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#in defense of both my handwriting and my spelling. i was drunk
the-fiction-witch · 3 years
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Books
TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY WATTS X READER  RATING: FUNNY + FLIRTY
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I walked down the half broken, foul smelling new york streets. Hearing my heels clacking in the pavement as I walked, the swishing of my petticoats and my dress, the small sun trying to peek through the thick grey clouds. I put my sunglasses in my handbag as I arrived at the tall buildings I saw the beaten up beetle parked in the street and the small handful of parking tickets it had under the wiper blade so I picked them up and sighed turning to look down into the ever stretching darkness of the stairwell. I stepped down trying not to touch the handrail to the first level of little doors with some lights and then down the second stairwell into the dark nothing's, it smells like shit down here. 
I got to the door trying to not touch the gross walls tapping in the door as hard as I could hearing the metal echo through the basement.
The door opened tenderly and careful a first as if trying to peak before it opened fully revealing a barefoot, Benny watts. Stood in his black dirty jeans where he'd clearly wiped his hands down his legs for some reason, his black t shirt with his usual chains, his hand fixing his hair out of his eye with a small smile on his lips 
"Hey you"
"Hey" I smiled briefly stepping inside, as soon as my foot crossed into his apartment he put his hand on my waist and gave my cheek a kiss "move your car" I told him pushing the tickets into his chest he took them and I headed inside slipping my Jacket off and laying it over the chair 
"I'll move it in a bit" he says "coffee?"
"Tea" I Answered "extra milk t-"
"Extra milk two sugars I know" he laughs going over to his kitchen setting the tickets down in a forming pile on his kitchen counter 
"You should pay them"
"I should do a lot of things"
"Pay your parking tickets Benny"
"Suck my dick y/n" he says leaning against the counter looking at me crossing his arms over his chest "we both don't do what the other wants us to"
"You make me suck your dick I'll bite your cock off" I sighed sitting at the table 
"I know, I still have the bite mark from Last time" he sighed bringing the cups over sitting across from me with his coffee instantly I took my little hanki from my handbag and cleaned the top of the cup seeing the white cotton turn grey 
"What is it Benny? What did you summon me to the slums of new york for?"
"Oohh sorry, next time should I request an audience at mi lady's palace?" 
"What do you want Benny before I pour this tea down your pants"
"I need your help"
"... Hu. Never thought I'd hear you say that but go on"
"I need your help with something that only you can help me with"
"Right…"
"I wanna write a book" 
"A book?"
"Yes"
"What kinda of book?"
"One with... words?"
"No shit. Fictional or non fictional?"
"What's the difference?"
"Fictional is a story, non fictional is real life."
"Oh, non fiction"
"Okay, do you have a plot structure"
"A who what?"
"What's the plan for the book Benny?"
"I shall write it. And then I shall publish it." 
"Did you wanna edit it somewhere in the middle there?" I laughed
"Eh, you can do that" 
"Okay… so lemme guess this is a book about you? Or about chess?"
"Little I'd both"
"Who's publishing it?"
"Me?"
"Ohh so you have four thousand dollars laying around do you?" 
"What!"
"If you wanna self publish Benny, the basic level is four thousand dollars and that will get you local distribution if your lucky which is about five states out if that." 
".... Uuuughh, I'll publish through a publisher? Your publisher?"
"Eleanor doesn't take non fiction"
"Then she has to know someone who does? Right?'
"She does but then have to pay for meetings which cost roughly fifty bucks per ten minutes, and you have to get an approved manuscript before they'll even meet you, and even though a publisher for international you’re taking nine to ten thousand. Dollars."
"Uuuuuuughhh, wait. It's a chess book so I could get funding for it from the chess federation"
"Maybe, but then they are going to need to approve it first, and the send to a publisher willing to carry it, and then designing, and editing and printing and stocking which could take over five years" 
"Five years!"
"Yep. The novel world is a slow one Benny" I said "besides that's all publishing stuff, you can worry about that when you have a manuscript"
"A what now?"
"Manuscript is like the… actual book pages and all the words that will be on them"
"Ohh, well that shouldn't be too long, bang it out over a long weekend or something"
"You think you can write a book manuscript over a long weekend? Three days?"
"Yes"
".... Okay, so you wanna write a book? Which for non fiction about chess really a good level would be five or six hundred pages minimum, your going to get it written, edited, and ready to send to the chess federation for approval by Monday morning, even though they might reject it or just plain not fund it, you'll be already one thousand dollars in the red, before you add shipping, handling, copywriting, paying me for editing because I ain't doing that shit for free and as it's currently four pm on a Saturday afternoon and you haven't even writen a word yet"
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh."
"How long did it take you to write your book?"
"Six years, in and off with a full time job and without an editor"
"I'm fucked aren't I?'
"Not fucked Benny. Overambitious" I laughed "do you have a title?"
"No."
"Do you have a synopsis?"
"No."
"Do you have a typewriter?"
"I was going to write it by hand?"
"With your handwriting?"
"What's wrong with my handwriting?"
"Benny, it looks like a spider learnt cursive and then got drunk"
"I don't own a typewriter. May I borrow yours?"
"No. Buy one"
"There like sixty dollars!"
"I will buy you a pre-owned typewriter"
"Aww thank you sugar"
"How are you intending to pay me for being your editor?"
"... Royalties?"
"Awww Benny darling, if you sell your book for a dollar each you'll be lucky to make 25 cents per book in royalties, less if you go though a publisher, and even less if it's being funded by the federation… you'll maybe get about six pennies if your lucky" I explain 
"Then how the hell do you afford your car? Your house? Your dresses?"
"I sell alot of books Benny"
"I'll give you three pennies if my six pennies royalties?"
"Of your not yet existing book? So I'm just meant to wait and see if I get paid?"
"I'll bake you a cake?"
"You can't cook Benny"
"... I will eat you out?"
"No deal"
"I promise you half of all royalties, editor credit and I'll fuck you as much as you want, now will you please just help me?"
"Fine. I'll be needing a deposit payment" I said 
"Alright, you know where the bedroom is I'll finish my coffee and be there in a sec" 
I sat on the leather chair looking at the handwritten chapter structure Benny had given me "Benny?"
"Yeah?" He asks slightly jumping where he had been sat for so long at his table with his notes and the old typewriter I got for him trying to figure out how he loaded paper in it 
"What is this word?" 
"What word?" He asks 
"The something with something"
"Which chapter?"
"Four?"
"The faults with defense" 
"That is how you write an s?" 
"Yes"
"... How do you not write an s right it's in your name?" 
"No it's not?"
"Yes it is"
"B. E. N. N. Y. No s there?"
"Watts?" 
"Ooohh yeah"
"You fool" 
"Also, does this have a E?"
"No."
"And how am I meant to write a chess book without the letter e? I sort of need it? Chess. Defensive. Queen. Benny."
"Antidisestablishmentarianism" 
"That's a word?"
