#prompt 362 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

my-deer-friend · 2 months

Text

Play along: Amrev codebreaker!

While browsing through some primary materials reading up about John Laurens’ mission to France as special minister to the court of Versailles, I came across a letter that he wrote to the president of the Continental Congress on 9 April 1781 that included a coded message using a numerical cipher.

I took a shot at deciphering it – here’s the process I followed, and you can play along too!

1. The first step, of course, was to determine which specific encryption was being used. After a bit of digging, I came across the immensely useful United States diplomatic codes and ciphers, 1775-1938 by Ralph E Weber. He explains that the cipher in question was “prepared on separate encode and decode sheets, the latter contained 660 printed numbers, with usually 600 words, syllables, and letters of the alphabet scattered randomly throughout the sheet.” So, for example, the word “congress” is “143”, the syllable “el” is “593” and the letter “r” is “215”. This cipher was an updated and improved version of the one used by Benjamin Tallmadge, and Weber explains that Laurens was the first one to use it. Weber also handily provides the decode table in an appendix.

2. The second step was to design an efficient way to decode the hundreds of numbers Laurens used in his letter, and the obvious answer was my good friend the spreadsheet. I transferred the table from the book to Google Sheets, which was mildly tedious but hugely time-saving later on.

3. Now the fun part! I typed out the numbers from Laurens’ letter, and then used a simple LOOKUP formula to match the number to the decoded text.

The cipher also includes two nuances - an underscore beneath the word means a plural, and an overscore denotes adding an “e” - so I marked these in the cells with pink and green highlights respectively.

4. The final step was correcting a few errors in my table, refining the decoding (some numbers have various iterations to save space, such as 103 which can be any one of “ec/eck/ek” depending on which syllable is needed), and extracting the final text.

It all reads very smoothly, with the singular exception of “ght-f-t”, which is the way Laurens rendered the word “gift”. The obvious explanation for this mangle is that he mis-wrote 340 (ght) instead of 170 (gi).

That’s definitely 340, 304, 196 which decodes as “ght-f-t”.

While it seems like a strange error to make, bear in mind that the encoding sheet (the one Laurens was using to change plaintext into numbers) would have been listed in alphabetical order to make finding the numbers easier (while the person at the other end has the sheet in numerical order, to reverse the process just as easily). And when we sort alphabetically, we can see that 340 and 170 are right next to each other:

A simple slip to make for someone writing coded letters late at night in low candlelight.

If you want to play along:

Here’s the code/decode spreadsheet.

And here is the transcribed text (underlines for plurals, asterisk for added “e”). I've given the solution under the cut!

I have employed the most unremitting efforts to obtain a prompt and favorable decision relative to the object of my mission_ 381, 304, 543, 437, 366, 377, 276, 75, 75, 226, 269, 385, 426, 377, 17, 465, 197, 481, 428, 593, 381, 355, 153, 278*, 428, 333, 70, 18, 405, 184, 226, 291, 197, 376, 524, 330, 446, 362, 449, 143 The Count de Vergennes communicated to me yesterday his most Christian Majesty's determination to guarantee 381, 59, 594, 18, 9, 205, 330, 497, 254, 401, 376, 503, 306, 503, 467, 428, 226, 236, 330, 278*, 245, 205, 506, 99, 376, 381, 381, 256, 184, 90, 340, 304, 196 ...and the value of the military effects which may be furnished from the Royal Arsenal, 418, 330, 497, 428, 197, 380, 377, 196, 376, 45, 278, 245, 205 I shall use my utmost endeavours to procure an immediate 467, 208, 491, 18, 278*, 9, 205, 45, 278, 42, 381, 230, 215, 355, 18, 237, 330, 497*, 215, 167, 290, 377, 376, 341, 278, 182, 302, 75, 376, 59, 594, and shall renew my solicitations for the 357, 34, 197, 18, 203, 291, 491, 481, 484, 34, 325, 89, 113, 392, 197, 269, 336, 458, 278*, 97, 18, 245, 205 may not be 126, 21, 215, 497, 376, 341, 296, 75, 477, 226, 103, 196, 481, 278*, 483, 215, 553, 75*, 18, 238, 377, 59, 374, 478, the providing this article I fear will be attended with great difficulties and delays as all the 476, 490, 481, 36, 228, 351, 392, 226, 197, 18, 237, are remote from the sea, and there are no 441, 420, 50, 563, 503, 197, 18, 377, 59, 278, suitable to our purposes. The cargo of the Marquis de la Fayette will I hope arrive safe under the convoy of the Alliance_ 481, 341, 78, 465, 75, 426, 408, 596, 115, 76, 376, 174, 196*, 291, 103, 197, 75, 75, 184, 226, 197, 281, 5, 171, 278*, 428, 593, 381, 355, 492, 194, 236, 376, 45, 574, 408, 504, 366, 381, 506, 197, 197, 193, 213, 75, 197, 199, 291, 377, 197 The Marquis de Castries has engaged to make immediate arrangements for the safe transportation of the pecuniary and the other succours destined for the United States_ 481, 350, 215, 167, 450, 196, 376, 34, 381, 75, 473, 376, 76*, 458, 278*, 72, 208, 449, 577, 114, 89, 405, 486, 497, 197, 113, 126, 34, 361, 376, 269, 278*, 277, 291, 104, 381, 113, 278*, 401, 230, 408, 550, 552, 342, 291

Have fun!

I have employed the most unremitting efforts to obtain a prompt and favorable decision relative to the object of my mission_ after many discussions, difficulties and delays with the details of which it is needless to trouble congress.

The Count de Vergennes communicated to me yesterday his most Christian Majesty's determination to guarantee a loan of ten millions to be opened in Holland in addition to the six millions granted as a gracious gift.

...and the value of the military effects which may be furnished from the Royal Arsenal are to be deducted from the six million.

I shall use my utmost endeavours to procure an immediate advance of the ten millions from the treasury of France to be replaced by the proposed loan,

and shall renew my solicitations for the supplies of the ordinance and military stores on credit that the present of six millions may not be absorbed by thousands objects and the purchase of necessary clothing

the providing this article I fear will be attended with great difficulties and delays as all the wool and manufactories of France are remote from the sea, and there are no

public magazines of cloth suitable to our purposes.

The cargo of the Marquis de la Fayette will I hope arrive safe under the convoy of the Alliance_ and by satisfying our immediate necessities prevent the delays above-mentioned from having any disagreeable consequences

The Marquis de Castries has engaged to make immediate arrangements for the safe transportation of the pecuniary and the other succours destined for the United States_ and has repeatedly assured me that the naval superiority which will be established on the American coast the ensuing campaign

#historical john laurens #john laurens #amrev #18th century history #code breaking #it's my birthday so naturally i must give all my beloved mutuals and followers a lil gift #let me know what results you got!!

67 notes · View notes

nodirectionhome-ao3 · 1 year

Text

A Map to You Written for @hinnymicrofic - Prompt 13: Think (362 words)

“Did you ever think about me?”

Ginny cursed herself internally as soon as the words tumbled from her mouth. It was a stupid question. Childish. Weak.

Harry had been running for his life. Fighting a war, searching for horcruxes, chasing his own doom. And Ginny had the nerve to ask what about me?

She raised her eyes to look at him, the apology already taking shape on the tip of her tongue, but something in his expression made the words die before she could let them fly.

His green eyes were soft as he looked at her. Softer than they should be. Softer than she deserved. And when he spoke, the words were as low as the tide that lapped against the rocks in their periphery.

“I thought of you all the time,” he said simply.

He leaned back on his hands, sweeping his legs out in front of him on the dry sand. For a moment, all they could hear was the distant squawking of seagulls, the rhythmic crashing of the ocean waves.

“For a while, it was just at the back of my mind,” he admitted, his voice so quiet Ginny had to lean forward to hear him. “There was so much happening, we were going in so many directions, and I couldn't afford to think of anything but the hunt.”

Ginny nodded, but couldn’t speak.

“But then, Ron left,” Harry said. “Everything ground to a stop. It was just days and days of wandering…drifting…lost…”

He looked back at her then –– his eyes brimming with the love that Ginny would never grow tired of…the love that would always be her saving grace.

“I watched the Marauder’s Map every night in that tent,” he said hoarsely. “I watched your little dot…moving silently on the page. In your dormitory. The Great Hall. The library.”

He swallowed hard and leaned forward, reaching for her. His fingers were warm and firm as they laced through hers.

