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 Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2016 10:52 pm
OOC FICTIONAL PIECE OF WORK THIS RP IS BASED OFF: Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them TITLE OF FICTIONS: Fantastic Beasts of Love CURRENT PRP SETTING: It's 1926 in New York City. The destruction and chaos of recent events have left the city in recovery, but for two wizards and their son life couldn't be sweeter.
"I woulda loved t' see the book Mister Scamander was writin'," he said, to his son. "Is your father comin' home soon?" he asked, with a wide grin. A joke that Harland insisted on telling, since the boy had two fathers. Adopted into their family, Alistaire and Harland had a good life. They had reasonable home, nothing too extravagant; it couldn't attract too much attention. Still, it was comfortable and well-decorated. Harland had no complaints. Except for that he was worried recently the work was too dangerous.
Their son ran over to the magical clock that showed the locations of all three of them, cheering. "DAD'S ON THE WAY," their son called back to Harland. He was pretty clearly excited. By that, Harland assumed Alistaire was going to be home, soon... Harland dried off his hands, took the food off the stove, and laid it all out on the serving dishes. It's not that all their evenings were this way, but this one in particular was kind of special: the anniversary of their adopting their son.
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Posted: Fri Dec 23, 2016 10:57 am
Alistaire had spent most of his day at MACUSA, trying not to simply hex all of the memos that kept scuttling into his office into nothing but charcoal. In spite of Scamander's unquestionably helpful assistance, there was still a great deal of work to be done, and the investigative offices in general felt as though they had twice as much as work as they normally did - especially in light of Grindlewald's activities. He was not an Auror so much as an investigator slash interrogator, but they amounted to similar things, minus being in the field less. The better part of Alistaire's morning had involved a lot of interrogation, dead ends, and annoyances that had led to Piquery all but throwing up her hands in exasperation. She was too carefully composed for even that sort of gesture, but Alistaire had seen the distaste in her eyes as she'd swept from the hall.
Now, though - now he was finally done. It had been an almost excruciatingly long day, and now Alistaire was more than ready to be at home. It was later than he'd expected to be - another irritation - but he Apparated into the safe, sheltered alleyway beside the house he shared room and board in, making sure that no one had seen him before he slipped surreptitiously inside.
There was nothing suspect about sharing a house with another man, but there was a difference in sharing and...well, what they were. Privacy was crucial, and everything they did was incredibly careful, but it hadn't stopped them from starting their family anyway. And Alistaire would not have traded his position for anything else in the world.
When he pushed open the door, a warm, spicy scent hit his nose; Alistaire could see the shadow of flames flickering off of the wall, and he shut and locked the door behind him, padding into the room.
He found Harland and their son in the kitchen, Alistaire making his way around the small table to reach the former before even putting down his briefcase and taking off his coat. A hand slid around to the back of Harland's neck and tugged him over for a kiss, warm and soft and much needed.
"Hello," Alistaire murmured, and sighed, momentarily resting his cheek against Harland's shoulder and smiling over at their son. "I'm back. Did you have a good day?"
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Posted: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:47 pm
Of course, being careful-- painstakingly so-- was crucial to their existence. Harland couldn't help the pure joy that made every fibre of his being, nevertheless: this was home. He never imagined he would have a home, one this warm, one this full of love. He respected Alistaire, thought the world of him, felt safe with him and felt the need to make their son and Alistaire safe in turn. You had to be stronger than the enemy, faster than the enemy, smarter than the enemy. Sometimes the enemy was just a curious neighbour, because it wasn't safe to be a wizard who fancied other wizards.
Harland was busy by the table before he was tugged into the kiss, and it startled half a laugh out of him before he could even register that the person he'd been waiting for had arrived; he couldn't help but smile as he kissed Alistaire in return, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards. His hand slid around the small of Alistaire's back, fingers pressing gently on his spine to tell him he'd missed him, that he needed him, that he loved him. The pressure released as soon as it'd begun, just a pulse to tell Alistaire that every second apart was terrible, that every second together was life itself.
"Welcome home," Harland exhaled, with visible relief, "I'd half a mind t' walk t' th' station an fetch ye myself," he finished, still smiling.
Their son showed no such reserve, diving straight at Alistaire. "DADDYYYYYY! TODAY I MADE A PICTURE OF US!!!" he shouted, as he hurled himself at Alistaire with pure affection. Harland steadied their son, ruffling his hair.
"Aye, show him," Harland said, with a warm smile at their adoptive son.
The boy peeled away to race to the table, where a crude chalk drawing of the three of them was waiting for Alistaire. Harland used those moments of peace to wave his wand and usher their dinner to place itself on the table in its right location.
He tried to catch Alistaire's hand, to kiss the knuckles and let it go, with a sparkle in his bright gunmetal green eyes: "Dinner's served," he whispered.
Life was good. Life had never been so good. He was almost afraid to ask how MACUSA had been, how Picuery'd behaved, how his colleagues had towed the line. Later, he supposed, once they'd put their son to bed.
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Posted: Sun Sep 02, 2018 1:45 pm
It sometimes did not feel real to Alistaire; this life that he had been given.
He was not so certain at times that he had not been Confunded, or perhaps simply living in an illusion; the life he had led prior to meeting Harland had been too painful, too complicated, too incredibly screwed up to even consider that he was allowed to have this. Alistaire had, after all, driven himself almost mad with his own issues, which still felt prominent, weighing down on him, crushing the few fragments of his soul that he had left.