'"yep"
"Can you use it in a sentence?"
"Screw you bitch I can spell antidisestablishmentarianism" 
"A.n.t.i.d.i.s.t?"
"Nope"
"Damn it" he sighed "but I need e how am I meant to write chess without an e?"
"Write an o and then draw a line in the middle?" 
"Fine" he said starting to type one key at a time "Openings… and… tactics… by… Benny… watts" he said but the typewriter had got to the end of the spool "y/n! Why won't it type!"
"Benny just… ughh come here you child" I sighed getting up going over and moving the spool back to the centre so he could write "there. You have to do that at the end of each line"
"Really?"
"Yep. Isn't writing fun" I smiled kissing his head 
I sat listening to the clicking and clacking of his typewriter keys, sounded like music to my ears in his quiet dark and cold apartment
"Fuck!" He yelled breaking me from my relaxation as he stopped
"What?" I asked
"How do I undo?" He sighed rubbing his eyes 
"You can't what happened Benny?" 
"I typed porn instead of pawn" he sighed resting his head in his hands
"You fool" I giggled "you wanna know how we fix mistakes Benny?" I giggled going over wrapping my arms around his neck 
"We we write the whole page?" 
"Nope. White out" I smiled handing him the shall bottle 
"Fuck! That smells like paint"
"Ehh pretty much is"
"Thank you y/n"
"Your welcome" I smiled giving his head s kiss "call me when chapter one is done I'm going for a shower" 
"Uuuuhhh… yeah I'll do that" he says not sounding confident 
"How close to finished are you with chapter one?"
"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh… next week sound good?"
"And you could bang out a whole book in a weekend" I laughed sitting back on the chair 
"I said I'm sorry! I didn't know it was this hard" he says 
I sat the other side of the table with my lovely blue pen, my leg over my knee, smirking slightly at him as Benny sat on the other side his hands to his face watching me Intently, panic in his eyes everytime he saw me use the blue pen, which I was having to do alot. 
"Here" I said throwing it back to him now I was done "you should probably re write that's a little too much editing for white out watts"
"What's wrong with this?" He asks as he looked over the page 
"You used the wrong there"
"I hate you. Beyond words can express." 
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ubernoxa · 4 years
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A Stupid Dare - Chapter 11: A Pair of Idiots 
A Guns N’ Roses FanFic
Chapter Summary: Duff and Delilah being cute. That’s it. That’s the chapter
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“Good morning,” Delilah woke to Duff’s hot breath on her back.
“Good morning, Duffles,” Delilah giggled back at Duff’s confused reaction.
“Duffles?”
“Yeah, Duffles,” Delilah replied messing up his already messy bleached puff of hair.
“I’m gonna go make some breakfast,” Delilah wiggled her way out of Duff’s arms. Once she stood up she immediately felt Duff pull her back down.
“Hey!” Delilah squealed as she fell back onto the mattress.
“What’s up?” Duff asked as he wrapped his arms gently around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.
“Hopefully the roof, I’m not a fan of getting rained on,” Delilah replied earning a chuckle from Duff and a frustrated groan from Slash.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” Delilah said as Slash’s eyes fluttered open.
“It’s okay,” He lied as he rolled over and covered his head with a pillow.
Once he heard her leave, Slash threw his pillow over towards where Duff sat.
“what the fuck!” Duff easily caught the pillow that was thrown at him.
“I’m not saying that I want you two to have sex in your bed because I don’t wanna see that, but you seriously need to fuck her or something,” Slash said in a hushed tone, so Delilah wouldn’t hear him.
“Dude,”
“Seriously, it was absolutely painful watching you last night. Don’t get me started on this morning. How long were you watching her sleep. That’s creepy shit if I ever knew it,” Slash defensively held his arms up as he spoke.
“Slash,” Duff sighed as he plopped back into his.
“I don’t care how fuckin cute she looks. Just fuck her. Fuck her then date her. Date her and then fuck her. I don’t care just do something. If you won’t I will,” Duff threw the pillow back at Slash nailing him in the face.
“Chill out Duff, I’m only fucking with you. Just be more blunt with her about your intentions,,” Slash laugh before rolling back and went back to sleep.
Delilah stood in the kitchen searching through the cabinets hoping to find something to make for breakfast for the guys.
“Looking for something?” Delilah almost jumped as someone wrapped their arms around her waist.
“Food,” Delilah’s words were no louder than a whisper.
“What are you making?” Duff quickly opened the fridge to look through the food that Mags and the other girls had bought for them.
“I don’t know, maybe breakfast bowls?”
“Delly, what’s that?” Delilah’s heart skipped a beat when she heard him call her Delly.
“Well Duffles,” she paused and looked at the sly grin that was plastered on his face. She smiled to herself as she noticed that he might actually like her nickname for him. Little did she know that Duff would let her call him anything.
“A breakfast bowl is a bunch of random meat, potatoes, eggs, and vegetables. My brother and I would make it all the time back home. It looks like you don’t have any eggs, so random meat and potatoes it is,” Delilah shrugged as she found a bag of potatoes in a random cabinet.
She looked cute with her hair an absolute mess. Duff gently tucked a long strand of hair behind her petite ear. They locked eyes for a moment and both of them froze.
Delilah was panicking. She was internally screaming. Should she say something? Should she mess with his hair? Should she go and cook?
“Hey Del, are you making us food?” Axl’s words caused Delilah to take a step away from Duff and turn towards Axl. It was like the spell that had been casted over her and Duff had been lifted.
“Breakfast bowls,” Delilah smiled when she received a smile from him.
“Duff, are these potatoes good? Or have they gone bad?” Delilah rambled as she handed one of the potatoes to Duff. He immediately sniffed it and shrugged.
“Seem fine to me,” he shrugged back to Delilah.
“What do you ever know about potatoes?” The words sounded sour as they left Axl’s mouth. He clearly wasn’t a morning person.
“They don’t give the last name McKagan to the French,” Duff cockily replied.
———-
Delilah stood in Mag’s bathroom staring at her reflection. If only her parents could see her now, a smirk unknowingly formed on her lips.
“You should wear this,” Mags handed Delilah a ‘skirt’ as Mags called it.
“Mags this ‘skirt’ is barely longer than the one I wore when we first met,” Delilah protested as she held the fabric in her hands.
“This skirt, unlike the fabric you wore that night we met, is form fitting and won’t flash every living soul,” Mags quickly rebuttaled as she walked into the bathroom.
“Why can’t I wear pants?” Delilah wined leaning back on the toilet.
“Because it’s going to be 104 degrees Fahrenheit out tonight. I dont want you to pass out or melt from the heat!”
“Don’t underestimate me, I once wore a floor length dress with long sleeves in 90 plus degree weather,” Delilah teased back earning a laugh from Mags.
“Oh Honey,” Mags shouted emphasizing the O in honey.