“You were my safe haven, Gin,” he said…so very, very gently. “Every time I felt alone. Every time I felt scared. Every time I thought I couldn’t take it anymore…the thought of you was what kept me going."

#hinny #fluff #hinny fluff #hinny microfic #first microfic hell yeah

186 notes · View notes

altsvu · 4 months

Note

Hello! How about 7. “I’ll talk you through it, okay?” with Sonny for your smutty drabbles 😏?

Thank you!

talk through it

pairing: sonny carisi x fem!reader

prompt used: “I’ll talk you through it, okay?” from the inexperienced smut prompts!

wc: 362

summary: sonny talks you through your first time doing it with him.

cw: losing v-card, smut, sweet talking

a/n: thank you for this!! i love writing for sonny 🤭

law and order svu masterlist! ✯ taglist!

✯✯✯✯

The first time is always the most special one.

But you wanted it to be with the right one.

You weren’t traditional in any way, you just never got the opportunity or the time to think about that. You were all about your career, family, and friends.

But when you met Sonny, that changed.

He saw a different side of you that no one else in your life had saw. He made you feel safe, he loved you for you, no strings attached. After 2 years of exclusively dating, you felt like he was the one, and he thought the same about you too.

One night, the two of you decided that it was the night.

The special night.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked after a quick make out session on the bed.

“Well, I’m scared. I haven’t done anything. Ever.”

Sonny smiled softly and held you closer to him.

“I’ll talk you through it, okay?”

“Okay, you whispered.

He helped you out of your clothes and you helped him out of his.

He instructed you to lie back against the pillows and let him work his magic on you. You did as you were told, then he ended up between your legs.

He kissed your inner thighs, inching up to your pussy. Two fingers touched your labia and slowly pushed inside of you and you let out a moan. Sonny was rubbing circles on your pearl and you felt a tingling sensation.

While doing this, Sonny talked you through it like he said he would. He praised you too, calling you an angel and the like.

“Take it from me.” You whispered.

“What’s that, darling?”

“I- I want you inside me.”

Sonny got up, put on a condom, and leveled with your opening.

“This might feel uncomfortable, but I’m right here, and you can tell me at any time if you want to stop, okay?”

You nodded in response.

Sonny planted a kiss on your lips and slowly pushed in. He checked in with you and made sure you were okay, but all you could do was stifle moans. It felt so good.

Your first time was definitely special.

✯✯✯✯

taglist: @storiesofsvu @averyhotchner @ssaic-jareau @blackbeautifulqueen @detective-giggles @lapaquerette @itsjustmyfantasyroom @happyt0exist

#altsvu #law and order svu #altsvu drabbles #law and order svu fandom #law and order fic #law and order svu fic #law and order svu fanfiction #law and order svu special victims unit #law and order #law and order fanfiction #law and order special victims unit #svu smut #svu fic #svu #sonny carisi x fem!reader #ada carisi #ada sonny carisi #tw smut #sonny carisi

29 notes · View notes

footballerimaginess · 1 year

Text

Washing your hair

30 Day Challenge My daily challenge with prompts, these fics will not be tagged only if they were requested by an account and they’ll be under 500 words. 2. Washing your hair Son Heung Min Word Count: 362 “You look so unwell” he pouted as you just stared straight at him. “Thank you for stating the obvious” you rolled your eyes. “Oh sorry, maybe I can take you for a bath if you’re feeling poorly” he asked you as you nodded, raising your head slightly. “Okay, come on and I can help you up” Sonny put his hands out in front of him as you weakly grabbed them. “It hurts” you whispered as you clutched your body, feeling a shiver inside you. “I know, you have to rest up” he replied as he helped you walk upstairs as you gently walked alongside him as you took each step carefully. “Shall I wash your hair?” he asked you as you took off your jumper and raised it above your head. “Oh would you, my hair looks awful. I look awful I may add” you sighed. “You aren’t well, it is okay. You have a very bad infection, you need to be resting” you nodded as Sonny poured water over your hair gently. “Mm, this shampoo smells so nice” he mumbled as he put the shampoo into his hand as he massaged it into your scalp as gently as he could, not wanting to hurt you as you already had a headache. “I’m not hurting you am i?” Sonny whispered. “No it is okay, it is quite relaxing actually. I could fall asleep whilst you are doing this” you laughed. “Right I think we will do conditioner now” Sonny softly spoke as he massaged more into your hair. “I feel you are enjoying this quite a lot” you let out a laugh, which turned into a cough. “I am actually, right I will wash the bubbles out. Do you want me to do it for you or can you do it?” he asked you as you shook your head. “No it is okay. You have done enough for me now, thank you so much” you grinned as you lifted his chin as you pressed a kiss on his soft lips. “I’ll leave you to relax, call me if you need any help” he smiled, leaving you to relax in the warm bath.

#hayleys30daywritingchallenge #son heung min imagine #son heung min x reader #football imagine #football imagines #football one shots #football one shot #futbol imagines #futbol imagine #football x reader

118 notes · View notes

bkdkbrainrotnotes · 2 years

Text

[FREE USE]

imagine a crack fic where PH! Izuku is just living his daily life with Vestige/Ghost Kacchan living rent free in his head.

fic takes place after the war where Kacchan died and continued to live on inside Izuku as one of OFA's vestige ghost things.

[insert my HC where the vestiges can possess the OFA user.]

and imagine if someone attempts to woo Izu and he's uncomfortable and kacchan fends them off.

"Ah! I'm sorry but I'm not really interested..."

Random Extra: "Aww c'mon Midoriya-san! Just one chance?"

"Uhmm bu---you can fuck off damn extra!" (the voice is like double layered, like those ghost movies)

And also when Izu is exhausted and passes out, Kacchan takes over his body and moves the nerd to bed.

During patrols, Katsuki offers his thoughts on suspicious civilians and whatnot.

(In izu's Vestige World):"That one white shirt wearing fucker over there, he's sus. Checked his damn apartment and everything."

"How do you know that Kacchan?"

"Ghost privilege"

And when Kacchan senses that Izuku is about to do something reckless, he takes over and takes him to safety lmao.

//Thats all and thanks for reading my crack (not at all fueled by copium) thoughts 😭😭😭.

//Also, KACCHAN WILL LIVE I JUST KNOW IT SKDNKSND

#bkdk #bkdk brainrot #bkdk fanfic #bakudeku #bkdk fanfic prompt #bkdk fanfic brainrot #fanfic prompt #bnha 362 #mha 362

44 notes · View notes

tommybowefuneralattendee · 5 months

Note

362, spommy :]

number 362 on the spreadsheet is from this list of prompts the prompt you generated in specific is: hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters

linked on ao3 || read under the cut || 4.4k, rated T

The first time Spencer feels a pull at the bottom of his shirt from a person who is not less than ten years old, he's at work. It's not a big deal. He's in the middle of something, sure, but it doesn't feel insistent. Whoever it is waits for the minute that he's directing stuff for Games, silent until Spencer turns around to see them. And it's Tommy. So it's not like he was ever going to be mad anyway. He raises his eyebrows, looking up at the other man's face with a smile. Tommy's fingers pinch at the hem of the front of his shirt now. He's so fucking cute.

"Hey," Tommy says, just looking at Spencer for a moment without speaking. They've agreed not to do the whole public display of affection at work thing (and in general), out of respect for everyone else but also just because they haven't been together that long. That was one of the surprises of the beginning of their relationship, honestly. He's always been somewhat affectionate in his relationships, sure, and he had thought that he had been clingy in previous relationships. He can't keep his fucking hands off of Tommy, though, and it doesn't seem like vice versa is happening either. Like somewhat in a sexual way, but also in the fact that Spencer wants to be touching him all the time, and he wants to look at him all the time, and he has never thought of himself as a guy in one of those annoying couples, openly besotted with one another, but well. Then he met Tommy.

"Hi," he replies, that saccharine honeymoon phase sweetness wrapping even around that single word. Tommy pulls him a little closer, fingers twisting in the bottom of Spencer's shirt. It's fucking cute, so he's not even irritated by it. He just fucking likes the guy so much. They've been officially dating a month or so, and he can't decide whether they should be over this part yet, but he doesn't know how to love Tommy at a lower volume and he's not super into the idea of teaching himself how.

"You look good today," Tommy says. Spencer snorts, rolling his eyes and looking away from his boyfriend.

