Sorry I haven’t been so active, life got really, really busy. Anyway, special thanks to whoever sent this prompt. I honeslty loved the idea of Kilorn getting Cal drunk. These babes need some bonding time too, so here we are with a drunk bonding fic.
Timeline: During King’s Cage, approximately 6 months after Glass Sword
Rating: PG-13, language (cursing)
Spoilers: HIGH LEVEL WARNING
Pairings: implied MarexCal
Word Count: 3790 words
It was an unusually cold evening in Monfort, so much so that
Kilorn wrapped the threadbare jacket he had been given tighter around him and
grumbled about the whole thing. No one said that when it snowed here, it got
colder than Norta. No one had bothered to mention that, so here he was,
trudging through almost knee deep snow to get back from his watch. He supposed
to the only entertaining part was Calore ahead of him, almost slipping every
time he took a step because the snow just melted as he passed through it. The
Silver seemed completely immune to the cold though, and even had the audacity to wear
only a thin jacket and no gloves or a scarf.
A particularly strong wind blew into their faces and Kilorn
decided in that moment that he had had enough. Planting his feet, he shouted,
“That’s it, we’re stopping.”
Calore froze up ahead and the snow at his feet immediately
began to turn to slush. He threw a loaded glare over his shoulder at Kilorn and
hissed, “This will be the fourth time you’ve decided to stop, it will only get
worse the longer we stay out here.”
“Well, I’d rather stop somewhere and
just wait it out.” Kilorn replied with a sniff. He liked to think that when he
argued with the Prince that he normally won. In reality he knew that he was
just a sore loser, and the only person who had ever been able to stand toe to
toe with the Silver, and actually get him to bow out, was locked up in Archeon, dying at the hands of the King.
He immediately turned away from that thought though. The minute he
started on Mare, he couldn’t stop. His stomach churned like a rough sea at the
thought of her in pain, and his heart ached in his chest as he thought about
the fact that no matter what happened, she would only ever see him as a friend
and a brother. He used to think it was really unfair, his competition being a
perfect Silver Prince and all, but he’d slowly started to realize that there
had never been a competition at all. Calore had won, before the race had even
started, so Kilorn tried to shrug off the bitter jealousy and move on. There
was no use crying over something like that, and besides, he and Calore had sort
of teamed up to get her back. It felt like they were the only two people at the
moment that were even trying anyway.
Glancing around him at the host of dark shops and rickety
homes, Kilorn scanned the street for a place to rest for a few hours.
Eventually, his eyes landed on windows spilling warm light onto the snow,
practically beckoning him. With a smile underneath his thick scarf, he took a few
freezing steps though the snow and nudged Calore on his way by. “How about a
drink? You and I could use one.”
The Prince followed him, even though he was obviously
reluctant, and grumbled, “I don’t drink.”
“Well, then I want a drink, and you need a drink.” Kilorn
said with a laugh as he stood patiently outside of the heavy door. Calore
eventually joined him, his eyes uncertain as they flickered in the dim light of
the windows. Kilorn figured that the prince would not be exactly comfortable in
a bar like the one they were about to enter, and he relished the fact that he
was going to get to see the silver squirm. It wouldn’t have been as funny though
if he knew how Mare and the prince had met.
Grabbing the handle of the door, Kilorn yanked on it, cracking
the ice that had formed on the edge from the cold. Kilorn glanced at the shards of ice still clinging to the lock and then throwing a smug smile in Calore’s
direction he said, “You know it’s too cold when the doors freeze shut.”
The Silver simply huffed and stepped through the door and
into the raucous noise that the bar was producing. Kilorn followed him in,
unraveling his scarf and pulling off his hat. Calore simply ran his fingers
through his dark hair, melting the frost that was clinging to it. Kilorn
brushed his own hair off and then started across the old wood floor toward the
darker part of the bar, where a few dimly lit tables were pushed up against the
wall. The whole place brought back good memories of sitting in bars and
laughing, watching people get stupidly drunk before stumbling outside to
collapse in the dirt. He wondered for a moment if he would ever feel that happy
He picked a table that was farthest from everyone and sank
down into the chair, sighing in content as he put his boots up on one of the
empty chairs and stretched his legs out, enjoying the warmth that was slowly
pushing through every gap in his clothing.