“Unless your dress was made of leather, it’s not comparable. Your dress let your skin breathe. You will BOIL if you wear those pants. I love you Del but COME ON,” Mags replied as she comically waved her arms in the air for added dramatic effect.
“Plus girl you got legs that are to die for. Why not show them off?” Mags added earning a smile from Delilah.
“Fine!” Delilah agreed and put on the skirt. Even though this skirt was only a little longer than her old one, she almost felt comfortable in it.
“So who is Motley Crue?”
“They are the band the boys are opening for tonight. They are all borderline insane and from some of the shit I see them pull, I don’t know how they are still alive,” Mag’s laughter filled the bathroom where the two of them were getting ready.
“Oh,” was all Delilah could reply.
“This one guy Nikki, I have seen him light himself on fire both on stage and at parties. Im also pretty sure their guitarist is a vampire or alien or something. Their singer is hot though, but he knows it. I honestly don’t remember the last time I saw him without a girl literaly swooning over him. Their drummer is a sweetheart at times though, BUT those are the ones you gotta watch out for. They are a little much for me, so I usually stay away from them,” Mags focuses on the mirror as she spoke trying to fix her makeup. She wanted to look perfect for Derek tonight. Also known as the guy who she has been spending every other night with. She was excited to introduce him to Delilah and Stevie.
“A little much?”
“They make great music, but they are comple sleze bags too. The Nikki guy who lights himself on fire, he is the worst,” Mags added leaving the bathroom leaving Delilah alone.
“Hey it’s my favorite girls!” Delilah smiled as Stevie hugged the two of them as they entered the back stage area.
“Wow this place is nice,” Mags commented on the clean doors and mirrors. On top of everything there were even multiple rooms backstage.
The girls quickly followed Stevie who was in no way sober to a door that had a piece of torn paper with Guns N’ Roses written on it in sloppy handwriting.
“Look what the trash dragged it!” Stevie yelled as he walked into the small room.
“Cat not trash Stevie. Nice try though. It might help next time if you were a little less drunk,” Mags teased.
Everyone was sitting around drinking, well everyone except Axl and Izzy.
“Hey Delly!” Delilah smiled at Duff who motioned for her to come sit next to him. She walked over towards him without hesitation and plopped down next to him. To say she had been waiting all afternoon to see him was an understatement. She even wrote a couple of puns to hopefully get a laugh out of Duff.
Mag quickly shot her brother a raised eyebrow as she watched Delilah or ‘Delly’ sit next to Duff who immediately shrugged and sat down next to Slash. He loved his sister dearly, but he wasn’t gonna cock block his band mate for the rest of his life. He tried, but some things will always find a way. Atleast it was Duff and not Axl.
“So are you girls coming to the party tonight,” Slash asked only shortly realizing what was going on. He was too preoccupied with his guitar earlier.
“Party?” Delilah asked as Duff pulled Delilah onto his lap earning a glare from Mags.
“Yeah with Crue. They always have these big parties at their place after they play. Are you coming?” Duff asked as he mindlessly played with her hair.
“Mags you going?” Delilah asked across the room.
Mags wanted nothing more than to say no, and forbid Delilah from going. She sighed. She wasn’t Delilah’s Mom and it wasn’t her place. The least she could do was look after the girl.
“Hell yeah” Stevie turned towards his sister, and this time it was his turn to send a confused look her way. Mags hated the boys of Motley Crue more than she hated Axl. Why did she agree to go?
Little did he know that Mags wanted to yell no. She wanted to ‘forbid’ Delilah from going because she knew what happened at those parties, but she couldn’t. If she said no it would bring both unwanted drama and stores she would have to share which she was in no mood to share, so she agreed to go. At least this way she could also keep an eye on Delilah.
—————
“You were amazing!” Delilah cheered as Duff and the rest of the guys walked in from the stage.
“Not tooo shabby!” Mags gave her brother a hug after a performance well done not giving a care in the world about him being drenched in sweat. She was proud. It was about time that all of his hard work was paying off.
Stevie and Mags led their small group back to their room backstage or as Delilah earlier called it the kingdom of booze.
Before Delilah could walk away and meet up with Mags at the front of the line she felt Duff’s fingers intertwine with hers. She froze and shot a confused looked towards him.
“Come Delly, walk with me,” he whispered into her ear before placing his cowboy hat onto her head. She looked even cuter with the giant smile that formed on her face. She was beautiful.
She obliged. Her heart felt like it was going to explode. She assumed only drunk Duff saw her as attractive, and sober Duff only saw her as a friend, nothing more.
“Did ya like the show?”
“Yeah, I just told you I did Duffy,” she giggled back.
“Well I like you saying that you liked the show,” his smile was setting her heart on fire. Butterflies were causing chaos in her stomach as she tried to form some sort of reply.
“Hey, did you hear about the new restaurant on the strip? It’s called Karama and they don’t have a menu!” Delilah asked Duff mentally preparing herself to make sure she didn’t mess up the joke.
“How do you know what to order?” Duff asked curious into where she was going with this.
“There’s no menu because you get what you deserve,” the two of them laughed like idiots.
Izzy and Duff groaned as they heard Delilah’s pun. “Ohh God it’s a match made in hell,” Izzy muttered under his breath so only slash could hear.
“What’s that?” Mags asked as she pointed to Duff and Delilah holding hands.
“My bassist and your friend,” Stevie causally replied as he poured himself a drink waiting for her to freak out.
“Were you...I don’t know...supposed to cock block him and your entire band?” Mags sarcastically asked stealing her brother’s drink. Was she happy? No. Not even in the slightest.
She then watched as Duff and Delilah walked in giggling about what Mags could only assume to be one of his stupid puns. That’s when her heart melted a little. Only a couple of hours ago was Delilah on the verge of tears about leaving her family and her old life behind.
Stevie smiled as he noticed Mags relax when Duff and Delilah walked into the room laughing and giggling without a care in the world. How was he supposed to keep those two apart? Hell he would bet that they would lighten a dark room.
“Well I did at first, but this isn’t what happened last time. From what I heard they’re taking it slow. Duff might do stupid things, but I trust him to watch over her. He’s a good guy. Plus how am I supposed to keep those two apart,” Stevie pointed over towards Delilah who currently had a strand of Duff’s hair places above her upper lip like a mustache. They were acting like a pair of idiots.
Mags remained silent as she watched the two of them giggle. Delilah needed this. Mags knew Delilah needed someone to distract her and cheer her up, but she just wished it could have been her instead of Duff.
“Hey Mags,” Delilah shouted across the room noticing her friends saddened mood. Delilah went to return Duff’s hat, bur he quickly gave it back to her whispering into her ear, “Delly this looks way better on you,” followed by a quick kiss on her cheek. He could feel Mags stares across the room.
“Wanna go and listen to the show?” Delilah added as she finished her drink and walked over towards Mags who quickly followed her. Delilah was hoping that watching Motley Crue would raise Mag’s spirit. She hated seeing Mags down.