"Did you just interrupt your whole day to come tell me I look pretty?"

"Hey now, I said you look good, no one ever said pretty," Tommy protests, wrinkling his nose.

"So you don't think I'm pretty?" Spencer asks, outright grinning now with it being so easy to wind Tommy up. Tommy breathes out through his nose and obviously tries not to rise to Spencer's bait, but after a moment of inaction scrunches his nose and physically shakes off the sensation of attempting to limit his ire.

"That is also not what I said! I do think you're pretty, I just didn't know if that was, like, an okay compliment for you, some guys are uncomfortable with it," he says, his tone embarrassed and waspish as he peters off there. Spencer can't fucking help but look at Tommy like he hung the moon in the sky. He rocks on his feet into the other man's orbit.

"You can call me whatever you want," Spencer says, not without a note of challenge. Tommy raises an eyebrow, returning the challenge.

"Anything?"

"Within reason," he says, trying to stick a caveat of sorts on it, but he's hardpressed to think of a single thing he wouldn't at least consider with Tommy. It's Tommy. If he's into something a little weirder than handcuffs and shit, then, like, whatever, right? It's Tommy. Several images pass through his mind at once of doing things he's never done in his life with Tommy, images he does not allow himself to linger upon at all because they are at work, dude, keep it together. Tommy's looking down at him with a smile and narrowed eyes, like Spencer is something he's trying to figure out.

"You would totally, like, actually let me call you Daddy if I wanted to. Dude, you like me so much it makes you look stupid," Tommy observes, because there really is no other word for it. It's true, Spencer does. Still, he scoffs.

"How dare you? My stupidity makes me look stupid, so jot that down," he says, snorting at his own joke as Tommy swats at him.

"Shut up, you're not stupid, stupid," Tommy sputters, one of his hands lifted like he's going to push Spencer back, but he just lays his palm flat on Spencer's chest instead. Spencer puts his own hand over it, fondness thick in his throat as he laces their fingers one over another.

"You say such sweet things to me, baby," he says, maybe a little quieter than an appropriate speaking volume but a little louder than a whisper, surely. The desire to pull Tommy down to kiss him is so strong it aches, clawing through him like hunger pangs. Tommy is looking at him like he can't help but agree.

"This is not work appropriate, Spencer Agnew," he says, lips pursed. They're shiny. Spencer flicks his gaze back up to make eye contact.

"You're the one who came over here to tell me I look pretty, dude," he replies, the desire to kiss Tommy not getting any smaller, and the gap between them not getting any larger. Knuckles are knocked against the door frame twice and they both look over, seeing a sheepish Shayne shrugging his shoulders.

"Hey guys, sorry, but Lisa said she needed Tommy, and Spence, you're about five minutes late for a meeting," he reminds them both, smiling apologetically before he taps the door frame again and moves on with his day. They separate from one another reluctantly, Spencer squeezing Tommy's fingers between his own before heading down to his meeting. It could have been an email. He doesn't see Tommy again til the end of the workday; Tommy walks him to his car, opens his stupid fucking door for him, stands with Spencer's car door open and leans against it while they finish their conversation, the whole nine. He kisses Spencer and asks him to come over, in the parking lot where anybody could see them. Spencer makes the drive to Tommy's apartment with the memory of that kiss burning within him.

They have a really nice night together. Tommy makes him promise to text him when he gets home. Something hot and bright takes up residence in his rib cage.

He's editing when he feels it this next time, and the fact that it's a recurrence rather than the first time does make it less surprising to find that it's Tommy pinching the fabric of the shoulder of Spencer's shirt between two fingers. He finds a stopping place pretty quickly and then spins his chair around to face Tommy, who is much closer than Spencer thought he was. Like, logically, it makes sense that Tommy was right behind him before he turned the chair but now Spencer's boyfriend is looming over him and wow, that's hot actually. He's a short king but he's never really dated someone taller than him before; most of his exes are cis women around average height. Tommy is like half a foot taller than him. Sitting down, Spencer has to tilt his head back to look at him, hooking his fingers in Tommy's belt loops.

"What's up?" he asks with a grin, helplessly happy to see Tommy as always. Tommy's expression goes soft just for looking at him and it sends warmth through Spencer.

"I had a question," Tommy says, though instead of asking anything, he just continues to look at Spencer. Spencer grins.

"Forgot your question, huh, Squidward?"

"Despite it happening every time, I still get surprised that you're always cuter than the last time I saw you." Spencer groans.

"Baby, you are down so bad for me. Listen to yourself," he says, leaning his head against Tommy's stomach. Tommy cards his fingers through his hair and Spencer fights the urge to go pliant against him and just let Tommy hold him up. There's a worried quality to the gentleness of his hands, like he's handling Spencer with care. It's equal parts nice and disorienting. He doesn't know that anyone has ever looked after him like Tommy does. Tommy tilts Spencer's head back into his hands, his thumbs behind Spencer's ears as he adjusts Spencer to look at him. Spencer just lets himself be moved. What is he if not supplicant beneath Tommy's hands?

"You okay?" Tommy asks, head tilted. Spencer gives a short laugh and nods as well as he can, looking down and away from making eye contact with Tommy. So maybe he hasn't been sleeping well lately, and maybe he hasn't slept well since the last night he and Tommy slept in the same bed, but even if those things were true, they would be Spencer's problems and not Tommy's problems. It's Spencer's own fault he barely takes care of himself. He's overcaffeinated and overworked and he knows that, it's just that knowing that doesn't mean there's less work to do and it doesn't mean he has more time to sleep. Giving a small concerned noise, Tommy runs his fingers through Spencer's hair, which is not a fair thing to do when Spencer is trying to compose himself.

"I'm fine, Tommy," he says, knowing as soon as it drops out of his mouth that he said that a little too flatly for Tommy to go with it. True to form, Tommy frowns.

"Hey, I wanna help. We've talked about this, bub," Tommy says, and they have, and Spencer sighs. It was one of their first... it wasn't a fight, really. They haven't been together that long, they haven't gotten into any real fights yet. There is, however, a pretty open policy to their relationship where if something is bothering them, they bring it up. He had actually been the one to bring it up, thinking about Tommy's disposition to hold a grudge, the way he minimizes his own annoyance til it explodes. Tommy had agreed to tell him if he was ever bothered, but not without some conditions of his own. Tommy will ask for help as long as Spencer will too. So yeah, Spencer sighs.

"Come over tonight?" he asks, leaning back into Tommy's hands. Tommy raises his eyebrows.

"Come over like have dinner together or come over like-"

"Come over like spend the night, Tommy. Come over like sleep in my bed," Spencer clarifies, low and honest. Nodding, Tommy starts to lean down, aborting the motion after thinking it through, probably. They're at work. Even a quick kiss is too much PDA for work, right? They're in public. It doesn't mean that Tommy pulling away without kissing him doesn't sting a little. They agreed on little to no PDA.

He still can't control the way his face falls. He's not a miracle worker.

"I should get back... I'll come find you if I remember my question?" Tommy asks, posing it as a question as if Spencer would ever not want Tommy around. Be so fucking for real. Spencer gives him a smile and a nod and Tommy squeezes his shoulder. It's not the kind of goodbye that Spencer would like them to have with one another. He doesn't even know what he would rather them do, but this thing where they're not acting any different than when they were just friends is throwing him off. And like, they agreed to no PDA and he's aware of that, and he's cool with that! He'd never want Tommy to do something he's not comfortable with. Maybe it would be nice, though. Who knows?

It isn't just happening at work now. At the grocery store, when they're cooking dinner together, if he wants to hold Spencer's hand while they're walking. Tommy'll just tug on Spencer's sleeve or the bottom of his shirt or the lapel of his jacket or his belt loops, using anything really to get a grip on Spencer to get his attention. A lot of the time, Tommy looks at him apologetically after he does it, like he hadn't meant to do it and thinks Spencer is annoyed with him for it. But like, Spencer couldn't be further from annoyed if he tried. It's fucking cute, you know?

And like of course it's cute. It's Tommy. Be realistic.

When they end up having to talk about it, Spencer is glad that they're at home. Tommy's place, anyway. Home is relative these days. They're standing in the kitchen debating what they're going to eat, and Spencer was looking through the cabinet when there's a pull at the back of his shift. Used to it by now, Spencer smiles and turns, Tommy's hand moving to the front hem. For some reason, he's not expecting Tommy to look embarrassed, retracting his hand.