Calore slinked behind him, trying to make himself as small
as possible to avoid anyone noticing his presence. He had been told to keep a
low profile upon arrival in Monfort and in response he had tried to stick to
the small town house that the entire group had been allocated. Farley had had enough of his pathetic moping after four months and had practically
forced him out the door and thrown him on Kilorn, saying that the two of them
needed some bonding time anyway. They had both protested for a solid heartbeat,
only for Farley to slam the door in their faces and lock it. It had been a long
day after that, with Calore mostly keeping to himself and refusing to say more
than five words in a sentence. In fact, the most he had said all day was to
tell Kilorn to stop whining about the cold, because there were much worse
positions to be in. After he’d said it too, Kilorn had seen his eyes flash with
some unknown emotion, and in that moment, Kilorn had known exactly what
situation he was thinking about and who was in that situation at the moment.
Shaking off the memories from the day, Kilorn waved over a pretty
young waitress, putting on what he thought was a charming smiling as she
approached with her own wry smile that said she knew exactly what was coming.
Leaning forward to keep her eye on him, Kilorn smiled and said, “I’ll
have a good strong drink, and my friend,” he kicked the prince under the table,
drawing those burning irises to him, before continuing, “Will have something
“I’ll have whiskey.” The silver grumbled, before leaning
back and crossing his arms, obviously perturbed by Kilorn’s decision for him.
Shrugging at the comment, Kilorn jerked his thumb to his companion and said, “Fine,
whatever he wants, I’ll have too.”
The waitress smiled coyly, and tried not to tell Kilorn that
she knew exactly who he and his “friend” were. With a dip of her head, she
replied, “I’ll be right back.”
She turned away and started
toward the bar, giving Kilorn the opportunity to lean across the table and
tease, “I thought you said you didn’t drink. Whiskey’s pretty heavy duty stuff.”
“It’s none of your business what I choose to drink.” The
prince replied stiffly, before glancing around the bar at the other patrons. At
one of the tables across form them, a rowdy card game had just begun, and
judging by the bets being put on the table, everyone was a bit more drunk than
they realized. Beyond them, another group of young men, no older than them
really, we’re laughing wildly as they told stories from the day. Kilorn glanced
in their direction as well, and then glanced back at Calore, who seemed to fit
into the mold of the bar more than Kilorn thought he would.
Sitting back in his chair, Kilorn said, “Fine, but I’m not
dragging your three-sheets-to-the-wind drunk ass home, you can crawl for all I
“How generous of you, I’ll keep
that in mind.” The prince replied with small smile. Kilorn had seen it only a
few times since that faithful day that the Blackrun had gone down. Calore
rarely smiled lately, rarely showed any form of emotion actually. Which Kilorn
thought was just plain stupid. He should have been angry, should have been
railing against the world if he seemed to care about Mare so much. But he hadn’t
At that moment, the waitress returned with their drinks,
setting the bottle on the table and two glasses between them. She winked at the
two of them and said, “Strongest thing we’ve got, so take it easy.”
Kilorn smiled and then grabbing the bottle he returned her wink
and then opened the bottle to pour the amber liquid into the two glasses. She
laughed at his reaction and then slipped away, walking toward the card table to
see if anyone needed anything there.
Kilorn finished pouring, and then picking up the glass he
swirled the liquid for a few seconds and then said, “You sure you can drink
this stuff? I mean I haven’t had whiskey in years, but I still remember how
hard it screwed me over.”
The prince simply took his glass and placed the rim to his
lips. Kilorn watched, fascinated as he tipped the glass back and downed the
liquid in two gulps.
He set the glass down and for a moment Kilorn doubted that
he hadn’t drunken before, but a heartbeat later, the silver coughed on the
fiery trail the drink left in his throat and growled, “How did he even drink
Kilorn smiled and then took a sip before saying, “Who we
talking about here?”