The two girls walked towards the stage. The original plan was to watch the show from the audience, but Mags quickly changed her mind when she noticed how packed the bar was. She always admired Crue fans, but they were ‘alot’ and Mags didn’t want Delilah to feel uncomfortable. She heard that a could girls were taking their bras off and throwing them at Vince during the show. They found a spot backstage where they could clealy hear the music while keeping out of the groupie’s way.
About half way through the set, Mags finally got the courage to ask Delilah the question that had been burning at her, “so you and Duff?”
“I have no idea. He so sweet and kind and funny, but I don’t know if he likes me back. What if he is just being nice?”
Mags laughed at Delilah’s cluelessness. “Del, first off he calls you Delly. He is making lists of real bad puns and jokes for you to laugh at. Don’t get me started on the way he looks at you,” Delilah blushed at Mag’s words even though they came out more of frustrated than sweet.
Mags froze for a second and wondered if Duff was Delilah’s first crush. She never heard Delilah once mention any guys outside her ex fiancé.
“So you’re not a fan of Duff,” Delilah raised her eyebrow.
“Ugh, how do I explain it,” Mags grunted and leaned back against the wall.
“He is going to be a rockstar. I’ve been on this strip long enough to know what happens here,” Mags watched as all of the excitement that once filled Delilah evaporate. Mags was mentally scolding herself. Why did her mouth deceive her like that?
“I just thought,” Mags watched as Delilah pull her knees into her chest.
“Well how about we make a deal,” Mags paused waiting for Delilah to look up.
“A deal?”
“You can date Duff, but if he hurts you I will beat the living hell out of him,” Delilah nodded and laughed as Mags hugged her.
“Come on let’s get back to the guys, cow girl. There is a huge after party that you are not going to want to be sober for,” their laughter filled the hallway as the walked back towards the room.
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ave--michael · 5 years
Text
Revertere ad Sanctum (Return to Sanctuary) - Part 4/? | Michael Langdon X Reader
Masterlist
Author’s note: Taking my cues from Ryan Murphy and doing a flashback. I intentionally did not name what song was playing in this chapter, so you can imagine whatever you personally find romantic. For me, it’s “Sweet” by Cigarettes After Sex, and I was listening to it when I wrote this. I might work on another update before the weekend’s over, who knows??
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Eighteen Months Ago
Fucking grimoires, with their unreadable fucking handwriting.
Y/N groaned and pushed the old, leather-bound volume away across her desk before rubbing her tired eyes. She knew that there was something that she was overlooking, something that would make the protection spells she had placed upon the Sanctuary more potent. The magic was good, of course. She had always excelled at magical defense, so her wards would have been good enough, even if Michael weren’t also contributing to their energetic upkeep.
But she didn’t want them to be just good enough, just strong enough. They were too important for her to allow for even the tiniest possibility that they might fail. They had to be perfect. They were just one of many things that separated the Sanctuary from the Outposts, that made it so unique. Just one of many, but the one for which she was the most responsible.
The Sanctuary would not fall, not if she was good enough. Smart enough. Strong enough.
She had been searching through her library of magical texts, collected from her time at Robichaux’s and beyond, determined to discover something that would give her wards the extra boost she wanted, but so far her searches had not turned up anything that she had not already included in the formula or considered and discarded.
How late was it? She had lost track of time, several discarded texts ago. Her eyes burned, her focus was shot… And the music, bass-heavy, slow and slinky, emanating up from the apartment below was not helping.
When she stepped out onto the landing at the top of the spiral staircase leading down into the parlor, it was to ask Michael to keep it down, whatever he was doing, but the words stopped in her throat when she took in the scene below.
The lights were dimmed, the only illumination from the flickering, golden light of candles scattered throughout the room. Michael stood at the foot of the staircase, leaning casually against the bannister and gazing up at her as though he had been waiting for her to come out and protest. Of course he had been…
“Come down here.”
“Michael, I--” It was tempting, so tempting. “I’m working on something.”
“You’re finished for tonight.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Now come down here, before I make you.”
It was the same voice that he used when issuing commands, the quiet, authoritative cadence that always sent a bolt of desire through her core. It was a voice that terrified everyone else, and for good reason.
Everyone but her. Not that Michael had never used concilium on her, but it was always for recreational purposes, and only after she begged him to do it. To push into her mind like he could push into her body, and make her do whatever he wanted.
She descended the stairs, taking each step slowly until she was standing only one step up from the floor, amused at being momentarily taller than he was. He placed his hand on top of hers where it rested on the handrail, caressing her knuckles with his thumb.
“I still have a lot to do tonight,” she said softly.
“You’ve been working too hard.”
He toyed with the garnet set in silver that she wore on her left ring finger, the more delicate and feminine twin to the one he wore on his. The band of tiny black diamonds that she wore nestled beneath it.
He looked back up at her face. “Tonight you’re not my second-in-command; you’re my wife. And no one will deny me the right to spoil my wife.” He grinned. “Not even you.”
She sighed and relented, letting him take her by the hand and lead her to the chaise longue in the corner. As she settled into the velvet cushions--hating to admit how good it felt, how right Michael was that she needed to rest--he reached for the bottle chilling in a bucket on the side table.
“Champagne?” she asked. “Who would have thought there would be champagne after the end of the world?”
“I was saving it so we could celebrate. I had imagined licking it off of your naked body as the bombs dropped outside.” He draped a dish towel over the bottle and twisted the cork out with a muffled pop. “But that didn’t happen.”
Pulling off the apocalypse, it turned out, was even more stressful and chaotic than either of them had anticipated. Something being destined by prophecy did not necessarily make it easy. When they had finally extricated themselves from their responsibilities and the members of the Cooperative on their first night at the Sanctuary, they had both been so exhausted that they had fallen asleep in their clothes, on top of their still-made bed.
She accepted the glass of champagne Michael offered her. “A toast?”
“Yes, a toast. To the endings and beginnings?” he proposed.
“To being on the winning side?”
He smiled. “To us?”
“To us.”
She drank deeply, letting the alcohol loosen the tension in her shoulders and unmoor her just slightly from the tangle of thoughts and stresses cluttering her mind.
Michael sat down on the end of the chaise, set his glass on the floor, patted his lap. “Feet.”
She slipped off her satin flats and rested her feet on top of Michael’s thighs. She stifled a moan and leaned further back as he took her right foot in both hands and began working the soreness out of her. It was a talent of his, this ability to make her feel good in whatever way she needed, and a talent that she valued highly.
Michael switched to her left foot. “I want to ask you something.”
“Anything.” She had her eyes closed, head back.
“What do you think about us having a baby?”
The laughter bubbled up out of her throat as light and euphoric as the carbonation in the champagne she had drunk too quickly.
“I think I like it when you joke,” she said, but when she opened her eyes to look at him, the hurt clouding his face told her that she had miscalculated.
Oh fuck. He’s serious.
“Well, that answers my question. Thank you for your honesty.”