"Sorry-" Tommy starts, but Spencer takes his wrist in hand, pulling it back to rest at the hem of his shirt. Tommy doesn't return to the action at first, so Spencer makes it more obvious, holding the fabric out for Tommy to grab. He does so reluctantly.

"I don't mind," Spencer assures, smile soft as he looks up at Tommy. Tommy looks down at him, obviously skeptical, expression still tinged with that thick embarrassment Spencer would do anything to assuage.

"You don't mind that I tug on your shirt like a little kid," Tommy says, deadpan and flat. Spencer shrugs.

"I mean, yeah," he says. It's that simple for him. He doesn't mind. Why would he mind? It's cute. It's sweet. It's Tommy. Why the fuck would he mind?

"I know it's annoying, Spence, you don't have to pretend it isn't," Tommy continues, cynical smile splitting his mouth. Spencer grabs Tommy's hand back from where it's holding onto his shirt, lacing their fingers and pulling Tommy over to the couch. Some conversations are better had sitting down and holding onto one another, and so they will. He sits down and pulls Tommy to stand in front of him, leading him to sit forward in Spencer's lap and pulling him closer then into a hug. Tommy breathes out a relaxing breath through his nose slowly, tucking it into the rolled collar of Spencer's hoodie. Hands spread across Tommy's back to hold him close, Spencer takes it upon himself to clarify something.

"I like it," he says, to which Tommy immediately rears back to squint at him.

"You what." It doesn't even sound like a question, still Spencer smiles and answers, holding his hand to Tommy's cheek.

"I like when you pull on my shirt, or my sleeve, or my belt loops, or whatever. It's cute and it-" he pauses, unsure if the other part is something you tell other people or just an inside his head thought. He doesn't always know how to tell those apart. Tommy hooks his fingers where he had tucked his nose before.

"And it what, Spence?" he asks, quiet and gentle, and Spencer could swear he was the one doing the reassuring here. Sometimes it feels like they pass the idea of being the composed one back and forth, bloodhounds for one another's soft spots. Spencer clears his throat, looking down and to the left.

"It makes me feel like you need me. That part's kinda nice," he admits, clearing his throat again like that'll get rid of the ball of anxiety that he just can't swallow. A confused noise follows that, and when Spencer looks at him, Tommy only looks more puzzled than he did before.

"I do need you," Tommy says, dropping this as if it's obvious and the idea of someone not coming to the same conclusion had never even occurred to Tommy. Spencer raises a skeptical eyebrow, cognizant of the fact that they haven't been together very long, and Tommy could bounce back from breaking up with him pretty quickly if they did it now. Sometimes, it feels like he's always going to be waiting for that other shoe to drop. "Baby, you're my friend. Like even if I wasn't totally crazy about you, which, for the record, I am, we've been friends a good little while here. We've spoken almost every day for several years. I love you." There's a lump in Spencer's throat and Tommy's holding his face like he's something precious and Spencer doesn't know what to do with all of this sincerity.

"We were talking about you," he protests weakly, his expression souring. Tommy leans down and kisses him gently, backing off after just a moment of contact. Spencer strains up to follow him, but Tommy stays out of his reach. Fucking tall boyfriend. Asshole.

"I want to talk about you, now," Tommy says, using his hand on Spencer's jaw to tilt his head up a little more, making it nearly impossible to do anything besides make eye contact with him. He has pretty eyes. That's not really what they're talking about, though.

"I like when you grab onto me because it makes me feel like... it makes me feel like you want me around more than you care about looking normal and social niceties and being in public. It makes me feel like you don't mind what other people think if it means we're touching. It's really dumb, and romanticized, and I know I'm being like. Weird about it. So like, it's an in-my-head thing. I just don't want you to think that I'm annoyed with you for holding onto me, or pulling me places or whatever. I think it's neat. I don't know," he rambles, just closing his eyes halfway through because he doesn't know if he can bear how Tommy has to be looking at him right now. He knows he's weird in relationships sometimes. He likes the idea of someone (of Tommy) liking him to the point of caring more about having him close than about whatever societal rules they're supposed to be observing. They agreed upon little to no PDA. It's completely cool with him, but. The pulling is nice.

"Baby," Tommy whispers, brushing a kiss along Spencer's cheek as he tries to wrap himself entirely around Spencer through determination alone, his knees closing around Spencer's hips like somebody is gonna try and lift him off his boyfriend's lap or some shit. Spencer rubs his hand up Tommy's back again, not saying a goddamn word. "I want you like. All the time, dude. I like holding your hand and kissing you in public and being the sappy couple with you. I just didn't want to push it because we decided no PDA from go. Why did we decide on no PDA if we're both cool with PDA?" he asks, sounding more like he's musing aloud than actually posing the question. Still, Spencer answers. Such is his nature.

"I thought you wouldn't want to. Like, as a. Okay, logically, I know that we are together at least partially because you're attracted to me, but it's hard to remember sometimes that this incredibly hot guy is actually cool with the idea of people knowing we're in a relationship," he says, saying way too much and immediately pressing his face back into Tommy's shoulder and wishing he could, like, disappear or something. He's aware of the fact that his self esteem these days probably falls beneath double digits on the assessment they make you take at doctor's appointments when they know you're mentally ill. Like, he's aware. It's just that it's easier not to talk about it, to make it small and ignore it, self aggrandize til everyone thinks he believes his own myth too, and it's some fucking bullshit. Having low self esteem is some bullshit.

"The way that you think I would not sit on your lap in front of everyone we know is extraordinarily funny to me seeing as I do not know if I could project a more down bad for you vibe if I fucking tried, dude," Tommy says, smooth sarcasm running through his voice even as he makes Spencer blush a lurid red. He strokes his thumb over Spencer's cheekbone. Looking at him makes Spencer's heart ache, fondness almost as thick as nausea in his throat. Like love is something that he has to cough up, wisteria spreading itself through the branches of his bronchial tubes. He doesn't know what to do with all of that feeling.

"I really fucking like you, Tommy," he whispers, leaning into Tommy's hand. Tommy leans in and presses another kiss to his lips.

"Well, that's great, because I really fucking like you too, Spencer. I really fucking like you," Tommy repeats, kissing him again, longer this time and so sweet. Spencer lowers one of his hands and grabs Tommy's ass just because he can. Tommy breaks the kiss, snorting and pushing his face down against Spencer's collarbone.

"It's a nice ass," Spencer says, shrugging the shoulder that Tommy is leaning on. Experiencing the honk of Tommy's laugh this close would probably be startling if Spencer wasn't always looking to make it happen, always ready for it because it's what he wants to be happening. He likes making Tommy laugh like that, striking him with amusement he wasn't expecting to the level that he's not prepared for it, that he loses all sense of volume control. More in the positive, Tommy presses a kiss to his cheek, the laughter something Spencer can now feel as well, and he's in love with Tommy, fuck, he's in love with him. He won't tell him now. But fuck, it's true.

He isn't sure if when Tommy said he loved him, if he- it's really early for them to be saying I love you, right? Like, they've been friends for years, sure, but there's a pace that is supposed to apply here and it sure as fuck is not applying. But Tommy meant that he loves Spencer like he's always loved Spencer, like they've been friends since they started working together kind of love for Spencer. They're still working on the in love thing. There's no fucking way Tommy is in as deep as he is on this. He's this deep in because it's Tommy. Wait a fucking second.

"I think I just realized that you actually like me. Like right now. Like with you in my lap? Yeah. Like I think my brain has only been processing the part where I'm in love with you, and like the other side of that equation just never hit me before right now. Holy shit. You like me. Like genuinely," Spencer rambles, unable to stop the pace of his speech just given the absolute revelation of this, and how fucking dumb it is that this feels like a revelation. Tommy is looking down at him with open confusion. Well, he can dig that. He is aware that the way his brain works isn't always, like. Good. For him or for others. Realization crosses Tommy's face and he tenses, blinking and looking away from Spencer's face before he speaks.

"I don't make you feel like I love you?" he says, soft and a little sad. Fuck. He reaches up and cups Tommy's face in his palm, running his thumb over Tommy's cheekbone. He waits to speak til Tommy's looking at him, big brown eyes finally meeting his own.

