad, so you're getting a hug until I feel better. Normally I would do it until you feel better, but you're awfully resilient to being happy."

"I'm not resilient to being happy," Sirius mumbled.

"The fact that you honestly think that makes it so much worse." James tilted his head to the side and kissed Sirius's cheek. Sirius was good with the occasional, quick kiss and hugs now. He had stopped trying to run out of bed before James woke up, so that was an improvement. Everything else physical was still miles away, but James didn't mind. Mostly what he minded was that Sirius wasn't happy. He'd been like this after a summer with his family, and each time he came back for a new year at Hogwarts was like working from scratch. This was the same as that, only times one hundred since Sirius hadn't had any breaks in between and he'd been in Azkaban. "I love you."

Sirius swallowed thickly, enough that James could heart it happen. "I erm. I do too. For you. Y'know?"

"Yeah sweetheart, I know." James kissed his cheek again, then let go, beaming at him with a brightness he didn't necessarily feel. "Let's try making cookies again, I think we almost got it last time."

Sirius grinned at James, scooping him up in a hug that made James's feet lift off the floor. James laughed and held on, knowing from experience that if he didn't, he'd get flung around. "Is it just me, or does the air smell sweeter now that I am officially, completely free?"

"Hmm." James sniffed at the air. "I think the air's sweeter."

Sirius kissed him, set him on the ground gently, then kissed him again. "Thanks for sticking with me."

"Any time," James said, completely meaning it.

"And thanks for forcing me to have some human contact so I'd feel better."

James's smile widened. "Any time."

"I can't believe you never gave up on me," Sirius muttered, resting their foreheads together.

"I can't believe you thought I ever could."

"You literally came back from the dead to take care of me. You have to admit, that's a whole new level of protective."

"You're worth it."

#prongsfoot #marauders #james potter #sirius black #fanfic #harry potter #filled #established relationship #married #second war #james lives #siriuslystarbucks #Anonymous

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with-love-anu · 5 years ago

Text

Desiderata: The Green-Eyed Monster

PART: 2

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

PAIRING: Sirius Black x Reader

SUMMARY: You had been best friends with James, Remus, Sirius and Peter. Read your journey of love, friendship and jealousy through your wonderful years at Hogwarts. Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST

As you hopped on the Hogwarts express you couldn’t help but skip a little with excitement. You saw James and hugged him. He squeezed you, holding on tightly. “How’s my fangs, I’ve missed you…” He had started calling you fangs after you’d dressed like a vampire on Halloween. You didn’t mind. You thought it was cute. “I’ve missed you too”.

“I see you’ve started the welcome party without me.” A voice came and you turned around to see Sirius smirking at you. You saw how he’d changed. He’d grown taller and his cheekbones were more refined. He was oozing charisma and personality. His voice was also a bit deeper.

“Y/n! You there?” You broke out of your chain of thought and felt your cheeks warm a little.

“ummm nothing! Sirius, you’ve changed a lot during the holidays.” You said giving him a hug. He chuckled.

“I know haven’t I? It’s only time Y/n when all girls swoon over me.” He said sending a wink towards you. Your stomach did flip-flops. You’d never told anyone that you liked Sirius much more than a friend. You never actually thought of the prospect that Sirius would fall for other girls. The very thought depressed you and you thought about how you were never one of the most beautiful girls. You weren’t exactly skinny. You had decent weight and you weren’t what people call ‘hot’ and weren’t one the girls boys usually swoon over. Sirius must have noticed your ‘worried’ expression because he said, “Hey! You’ll always be my best girl Y/n”.

“I know I will” you replied smiling.

Soon, you were joined by Remus (who gave you a bone-crushing hug) and Peter. You all started talking animatedly about the pranks you all were going to pull this year. You smiled thinking how your friends opposed to what people said, were the dorkiest group ever.

***

The year was going great. You studied hard, the professors were impressed with you and you had equal fun. Everything was fine except all girls had taken a lot of interest in Sirius. Every day some or the other came and flirted with Sirius, setting your heart on fire. And Sirius seemed to enjoy it too. He smirked each time any girl threw herself at him and it just made you even madder.

You were sitting waiting for James to come out of the changing room. “Sirius not here?”

“Hmm?” you turned to see James who had finally come out.

“Let me guess… He’s with another girl?” James huffed.

“Yes” You replied. He was with Anastasia, the hot, pretty Hufflepuff girl of your year. Sometimes you were happy that he was never with one single girl or was official with one. It gave the irritating part of you that loved him hope.

“And how are you holding?” James asked as we walked back. You raised an eyebrow. “I am doing fine!? Why are you asking me this?”

James laughed.

“Well because you love Sirius and he’s flirting with the bloody whole Hogwarts.” James said.

“Yes but I love you guys too and I don’t mind when you flirt with Evans.”

“Are you seriously that dumb or you pretend to be? You love him in oh so not a platonic way”

You remained quiet. You knew you couldn’t argue with James. He knew everything about you. Even things you didn’t know about yourself.

“In fact I was just talking with Moony the other day that Sirius needs to realize his own feelings towards you” James added.

“What?” you gasped. “He knows too? Am I that obvious?”

“Fangs, everyone knows that you and Sirius both love each other since the 1st year. Except well, Sirius, but he wouldn’t know even if it punched him in the face.” You giggled.

“Do you really think he loves me?” you asked, your insecurities kicking in.

“Yes. Merlin, yes. He is never official with any of the girls he flirts with and I don’t think he’ll ever be. Have faith, Fangs”

You both laughed and joked around as you reached your common room. You saw Anastasia sitting on Sirius's lap, both of them eating each other out. You felt your stomach churn. You looked at James who looked both horrified and angry and as if he was about to do something. You placed a hand on James.

“It’s okay. I know I could never be more than a friend to him. He would never even notice me. I am fine being just being his friend. Don’t say anything to him. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” It hurt you say those words. You didn’t wait for him to answer and went into your dorm. You could do this, you thought. One thing that you believed yourself on was your determination. As long as you were still his best friend, you didn’t care; you decided. It was depressing, but it had to work.

And so you did. You went through seeing him shove his tongue down Anastasia, whispering and giggling. Even though you tried your hardest to not let it get to you, it felt like a knife straight through your heart. But you were okay. You still had your Sirius, your best friend and you knew you had a special place in his heart no one did.

Or at least you thought you knew.

It was Saturday afternoon, the time you and Sirius always spent together. You put your bag down and sat in front the black lake taking out a book to kill time.

-1 hour later-

Where was he? Since the start of the 4th year Sirius had been coming late to you “meetings” and they had been ending rather early too. He always seemed to have something other to do.

-2 hours later-

You realized that you’d read the same line 5 times. But you just couldn’t concentrate. It had been 2 hours but you thought you’d give him a bit more time. It was starting to get very frustrating.

-3 hours later-

That was it you thought, checking your watch. You couldn’t wait anymore. You got up and stormed into the Gryffindor tower. You saw him sitting on a sofa and giggling with Anastasia. You fumed and dragged him into the boy’s dorm. He yanked away from you on reaching the room.