He started to stand up, to leave, but she leaned forward, grabbing his arm to stop him, stammering apologies.
“Michael-- I’m sorry. It’s not that I-- that I don’t want to have a baby with you.”
Even saying the words felt unnatural, like speaking the Latin in an incantation for the first time, unsure whether it would work or backfire and knock her on her ass.
“It’s just… sudden,” she continued.
“We’ve been married for two years, Y/N.”
“I know that, Michael,” she said, matching his tone. “But we’ve never talked about having kids. I didn’t know you even wanted to.”
“I don’t think that I knew I wanted to, until now,” he said, playing with the hem of her dress. “When has it ever been an option? When we were in school? When we eloped and were living in random Satanists’ guest rooms? This is the first time that it has even made sense to consider it.”
“But does it make sense? Michael, every day there’s something, some new problem to deal with. The reports from the Outposts are dire. How can we bring a baby into this?”
“How can we not? What’s the point of any of this if we don’t build a future?”
She took a deep breath to collect her thoughts, trying not to derail the night any further.
It wasn’t that she had never considered their future. From the moment Michael had shared his identity with her--holding up the fall of his blonde hair, shorter then, to show her the mark on his neck--their future had been almost all they had both thought about. She had always known that to commit to him was to commit, too, to his mission, to his birthright. To the annihilation of the world.
But now they had achieved it, and she was realizing that she had never considered their future beyond the apocalypse, not in any detail. She had known that she would be with Michael, and that had been as far as her thoughts had reached. It had been enough. Without asking him, she had assumed that being together was also enough for him.
She had not considered that he did not share her shortsightedness. That he might want, need, something more.
“Why don’t you want to have a baby, really?” he asked now. “Is it me? Are you afraid that our child would be… monstrous?”
“No.” Emphatic, truthful. “Michael, how could you think that?”
“I don’t know what else it could be.”
She was getting frustrated, with herself for not being able to articulate her thoughts, with the tears pricking the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill. Frustrated with the truth.
When she spoke, her voice was quiet. Michael had to ask her to repeat herself.
“What kind of mother do you think I would be?”
A tear broke loose and trickled down her cheek, and then another. She angrily dashed them away before he could reach for her.
“I’ve done horrible things,” she continued, thinking of the people she had betrayed, killed. “And I don’t even think they’re horrible, not really. I don’t regret anything. I probably should, but I don’t. If I had a chance, if I had a million chances, I would change nothing.”
She sighed, the sound heavy and ragged.
“Women like me don’t get to be mothers.”
Michael leaned forward and took her face in his hands, kissed her gently.
“You are the strongest woman I have ever known,” he said. “You are loyal, intelligent, powerful. You taught me everything I know about how to love and to be loved in return. If more women like you were mothers, the world wouldn’t have needed to be destroyed.”
She leaned forward and kissed him again, harder this time, needing the contact with him, the taste of him, his weight pressing down onto her. Her favorite way to resolve any argument they had.
They shifted so that her legs were around his waist and his arousal was pressing into her. He ground into her, eliciting a gasp, and ran his lips over her jawline.
“You’re not getting out of this conversation,” he whispered in her ear. “Come with me to the breeding facility tomorrow. Just so I can show you something,” he said, when she opened her mouth to protest.
And then he was kissing her neck, and running his hand up her thigh, and all she could say was yes.
Tag list: @langdonsdemon @coolworld95 @tinkled–pinkmoodpoisoning @xlangdons-evilbabygirlx @the-captain-kidd@celiholland @firstwagondiplomatapricot @millie67 @nymphaiii @strangemaximoff @fonduebitches @w0nder-marie @baby-honeydew @fanfictionrecommendations-com @parttimebisexualgod @sebastianshoe
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quest-draws · 6 years
Text
Excerpt from The Story of the Seven: Reconstructed, an archival initiative seeking to recreate Madame Lucretia’s original notes with as much accuracy as possible. The following has been compiled by comparing post-Story accounts from dozens of dedicated chroniclers, with oversight from Madame Lucretia and the available members of the Starblaster’s crew. 
Excerpt begins 
Cycle 36, day 6
     We’ve finally found a sign of civilization, as well as plausible evidence that we are all blind idiots. As we flew over yet more icy foothills, Merle (Of all of us!) noticed that one of the mounds appeared to be smoking. Under more careful examination we realized that these ‘foothills’ were actually snowed-covered buildings, meaning it is quite likely the other foothills we’ve seen the past few days were also actually buildings. 
     We, the best and brightest of our deceased world, saviors of multiple realities, the last and only line of defense against the relentless malevolence of the Hunger, wasted nearly a week looking for signs of life when there were entire cities directly under our hull. At the risk of sounding pessimistic, I think this world may be fucked. 
     Now that we’ve realized our mistake, Captain wants us to backtrack and see if we can find a settlement closer to Lup and Barry’s original prediction of the Lights trajectory. However, Lup’s trying to convince him that we should do some reconnaissance in this village first. 
LT: Look, there’s no point going backwards in this fuckin’ blizzard if we can just-
CD: -We are way, way off, the- they’re your calculations? Do you- 
BB: [crosstalk] They’re our calculations, Lu
LT: [crosstalk] I know.
TT: [crosstalk] You calculated ‘em. calc-calculated the shit outta- 
[LT puts up a hand to silence the others]
LT: Look I’m not dunking on my calculations, cause they’re tight as shit, ‘natch; outside looks like someone put a flock of doves through a woodchipper. You wanna fly through that?
CD: [crosstalk] I’m not- 
MB: [crosstalk] Gross?
LT: [crosstalk] Been flying six days straight, you wanna keep, keep flyin’- 
CD: I don’t wanna fly through the scenario you just made me visualize, no. This is just snow. 
[MB raises his hand kind of awkwardly. Mags, c’mon, you’re not 12]
MB: Uuum, Cap’nport? No offense but you look kinda beat, are you sure?
CD: Wh- excuse me. Are you questioning my piloting abilities, Magnus?
MB: [crosstalk] ‘Course not, just-
CD: [crosstalk] I’ve flown us through, through literal eldritch death pillars - 
MH: [crosstalk] ...do look a little tired -  
MB: I know!
[captain gets out of the pilots seat, oh dear]
CD: What was that? Merle? 
LT: It’s been nearly a week, Captain. You haven’t slept. 
CD: Neither have you!
LT: Yeah, and I’m pissed about it! 
BB: look everyone’s a little frazzled- 
MH: I’m fine. 
BB: [crosstalk] Merle, oh my-
LT: [crosstalk] Merle!
TT: [crosstalk] Hahaha holy fuck Merle! Not the time?
CD: You know what, okay, fine! Okay, we’ll vote. Let’s vote. Who thinks we should go down there? 
[Lup, Mag  LT, MB, and BB all put up their hands]
CD: All right, and who says we should turn back?
[CD, TT, and MH put up their hands]
CD: Lucretia.