"You make me feel so fucking special, dude. You make feel taken care of, and cared about, and enjoyed, and appreciated, and worthy in a way I didn't even know I was fucking missing. It just didn't click for me that like- that's. That's you loving me. That is me being loved by you," he says, trailing off with the last bit, heart pounding in his ears. Holy shit. That's how Tommy has looked at him this entire time, isn't it? He feels like he's been ignoring an entire aspect of their relationship, the obvious conclusion blocked by stupid ass low self esteem. Tommy leans down and kisses him softly, gentle and tender and all of that bullshit that makes Spencer feel so fucking loved under his hands. He loves him. Holy shit. How is anyone normal about being in love? This is crazy. What the fuck.

"I love you. Dumbass," Tommy murmurs against his jaw, leaning down on Spencer's shoulder. Spencer wraps his arms around him.

"I love you too," he says, the feeling of this interaction, this reassurance, this love a warm weight in his stomach, heat rising through his chest.

"You need to tell me if you feel like that," Tommy reminds him, bussing a kiss across his cheek. Spencer makes a vaguely agreeing noise.

"You need to tell me if you feel like that, too. I don't want you to ever feel like I'm annoyed by you being you. I'm not. I like when you pull me places and I like that you flirt with me badly when you're drunk and I like when you talk through movies and I like when you tell me about Drag Race I've never seen and I like everything else you've ever apologized to me just for doing. That's kinda, like, part of loving you, dude. I love you. Cute little habits and all," he rambles into Tommy's shoulder, unable to make himself pull back and look up at Tommy to say any of this. He doesn't like talking feelings shit. It's awkward and vulnerable and it makes him feel a little nauseous, but again. This is Tommy. If Tommy needs to know how absolute insane about him Spencer is, then well, he's gonna have to put his big boy pants on and tell him. Fuck.

"You really love me, huh?" Tommy says softly, like he's having the same revelation Spencer had a few minutes ago. Spencer chuckles roughly, leaning up to fumble through kissing Tommy gently, tears in his eyes.

"I think we need to start believing each other more, baby," he whispers, pulling a laugh from Tommy as well. His heart aches in his chest. Tommy kisses him, gentle and steady, before pushing himself up out of Spencer's lap, standing to his full height. He extends a hand to Spencer once he's firmly on his feet. Spencer raises an eyebrow.

"I'm thinking we lay down in bed and look through delivery apps for a little while?" Tommy proposes. Spencer lets himself be pulled up, lets himself be lead, lets himself be loved.

They end up ordering Chinese.

#spommy #spencer #tommy #smosh fic #rpf #prompt filled #ask answered #hope you like it !!#anonymous #mine

19 notes · View notes

liaromancewriter · 1 year

Text

The Start of Forever

Premise: The Prince always knew his duty would require sacrifice, but no one told his heart that.

Book: The Royal Romance Pairing: Liam x MC (Phoebe Summers) Rating/Category: General. Angsty Fluff. Words: 810

A/N: Some of you know, Liam is my favorite Choices LI [I changed the default name to Aiden]. I don't typically write for TRR, but the @kingliamappreciationweek inspired me to write this fic. This is for Day 5. Enjoy! I'm using @choicesflashfics week 29, prompt 2 (in bold) and @creativepromptsforwriting prompt 362. Tagging for reblog to @creativepromptfills. Also submitting to @aprilchallenge prompt "wish"

Prince Aiden Rys had not grown up believing love was a possibility in his future. He might have wished for it -- in the darkest part of the night when his thoughts were too loud for him to sleep — and secretly hoped he could fall in love with the woman he would marry.

But believe? No. That required more than he had to give. And he had already given up so much. And yet. For a few hours last night, he fell in love and believed in the possibility of forever.

Aiden glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, ubiquitous to hotel rooms everywhere, and locked his hands behind his head on the pillow. He should get up and get dressed. But he did none of those things. Wanting to prolong these fleeting moments of freedom for as long as he could.

Bastien would knock on his door in a couple of hours, reverential but unyielding, as he shepherded Aiden to the airport. The bodyguard’s presence would mark the end of this interlude and the beginning of the next: Cordonia’s social season and selecting his future queen.

But the Masquerade Ball was still hours away, and Aiden was not ready for reality to intrude just yet.

Earlier tonight, he arrived at the address Maxwell had texted him. Aiden hadn’t known what to expect from what appeared to be a dive bar. But knowing his exuberant friend, he’d had trepidations. At the same time, he hoped Drake would keep the younger Beaumont brother in check.

Okay, somewhat in check, Aiden laughed silently. Very few people in this world had the power to control Maxwell.

All his reservations went out the door the moment he saw her. The ugly uniform couldn’t detract from the beauty of her heart-shaped face and soulful blue eyes framed by long black hair, the front of which was arranged in a complicated braid.

One could argue there were more beautiful and sophisticated women at Court. But at that moment, Aiden was hard-pressed to name a single one of them, let alone remember what they looked like.

All he could think was, finally. There you are. Quickly followed by not her, not now.

He couldn’t fall in love just when he had accepted what he must do for the good of his kingdom. The people of Cordonia deserved a monarch who placed duty, the honor of sacrifice and love for one’s country ahead of everything else.

Aiden hoped he would one day be worthy of Cordonia’s storied legacy.

But tonight, just for a few hours more, he wasn’t a king or a prince. He was just Aiden. A man that craved freedom even as he embraced his responsibilities.

During dinner, he’d tried to hide his feelings, but his eyes followed Phoebe every chance they got. He hoped he’d been surreptitious in his admiration, but he’d never been in love.

Drake had given him a look that told Aiden he wasn’t being his usual stoic self. After that, he’d turned his attention to the deluxe burgers, listening absently to Maxwell’s tall tales and ignoring Tariq’s snide remarks about the food and the establishment.

Later, Aiden walked up to Phoebe, apologized for his friends’ boorish behaviors and racked his brain for an excuse to stay in her orbit a while longer.

Luckily he remembered Maxwell’s earlier comment about wanting to try a New York City nightclub, and things progressed from there. The flashing lights held no appeal for him, but sharing a drink with Phoebe and telling her his secret had felt freeing.

The whole night had been a lesson in spontaneity, from Phoebe arranging a private boat tour of the Statue of Liberty to that unexpected kiss just as the cloud cover broke and the stars sparkled above them like so much fairy dust.

They only realized they were holding hands the entire time, the moment they had to let go as the boat docked at the pier. They disembarked, turning to face each other, the Manhattan skyline rising behind them, both uncertain about what came next. But knowing instinctively this was it. There was no next.

That’s all they were now. A memory. A faded picture. A failed potential. Two people, right for each other, who’d met at the wrong time.

If only, thought Aiden, shoving the covers aside, swinging his legs off the bed and forcing himself to let go.

He might be a prince, but he’d always known his life was not a fairy tale.

When the knock came on his door, as he’d known it would, he glanced at the man in the mirror one last time. One who’d been free to kiss the woman he loved on a starry night under the watchful eye of the ultimate symbol of freedom.

And he said goodbye to what could never be.

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

@choicesficwriterscreations @lizzybeth1986 @sazanes

#the royal romance #choices trr #trr fanfic #choices fanfics #choices fanfiction #klaw day 5 #kingliamappreciationweek #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #liam rys #liam rys x mc #short story #writers on tumblr

52 notes · View notes

marauderswolf22 · 10 months

Text

for @wolfstarmicrofic's june prompt cozy, words: 362, enjoy <3 (i read Beautiful by pallas_athene a few weeks ago so im inspired by this a little, but i tried to make it as unsimilar as possible)

Don't be sarcastic

-"Hi gorgeous."- Remus lit up the sun-warmed glade with his smile. His boyfriend's head snapped up. An unexplained growl escaped his throat as he rolled over to lie down on his stomach.

-"Don't be sarcastic, I'm terribly tired."- Remus' mouth formed a small "o" as his eyebrows swayed discordantly. He sat down next to him, his hand casually hanging in Sirius' hair.

-"What do you mean?"- They moved closer, touching each other forcefully after Sirius rested his head on Remus' belly. The sky could be flooded with honey and basalt gray under the pressure of their eyes lazily watching him. A moment passed, and Sirius replied softly, his voice brittle as crystal.

-"Am I really gorgeous to you? Don't get me wrong, I just don't see anything like gorgeous. Maybe handsome, but it's different than goergous or beautiful. You're surely goergous. All golden, so cozy you know? Your skin, hair, eyes, your soul and presence are the most cozy and homely things in the world to me. Ain't I cold in that sense?"