The silver’s eyes flashed, as if he were surprised that
Kilorn had heard him. His lips curled slightly and he whispered, “No one who is
“Right, so I shouldn’t assume the uncle was the drinker?”
Kilorn teased as he leaned back in his chair, taking in the scene around them.
When he glanced back, the Silver had already poured himself another glass.
Slamming his own down on the table, Kilorn pulled it away before he could drink
again. “Slow down there, if you haven’t done something like this before you’ll
“I don’t see what the problem is
then.” He growled in reply, before yanking the glass back across the table.
Kilorn stiffened in response and then spit, “Fine, drown yourself in self-pity,
see if I care.”
A good hour later, the bottle was empty, and so was the
second one that had come after it. Kilorn let out a snorting laugh at that fact,
knowing his face was cherry apple red. Then leaning across the table, he
whispered with a stupid grin on his face, “You wanna know a secret?”
Across from him, the prince snorted and then chuckled before
saying, “Depends on if I have to tell you one too.”
“Obviously,” Kilorn drawled, his tongue loose with the taste
of the whiskey that he had been drinking to try and keep up with the Silver so
that he didn’t drink himself under the table. Farley would never forgive him if
he brought the prince back to the house black out drunk. He was also feeling surprisingly loose around the prince, he wasn’t all that bad, really. He was a lot better when he loosened up and just talked.
“The secret is that…” Kilorn trailed off and then snickered
and grabbed the bottle to tip it over and see if anything was left. A few drops
trickled out and he groaned comically before setting it down and continuing, “The
secret is that I hated you… so much.”
There was silence for a moment, before Calore laughed. He
threw his head back and almost fell out of the chair. Kilorn laughed as well,
pointing his finger at him threateningly and saying, “Don’t laugh, it’s one
billion percent true.”
The prince leaned forward again, righting
himself so that he didn’t fall out of the chair, and replied, “I have
absolutely no qualms with that.”
“See that’s what I hate, you use
all these big fancy words like “quails”. Honestly what the fuck is a “quail”
anyway? How can you have no quails with me?”
Calore laughed again, and this
time, he did slip out of his chair slightly, but managed to catch himself on
the tables edge before he went toppling to the floorboards. Kilorn laughed as
well, more at his own stupidity than the prince’s inability to hold his liquor.
But he was doing surprisingly well at keeping it down, which had been a feat in
and of itself. He had downed at least two more glasses than Kilorn, and was
maybe just as far gone, if not a little more. Kilorn figured he would have been
lying on the floor by this point, unmoving and essentially dead.
“You want to know my secret?” The prince said, with a smile
that actually reached his eyes for the first time. Kilorn nodded rapidly,
excited to know exactly what went through a drunk prince’s mind. Calore leaned
forward and then beckoned Kilorn forward so that he could whisper and still be
heard over the crowd around them. Kilorn leaned forward, his arm sliding across
the table so that he almost face planted into the wood. The prince smiled then
and whispered, “My brother would have made a better king than me anyway.”
Kilorn froze for a moment, and then watched as the prince
threw his head back and laughed, as if that were the funniest thing he had ever
said. Kilorn frowned though and said bluntly, the whiskey dulling his ability
to filter his insult, “But your brother’s an asshole.”
“Damn straight he is, but he’s a smart one, and he knew his
way around the court more than I ever could dream of knowing. You know he told
me I probably would have died on my wedding night? And you know what? I
probably would have.” He laughed again at the end of his statement, his face
getting paler by the second as he became more and more flushed. Kilorn watched him
for a second and then said, “You really believe that.”
“Of course I believe that, I’d be stupid not to.”
Kilorn’s frown deepened, wondering if maybe he shouldn’t
have let the prince drink after all. This was not what he wanted to hear, let
alone what other people should be hearing.
“You want to hear another secret?”
“No, not really, I think we should actually leave and get
you back now.” Kilorn said as he stumbled to his feet. The prince grabbed his
wrist though and yanked him back into his seat, surprisingly in control of his
motor functions considering how much whiskey he had had.
“I think we should stay a little longer, I haven’t felt like
this in years.”