“What?” he asked angrily.

“You really don’t know” you asked hurt at the thought of him not even remembering about your day.

“I would if you tell me” He huffed. You stared at him giving him a minute to recall. When he still looked as if he remembered nothing, you said- “It’s Saturday which you and I spend together. You could have told me that you weren’t just interested in spending time with me anymore. I wouldn’t have to wait for you for 3 freaking hours?!!” His eyes widened with realization and started apologizing.

“Darling! I am so sorry. I was with Anastasia and-“You cut him off not wanting to hear about his girlfriend anymore.

“Save it, Black. Maybe go back to Anastasia, who is clearly more important than your best friend.” You said angrily. He started to apologize again but you slammed the door and ran to your room. He came in soon after knocking on the door and apologizing. But you were still fuming. You paced around your bed for sometime then finally sat down and cried. Hurt that Sirius now even didn’t remember ‘your day’, the time you two spent together. The thing was that with all the new found popularity, Sirius had been spending less and less time with you. It was okay for the boys as they shared the same room and ultimately did have time to talk to each other. But for you, the only time you got to talk to him was when he wasn’t with his girlfriend or fan girls; which was close to nothing.

“Y/n I’m so so sorry! Please open up!” “Please I won’t do it again, I promise.” The banging continued but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were still mad at him.

It had been 4 hours and you knew he was still outside. The knocking and apologizing had stopped a long time ago. As you finally cooled down, you decided to give him a chance. You quietly got up and opened the door. He got up from the stairs immediately and cupped your cheeks.

“I am so sorry I forgot and made you wait, I won’t do it again. Please forgive me.” You could see the sadness in his eyes. You let out a simple hum in response and he hugged you tightly. You finally smiled after a very long time.

#sirius #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius imagine #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #harry potter imagine #Harry Potter #desidereta #my work

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mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years ago

Text

Best Christmas of all; Tom Holland x child reader

*Author’s note*

Okay WOW! I am a TERRIBLE Person BUT I GOT IT DONE. To the Watson anon from long ago as well as @artistintraining239 I FINALLY GOT THE TOM HOLLAND REQUEST DONE!!!!!! Now @artistintraining239 I made a SLIGHT change in the adoption part of the story so I hope you’ll accept what I ended up doing for that part, and to the Watson anon whomever you maybe, you are LITERALLY THE MOST PATIENT PERSON EVER!! You requested something from me like 2 years ago around Christmas time and I couldn’t do it cause it ended up as shit, so you gave me a second chance and I PROMISED I DELIVER AND SO I DID!!! It took awhile for me to try and add the ideas you had mixed with this other requester listed above but I F***IN DID IT!!!

Not really any warnings just PURE, TOM HOLLAND FLUFF, foster care (just for characterization), Tessa makes an appearance, and having no knowledge of Tom’s family. I’m just using them here for the story, RESPECT THEIR PRIVACY'S.

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@ixchel-9275

@platawnic

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It’s a miracle when a person can go up on the big screen and become someone famous, it’s another miracle when you get adopted after losing your family in a housefire before you reach your teenage years. I gained both miracles. The best place to start is probably from the beginning when I was chosen to costar in the upcoming Marvel movie Spiderman: Homecoming.

I was chosen out of hundreds if not thousands of little girls to play the cousin of Peter Parker aka Spiderman, Jenna Hawkins (Brown spider). Jenna’s character was that while she was Peter Parker’s cousin, she would eventually become a sidekick of Spiderman who not only was a quick learner thanks to her cousin, but she was the perfect silent weapon because no one would suspect a child (much like how real brown spider bites can be deadly but not really kill).

I had asked my current foster mom if I could audition for the film and thankfully she said yes but she had to run it by the system if I could audition for a film role. Surprisingly the foster system I was put in allowed me to audition and by a miracle I got the role.

So I was flown out from my home of Colorado Springs to New York where they were filming Spiderman: Homecoming. And surprisingly the entire cast didn’t treat me with sympathy or made me feel out of place because I was a foster child, they saw the potential in me as an actress and as a person.

They looked past the fact that I was a foster kid and just saw me, which I really liked, especially from some of my heroes like Mr. Downey (oh I guess I should say Robert since he told me that Mr. Downey made him sound like his dad), Tom Holland and of course my true role model Zendaya (since I love KC Undercover).

Now it was getting close to the holiday seasons, my favorite time of year actually Christmas time. I’ve always wanted to know how people celebrate Christmas unfortunately the foster family I live with didn’t celebrate Christmas (something to do with religion or something) so they just treat Christmas like any other day.

So while everyone was closing up the set and locking their trailers, I was sitting in my movie chair while my agent locked up my trailer. As I was scrolling through my phone, I heard the familiar voice of Tom call out to me.

“Hey (n/n)!” I looked up and smiled at him. I got out of my chair and raced up to him to give him a big hug. “Whoa oh man you really are getting strong aren’t yah? Almost knock me off my feet.”

“Sorry Tom.”

“Hey don’t even worry about it. So you excited for the holidays? You got any idea what you’re gonna get for Christmas?” at that point I looked down and I told him.

“Not really.”

“Why not? You’ve been the sweetest girl I’ve met, I’m sure Santa’s got you at the top of his nice list.”

“Maybe. But I won’t know cause the foster parents I’m with don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“Really?” I nodded. “Well do they celebrate a different holiday? Like Hanukah or Kwanzaa?” I shook my head no.

“The only holidays they really celebrate are New Years, Valentine’s day, 4th of July, and Halloween.”

“Wait so not even Thanksgiving? Cause I hear that’s a big celebration here.”

“They just treat it like a normal day. I think their reason for not celebrating the December holidays is religion or something. And I’ve always wanted to celebrate Christmas but—I was either too young to remember how my first Christmas went or because of now. But what are you doing for Christmas Tom?” I asked trying to lighten the mood since I had seen that I made him upset.

“Well just gonna go home, be with Tessa and my brothers and the rest of the family.”

“Wow, that sounds like fun. I hope you have a good Christmas Tom. I’ll see you in the New Year when we get back to filming.” I turned and went to grab my phone when Tom said.

“Actually (y/n). Would you like to come to London with me for Christmas?” I turned to him and was shocked at what I just heard him say.

“You—you’d really want me there?”

“Yeah. I mean I was hoping to kinda make it a surprise by tomorrow but as you know I’m—pretty terrible at keeping secrets. So I got in touch with your foster parents and the foster system you’re under and they’ve allowed you to come spend the holidays with me.”

“Really? They did?”

“Yeah. So—do you wanna come with me and meet my family?”

“Yes!” I ran back towards him and hugged him again. This time he picked me up so that I could now wrap my arms around his neck.

“That’s great! So the plane leaves in a few hours, why don’t you get your stuff and I’ll meet you outside with Harry and we can drive up to the airport.”