As the werewolf's thoughtful gaze turned back down, he saw Sirius staring at him. He was propably doing it all the time. He looked as fragile as a bird that had fallen out of its nest. Though tears didn't fall down his trembling cheeks, he could see how his face seemed softer than the summer wind. Although his heart was burning slightly at the sight, he smiled slightly and kissed his lover's trembling forehead slightly.

-"Sirius, sometimes I feel like you're even too warm for me, like I love you so much it burns. You set fire to my whole body whenever I see you, or talk to you, or think of you.”- Remus felt his voice cracking, probably from the power that was building between their close faces. Sirius smiled shyly too, along with his eyes, cheeks and blush on them.

-"I'd be cold as ice without you, but you light this fire in me like one click of a lighter."- They both just stared at each other, staring as at two glowing stars.

42 notes · View notes

thethreebroomsticksficfest · 1 year

Text

Unwelcome

By: @floreatcastellumposts

Prompt(s): Frost & First Christmas without [Character]

Look alive my friends because Floreatcastellum has secured us an invite to the Potter family’s Christmas dinner! ✨Read all about their festivities – which may or may not include a dash of angst and some unexpected guests – right here or on AO3! _________________________________________

The Christmas tree was decorated in the same way it was every year, down to the last bauble. Aunt Petunia had a very strict colour scheme of white and blue, and at some point or another she had apparently found the ideal position for each and every ornament, for rather than risk changing it she simply wrapped the plastic tree in clingfilm for storage in the attic 362 days of the year.

Harry, eight years old and now well used to the Christmas routine, stared vaguely at the frosty tree, his eyes focused on the only new addition; a clumsy clay ornament. It was an unidentifiable splodge of glitter and a smear of paint, Dudley’s efforts of less than five minutes in art at school before they had broken up for the Christmas holidays. Harry had spent the whole lesson on his, making the star of Bethlehem, yellow paint with gold glitter. He had no idea what had happened to it, for he had not seen it since he had brought it home.

‘Bed,’ said Aunt Petunia briskly.

Harry huffed. ‘Can’t I stay up later to-?’

‘No,’ she said curtly. ‘Come on - last chance to impress Father Christmas.’

‘Father Christmas isn’t real,’ he said flatly.

Aunt Petunia made a hissing noise not unlike one of Mrs Figg’s cats. ‘Don’t say things like that in front of Dudders.’

Harry glanced over to the sofa, where Dudley was sitting, staring slack-jawed and staring at the telly. He clearly hadn’t heard. ‘Or what?’ he asked. ‘I’ll get something worse than coal?’

She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and heaved him up. ‘You’re lucky to have a roof over your head!’ she reminded him, and dragged him to his cupboard. As she pushed him in, she seemed to change her mind, and pulled him back, bent low so her face was inches from his own. ‘Don’t you dare speak to your aunt Marge like that tomorrow.’

‘She’s not my-’

‘I mean it! Do not spoil our family Christmas.’

With that, he was shoved into his cupboard, where thankfully she could not see him roll his eyes. That night, he stared at the thin line of light that acted as a halo around his cupboard door, where someone had left the hallway light on, and dreaded the next day.

***

Several years later, Harry was in full force in the kitchen. A knife was speedily chopping veg beside him, while a wooden spoon stirred a saucepan vigorously. He, a tea towel slung over his shoulder and an expression of mild stress over his face, was checking the large turkey in the oven. Despite the sound of the radio playing Christmas music, and the clattering of Ginny in the larder searching for more garlic, he heard the sound of a lid being lifted off a large ceramic pot he knew held the pigs in blankets.

‘Don’t eat those!’ he called over his shoulder.

‘Why not? It’s Christmas.’

‘You know wh- put them down!’

He heard James huff, but replace the lid. Lily’s voice, belting along to the Christmas music, passed through the room as Harry ladeled oil over the turkey. ‘Am I going to have-?’ he heard her interrupt herself.

‘Yes, you’ve got a nut roast,’ he called back, pushing the turkey back in.

‘Next year you should all consider refusing to participate in the needless slaughter of millions of birds-’

‘Harry, there’s absolutely none in here,’ said Ginny, sticking her head out of the larder door. ‘Are you sure you got some?’

‘Yeah, definitely - a whole braid. I was with Ron, he made a crap joke about vampires.’

‘Oh, are you looking for the garlic?’ said James. Both Harry and Ginny turned to stare at him. ‘Yeah, it’s my room.’

‘Why?’

‘Dora was playing with it.’

‘Yesterday?’

‘Yeah. I was a vampire. She was hunting me down.’

‘And it’s been in your room since then?’

He shrugged and nodded. Ginny gave a great sigh, held up her wand and summoned it. It zoomed into the kitchen and she caught it with the unerring skill of a chaser, then started speedily peeling a bulb.

‘Right, that’s that mystery solved,’ said Harry. ‘Next job - could someone nip into the garden and get some sage?’

‘On it,’ called James, heading speedily to the back door.

‘When’s it going to be ready?’ asked Lily. ‘I’m starving.’

‘I don’t know - soon,’ lied Harry. ‘Why don’t you set the table?’

‘I have, and I put paper chains up.’

Harry could easily imagine the web of paper chains he was sure would greet him in the dining room. He gave a non-committal hum and turned back to the oven, causing his glasses to fog over.

‘I thought you and Mum said Christmas dinner would be at twelve.’

‘Yes, well,’ said Ginny breezily. ‘Harry, how’s it looking?’

‘Still pink in the middle.’

‘Right, well bring it out anyway, I’ll add the garlic and then we can maybe add a charm or two to hurry things along, I reckon that’d be-’

‘Hello!’ James called, as he returned from the garden. ‘Look who I found skulking by the gate.’

Harry turned round from the stove. There, in his doorway, was Draco Malfoy, looking as uncomfortable as he felt. He wished very much that he was not wearing an apron covered in flour, or at that very least that his glasses had fully defogged from the heat of the oven.

‘Oh…’ said Ginny. ‘Hello.’

‘I came to pick up Scorpius,’ said Malfoy stiffly. He looked astoundingly out of place in their kitchen; Harry vaguely wondered if he had ever come into a house through the back door in his life. His black velvet robes cast a rather sombre atmosphere even with the radio blaring out A Christmas Cauldron For You and Me.

‘They’re out on a walk,’ she said apologetically. ‘I’m sure they’ll be back soon - but - I’m sorry - I thought we said he was staying for Christmas dinner and then-?’

‘I was under the impression you’d be finished by now,’ said Malfoy. ‘You said you’d be sitting to eat at midday.’

‘Ah, well, yes, that was always ambitious.’

‘It is now nearly three,’ he said pointedly.

‘Dad got his timings wrong,’ said James helpfully. ‘He’s trying to give us all food poisoning.’

Harry cleared his throat. ‘James, why don’t you go and find Al and Scorpius?’

‘They could be anywhere.’

‘You’re an auror, I’m sure you can find them.’ He hoped that his tone struck the right balance between irritation and politeness in front of their guest, but judging from James’s delighted grin, it hadn’t. Nevertheless, he chucked a sprig of sage on the kitchen island, and bounded back outside.

Silence fell on the kitchen. Lily looked between her parents and Draco Malfoy. ‘I’m going to… go and do that thing,’ she said lamely, and then she too, swiftly left the room. Harry would have laughed if he hadn’t felt so uncomfortable.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked Malfoy.

Malfoy’s lips parted, but he said nothing, just looked slowly over his shoulder.

‘I think they’ll be a little while,’ Ginny prompted.

‘I… yes, then, thank you.’

‘Wine? Beer? Tea?’ When Malfoy continued to awkwardly say nothing, Harry offered, ‘something stronger?’

‘You don’t have any brandy, by any chance?’

‘We do,’ said Harry. ‘Erm…’ He glanced at the kitchen table, which was heaped with bowls of vegetable peelings, crumpled up Christmas wrapping, and a tin of chocolate from which James had been grazing all day. ‘Why don’t you take a seat in the dining room? It’s just through there. I’ll bring you the drink.’

‘Yes,’ said Malfoy stiffly. ‘All right.’

They parted ways, Malfoy to the door that led to the hallway, from which the dining room was opposite, Harry into the living room to their drinks cabinet in the corner. Luckily he had bought brandy purely for the purposes of setting the Christmas pudding on fire, so he opened up a new bottle and poured what he guessed was a normal measure. A vivid memory hit him suddenly, of Aunt Marge smacking her lips over a Christmas brandy, swirling it appreciatively. It left him feeling suddenly cold, though the fire was crackling merrily in their snug room.