“I think you need to go back, Farley’s probably worried-“
“Farley can go crawl back under the rock she came from. She doesn’t
care about what happens to me. At this point she’s just keeping me around for
what I know about the silvers, which is starting to become irrelevant at this
point.” He chuckled to himself and Kilorn blanched at the statement, not sure
how to respond. The silver glanced at
him then, his eyes suddenly clear, and with a terribly soft whisper he said, “My
biggest secret is that I broke my promise to her. I promised her that I would never
let anyone hurt her, that I would never let him
hurt her again. I thought I had enough power to protect her, to keep her safe,
fat lot of good it did me though.”
He glared down at his bracelets then, as if they were the problem. Without them, he was essentially useless, and Kilorn had
learned that very quickly after the Blackrun went down. That memory came back
like a burning knife being shoved down his throat though, and he tried to will
it away, but it wouldn’t go away. All he could see was Mare, kneeling in the
snow, her eyes dry and her face stern as she made the deal that would seal
her fate. He’d screamed at her to stop, screamed at the prince to stop her, but Calore had watched as well, not once taking his eyes off of Mare.
“You weren’t going to be able to protect her, no one was. Mare choose to
go, and there was no stopping her.” Kilorn warned, trying to stand again and
help the prince up. He stumbled from him chair this time, letting Kilorn take
him, and almost took Kilorn down when he stumbled over his feet.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, Kilorn dumped a few coins
on the table and then started to drag the prince toward the door.
“I didn’t go to the funeral cause she told me to stay away,
and I was so goddamn bitter about those stupid letters. They were worth shit
anyway, but I was still furious with her because of them.”
At that point, Kilorn wasn’t really sure what the prince was
talking about anymore, and he didn’t really want to know either. He simply kept
dragging him, and then slamming his hat on his own head, he wrapped his scarf
around his neck in a pathetic attempt to brave the cold outside. He needed to get
Calore back and into bed, without waking all the little Newbloods they had
brought with them. They couldn’t see their hero covered in sweat, and farther
from sober than they were from Norta.
“I hated you too you know, I hated you because she trusted
you, completely and absolutely. She would never question you, ever. Me though,
she questioned me every step of the way, always wondering why I was sticking
“I think you’re done talking now,” Kilorn said as he shoved
open the door and stepped out into the freezing night. The cold immediate began
to wipe away some of his drunken state, but his side instantly smarted with
heat as Calore increased his body heat drastically to account for the change.
“Shut up Warren, I’m not done yet.”
“How about this, I’ll shut up if you shut up.”
prince was silent for a second, and then replied, “Fine.”
sighed in relief and then began to drag him through the snow, with Calore
knocking them off course with every faltering step he took. At this rate they
would never make it back to the house, not with Calore being a pain in the ass
like this, Kilorn thought bitterly, as his fingers began to freeze. They
finally managed to make it down the long street, and then turning toward the
house, Kilorn sighed in relief when he saw the light on in the window from the
kitchen. Hopeful Farley or Cameron was still up and they were willing to help
him drag Calore up the stairs.
they went up the two stairs to the house, Calore whispered softly, “I never told her
the truth. I never told her that I… that I love her.”
“I thought we agreed to stop talking.” Kilorn grumbled as he
fished for the key in his pocket. Calore slipped away from him though and then leaned against
the side of the house, his face hidden in shadow. Kilorn finally managed to
find the key, his hands were shaking from the cold though, and with a cry of
terror he dropped in into the snow. Calore glanced at him as this happened and
the snorted with laughter, only to slide forward and fall face first into the
snow. Kilorn looked down at him then, waiting for him to get up. The silver
didn’t move though, didn’t so much as flinch really at the cold, and Kilorn let
out a strangled groan at the fact that he was probably going to have to drag
him up the stairs.
At that moment, the door opened, flooding the front step
with light from the kitchen. Blinking at the blinding brightness, Kilorn groaned
and covered his eyes to try and prevent the headache he felt building up
between his eyebrows.
There was silence for a second and then Farley, with a
terrifyingly calm voice asked, “What happened?”