TT: Lu- Baby-Lu, fuckin’ put dowait I forgot to put myhandupfuck
LC: I’m not answering to that, but I do thin k 
[TT attepts to take my fuckin
Taako tried to take my journal, and while I understand his intentions it’s imperi
BABY LU NEEDS TO STOP WRITING OUR CONVERSATIONS IN REAL TIME AND PAY ATTENTION TO THE WORLD AROUND HER
BABY LU WILL GET HER JOURNAL BACK WHEN THE GROWN UPS DECIDE WHAT WERE DOING IN THIS FROZEN FUCKING HELLSCAPE 
     After my journal was so rudely stolen, we decided that it would be best to have some of the crew investigate the settlement while the others got some rest. Captain landed the Starblaster just out of sight (not far with the weather) and Lup, Magnus and I made our way into town on foot. We were ushered into the smoking building Merle first noticed almost as soon as we were in sight of it. It’s apparently some sort of tavern/town hall, with one long, open room punctuated by tables and some truly massive support beams. 
     Chiana, the innkeeper (or possibly Mayor? Chief? They are definitely some measure of authority figure) was quite unsettled by our sudden appearance. It’s apparently unusual for people to travel between communities at this time of year, especially in the middle of the night (which it apparently is. We seriously lost track of time with the storm blocking out the suns). They’ve insisted on putting us up until the storm settles some. We have of course accepted, but we decided that it might be best not to mention our true intentions here. They were spooked just by us appearing in a blizzard, we don’t need to bring up the rest of it. We notified Capn’port that we’ll be staying a few days to gather info, and since then Lup and Magnus have been having quite the time chatting with the assorted patrons/guests. 
     This really is quite a spectacular building. The ceiling is only about 7 ft. high (Lup and Mags can both touch the ceiling), but it’s so wide and long it doesn’t feel cramped. It’s hard to estimate how large it is exactly; the hall is a patchwork of additions, none of which quite match up. Here an extra nook were the hall was widened, there a slight indent were an old support must have collapsed. Wood flooring giving way to tile, tile being overtaken by carpet, and then carpet receding back to wood again. The support beams are the only consistent element, solid blocks of wood punctuating the room at even intervals. 
    But the room’s really dominated by the kitchens and the dance floor. The kitchens are spaced along the northern wall about 50 ft. from one another, one in each corner and the last right in the center. The latter is the only one operational at the moment, and Chiana’s not making anything more complicated than some mulled cider (which, for the sake of accurate chronicling, I must say is delicious). I thought at first the stove here was heating the hall, and while it’s fairly large on closer inspection that doesn’t seem plausibe. It’s far too warm, even in the farther corners. I suppose the surrounding snow might provide some insulation? 
     Besides that, there’s a raised dance platform in the center of the hall, in front of the middle kitchen. Lup’s dragged Magnus and a two middle aged women onto it, though there isn’t any music at this hour. She's currently waving at me to come join them. I’ve been nursing the drink Chianna gave me so I’d have an excuse to stay seated, but I think I’d better relent before Lup tries to physically drag me up there. They’re really acting silly tonight, but I suppose we all needed to blow off some steam. 
     Alright. Okay. I probably should have noticed this when I first started drinking, but the alcohol here seems to be quite a bit stronger then I’m used too? Or what Lup and Magnus are used too. I didn’t notice until I went out on the dance floor and I kind of tripped but at first I thought that was just me being clumsy or tired, but then when I started actually dancing it was worse like, I’m usually a good dancer. And Lup was acting especially silly and so was magnus, even though he should have a better constitution than us because he’s not a squishy wizard he’s a beefcake. Lup said that. 
Fuck okay I am definitely a little tipsy here I should stop writing. But I was going to write somethig down it was important? we were dancing, and then I was stumbling and I said like Lup I feel kinda tipsy but I only had one drink and she said Aaaaaww ‘Creesha, you are suuuuuuuuuch a lightweight lol but then she fell over and Magnus laughed and one of the ladies we were dancing with asked how much she’d had and shed had three, which made them laugh because apparently threes a lot here. And then we all sat down for a bit and we were talking about travelling and it was kind bullshit because we are trying to blend but we mentioned THE LIGHT THAT 
THAT WAS IT LIGHT LIGT light the light what was that aaaaah what was OH MY GOD I CAN’T REMEMBER THE REST FUCK I [[handwriting becomes illegible]]
okay okay I went back to talk again and I had a few more drinks because chiana gave me more drinks they are actually super sweet i mean chianna. Chianas super sweet. They actualysaw  the light when it landed sorta they saw a flash through the storm but not in the direction we came. Lup’s been trying to redo her calculations on some napkins she thinks the blizzard had something to do with it but shes still  really smashed I dont think now a good time for math Lup 
Lucretia darling are you gonna nag me or are you gonna oh my god I dont know how to spell half those words Lup Im a fucking drunk journalist dont pull the fucking jargon out on me
Barry please tell me what Lups saying in words drunk  journalist understands
A drunk? Lucretia? Whats going on?
Lup: Baaaaaarrry holy shit did you remember to to do the thing for the storm
BB: Lup? Lup you’re- Lucretia give your stone to Lup I can hardly understand her
LT: hiiiiiiiiiiiii barold, hiiiiiiiii, we fucked uuuuuup
BB: oh wow youre super smashed
LT we fucked up Barry! we didnt-interference! the storm created interference and we fucked up the direction and
BB Lup that doesn’t make anysense? our equipment relies mostly on magical energy unless the storm has arcane origins
LT: oh hey, MORRISON DOES THE STORM HAVE ARCANE ORIGINS?
Morison: MS: (shes one of the dancing ladies) I dunno where arcane is but the storms local. amma constein cursed the whole country side bout 20 years ago after liddy halloway dumped her
SEE BARRY
BB: okay yeah that would definitely throw off our readings but its not like we could have known that beforehand. I mean we know now, so I suppose its a good thing you guys went down there even if you also got fucking wasted, for some reason
?: whose fucking wasted (oh its taako
TT: heeeey chucklefucks whats this about you getting crunk on your uuuuh super important potentially, world saving info gathering mission?