He pushed it down, and took the drink back through to the kitchen, where he held it out to Ginny. She looked at it, then back up at him with a confused shrug. ‘What?’ she whispered.

‘Can you take it through to him?’ he whispered back.

‘Erm… no?’

‘Why not?’

‘Because then I’ll have to sit in there with him?’

He looked at her pleadingly. ‘I can’t go and sit in there with him, we hate each other.’

She closed her eyes and nodded with faux-understanding. ‘You’re right,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry, I forgot how we’re best friends. Simply adore each other. Borders on an emotional affair sometimes.’

‘There’s less history between you two than us,’ he implored.

‘By about this much,’ she said, pinching the air. ‘You were the one who offered him a drink-’

‘Look, all right, let’s-’ He leaned quickly and placed the glass of brandy on the crowded kitchen island, and then held out his fist to motion for a game of rock paper scissors. Ginny won. ‘Best out of three,’ he whispered hurriedly. Ginny nodded, and then won again. Harry sighed his groan. ‘Best out of-’

‘No,’ she said dangerously, holding out her finger in warning.

‘Fine,’ he muttered irritably, and he poured himself a generous glass of red wine before taking it and the brandy through.

In the dining room, Malfoy was sat on one of the chairs Ginny had decorated with giant Santa hats over the backs, at the table decorated with bright baubles stuck together to act as candle holders, beneath a canopy of paper chains, all clashing colours. The fairy lights strung around the picture rail and mirror were flashing rapidly so that Malfoy’s face was lit in red, blue, green and yellow within seconds. He did not, Harry noted, seem very impressed with their Christmas decor. His expression was that of someone trying to hold back revulsion. No doubt Malfoy manor was a little more elegant and co-ordinated in these matters. Perhaps, he thought viciously, with little glittery dark mark ornaments on the tree.

Harry sat on the other side of the table to Malfoy, as far away as he felt was socially acceptable. Another vivid memory struck him as he slid Malfoy’s drink over to him, of Snape and Sirius, sitting in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place, looking away from one another.

‘Thank you,’ said Malfoy, taking the brandy.

‘No problem,’ said Harry. ‘My apologies for running behind - years of Christmases where the children get you up at the crack of dawn and then all of a sudden they’re teenagers and everyone ends up sleeping off Christmas Eve drinks.’

‘I see,’ said Malfoy.

There was a long silence. ‘Then Ginny and I were having problems with the cooking,’ Harry continued, to fill it. ‘Turns out the oven wasn’t actually on for a good hour, and then we couldn’t find the garlic and - well it’s a bigger turkey than I realised.’

‘Right,’ said Malfoy. He looked around the table, at the pristine plates and the un-pulled crackers. ‘So you haven’t eaten at all?’

‘No,’ said Harry, who thought that had been obvious.

‘You still have a tea towel on your shoulder,’ said Malfoy.

Harry snatched it off, and smoothed down his floury apron. ‘All part of the… look,’ he muttered, his cheeks hot.

‘Diligent househusband?’ said Malfoy lightly.

‘Something wrong with that?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Glad we’re agreed. But you know that I do in fact work for a living. I think your family have seen me in a professional capacity.’

‘Well, my parents have, certainly, thank you for bringing that up,’ said Malfoy, the edge in his voice as sharp as Harry felt he probably deserved for the jibe. He could not bring himself to feign an apology, however, so simply let the silence continue for some time, looking down at the dark red wine in his glass. At last, Malfoy cleared his throat. ‘If… if you all still need to eat I can go - Scorpius and Al can floo back later, once you’re all done.’

Yep, Harry wanted to say. Good idea, you do that, bye.

‘Please don’t feel you need to do that,’ he said politely instead. ‘We agreed the boys would spend the morning and lunch here, and that they’d go to you for the evening and tomorrow, we’ve taken up too much of your time with your son as it is.’

Malfoy nodded, still clearly irritated.

‘And - once they’re back,’ said Harry reluctantly, ‘we can see if they’d prefer to eat with us or take some food back to yours. I expect you’ve already eaten.’

‘Of course,’ said Malfoy. ‘Is it,’ he checked his watch, ‘gone three now.’

Harry bit back a sarcastic retort by sipping from his wine, and falling back into thick silence. By the fire, the enchanted nutcracker soldier burst into a merry tune and began dancing enthusiastically, as it was charmed to do every few minutes. Both men ignored it.

‘Just so you know,’ said Malfoy eventually. ‘I wasn’t, er… skulking by the gate.’

‘Oh, no I’m sure you weren’t-’

‘Your son came out just as I arrived and I was checking my watch-’

‘Please ignore his comment, he just likes to wind people up-’

‘So I’ve heard.’

‘He’s not doing it to be mean,’ said Harry defensively.

‘I’m sure, not what I meant to imply,’ said Malfoy swiftly.

‘He just likes a laugh.’

‘Yes.’ Malfoy cleared his throat. ‘So does my son.’

‘He does, yes,’ agreed Harry. ‘Very confident, charming…’ Once again, thought Harry, he deserved another Order of Merlin for not adding ‘unlike you’. Malfoy simply nodded in response, and they both drank from their glasses far longer than necessary.

‘Wow, it’s so loud in here,’ said James, as he entered the room a painfully long ten minutes of silence later. For maximum effect, he leant back and grimaced as though he had walked into a heavy metal concert. ‘Don’t you two ever shut up?’

Both Harry and Malfoy stared at him. This did not seem to phase James at all; he called over his shoulder to the kitchen. ‘Hurry up, you two!’

Moments later, Al and Scorpius walked in, stopped dead at the sight of Harry and Malfoy, and burst into fits of laughter.

‘What are you doing here?’ Scorpius asked his father.

‘Are you both having a nice time?’ asked Al. ‘How long have you both been in here?’

‘All right…’ said Harry wearily. Scorpius was actually wiping at his eyes as he spluttered through his laughter.

‘James told us dinner was finally ready,’ Al said.

‘It’s not,’ said Malfoy flatly.

‘It nearly is,’ said Harry hurriedly.

‘Seven minutes!’ shouted Ginny from the kitchen.

‘You have a decision to make, boys,’ said Malfoy authoritatively. ‘Either you stay here for your Christmas dinner or you come home with me as was the prior agreement. Mr Potter has suggested that you take some food with you.’

‘How about you join us for Christmas dinner, Mr Malfoy?’ asked James innocently, causing Scorpius to let out a scream of laughter and Al to nearly bend double, his shoulders shaking.

‘I’ve already eaten,’ said Malfoy. ‘And I don’t wish to impose any further. I’m perfectly happy with whatever you choose, boys.’

They seemed to collect themselves, the laughter fading away in little bursts. ‘Are… Granny and Grandpa still there?’ asked Scorpius.

Malfoy hesitated, and to Harry’s astonishment, he glanced to him, the way one would seeking reassurance. ‘No,’ he said, with great gentleness. ‘No, they’ve gone home.’

Scorpius nodded slowly, and his usual easy, bright smile was now rather forced. ‘Sure. All right. Safe to come home then.’

‘Always safe,’ said Malfoy. Scorpius hummed, and then looked at Al, who looked back.

Harry, sensing that the conversation would be too awkward to have in front of parents, rose, seizing his glass. ‘Can I get you more, Malfoy, while the boys make their decision?’

‘Oh, no thank you,’ said Malfoy, missing Harry’s intention altogether. He tried to give him an exasperated look to hint further, but Malfoy’s eyes were fixed on his son.

Knowing a lost cause when he saw one, Harry left the room and went through to the kitchen to help Ginny with the last of the dinner, James following. Lily was there too, spooning brussel sprouts into a serving dish.

‘Well?’ Ginny asked.

‘They’re making their minds up,’ said Harry. ‘Want me to carve up?’

‘Please.’

‘Will you at least try my nut roast, Dad? You might prefer it-’

‘I try it every year, Lily, it’s very nice. Not as nice as turkey.’

‘More ethical-’

‘Lily, Dad’s a soft target and you’ve still not convinced him,’ said James. ‘Give up.’

‘Aunt Hermione says-’

‘You’ve not convinced her, either.’

Albus entered the room, looking rather sheepish. Harry knew what he was going to say before he said it.

‘Do you mind if Scorpius and I take a few bits and go? We won’t take a lot, Mr Malfoy says he has loads left over and cheese and stuff.’