“Okay.” We then pecked each other’s cheeks and I quickly raced off to find my bag that my agent Mr. Jones had. He handed me my bag and told me to behave and that if anything happened, just call either him or my foster parents. I told him I would be on my best behavior and with that we hugged each other and I walked outside the studio and saw Tom and Harrison outside about to get into the taxi.

“Ahh (n/n) over here!” I rushed over as fast as I could before Tom met me half way and picked me up and tossed me in the air making me giggle as he held onto me with one arm before taking my suitcase with his other hand.

“So you ready to see England (y/n)?” asked Harry.

“Yeah. Is it really as big as they make it in the movies?” I asked.

“You’ll have to see for yourself.” He answered. We all then piled in the car and Harry told the driver to take us to the airport.

“You think Tessa will remember me?” I asked Tom.

“Of course she’ll remember you. She loves you.”

“Is flying over an ocean different than flying over cities?”

“Not really. You nervous about flying overseas?”

“I mean a little. Sorry.”

“No, no there’s no need to apologize love. I remember flying overseas the first time and it can be scary. But you’ve got me, right?”

“Right.” I said with a nod.

“So there’s nothing to be afraid of (n/n). I’ll be right there with you the entire time. And you can always hold my hand if you feel a little scared, okay?”

“Okay, thanks Tom.”

“No problem.” It took a long time but we finally arrived at the airport and we did all the usual stuff they make you do at the airport before we were finally allowed to head to our gate. It was about an hour and a half wait before our plane even arrived so Tom and I ended up playing Super Mario Kart on our Nintendo switches.

I was in my lead with Mario but Tom cheated and bashed into me with his Yoshi.

“Hey that’s cheating!” I exclaimed.

“All’s fair in Mario Kart my dear (y/n). And Yoshi is the best there is.” He mocked back at me.

“Yoshi’s a cheater and a bully.” I whined as I tried to take back the lead. Then just my luck, Tom’s cell chimes his text tone and he had no choice but to answer it because for some reason it kept chiming repeatedly. So as he looked down at his phone, I crashed into Yoshi and took back the lead and won the race. “I win!”

“What oh that’s not fair you knew I was distracted!”

“All’s fair in Mario Kart Tom.” I threw his words back at him.

“Ohh she got you there mate.” Harry laughed.

“Okay, okay then, alright then yah little miss smarty pants.” Tom said with a quirk of his brow while I did my victory dance just to rub it in Tom’s face that I won and he lost.

“1st class flight nonstop to London England now boarding, 1st class passengers only can now board.”

“Ohh that’s us. Get your tickets ready.” Harry said as the three of us grabbed our small bags and we showed the lady our tickets before going through the tunnel and finally getting on the plane. We got into our seats and I looked out the window seat and waited another long time before we finally started to take off.

As the plane began to take off, I felt my stomach beginning to sink down to my feet. That’s probably the one thing I didn’t like when it came to flying, that and having my ears popping. I rubbed my ears as I could feel them beginning to ache, that’s when Tom took my hand and said.

“You best not do that, it’ll only make it worse.”

“Then what can I do to make them stop ringing and popping?” I asked.

“Here’s a trick my dad taught me. Plug your nose, like you’re about to dive in a pool.” He said as he demonstrated for me and I followed suit. “Then as hard as you can blow from your nose. That’ll make your ears pop open.”

“Your voice sounds funny Tom.” I giggled hearing how his voice sounded with his nose plugged up.

“Well so does your little missy.” He mocked back. “Okay so let’s blow together on three okay?” I nodded. “One….”

“Two….”

“Three.” And as hard as I could I blew as hard as I could. “It didn’t work.”

“Try it again, sometimes it takes a couple of tries.” He told me. He counted down again and I blew as hard as I could again, this time feeling my ears pop however the second they did I was met with this agonizing pain as I began to rub them again. “No, no don’t rub them it’ll only make them worse.”

“But it hurts Tom!” I whined out.

“I know but trust me, the pain’s gonna subside soon. Just give it a moment. Here wanna hear a story about Tessa that my mum told me awhile ago?” I nodded and he then told me of how Paddy taught Tessa a new trick with balancing food on top of her nose before getting the command to eat it.

Hearing that story gave me a good distraction and soon enough my ears were better and no linger hurting anymore. It was then we were told by the captain that we could now take our electronic devices out and that’s when Tom proceeded to take pictures of Harry and I and he posted it up on Instagram telling his fans that we were on our way home for Christmas.

He then even showed me the video of the trick he told me about earlier. Apparently his brother Paddy managed to get a recording of it as well and he sent it to Tom. So I got to see for myself Tessa’s new trick.

“Do you think she’ll come to the airport?” I asked him.

“Maybe, mum and dad know how much I love spoiling that Princess of mine. Well next to you munchkin.” He said with a playful ruffle of my hair.

“Tom!” I whined out. He chuckled and we proceeded to watch all the videos of Tessa that he had. We continued with a few more games of Super Mario Kart or Mario vs. Sonic the Olympics. After several hours even with it still being daylight out the window, I began to grow tired.

“It’ll still be a long while before we get to London, why don’t you take a little nap?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. See that’s the best part about long flights, you get to catch up on sleep. And I know these past few months have been rough on you even with just 10 hours of filming you have to do. So go on take a little nap.”

“Okay, hey Harry?”

“Yeah?” he said as he looked up from his phone.

“Please beat Tom in another round of Mario Kart for me will you?”

“Hey! You win one time and you act like you’ve won the super bowl.” Tom said which made Harrison laugh.

“I’ll win one for you kiddo. Besides someone needs to knock this rotter down to size.” He said gesturing to Tom to which Tom glared at him.

“Okay you cheeky little kitten, go to sleep.” He brought out my pillow and blanket and lowered the window screen down so the sun wasn’t shining in my eyes and covered me up. I placed myself against the wall and soon I fell fast asleep, suddenly feeling the exhaustion from the past few months from all the filming and jumping and swinging I had to learn for the film.

“(Y/n)? Hey (Y/n),” I moaned tiredly and woke up to see that I had went from the wall to spreading across Tom’s lap. “We’re here.” I looked outside to see that it was still pitch black out.

“What time is it?” I said as I stretched myself out.

“A little past 3am. So it’s still early for you to be fully awake. But don’t worry we’ll meet my parents in the car and you can go back to sleep on the way to the house.” He unbuckled my seatbelt and packed my blanket and pillow away in my bag. He picked up my bag then he went and picked me up. “Okay there we go love.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung onto him like a sleepy koala while Tom walked out holding onto me with his arms wrapped around me. From my constant eyes opening and closing trying to fight off sleep, I saw Tom walk through the tunnel before we were finally out the gate and I felt him waving.

“Hey mum, hey dad.”

“Welcome home son, Harrison, and this tired young thing must be (y/n).” I turned to look up and as I rubbed my eyes, I saw Tom’s parents. They looked like nice people but I was just too tired to fully introduced myself.

“Now Dominic, you can tease the girl when she’s fully awake. C’mon you three must be exhausted. Let’s get you all home and into bed.” Tom’s mum said.