Kilorn simply bent down and grabbed Calore’s shoulders
before tugging him in a circle so that he could drag him into the house. “He’s
“What?” Farley hissed, as she stepped out of the way and set
her hand on her swollen stomach, her eyes wide in fury. Kilorn glanced at her and
deadpanned, “I honestly didn’t think he’d drink as much as he did.”
“Who?” Someone else said from the
other side of the kitchen, and Kilron glanced over his shoulder to see Calore’s
uncle sitting at the table, a cup of tea in his hands. Wincing at what this
looked like, he turned back to face Farley with a pleading expression. She
glared at him though and slammed the door before saying, “Yes Warron, who is
completely drunk at the moment?”
“Well, I am, but he’s a lot worse off. I’m honestly
surprised he made it all the way back to the house without collapsing.”
The other silver got up, his eyes scanning his nephew before
he sighed heavily and said, “Never thought I’d see this day.”
“Congratulations, you have. Now can someone please help me
get him upstairs?”
“Absolutely not,” Farley replied, before grabbing her own
cup of tea and finishing, “The two of you are sleeping downstairs. I’m not
going to listen to him vomit his insides out when he wakes up.”
Kilorn’s mouth dropped open in surprise and he sputtered for
a second, wondering what he had done to get himself put in the same position at Calore. He
could hold his alcohol, and he certainly wouldn’t have any trouble dealing with
his hangover tomorrow morning. Why did he have to stay down here with Calore?
“You two seemed to have a good time, judging by Calore, so I assume there was
some good male bonding. You can continue to bond while you sleep on the
couch.” Farley said as she left the room, her eyes like hard diamonds,
offering no room for argument. Kilorn turned to Calore’s uncle then, his eyes
pleading for help. The older man sighed and then grabbed his tea as well and
said, “Good night Kilorn.”
With that, they both left the room, and Kilorn was left
holding Calore’s limp body. With a groan of frustration he dragged him farther
into the room and then into the tiny sitting room that had been furnished with
a few worn pieces of furniture. He dropped Calore on the carpet and then
collapsed onto the couch, deciding that the seas in the bottles had made rough
seas in his stomach.
Anonymous: • “My kid just shot a bottle rocket into your window” AU with peter maybe??? I AM DYING FOR SOME AWKWARD!DAD PETER PLEASE LOVE I’M BEGGING YOU I LOVE YOUR WRITING AND YOU (i mean if it’s not too much trouble!)
“My kid just shot a bottle rocket into your window” AU + Peter Maximoff
It was a nice day. But instead of going out and enjoying the great weather, you just stayed home and decided to do random things. Your mother would’ve yelled at you, but fortunately, she wasn’t here.
You sighed. It got a bit lonely sometimes and you missed your family, but you were okay. One of the perks of living alone was that you could do whatever you wanted.
Laughing mischievously and rubbing your hands together, you eagerly placed yourself on the staircase handle and slid down the stairs, screaming and whooping on the way.
You felt like a kid again.
You were just about to slide down the stairs again when you heard a crash from the kitchen. Your eyes widened and you ran to the kitchen, almost slipping as you did so. “What the?”
A bottle rocket stood on the floor, glass shards surrounding it. There was a big gaping hole on your kitchen window. You groaned. How were you supposed to pay for this stuff?
Suddenly, the door bell rang and snapped you out of your thoughts. Oh great, more problems.
You opened the door, and thoughts of the huge hole in your kitchen window were out of your mind. A really hot guy stood on your doorstep, anxiously fiddling with the buttons of his leather jacket. A little boy who looked like a younger version of him stood by, smiling widely.
“Can I help you?” You asked, trying to look casual, but you were wearing a robe and your hair was a rat’s nest so you probably didn’t look very cool.
“Oh! Hi, I’m Peter, I’m your new neighbor,” He looked nervous, as if he didn’t like being in these kind of situations. “My kid just shot a bottle rocket into your window.”
The little boy next to him grinned, as if he was proud of what he did.