It would be their first Christmas dinner without Albus. Without any of their children. The thought of it quietly devastated Harry. He wanted to scream and shout - could Malfoy not wait another bloody hour? Could they not stay just a little longer? The food was ready now.

‘It’s just…’ continued Albus meekly, ‘Mr Malfoy… if he goes home now without us he’ll be on his own, now his parents have gone home…’

‘Have they definitely gone?’ asked Harry abruptly. ‘Because that was - you know our condition, we’re not sending you to spend time with Death Eaters.’

‘They’re definitely gone,’ said Albus. ‘You know, after what happened last year on the cliffs… they’ve not exactly come to terms with the gay thing, let alone me being that gay thing, so to speak.’

Harry sighed, continuing to carve the turkey. He felt Ginny’s hand on his back, she had come to stand beside him.

‘Are you sure you couldn’t both eat with us, Al?’ Ginny asked pleadingly. ‘The plan was for you both to eat with us and then spend the evening-’

‘I know, but…’

Harry understood. ‘We weren’t on time,’ he muttered bitterly.

Al looked guilty, and Harry deeply appreciated it as he said, ‘it’s no one’s fault. None of us - not even Mr Malfoy - are annoyed or anything, it’s just… I don’t like the thought of him being on his own…’

Harry looked at Ginny. She gave a wry smile. ‘Why don’t we ask Mr Malfoy if he wants to stay for dinner? Wouldn’t be at all frosty or awkward.’

‘James already made that joke,’ he said warmly. He looked back at Al. ‘He’d be completely alone if he went back now?’

‘Yeah,’ said Al. ‘And I don’t get the impression he had a great Christmas dinner with his own parents.’

Harry nodded, sought one last look of reassurance from Ginny, and said, ‘OK. Can’t really argue with that, especially when we’ve been so late.’

Al beamed at him; they had come such a long way, the pair of them. Harry was quite sure that just a year or two previously this would have caused an argument of huge proportions.

‘Let’s carry all this through,’ said Ginny, ‘the pair of you make up your plates and then take them to go.’

They did so, Malfoy standing to one side and watching as they piled their plates high.

‘Take another Yorkshire, Scorpius, go on,’ said Ginny. ‘Al, I can’t remember, do you like braised cabbage?’

‘No - I’ll have some of those carrots though.’

‘This turkey’s still pink in the middle,’ said James, then snickered as Harry checked it with sheer panic.

‘That’s not funny - it’s fine.’

‘Scorpius, white or dark meat?’ Ginny asked. ‘James has bagsied a leg, but the other one’s still-’

‘Oh, no, I’ll have some of the breast meat, thanks-’

‘Thank you,’ said a quiet voice to Harry. He turned. Malfoy was beside him, still unable to look him in the face, but clearly reluctantly speaking to him. ‘I’m sorry to intrude on your family Christmas and pull Albus away.’

‘Not at all,’ said Harry.

‘It’s a hard time of the year,’ said Malfoy stiffly. ‘For some people,’ he added, rather forcefully. ‘I - my apologies if it’s made things difficult for you-’

‘No, it’s fine,’ said Harry swiftly. He had no desire for a heart to heart with Draco Malfoy of all people. ‘My apologies for being so late with the Christmas lunch.’

The boys’ plates were now so high that it felt ludicrous, and Ginny had to concede defeat on plying them with more food. She waved her wand so that tin foil covered the plates as the boys held them, and gave another jab of her wand up to the ceiling. Harry heard the suitcases clunk clumsily down the stairs and wait by the front door.

‘If you didn’t pack properly like I asked, that’s your problem,’ she said, as she gave Albus a tight, squeezing hug and a kiss on the cheek.

‘We did!’ Albus assured her.

‘Remember we’re at Nana and Grandad’s tomorrow, probably going to stay overnight.’

‘OK, send them my love.’

She embraced Scorpius next. ‘Did you remember your present from me and Harry?’

‘Oh, nearly forgot! Dad, hold this-’ Scorpius shoved the plate into his father’s hands, and raced from the room.

‘You got him a present?’ Malfoy asked, his pointed face slightly softened with surprise.

‘Of course,’ said Harry. ‘He’s very welcome.’

Scorpius returned with the selection of Weasley Wizard Wheezes products and chocolates Harry and Ginny had gifted him tucked under his arm, and took the plate back from his father. With a last few goodbyes, Harry watched them through the dining room window as they walked down his driveway, through the large wooden gate, and vanished on the deserted lane.

‘Come on, stop moping,’ said James. ‘Your food’s getting cold.’

Harry turned, and joined the rest of his family at the table, where they toasted, and then pulled their crackers. Harry donned his hat; a rather extravagant fascinator. Ginny passed him the gravy. ‘I wasn’t moping,’ Harry told James. ‘Just annoyed with myself for getting the timings wrong. Though I think if you lot had got out of bed and showered quicker that would have helped too.’

‘And if Al and Scorpius had come and helped with dinner prep instead of going for a walk,’ added Lily.

‘And if the planets had aligned and we’d won the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Draw and all that,’ said Ginny airily. ‘No point in fussing.’ She reached out and grasped Harry’s hand. ‘It was the right thing to do. He’s not had an easy time of it.’

‘Still think we should have made him stay,’ said James. ‘Love an awkward guest. Let’s invite Dawlish next year.’

‘Yes, you made that clear,’ said Harry.

‘It’s our turn to go to The Burrow next year, along with the Granger-Weasleys,’ said Ginny. ‘Anyway, what’s Christmas without an awkward guest or unwelcome relative? God, the Christmases we went through with Muriel… or that cousin on my Dad’s side who went a bit funny and ended up becoming an accountant, we had a horrible Christmas with him.’

‘What?’ asked Lily, bewildered.

‘Have I never told you? Oh, he was ridiculous, such an odd man - Dad always said it was a potion accident, but your Uncle George and Fred always said it was more like potion abuse-’

Harry’s mind had wandered. For some reason, perhaps it was the brandy Malfoy had been drinking, he was thinking once more of that Christmas where Aunt Marge had swirled the glass, smacking her lips. ‘There you go, my little nephy-poo,’ she’d squealed at Dudley, as she’d handed over his present. Harry had watched, eyes round with awe, as Dudley unwrapped a toy robot. The box said that it really moved, walked around the room, even responded to commands.

Then, to Harry’s astonishment, Marge thrusted a gift at him, too. He looked up at her in disbelief, but she was already turning back to Dudley, who was throwing a tantrum because Uncle Vernon could not find AAA batteries for the robot. With numb fingers, he very gently unwrapped the present.

WINALOT, the box said, right at the top. A happy looking bulldog seemed to smile on the front. KEEPS YOUR DOG FIT, NOT FAT.

In hindsight, Harry could generously suppose she had got him something but that she was the type of woman to also get her dogs Christmas presents, and take the time to wrap them. Perhaps it had been a mistake. No doubt he had not meant to receive something along the lines of a toy robot, but perhaps she had intended to give him at least something as a gesture. It did not matter. At that age, after his seven years of experience with the Dursleys, he had said thank you in a small voice, and taken the dog biscuits to his cupboard, where he stayed for as much of the rest of the day as he could.

For Harry knew full well what it was like to be an unwelcome guest, an awkward relative, an unwanted presence at Christmas. He had not wanted that for Scorpius, but nor had he wanted it for Malfoy either, as much as he detested him. He knew too, what it was like to feel lonely at Christmas, to feel grief more strongly at a time where forced cheer was in the air, to feel ostracised by those around him. Perhaps it had been the world’s most awkward drink, but it had felt important to offer it.

Suddenly, having his son miss the latter half of the day didn’t feel as devastating.

‘Dad,’ said Lily suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. ‘Dad, try some of my nut roast.’

‘All right,’ said Harry, as James groaned dramatically.

‘Lily! Give! Up!’

‘Never!’ she cried. ‘After Christmas, I’m going to campaign the house elves at school-’

‘I’m going to tell Aunt Hermione you’re giving them more work,’ said James quickly.

As they bickered, Ginny leant closer to Harry. ‘We’re lucky, aren’t we?’ she murmured. ‘That we have so many people we want at Christmas dinner with us.’

He smiled at her. ‘Certainly are.’

#submission #ttb yule bash 2022 #harry potter #ginny weasley #draco malfoy #albus severus potter #scorpius malfoy #next gen #post-epilogue

75 notes · View notes