“Thanks mum.” Tom adjusted me back into his arms so that I was now lying against him but I still clung onto him as we all left the airport. I don’t really remember much after that because soon I went back to sleep against Tom’s chest.

When I woke up the next morning I found myself in a bedroom. It was painted gray and the sheets were a dark blue color. I heard the door open and the next thing I knew this big mass of gray came hopping right towards me and I was greeted with wet kisses. I knew only one creature who greeted me like that.

“Tessa! Awww Tess I missed you so much!” I cooed as I scratched her belly and squished her face between my hands.

“She could hardly contain herself when we came home last night.” I looked up and I saw Tom leaning up against the edge of the door. “It does warm my heart to see you liking Tessa.”

“Why wouldn’t I? She’s an angel.”

“Guess it’s kinda due to her breed. Blue Staffys’ are considered one of the most dangerous dogs here in the UK.”

“But that doesn’t mean she’s vicious. It’s the same with pit bulls. My foster dad back home tries to keep me away from the neighbors white and brown pitbull Titan every time he escapes. But he’s not vicious, unless you count licking someone to death vicious.”

“Man I’m so glad you think that way (y/n).”

“Yeah. That’s what Mrs. Spencer always tells me whenever it comes to dogs. I wish I could have one, or a cat for that matter but my foster dad’s allergic to cats and my foster mom is terrified of dogs, unless they’re the purse dogs but I don’t really like them.”

“Why’s that? Just out of curiosity.” He asked as he came over and sat down at the foot of the bed while Tessa placed her paw on my lap finally calming down.

“Not big enough. I’ve always wanted a dog that I could cuddly with like a teddy bear. Or play fetch with. At my last foster home that I could remember, there was this family that has these Chicha…..Chicas…..I can never pronounce the name.”

“Chihuahuas?”

“Yes that’s it. They had about five of them and they weren’t very nice. Those are the dogs my current foster dad would say were vicious, because they always attacked anything and one of them even ripped my favorite jeans apart.”

“Ahh man that’s terrible. I’m sorry that happened to you.” He said as he gently stroked down my hair.

“Yeah but it’s better than what it could’ve been.”

“True, true, but you never need to worry about getting hurt by this pretty princess.” Tom cooed as he leaned over and kissed Tessa’s head repeatedly.

“So it’s Christmas Eve, what do you guys usually do first?”

“Oh right it is. Well if you’ll come downstairs with me my lady, I will show you firsthand what Christmas is like in the Holland household.” I then got out of bed and Tessa hopped down and went on ahead and raced down the stairs with Tom and I following behind her.

When we got downstairs, all I could see was pure magic. Lights and Christmas decorations everywhere. There were tiny villages out along some of the tables and china cabinets standing all on top of some type of cotton or something, which made it look like the villages were on top of snow.

“Wow, this is so pretty.” I said in awe.

“You really like it dear? My mum and I collected those little Christmas villages every year when I was growing up. Each year we’d add a new addition to our collection and make our little Christmas town grow even bigger.” I looked up and there I saw a woman standing beside me.

“Morning mum.” Tom said.

“Morning love, did you sleep okay?” she asked as Tom hugged her.

“Always. (Y/n) this is my lovely mum Nicola, mum this is (y/n).”

“It’s an honor to meet you (y/n). Tom’s told us so much about you.” She said as she knelt down to my height and held out her hand. I shyly shook it and said.

“Tom’s told me a lot about his family. You all seem really nice.”

“Well Paddy and Harry cane be rambunctious and tricky little buggers but they’re cool.”

“Thomas behave.” His mom lectured him which made me giggle.

“So shall we get started on the gingerbread houses mum?”

“Yes we shall. But as punishment for your comment against your brothers, you’re gonna be doing the hard part of gluing the house together.”

“Aww mum!” whine Tom which made me snicker. “Laugh it up fuzzball.” Tom said to me.

“Hey who you calling a fuzzball you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy looking nerf-herder!”

“Whose scruffy looking?”

“Alight, alright enough you two. At this point the both of you are looking at gluing the gingerbread house together.”

“Sorry Mrs. Holland.” I apologized.

“It’s fine dear, now then both of you in the kitchen now.” Tom and I then raced to the kitchen with his mum telling us not to run in the house. A few minutes later, his dad and his brothers Harry, Sam and Paddy all arrived in the kitchen. His brother’s were pretty good, especially Paddy who let me in on all the embarrassing stories of Tom.

“And then there was this one time when he was in Year 11 when he went to the winter formal and tried to ask this girl he liked by…..”

“NO! Don’t you dare tell that story!” Tom shouted at him.

“Why not I think (y/n) should hear it.” Paddy mocked.

“What? What happened?” I asked.

“It’s nothing, nothing happened.”

“Tom went outside her house with a boombox playing some sappy love song.” Sam said.

“N you didn’t.” I proclaimed.

“So what if I did?”

“What did you think you were in, the 1980?”

“Hey she loved 80’s movies and Say Anything was her favorite so I figured she’d think it was sweet.”

“Yeah till she said it was corny and turned yah down.” Said Paddy.

“Well I thought it was real sweet the way Tom asked out his date. Of course she turned out to not be the one, but that’s fine because at least now I know that I raised my little Thomas to be a romantic.” His mom said as she came over and pinched his cheek.

“Mum please!”

“Alright, alright enough talk. Let’s get this gingerbread house up and ready to go.” His dad stated.

“So how exactly do you make gingerbread houses?” I asked.

“Just watch us and jump in whenever you think you got it.” Said Paddy as his brother Sam got the supplies. He dumped out the cookies while Tom’s mom and dad got the icing and graham crackers out.

It was then the Hollands’ began to build their gingerbread house. Just as Tom was about to glue the pieces together, I decided to step in and I told Paddy.

“I can hold it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah I got this.”

“Okay now (n/n) be sure you hold this nice and still while I glue it okay?”

“I got it Tom.” He then proceeded to start gluing the walls together then once he was done, he placed his hands over mine to give it a bit more pressure so that the two pieces could stay glued together.

“Hey (y/n) mind helping me out with this? I’m trying to pick the glitter patterns for this year but I can’t figure out what to do.” His mom said. Tom allowed my hands to come out from under his and I quickly went over and she helped me look over the glitter patterns.

“Hmm……what about the silver and gold pattern? Like in Rudolph.”

“Brilliant. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oi (y/n), mind helping us pick out the gumdrop patterns. We got the colors we want but can’t figure out the pattern.” Sam said. I looked over to see the three colors they’ve chosen; purple, green, yellow and red.

“Hmm…..why not do purple, yellow, green and red? Cause red and blue make purple, so by ending it with red we can start back to the purple, even without the blue.”

“Oh yeah. Thanks (n/n).” Sam said as he ruffled my hair. It took awhile but finally we managed to get the gingerbread house all done and decorated.

“Alright everyone, I officially declare that the 2016 Gingerbread Holland house is officially made.” His dad proclaimed and we all applauded.