“I’m Y/N. Yeah, there’s a big hole on my window. It’s fine though! I can pay for it, don’t worry!” No you couldn’t, you just spent all your money buying random stuff from the internet.
“N-No!” Peter went forward and his eyes widened. “Sorry. I can pay for it!”
“No, it’s totally fine! I can pay for it!” You argued back, but it didn’t seem like he was going to budge. Damn, he’s hot and he’s willing to pay.
“No, I insist. It’s my kid’s fault and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have money, so…” He chuckled nervously and motioned to his kid who was still smiling proudly.
“You’re pretty!” The kid said, and you almost choked on air. What?
Peter looked as red as a tomato and nudged the giggling child. “Be quiet, kid.”
You grinned. This was adorable. “Do you want your bottle rocket back?”
The boy nodded eagerly and watched as you ran back to the kitchen and picked up the bottle rocket, making sure that there were no glass pieces stuck to it. You didn’t want an angry parent yelling at you for hurting their child.
“Here you go, kid!” You handed it back to him and the boy’s eyes lit up. You didn’t notice that Peter was staring at you.
“H-Hey, we have some extra bottle rockets if you want to you know,” Peter shrugged, trying to look cool but the hopeful glint in his eyes gave it away. “It’s really fun. You don’t have to though, I’m sure you have way more important stuff to do.”
You smiled. “Riding the staircase can wait, let’s go! I missed playing with bottle rockets!” You grinned as Peter laughed and raced with you to his front yard, where several bottle rockets lied on the grass, waiting to be played with.
The rest of the day, you, Peter, and his kid played with bottle rockets and fortunately, did not break any windows this time.
It was just like any other night in the penthouse lounge getting ready for another auction, or so Soryu thought. It started out with just the guys, but you have just gotten off work and just wanted to spend time with your boyfriend. Well, Soryu told you just to come back to the lounge to hang out until they were done discussing things but things were taking longer than expected. Ota and Baba just wanted to drink and soon Mamoru joined in, as Eisuke and Soryu were finishing up everyone’s slack they also joined in drinking after finishing everything and that’s when you walked in. You see all the empty beer bottles and shot glasses on the table as the men playing cards. Noticing you walking in shocked Baba looks up and grins widely “ Hello Pretty Lady!” you walk over as the smell of alcohol gets stronger and Soryu looks up at you smiling “Rina come over here”, “What are you guys doing?” you asked confused walking over to Soryu and Ota speaks up “You are just in time! We are playing cards!” you look around nodding and feel someone grab your hand pulling you, as you look down you were surprised to see it was Soryu leading you to him, soon as you got closer he sat you in his lap and you could just smell the liquor off of him. “Come on lets finish this game” Eisuke states and you look at Soryus cards with him as you were on his lap trying to get off your mind how embarrassing it was to be on his lap in the first place. But as you were focused on his cards you didn’t realize the hand creeping up on your leg, as you felt his hand trail up and down your bare skin you cant help but shiver. Underneath the table thanking that the rest of the bidders cant see what he was doing, you tried pushing his hand away. He pushes your hand away first traveling up on your skin pulling your skirt up a bit grabbing your thigh, making sure the other bidders weren’t looking he kisses the back of your neck and you shiver. As you tried moving off his lap he chuckles quietly making sure you sit still. You were trying to hard not to blush and knew he was doing this because he was drunk. A little while later Soryu finally got out, and you thought it was on purpose because of what he has been doing to you secretly, “Ah well I guess its time for bed” you quickly shot off his lap thanking it was over and so he could go home and rest. As you part ways with the other bidders, as soon as you both head to your shared room. You take off your jacket and he closes the door, but soon as the door is closed he turns around pushing you up against the wall covering your lips with his. “Soryu!” you tried pulling back but he pushes into you deeper “Rina I need you” he says breathlessly, like a impatient child as he runs his hands down, tugging at the hem of your skirt. “Your drunk” you say quietly resting a hand on his chest. “Please let me have you, I missed you” he kisses your neck and you were so surprised with his actions and the way he was acting, but as his kisses began to travel lower you couldn’t help but become putty in his hands. He smirks picking you up in a bridal style carrying you into the bedroom. You knew you shouldn’t do this because he was drunk, but god he was hot and the way he was kissing all over you turned you on so much. As he lays you down gently on the bed he peers into your face, putting a hand on your cheek “It wouldn’t matter if I had this much to drink or not, I will always want you like this I love you” he bends down kissing your neck lightly causing you to shiver and you were only able to speak one last time “I love you to..so much” and the rest of the night, you spent in your lovers arms who kept you warm and safe giving the love you deserved. In the morning he might not remember his words and even though they were a little embarrassing, they made you amazingly happy.