MB taako taaaaaakoooooooo booze is super cool down here? I had a bunch
TT: eh yup I could guess
MB: but not like a super bunch? A little bunch. Its suuuuper strong its great
TT hahaha oh. oh you are so lucky cap’nports asleep. What about you, baby lu? tell me-tell me you, at least are treating this mission with the uh, gravity and maturity it fucking-fucking nesessitates fuck you taako im 58
TT whelp haha BB please just give m emy stone back  
im 5 fucking 8!!! Im not a baby godamnit. Im a grown ass women ill get as crunk as I fuckin wanna on this sweet ass booze and you cant have any taako you bitch hahahahha oh my god lucy someone please tell me shes still writing this down I nee
taakos a jackass im a grown fucking ass women an he wasnt even really a hundred when he joined cause hes a LIAR and A JERK comparatively in terms of relativ ageing im more an adult then him but he still calls me baby lu he could call me lucy or creesh like Lup calls me that i love her she? so nice Lup brought me another drink and we danced more but not well cause everthings floaty and I lay down so my head wouldnt float to high the ceilings still really low Lup lay down with e and magnus came in he was screaming cause he went out in the snow he was trying to do the dip thing were you go in a hot spring right after but theres no spring only cold magnus. everythigs only cold magnus why do you do this to yourself?magnus. chiana is making him sit by the stove in the kitchen and they wont give us any more drinks i told them i was 58 and also an alien but that didnt convince them which is probably fair. they dont know. taako knows he has no excuse
chianna gave us a room and its really dark its in the basement it super warm I think there actually is a hot spring but like underneath sorry mags that probablywhat you were thinking but still. super dumb. god Im gonna be so bad in the morning. the storms clearing up a little so well probably go then I hope captains not mad Im not sure he knows but we proly found the light so he cant be too mad. I  need sleep. I need to sleep. good night journal Ill miss you love Lucretia
Cycle 36, day 7
Firstly, I am never drinking again. Ever. Secondly, as soon as I get back to the ship, I am burning these pages. Posterity is not worth this level of embarrassment. 
Cycle 36, day 8
     Lup, Magnus and I had some trouble getting back. Though we weren’t nearly as intoxicated as the previous night, we weren’t precisely sober either. Between Magnus stopping to puke every five minutes, Lup’s persisting lack of balance, my truly excruciating headache, and all the motherfucking, goddamned snow, we nearly got lost on the mile-long hike back to the ship. The others had a field day teasing us, and I can’t even be mad at them for it. Looking over my own notes is literally, viscerally painful. To reiterate: I am never. Drinking. Again.
     I am not going to destroy those pages, however. It’s the only written account I have of what Chiana and the others told us about the Light, and it would be irresponsible to get rid of them before we’ve properly found it. Besides, Lup and Taako both practically begged me to keep it in. I don’t understand why Lup want’s this reminder of our idiocy to remain in tact, but damn she is hard to argue with. She’s also tried to insist that “baby-Lu” is a compliment, but won’t explain how so. I take back all the nice things drunk me said about her. 
     Maybe later I’ll go back and just stick a summary were those pages are, but for the mean time they’ll have to stay.
      I spent most of yesterday just resting, once we got back. I don’t think I honestly realized how tired I was until then. It’s only been 8 days since the last apocalypse, most of which we spent searching, frantic and blind in a literally cursed blizzard. Much as I hate to say it, I may need to take Taako’s advice and stop chronicling in real time. Just for a bit. I’ll pick it up again when we find the Light. 
     Time to go save another world.
End of excerpt. 
[editors note: Can I just formally request that, should we ever see Fisher and Junior again, I be permitted to feed these pages to them, in hopes that they might be erased permanently this time? Please?
- LC ]
[editors note: Madame Lucretia’s request is noted and denied.
- TT ] 
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silvernyxchariot · 4 years
Text
Heat Headcanons (One Piece)
ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔡𝔲𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫
⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
Hello 💜 Nerds, I’m Manda (the name of my One Piece persona) here with headcanons for, Heat, the fire-breather of the Kid Pirates. Heat content is sorely lacking and I’ve brought it upon myself to share mine with the Tumblr community.
Mιʂƈҽʅʅαɳҽσυʂ Tσριƈʂ ϝɾσɱ SBS
⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
🔥 Heat’s animal resemblance is a salamander for his unexplained fire breathing abilities. In some folklore and mythology, the salamander is a creature that both creates and extinguishes flames or is merely resistant to fire. It may stem from real-life salamanders, that hibernate in logs during the winter, because of their damp and moist skin, they can resist being tossed into a campfire long enough to wake up and run away.
🔥 His specific number is 8 or 12. I chose 8 and 12 (for his birth month) because in a tarot deck, depending on what version you have, the wand suit depicts salamanders on the Eight of Wands. The Eight of Wands represents action, communication, and long-distance. The Knight of Wands, more or less, is the twelfth card in the wands suit, represents swiftness, departure, or spiritual adventure. The wand category also represents fire. To relate this to Heat, I took into consideration the situation of the Kid Pirates, who were separated throughout the Wano arc until recently, and are now ready to make a comeback, take action, revenge, etc. as they continue their adventure through the New World.
🔥 The obvious choice is blue for Heat’s specific color, but I also say orange. Blue and orange are complementary colors on a color wheel and really help Heat stand out.
🔥 Heat smells like metal, gasoline, and seawater.
🔥 His favorite season is summer on a spring island.
🔥 Heat’s favorite food is chicken, but for something extra he really enjoys phall (sometimes spelled fall, faal, fahl, phaal, phal or paal), a British Asian curry dish. His least favorite foods are anything cold or raw.
🔥 If Heat had a real-world nationality, he would either be Scottish like Kid and Killer or Welsh.
🔥 Heat would bathe every other day. He likes the temperature to be warm or mild rather than scathing hot or chillingly cold.
🔥 He sleeps from 10 PM to 4 AM, approximately six hours but he may go over or under this amount depending on the circumstances.
🔥 His handwriting is rather sloppy. It tends to be shaky with crooked letters and words heavily spaced out. The only indication that he has autographed something is the very large “H” at the beginning. He autographs things using his name and a little drawing of a flame at the end.
🔥 If Heat had a real-world occupation, he’d own a Tattoo/Art studio. When he gets drunk patrons in the studio, he never gives them what they ask for because it’s usually something stupid. So, he does whatever he wants, but he hasn’t gotten any complaints about his designs. The drunkards eventually come back (while sober) for another "artist's choice" tattoo.
Fιɠԋƚιɳɠ Sƚყʅҽ
⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
🔥 As seen in chapter 506, Heat can be seen wielding two swords. So it can be speculated that he may be a swordsman with abilities in Nitoryu (二刀流, meaning: "Two Swords Style"). Whether he is a novice or master with a sword is yet to be seen, but I would say he’s at least proficient. He’s not dead, he probably knows how to handle it. But wait there’s more.
🔥 Heat has an unexplained ability to breathe fire, which I offer an explanation for, right now. Heat has the amazing ability to control his abdominal and esophagus muscles, allowing him to regurgitate material in his stomach and throat. From this, I speculate that Heat hides a bag of gasoline at the bottom of his throat or in his stomach, contracts his muscles to squeeze said bag, and subsequently releases its contents. He then lights the gasoline on fire with a flint hidden in his mouth.
🔥 If played in a video game, I would say Heat has average attack prowess but is lacking in the speed department. His defensive stats are rather high and he has decent stamina. While he does wield swords for melee combat, he would be a character best used if the player focuses on his “specials” or (energy/mana/chakra/gauge/etc.) based attacks.