“And of course let’s not forget the biggest help of all, Miss (Y/n) (l/n).” Tom proclaimed as his family clapped for me as Tom picked me up and paraded me around the kitchen.

After the gingerbread house we were watching some Christmas movies while his mom was making us some lunch. Right now we were watching one of the old animated movies, we had just gotten done with Rudolph and now we were watching Frosty the Snowman.

“See before Olaf came along with his warm hugs, Frosty was the OG. He was the man!” Harry proclaimed.

“We get it Harry, you love Frosty and hate Frozen, let it go.” Sam said which made Paddy laugh.

“I see what you did, good one Sam.” They fist bumped with each other.

“You guys are such dicks.” Harry said.

“Harry! Language!” Tom said as he covered my ears trying to block my ears from hearing the words. Truth is I’ve heard every single bad word in the book thanks to my foster mom’s brother.

“Lunch is served.” Tom’s mom came in with a plate of sandwiches, ranging from ham, ham and cheese, veggie sandwiches, or turkey. I grabbed a plain ham sandwich and that’s when I felt a nudge at my leg. I looked down and there was Tessa looking up at me with those big brown eyes, she licked her chops as she eyed my sandwich.

“Ah-ah Tessa, go on scoot. Scoot!” Tom’s dad said as he took notice of Tessa from the chair that was beside me.

“Tess,” Tom said before giving one whistle and Tessa went over to Tom and he told her, “Tessa down. Down. Good girl Tess.” When I saw Tessa lie on her stomach, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. I heard her take a deep sigh as she began to close her eyes.

I looked around to make sure no one was looking before ripping a part of my sandwich off and I lowered it down towards Tessa. She immediately lifted her head and reached her neck out before finally scarfing down the sandwich. I patted her head and quickly went back to watching TV.

“I saw that.” I heard Tom whisper in my ear. Uh-oh busted. I looked up at him with the most innocent face and whispered back.

“Saw what?”

“Don’t you play dumb, you’re gonna get it later little missy.” He teased as he pressed his forehead against mine before turning his attention back to the TV. I gulped thinking just what did Tom have in mind.

When the sun began to set, it was time for Christmas dinner. There was turkey, pudding, pies, cookies (which I helped make with Tom’s mom), cakes and fruits and veggies. As we all gathered around the table, I ate a piece of turkey, I was suddenly feeling this—bubbly feeling in my stomach. I don’t know how to describe it, it’s like—that feeling you get in your stomach when you’re sad but also overjoyed with happiness.

“(N/n), you okay?” I heard Tom say. I nodded and hummed before turning back to my turkey. “Are you sure? You’ve got the deep in thought look.”

“I’m fine Tom, really. I just…..feel happy to be included in…..a family. For once.” The room went quiet for a long time before Tom’s mom placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and she said.

“We’ve enjoyed having you here with us (y/n).”

“My wife’s right. You’ve been a really big help today, we hope you’ve had an equally good time here with us and that we helped make this a good Christmas for you.” His dad added.

“I have. In fact I—I think this maybe the Christmas I will always remember the most.” I said with a soft smile. The Holland’s all smiled and I felt Tom pat my back while his brother Harry ruffled my hair and I felt Tessa at my feet.

After dinner we gathered in the living room after getting into our pajamas, I helped place down the cookies for Santa with Paddy. He placed down the milk while I placed down the cookies.

“Okay there’s one last tradition we have before we go to bed.” Tom told me as he sat me down into his lap.

“What’s that?”

“Every Christmas eve we take one gift and open it up, sorta like a sneak peek at what’s coming tomorrow morning.”

“We started shortly after Sam was born, the kid could hardly wait to open up his presents so we decided on one gift just to get him to go back to sleep.” His dad explained.

“I wanna play Santa, I wanna play Santa!” Paddy exclaimed.

“No, no, no Paddy you played Santa last year. Let’s let Tom be Santa this year.” His mom said. Tom picked me up and I sat beside Tessa and stroked her head while Tom began to pass out presents.

I got my present which was just a simple Christmas bag with red and green paper stuffed inside to hide my present while everyone else got boxes. Maybe my present was a snow globe or some type of clothing?

“Hang on guys, hold on. I think it’s only fair that we let our biggest help and guest (y/n) open up her present first.” Tom announced once all the presents were given out. They all agreed before turning to face me.

“Okay, if you all say so.” I dug through the bag and pulled out the green and red wrapping paper to reveal an envelope. Okay I was confused? Why was I given an envelope, if it was a Christmas cars I doubt it could fit in this small thing.

“Here I’ll help open it, Harry hand me the letter opener by the dining room table.” Tom said as he came up next to me. Harry got up and he got the small knife and Tom thanked his brother before opening the envelope with a single swipe.

He handed it back to me and I took out a few pieces of folded paper. I unfolded the hamburger styled papers and I saw at top the name of the Foster Care system I was put under. There was all these big words but the one thing that did catch my eye was the signature of Tom’s parents at the bottom. I looked through the other papers and kept seeing their signatures.

“What’s…..”

“Something I was running through the Foster system as well as my parents. I’ve really enjoyed having you around (n/n), you’re like the little sister I never had and……we want you to be a part of our family.” Tom said as he brought me up onto his lap.

“You—you all…..wanna adopt me?”

“Yes love, if you’ll have us that is. I mean, Tom’s told us so much about it it’s like you’re practically part of the family.” His mom said.

“So what do you say poppet, want to be a Holland?” I was……overjoyed. A wide smile spread across my face as tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t even form any words as I nodded allowing the tears to fall down my face. Soon my new family all came up and surrounded me in a group hug.

At this point I don’t care what else I might’ve gotten for Christmas, all that mattered now was this. I had gotten the one wish I had always wanted, the one gift I hoped I would get someday. A family.

It was then the next morning, waking up that Christmas day, in fact it became a White Christmas day, I got to spend the entire morning with my new family making snow angels with my new brothers, having snowball fights, learning how to build a snowman with my new mom and dad, and playing around with my dog Tessa.

In the years to come those Christmases grew to be better than the last but none of them will ever compare to my first Christmas I had with my new family.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x child reader #tom holland platonic #platonic story #platonic fluff #marvel actors #marvel actor #spiderman #peter parker #spiderman homecoming #harrison osterfield

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datingintampafails · 4 years ago

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Chapter 8: Peter*

Ironically, it was very easy to pick out a fake name for this guy because of the journey I am about to bring you on, in which this was a name that was relevant during this date. This is a long entry despite this date being the only one, and only maybe two hours, simply because it has thus far been the worst date I have ever been on in my life, and I remember every damn detail.

Sometimes when I’m on Bumble, I get in really weird moods where if it looks like the guy isn’t going to respond to my message (they have 24 hours to respond or they disappear), then I will put in a snarky comment as the clock ticks just to make myself feel vindicated. When I picked my opening message to Peter*, I chose to do a pick-up line, which is something I never do.