Imagine 11-year-old Harry Potter, living in a cupboard under the stairs. One particularly stormy evening, there is a soft knocking at the door–there you stand, sopping wet and clutching a broomstick with a letter in hand, standing beside a bearded giant of a man.
“… I’m looking for Harry James Potter?”
The Dursleys try to deny his existence, but you see him peeking out from around the corner–you step right inside, shaking out your hair and holding out a hand for him to shake as Hagrid tucks his umbrella into his coat, fiddling with something in a pouch.
“C'mon, luv–I’ve got news for you.”
You flick your wand and procure a steaming pot of tea from seemingly nowhere, and the Durseys nearly have a fit–but you hold up a finger to shush them, and begin to explain.
Hagrid gives him the Hogwarts speech, of course–he’s a wizard, and the Boy Who Lived–that you are here to pick him up, and after seeing the state that his little living-hutch (if you can call it living) is in, he’ll never have to come back here again.
When you find a burn on Harry’s hand from the stove that looked like someone had smacked his hand down on top of it, you are livid.
When you see that Lily Potter’s son is living under a staircase, wearing old shabby clothes and not even celebrating his birthday, you almost hex Petunia for daring to treat a child that way. Her SISTER’S child.
You shut her up with a pointed sneer and turn back to him–you explain that you were a close friend of Lily’s–maybe you didn’t get along with James as well as you would have liked, but you adored Lily Evans–and you were named his Godmother, while Sirius was named Godfather.
You tell him that he’ll be staying with you–that he could have a new extended family, if he so chooses–an uncle with a scruffy blonde beard and eyes that twinkle when he smiles through his moustache, and scars from years of looking after magical creatures. A kooky great-aunt who wistfully recalls her days as a diviner, and insists to read the tarot cards of anyone who comes into her home over a pot of tea and some stale butter cookies. A rambunctious set of savant kid-cousins with shocks of raven-black hair and blue eyes, who spin the keys of their grand piano into glittering, golden music and have become quite adept at hiding frogs in unfortunate places.
You tell him of a little house by the bay on the island of Deenish in Ireland, with it’s little pub, and the antique shop, and an old Fisherman named Spike who swore he snogged a mermaid in his youth–a little sleepy wizarding town where he can stay with you when he isn’t at Hogwarts. He stares at you with eyes the size of saucers when you explain that you took so long to get here because you were in Romania studying dragons.
He barely takes ten minutes to pack all of his things as you tell him to hold on tight, and pack the two of you on your sputtery old broomstick–he marvels at the tiny little crooked cottage, where he has his very own room–it’s settled over your sister’s bar, so it’s a bit cramped, but he gets to decorate his bedroom however he wants, and there’s a large window overlooking the sea on one side.
He gets to grow up going back and forth between Hogwarts and a real home, with friends and family visiting year round–Hermione and Ron are invited to visit in reciprocation of his visits at the Burrow–the Order of the Phoenix occasionally has members sleeping on your couch, and your sister gets along a little too well with Tonks sometimes–Molly Weasley is always welcome in your kitchen, and Arthur will spend hours at a time perusing the muggle artifacts in Missy’s Antiques.
But above all else, Harry Potter has a home, and a family who loves him
So here’s my first fanfic ever, and my first writing based on a video game/movie/tv show. I had the thought of angsty McCree rebound sex and this is the result. I hope you enjoy it!!