Dαιʅყ Lιϝҽ
⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
🔥 Sailing from island to island especially in the New World will change every day and Heat is an adaptable babe. Since he’s one of the few named members of the Kid Pirates, he probably has command over most of the crew when they can’t pull themselves together to get things done. Is there a storm and the railings are broken? Heat is one of the people the rest of the crew go to so they can be /told/ what to do. Otherwise, he doesn’t have a specific role outside of being a combatant.
🔥 Heat has a lot of respect and a high reverence for Kid. So, he isn’t someone to take command. Despite crew members going to him for instruction, he will hand the job over to Killer. Heat also thinks its best for crew members to figure out simple problems themselves. He can pretty much do any job needed on the ship, but if there is nothing more to do, his hobbies include tattooing or drawing. Based upon his own tattoos, Heat appears to be the one to give other crew members tattoos with the help of Wire.
🔥 At the end of the day, he returns to a barren room. All his belongings can fit into a duffle bag or backpack. The only things in it are probably necessities and a few knickknacks and tools for drawing/tattooing. He doesn’t have a desk or table to draw on. So, he will sit in bed with papers and drawing utensils sprawled out on a wooden box next to him. He sleeps in a twin-sized bed (or at least one that can fit him).
𝔒𝔲𝔱𝔯𝔬
My headcanons can also be found on Quotev and One Piece Amino. I’m rarely on Tumblr. Yet, here I am.
Thanks for stopping by,
Manda 💜
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jimpotters · 7 years
Text
love all, but love me best (james/lily)
lily gets james a valentine’s day card in fourth year for the first time
they’re standing the middle of the great hall at breakfast - the tables would be straining under the weight of all the fluffy sweets with hearts if it wasn’t magic - and he’s got his mates around him laughing at something peter’s just said about helena hornby’s awful new haircut
it’s one of those “i like you because” checklist cards with a bunch of boxes with things like “you have a nice butt” and “you give me goosebumps” and “you’re my best friend” and “you’re my one and only” written beside them. none of them are checked. after he gushes about it for thirty minutes he pauses and blinks. “er, wait, evans, none of these are checked”
“exactly” she says “because i don’t fucking like you, potter”
peter, the traitor, high-fives her as she leaves while sirius falls to the floor laughing his arse off between calls of “brilliant”
“close your gob prongs” remus says, grinning broadly “you’ll catch flies”
..
lily gets james a valentine’s day card in fifth year
he’s definitely scared because only four months ago he hung her ex-best-friend by his ankles and started a chain of events that led to snape becoming her ex-best-friend (though, he thought, in his defense snape was a death eater in training and it wasn’t like james made him say that awful thing to evans either but still he felt bad because evans was heartbroken for weeks afterwards and he didn’t much like to see evans sad) and it wasn’t like she was keen on him before
plus they’re alone in a hallway which is the perfect place to exact revenge in his very vengeance-adept mind
to call it a card would be generous, as it’s mostly a small piece of parchment potentially ripped off of an assignment in haste but on it, in unmistakably messy Lily handwriting, are six words:
you think we could be friends?
just before the next class he walks up to her, grinning as he slouches on top of her desk “y’know i think minnie’s got a pop quiz planned for us today”
“and how did you come by that information?” lily asks, audibly relaxed but physically tensed
“got a good gut on me evans” he responds “you should learn to trust it if we’re gonna do this friend thing”
“i’m sure i’ll figure it out, potter” she says as black takes a seat beside her
“good, marie” black grins, slinging an arm around her shoulder “cause now you’ve got all of us to put up with”
lily groans but if james is being honest she doesn’t look all that bothered by it
dorcas comes in later and shoves sirius out of the seat with a sharp “oi, she was my mate first so get in line, black” making lily laugh as her best mate squabbles with her new one
it’s only after class that james realizes that was the first time he’d heard lily laugh in weeks. quietly he vows to make it happen as often as possible.
.
lily gets james a valentine’s card in seventh year
it’s simultaneously been the best year and the worst year of his life, the war is looming overhead and he’s not going to admit it to anyone but himself but he’s shitting himself over it; merlin he’s only eighteen how the bloody hell is he supposed to fight a war with a grave as wide as this one? between classes he’s been practicing his defense spells, honing his reflexes with the snitch more often because he’ll be fucked by the giant squid before he’s too slow to save someone he loves
his mates are scared too and it’s getting harder to pretend they're invincible when vera macmillan and her whole family were killed only three months ago in an attack that nearly decimated the muggle neighborhood they lived in. sirius is fighting with slytherins like they’re already on the battlefield while remus worries himself out of his skin with what’s going to happen after hogwarts with rumors of werewolves being rounded up to fight for voldemort or killed otherwise. poor peter is barely focusing on anything except protecting himself in the halls ever since avery has found him to be a good plaything during particularly bored periods in the slytherin’s life
lily tells him she’s going to protect her family with the fidelius charm as soon as she figures out how to work it and as much as it stings it’ll be best if she cannot find them either. she’ll ask dorcas to be the secret keeper, she says. her parents will be safe and petunia already hates her so she’ll likely never associate with her ever again; that might keep her safe for a while
but between those terrible moments they try to be as carefree as they can be. sirius lets slip that he’s never used a crayon (”that is a fucking TRAVESTY black!”) so he and lily spend weeks hunting down a box and writing letters to each other using only crayons. remus and pete develop a new shampoo that turns the unfortunate wearer’s head green which sirius uses deliberately over christmas so “me and marie can be christmas twins” (lily’s ensuing punch lacks force as she’s laughing too hard). dorcas, mary, lily, and marley get punch-drunk behind the greenhouses on halloween staring up at the stars talking about their dreams instead of attending the marauders’ party (”talk about a fucking travesty, lil” “we’ll invite you next time, remus” “that’s all i ask”)
and one day by the lake lily is lying her head on james’ chest, her wiry red hair spilling all over the ground like wine and james definitely feels drunk on it. they’ve been talking about quidditch for twenty minutes when lily suddenly looks up at him, eyes bright, and stops james’ breath in its tracks.
“go out with me potter” she says, grinning toothily
“yeah, okay” he says casually “on one condition”
“what’s that?”
“you kiss me”
“i can do that” she says crawling up to face him, her chest half on on his, her waist under his hands, and her heart spilling on her sleeve “i can definitely do that”
it’s, quite simply, the best kiss in the history of kisses. he’ll have to thank her later for doing such a tremendous job of kissing him, hoping that she’ll be so grateful for the compliment that she’ll keep doing it
for the rest of their lives, ideally
"oh” she says pulling away “i have a card for you”
“was i supposed to get you a card?” james asks suddenly nervous “we’ve only just kissed but i can get you one right now if you want”
lily only laughs handing him a crumpled piece of paper. when he unfurls it he laughs as she jumps to her feet and starts darting back towards the castle. he gives chase as he’s meant to, catching her on the top of the hill and spinning her until they’re both dizzy. the card flutters to the ground
REASONS I LOVE YOU it says at the top
and this time all the boxes are checked.
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