Peter* looked a lot like Dr. Chase from House, that is, Australian, blonde, blue eyes, good looking. Therefore my message went like this: “I have a really bad pick-up line if you’d like to hear it.” After it became hour 23, I was like ok it’s snarky time. Simply put, I said, “whatever you’re missing out.” LO and behold the dude finally responds and says “Lol ok go ahead.”

Now it is my time to shine. I say “Wow ok now the pressure is on. Here goes,” “Part One: Are you Australian? Part Two: because I’d go down under for you.” He laughs or whatever and goes into just talking. He asks if I want to come over to watch a movie that night and I’m feeling spontaneous so I say sure, but preface that despite my dirty pick-up line that I’m not interested in a hookup situation.

He seems still interested so I discuss with him that I am going to cook dinner for myself and because it is a meal kit, that he would be doing me a favor by sharing the meal with me and eating it. So I cook the meal and bring the pot of pasta over to his place, which is in St. Petersburg, which is about 30 minutes and across a bridge.

He gave me instructions to pull up in front of his apartment complex and that he would meet me out there to help me find parking. He definitely over complicated things as there was street parking that was easy to find on the other side of the building to where I pulled up. He comes to my car and gets in and immediately I can smell smoke. I’m like great, that’s not super attractive but I’m here, let’s just see how this goes. We park and he holds the food and we go to his place.

He warns me that his place is messy; however, I’m thinking like everyone says that, it’s just a thing people say when they don’t have a pristine home that is perfectly maintained, which can only be achieved if you have a daily maid service or you legitimately have severe OCD. When I walk in the door, a wave of smell hits me. The predominant smell was definitely that of weed. The kitchen sink was a mountain of dishes and I honestly didn’t want to make direct eye contact with it as it would give me anxiety. He asks me if the place smells and I say that it smells like weed. He asks if I smoke and I say not my thing, but I don’t care what other people do. This is true, but I still expect people to be on their A-game for a date…. More on that later.

It was a studio apartment, and so everything was there. I had to use the bathroom but was afraid to see how bad the bathroom may be based on everything else. I would later hold my pee literally until I got home hours later. I asked if he could find some clean silverware and plates.

His buddy from out of town had slept over, I guess, the night before, so the futon was still flat. So on this date, I am put to work to help him fold it back into a couch. It was a struggle and took like 3 minutes, so afterward I sat on the couch while he searched for clean utensils. I was charged with picking out a movie. This in itself was a difficult mission. I went to his Hulu account, none of the profiles said his real name. I had to ask, “Peter*, which account is yours?” He is clueless. He finally says oh it’s the one that says Peter (not his real name, actually Peter), thus why I chose Peter for his name for the purposes of this memoir. He says it’s his ex’s account and I’m like “oh… ok, does she know you still use the account?” and he says she doesn’t. Nothing is good on Hulu so I swap to Netflix. Keep in mind the guy is still searching for something clean for us to eat with. Now on Netflix, none of the names are his; again, I ask which profile is his. This time it’s “Mark.” I’m done asking questions. I don’t even want to know at this time. So I choose the movie Get Him to The Greek. It’s funny and not that long so I picked it.

Five minutes after beginning his search, he is still looking for anything clean. Bro couldn’t even find plastic silverware. He emerges finally with a serving spoon and those measuring cup keychain packs and two paper plates. He hands me the serving spoon. I am thinking, “what the fuck is this.” So I use my serving spoon to put the food on each plate and start the movie. I struggle to eat this butternut squash ravioli with a giant ass spoon, and he’s wolfing down his food with literally a measuring cup. At least he doesn’t smack his mouth when he eats, I think.

Already I’d say this is going pretty terrible. Fifteen minutes into the movie, he gets up and gets something from a desk. Peter* cracks open his window and he starts smoking weed like right in front of me. I don’t say shit. All I know is that I cannot wait for this movie to be over so I can leave. He returns to the couch and decides now he’s gonna be cuddly. I just kinda let him put his arm around me but I don’t really do much else.

I try to get a conversation going but the dude is straight-up stoned. We were talking about something or another and he started a follow-up question. “What are you…” then he trails off. I give him a solid minute then say “What are you… what?” He’s like “huh?” I say, “Well you started to ask me a question and then stopped after those three words…” He says “Oh…. I have no idea. Hah.” I think my soul left my body at this point.

More of the movie goes over. He goes to smoke again. He returns to the couch. He sits far away from me. Suddenly, and I mean suddenly, he leans super far over and tries to kiss me. I swiftly lean the other direction and let out a sort of “ehhhhhhh” noise. He still manages somehow to kiss my cheek, which is better than my mouth because I am not into it. I have no idea why he thought that was a good idea. I think we were in different dimensions. Shortly after that, I mentioned, “I think after this movie ends I’m going to go home. I’m tired and my dog needs me.” Not necessarily a lie. I was tired and my dog does need me.

The movie finally ends, he asks if I’m going to eat the rest of the food or if he could have some. I say I think I will eat the leftovers for lunch, but at this point, he’s already dipped his measuring cup into the pot and grabbed a couple of ravioli. He says, “oh ok I won’t take more then.” Especially with people I am not comfortable with, I am weird about people using used utensils on food. So immediately I knew that I was actually going to throw the remainder out since he just touched them with his used whatever.

He then puts on his shoes and goes to show me the way out of his apartment complex. He runs into one of his neighbors and they make small talk. I am mortified and just cannot wait to get out of this place. We come out of the elevator, and he walks me towards where I had pulled my car up to meet him, AKA the wrong side. As we’re walking to the door I passively mention this is the wrong side, “Oh this is the front of the building.” We walk out of the doors and he says drive safe bye and gives me an awkward side hug. I stand there like, what an ending to this rollercoaster ride. At this point, I don’t even give a fuck. I know where I am and I walk to my car, get in, and drive as fast as I can to get home.

I arrive home and my phone dings; a text from Peter*. It says “Shit I’m so sorry.” At this point, the apology could be for any number of things so I simply reply “? I just got back home” He says “OK just walked you out the wrong side not a huge deal just thought you were parked on that side lol nevermind.” I say, “hahahahahahahahaha you just realized?” All the haha’s because I am just in such disbelief that this man was so stoned that he walked me out the wrong side.

He says, out of order “Glad you got home goodnight :)” and “I did lol.” I decide to passively tell him he is a dumbass, “I kinda said something I was like oh this is the front ok.” He comes back with a non sequitur, “I am a tad weird I understand that lol”

I never speak to or hear back from him again, thankfully. I hope he was embarrassed. I hope he knows how terrible that date was. I’m glad I didn’t even HAVE to ghost him or tell him he needed to fuck off. I will never forget this whole chapter.

#bumble #tinder #dating #tampa #hinge #stpete #tampabay #clearwater

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thesleepiesthufflepuff · 5 years ago

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Everything and Nothing

Chapter one - October 31st, 1982

Sirius,

You can guess what day it is. I’ve had a bitter taste in my mouth all day, and I don’t know whether it’s from the overwhelming heartbreak that I’m drowning in or blood from gnawing on the inside of my cheek. You always told me that was a habit I needed to quit.