Jesse focused on the burn as the whiskey went down and gripped the edge of his battered sink. He reached for the bottle to pour another shot but froze as he heard another set of feet padding into the kitchen. He let his head hang as a slender, unfamiliar pair of arms embraces from behind. He didn’t move as the stranger pressed lazy kisses against his bare shoulders–didn’t even turn around. When the man McCree brought home from the bar lingered, he raised the bottle to pretend to inspect the label. After a few silent moments, the half-naked man seemed to realize that nothing more would happen and disengaged with an exasperated sigh as he pouted away to retrieve his clothes. Still looking down, Jesse tried to ignore the tear rolling down his cheek as the stranger stormed out the front door. Another drink.
When he finally turned around, he fixated on the pale shapes the moonlight had casted on the floor. It reminded him of the summer festival he had once let himself get dragged to–a night of silk, sake, and street food. He strained his ears for the faint clap of fireworks and reflected on the sweaty kisses he had shared that night. Another drink.
With the bottle loosely gripped in his prosthetic hand, Jesse lumbered toward the bathroom where his eyes wandered to the red toothbrush that leaned against his own blue one. He spread his feet apart to relieve himself and breathed deeply as he tried to not sway with the room’s throbbing rotation. Another drink.
The whiskey had been emptied on the way from the bathroom to the bedroom so Jesse didn’t hesitate to collapse onto the bed still clutching the bottle. As the spinning slowly wound down, he decided that it would be far too much effort to retrieve the covers from where they had bunched up at the foot of the bed let sleep overtake him.
Through the night, he was taunted by familiar sights and sensations: calloused hands, writhing dragons, and reluctant smiles. They lingered at the edge of his grasp and when he reached for them, they fell away like sand through fingers.
He awoke to a pulsating headache and a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. Dragging himself out of bed, McCree made his way to kitchen and fumbled his way through making a simple breakfast with coffee. Really strong coffee. After finishing off his eggs, he abandoned the half-eaten toast to retrieve his phone from the counter. Damn. Gotta change that lock screen eventually.
His thumb lingered over an old thread, debating whether or not to torture himself again over the jeering “read” time stamp.
He had already painstakingly logged the silence today–no need to revisit. So he decided to torture himself in other ways and launch his web browser.
4 fresh cups and one stale cup of coffee later saw Jesse three months deep in the archer’s Instagram feed. All of the evidence of their time together had been erased. Jesse kicks himself again, trying to convince himself that it all meant nothing. But returning to his own feed and the photos he couldn’t bear to erase exposed his feeble lies once again.
Forcibly shutting off the screen, McCree rose with a suddenness that his body wasn’t yet ready for and shuffled toward the large pane of glass that separated him from the dismal onslaught of sleet outside. Sighing, he turned his head to take in the city to which he had followed his ex many months ago. He mused that he’d follow him anywhere if he asked.
Deciding it was time to get out of his slump, Jesse made his way back to the small bedroom and pulled some jeans on over his boxers, not bothering to change out of his stale shirt. Collecting his hat, keys, wallet and phone, he made it out of the door and halfway down the stairwell before deciding that he would go to the shooting range to blow off some steam.
He gave a half-hearted nod to the doorman, and stepped onto the street, not noticing the cab that had crawled up directly in front of him. The cowboy did notice, however, when a familiar silhouette stepped out of the car, immediately unfurling a black umbrella.
Jesse’s first though was of how he had bought that raincoat for the man but his thoughts ground to a halt as he realized that Shimada Hanzo, the man who had told him he never wanted to see him again, the man who had broken his heart, was standing in front of him. His former lover did not look well. With his deep scowl and shifting gaze, he seemed troubled, even for Hanzo.
As the cab pulled away, he lifted his eyes to Jesse’s and managed to utter a sentence.
Drank 2 bottles of wine, 2 shots of absinthe, and smoked 2 joints and somehow got my ex to come over but I ate cheesy rice before and then I was blowing him and threw up cheesy rice on his dick like right when he climaxed so it was mixed with his nut and I was crying and apologizing and I tried to kiss him and he never talked to me again after that fateful night
HOLY SHIT… if someone threw up on my dick idk what I would even do