It’s pouring out. Remember how you used to love turning into Padfoot so you could eat the raindrops? That was always something that could make me laugh -- the kind of laugh that I could feel deep in my stomach. The kind of laugh that made my throat raw. I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.

I don’t know why I’m writing you. That’s a lie. I do. But I should be angry, shouldn’t I? I should be furious at you for giving away a life that we worked so hard for. I should be seeing red from anger, knowing damn well what events lead to a year ago today.

Everything in the flat reminds me of you. It’s the kind of hurt that’s suffocating, reaching down my throat until I can’t breathe. It’s been a fucking year, and I haven’t had the energy to change your pillowcase. If I concentrate really hard, I can still smell hints of you -- hints of us. A mixture of cinnamon and chocolate and coffee. All of your colognes are still sitting on the top of the dresser. I haven’t touched them. Hell, I haven’t touched anything. I can’t bring myself to get rid of your things. After all, they’re all I have. But the thing is, it’s like living with a ghost. You’re here, but you’re not. Sometimes I find myself reaching out to touch you, but the only thing my hand meets is empty air.

I can’t remember the last night we spent together -- the night before everything happened. I can’t even remember the last thing you said to me or the last thing I said to you. A part of me hopes I said something cruel, but the other part of me hopes that I told you how much I love you. Can you see my predicament?

I miss you every second of every day. My mind is plagued with the idea that you’re existing here, in the same world that I am, but you’re not with me. I hate you for not being with me. God, I hate you so fucking much. Or, I wish I did.

I’m still trying to wrap my weary mind around what the fuck happened. I don’t understand why you did what you did, and I don’t think I ever will. But Lily and James, Sirius? Not to mention Peter. You might not have killed them, but you certainly took their lives.

I’m exhausted. Every day is so fucking hard. I wake up thinking of you, and I go to sleep thinking of you -- that is, when I can fall asleep. I can’t seem to stop the dreams, no matter what I do. You’re always there, and so are Lily and James’ vacant eyes.

I keep thinking about our first kiss. I wonder if you do, too. It was by the Black Lake the day we got back from our Christmas holiday in 7th year. The lake had frozen over at the edges, and I could see your breath. There was no one around, since we were the only ones mad enough to be out in the cold.

You made the first move. We were talking about home, of all things, and what it meant to the both of us. I rambled on about Hogwarts being home, and when it was your turn, you told me that I was home. Then, you kissed me. Your lips were cold, and they were chapped. And yet, at the same time, they were the softest things I had ever touched. Kissing you felt like letting out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. It felt like coming home after a long day.

I can still feel your lips on mine and the way we always held hands when we kissed. We used to spend hours just looking at each other in bed. I loved looking at the pale freckles that dusted your nose and the way your eyelashes were as black as midnight. I miss looking at you like that.

I still see you as the stupid, ridiculous, beautiful fifteen-year-old that decided it would be a good idea to pierce his own ear without any supervision. I don’t think of you as the murderer you inexplicably became. I can’t. Pushing the thoughts out of my mind and heart takes everything I have.

I haven’t seen Harry at all in the past year. He went to Petunia and Vernon. I hate knowing that you’re the reason that he’s going to grow up in that hell house. I’ve written them three times, begging to see Harry. They've refused every time. I miss the feeling of his soft skin when I would hold him. Whenever you and I babysat him, I always found myself thinking about what it would be like to have a child of our own.

The cycles have been rough since last year. I have a limp now, and the doctor I saw at St. Mungo’s said that there’s nothing I can do about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if, in the not too distant future, my body simply gave in. The wolf can feel the absence of you, Prongs, and Wormtail. He misses his pack. I miss my pack.

Things have just gone to absolute shit. I feel like crying all the time, and yet I don’t seem to have the energy to conjure any tears. I feel empty, but I feel heavy. I feel everything and nothing. Two absolutes.

I don’t know what I’m going to do for the rest of the night. I’d drink, but I don’t think alcohol would even begin to numb my heart. You’re smothering me, Sirius.

Remus

#everything and nothing #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic recs #my fanfiction #wolfstar angst #wolfstar slow burn #angst #friends to enemies to lovers #poa compliant #tw trichotillomania #tw depression #tw mourning #letter writing

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stfreds-a · 5 years ago

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hello everyone! this is rylan (27, she/her, gmt+2) here to introduce you to the lil nugget of fucked up-itude that is freddie dawson! + more info, wanted connections. / @redridgeimp

name: fredericke ann dawson nicknames: freddie, fred, st. fred age: 33 ethnicity: white gender/pronouns: cis female, she/her sexual/romantic orientation: bisexual/biromantic been in red ridge for: five years occupation: bartender at st. peter’s affiliation: none positive traits: nurturing, clever, good spirited, humorous, wise, motherly, diligent, quiet, loyal, protective. negative traits: closed off, impulsive, proud, resentful, self-deprecating, bitter, frightened.

BIOGRAPHY —

(WARNINGS for depression, death, abuse / domestic abuse, violence, underage sex, prostitution, child abandonment).

“why’d you get so obsessed with that word, freddie? who told you about saints?” “grandpa did, he said he’s named after st. peter”. “and why do you care?” “‘cause he said saints do good things. i wanna be a saint, too”. “why on earth would you want that?” “‘cause, ma — i wanna save everyone”.

—

there’s a lifetime from that moment to now. she can remember it, but it comes in flashes, a hazy hue of desert gold — she remembers the girl she was, bright-eyed and restless, never shying away from the trail of a question. prying, relentless: the whole world could be simplified to reasons and whys, and she would hunt them the whole day long, out in the dust storms like the wind, not even it could dare question her spirits. whatever happened to that girl? dull, watered down: erased, and her own has been the hand rubbing her existence off her own life.

el paso, texas, 2002. she couldn’t tell how it happened, or when it began — surely that summer of eighteen years ago must have played its part. her mother losing her job (too tired, too tired all the time: too sad to see a doctor, too weak to even get out of bed anymore), bills piling up. her older sister trying hard to keep things afloat with an underpaid gig at the laundry, but it’s not enough. it’s never enough. one day grandpa comes home and he’s making math in his head, calculating how much longer they can survive if he sells the farm, the truck, the horse. that night freddie asks, how come their dad’s not around? he could provide, he could help them? grandpa grows colder then, gaze darker than the clouds gathering on the horizon: i’ll burn this place to the ground before he sets foot in here.

that side of the family, either way, is cunning and insidious, and it comes knocking at the door, offering business, a way to salvage the farm. it is victor, freddie’s uncle, who brings the offering: grandpa throws him out in spite, and freddie watches it all while she’s sitting on the fence outside, skin burning gold from the sun, dust sticking to her like glitter. you’re pretty, victor says: you might be your family’s only chance, you know? she doesn’t (can’t) understand, but she’ll walk any way that can save grandpa, his horse, her mother’s strength, her sister’s dreams of becoming a nurse.

turns out the way is a dark and winding one, one where she has to suck up the terror when a man touches her skin and she has to say yes, please, more, i’ll be anything you want, the key to unlocking all the dark and sick desires you’ve buried in there and can’t speak to anyone, not your wife, not your daughter, not your mother: give them to me, she whispers, let the darkness out. at night she takes hour-long showers to try and rub the darkness off of her, and it won’t come off, it never does — but grandpa didn’t have to sell the farm, and even if he was against her getting a job (said she’d be a waitress, don’t worry pops, i got it), the day he realized he wouldn’t have to sell the horse he smiled: it felt like the gates of heaven themselves would open.

she hates her job, but doesn’t mind the company. they make her work in a dismissed motel, along with girls about her age and her damage, and there is an unspoken bond of loyalty between them — the guys, too, when they’re guarding the doors they smile at them as fondly as they would their sisters (but they wouldn’t let their sisters in a place like this, no). there’s carl, who never speaks but smiles at fred each time he sees her. there’s billy, drives her home every night before victor can volunteer. there’s sonja, who teaches her how to punch a man’s throat when he gets too handsy. there’s a sense of family, while her own begins unraveling around the suspicion that something dark is going on.

el paso, texas, 2005. the farm is saved, but mom’s not getting any better. depression sucks her up, little by little, and she drifts away more or less peacefully, doesn’t dare oppose resistance — she dies a morning of october, and neither of her daughters can speak of it. grandpa has to put down the horse a week later. she’d thought she’d saved everyone —— how come the darkness still won’t leave?

she grows sadder, dark as the clouds that won’t seem to leave their town alone. she finds an unexpected shoulder to cry on in the person of johnny, billy’s cousin and yet another one of victor’s men: johnny’s sweet, he makes her laugh. he begins driving her home at night instead of billy (his cousin’s not happy, she can see this: but he nods his agreement anyway and doesn’t protest, he can’t, johnny’s older and wiser and he’s still just a kid). the rest of it is as old and predictable as it gets: he says he’ll make an honest woman out of her, she retorts there needs to be an honest man for that to happen to begin with. they laugh, they kiss, they promise — five years later, she’s twenty-five and married, almost happy. almost.

el paso, texas, 2006. she wants to leave her job. johnny said he can’t stand the thought of someone touching her where he should, and she tries: but victor won’t have it, no, did you think it was a temporary gig? come on girl, you’re smarter than that. he’s filthy, he humiliates her — beats her just to prove he can, he owns her. she comes home with bruises and johnny’s angry: if you couldn’t quit, he says, it’s because you didn’t really want t. his bruises are added to victor’s, perfectly symmetrical blooms to decorate her skin. she begins cracking, her very essence tearing at the seams — she was trying so hard to save everyone, how the fuck is she gonna save herself now?

billy comes over sometimes. his commitments to what he likes to call “street things” keep him out of the motel now, but he needs to check on her — she makes up excuses to keep away, hide the signs. says she’s got a bad cold one day, the other she’s just not feeling. one day he’s got enough and forces her to open the door: a busted lip, both her eyes grown purple with the blows. his anger is scalding hot but she manages to calm him down — it’s okay, she says, he just gets angry sometimes. i’ll find a way out of it somehow. he leaves in a hurry, never shows up again: the unspoken fear in her mind, that he’s gone and done something terrible he’ll regret, almost brings a relief to her sore mind. perhaps he’s killed him, she thinks. perhaps i’m free.

johnny comes back and it’s business as usual. she tells herself she’s gotta be strong, gotta leave this town, gotta make it out alive. she packs a bag and leaves it hidden under the bed, but when she looks at the door she sees the world with johnny’s face, ready to eat her up, chew her out, over and over. it’s the day police comes knocking at her door that the world drags her out — in the person of detective jake graham, investigating the disappearance of william ‘billy’ dickinson — part of a much bigger investigation, that sooner leads to the arrest of victor rosce and most of his men (johnny included). she’s on her own: and when the detective figures out she needs help, he makes the way for a new life in red ridge, nevada. beaten, broken, ashamed, she says goodbye to texas; to freddie dickinson; to the comfortable shelter of her fear.

red ridge, nevada, 2015. red ridge ain’t much of an afterlife, but it works. they take her to a women’s shelter and bit by bit she puts her pieces back together. badly held in place, like a broken teacup taped back together — but it works. azul, the director of the shelter, turns out to be the family she’s missing — she finds a sense of home in the shelter, a new purpose behind the counter of st. peter’s, serving drinks for those who are heading for a fight at rogues’. like a gatekeeper, like st. peter himself: such a stark contrast from the hell she just left.

heaven is short-lived, and hell comes knocking back at the door. it appears in the shape of two parallel lines on a pregnancy test: johnny’s seed, rooted in her womb, giving way to evil like himself. she wants to throw up, hopes somehow that’ll rid her of this curse — her vision blinded, her ears are ringing. in fear, she turns to the only place she knows can provide comfort, or advice, or any sort of guidance while she has no fucking clue how to fix this: back home, to her sister.

el paso, texas, 2016. grandpa’s dying, angie says. old age catching up to him, so all he does is lie in his bed all day and ask for movies to be played continuously on his tv. it’s an odd family they recreate now, the nurse, the dying man and the pregnant sister. there is a soft, mournful balance found, until one night victor shows up demanding to see her and when angie claims freddie isn’t there he has his men beat her grandpa, thrash the house just to get the point across: he can. he owns her.

she sits by her grandpa’s deathbed that night and weeps. i’m sorry, pops, i’m so sorry: i tried so hard to be a saint, to save everyone. perhaps he’s just exhaling, but it sounds like he’s laughing. child, he says, saints always die either virgins or martyrs. you fucked up the first — now you just gotta pray you’re good enough for the latter.

somewhere between texas and nevada, 2016. grandpa dies two weeks later, and freddie’s not there. right after victor’s visit, angie gave her money just to get her away from them, and bring her trouble with her — grandpa dies a week before her baby’s born, taken out of her and delivered into a nurse’s hands without so much as a goodbye. they ask, would you like to see your baby? freddie turns and pretends she didn’t hear. wherever the baby will end up, it’s gotta be a better fate than the child of a martyr.

red ridge, nevada, 2017. red ridge felt like a home. for a hot second, it felt like things could start over again. she ends up in it again — in the thick of a burning town, trying to make her way through people that do not belong to her, desperately looking for something to hold on to. a year has passed since she last set foot in town, but st. peter’s has been waiting for her; the same arrangement of unfinished business, too. little by little, in red ridge, she begins putting herself back together.

CURRENTLY fred is a bartender at st. peter’s, occasionally lends a hand to azul evangelista for the women’s shelter, is in a committed relationship with detective jake graham. her uncle, her husband and most of their gang are in jail after the investigation jake led back in 2015. she hasn’t heard from her sister ever since leaving el paso. her baby was given up for adoption and she never learned anything more about them — nor does she plan to.

#mine's a humble light — file.#intro.#redridgeintro #♥

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