Harland should not have been real. And yet he was, and he was here, standing in front of Alistaire with that warm, familiar smile. It should not have been possible that there would be anyone in the entire world that would have put up with the pressure of Alistaire's baggage, his struggles, his painful and angry history - but still, Harland stayed. He stayed, and he didn't run away, and he kept a firm grasp on Alistaire, as though to tether him to this small and beautiful world that he had been allowed to have.
It still sometimes felt like he had done something wrong; that he was going to do something wrong and break this fragile, much needed connection between the two - three of them. Alistaire almost expected it, not because of Harland, but because of himself; because he had a track record of doing exactly that.
But he wasn't sure he would be able to survive it if that happened.
His spine stiffened, just a fraction as Harland's hand pressed against it - a trace of the old reaction, still ingrained - and then relaxed, Alistaire leaning into the kiss, one gloved hand still on the back of Harland's neck, the other resting on his upper arm. It felt too short; he wanted to kiss him again as they pulled away, but there was a squawk, and then a small body pelted into his legs.
"There was an incident over at the Ministry in London," said Alistaire. "It took a great deal of time and effort to get all the paperwork done - that's my foot you're stepping on, by the way," he added, with a glance down at the little boy who was clinging to him, but there was a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.
"A picture? Of us?" he repeated. "Yes, please show me, I want to see this, uh...masterpiece."
The corners of his mouth turned up as their son raced off again. Alistaire felt his hand being tugged, turned in time to see Harland's lips graze his knuckles, felt his heartbeat quicken. The table was set now, candles alight; but they had a few seconds until their son returned, and Alistaire used them to his advantage. He reached out, curling hands in the front of Harland's shirt, and pulled him close, kissing him with a long, slow, deep passion that he didn't like to show, but needed in a proper hello kiss his fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt.
He drew back after a minute, eyes a little unfocused, but didn't move away, his gaze flickering over Harland's familiar face. One hand disentangled itself from Harland's shirt and rose, gloved fingers gently trailing down his jaw to cup his face.
Words were hard. He still had trouble with them sometimes, but the I love you, I need you was starkly evident in the look he gave Harland now, Alistaire's face serious.
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Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2018 2:50 pm
During the day, sometimes, when he was alone at work he'd worry: worry they'd be discovered, worry he'd lose the people he loved. Harland did the same thing with those worries that he did with all others; Harland took those worries and set them aside, because he didn't want to let them drain the strength of hope from the present. Before Alistaire, his life had been lonely and empty, though he could make friends easily they didn't really get _close_ to him. If Alistaire's curse was not letting people close physically, Harland's was traditionally keeping them at a distance emotionally and mentally.
That was not the case in their warm home. He wanted every burden, every struggle, every misstep; Alistaire was the love of his life, and he was not about to give that up. Besides, Alistaire could do just about anything and it wouldn't bother Harland at all, his infinite patience was good for something.
Of course it still hurt, now and then, when Harland made Alistaire cringe or falter at his touch, but it usually hurt because Harland didn't want to make Alistaire feel anything close to pain, didn't like the idea that he was hurting him just by touching him. It'd been a while, and that really was less of a demon than it had been before, but it was still there. A whisper.
"An incident, was anyone hurt?" Harland asked, automatically, looking Alistaire over. He couldn't help but be worried his work at MACUSA would endanger the life of the person he loved. Still, Harland believed in him, and knew that he was more than capable. "If yer interested, I could be talked inta a massage later," Harland added, with a wicked twinkle in his eye, the worry melting away.
Rupert didn't even acknowledge he'd been stepping on one of his father's feet, just tore off to fetch the chalk tablet.
Harland was almost startled by the depth of the kiss, every one was a perfect surprise piece of heaven. It didn't take him long to lean into the pleasure, his chest fluttering by the time Alistaire pulled away. Harland's eyes opened slowly, his hand reaching up to very lightly press against Alistaire's fingertips where they cupped his face. Harland leaned in so that his lips barely missed Alistaire's ear, and whispered: "Always yours, à chuisle mo chroí." Harland didn't mind how long it would take, or if Alistaire could or would verbalize it. This was all Harland wanted.
He leaned back as their son's footsteps thundered closer, and Rupert started to jump and wave the chalk slate around. "DADDY LOOK," Rupert exclaimed. Rupert was, as always, full of energy. He really seemed to love Alistaire the most, seemed to desperately crave his approval and attention. Harland could pretty much relate, as he watched Rupert try to show Alistaire their family portrait. For some reason Harland's portrait had hair like a literal sun, all spikes straight up.
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Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2018 6:29 pm
During the day, he was Alistaire Rahal-Nazari. He was an investigator in the Auror offices of MACUSA. He was a rigid rule follower, hardened by years of rigorous training, experience, and pain, and he kept an extremely neat and organized office. Those who worked nearest to him knew him to be brusque, aloof, and often cold, especially to newcomers and strangers.
Here, in this protected place, in this safe space where Harland had given him back part of his soul, he was just that - Alistaire. Sometimes, in his quiet, subdued, and private thoughts, he imagined a life where he could say aloud Alistaire Belle - and then he would flush with embarrassment, because it seemed ludicrous to say.
That didn't change the fact that he wanted it.
Their little rooms were secluded and monitored by a series of protective spells that they had both cast around it. Anyone near would not hear or see anything coming from the simple, unobtrusive townhouse; it existed to the outside world as a place of residence for a pair of men merely renting room and board, and no one would know that the same men shared the room, and the bed, and the life.
And the son, who was precious to Alistaire in a way he had not ever thought possible.
"No one hurt," he said now, grateful that he could give an honest answer. "Just a lot of...nonsense. I think they're all a little on edge over at the Ministry, so they're taking it out on us, which is relatively unfair, all things considered."
The offer of a massage made him blush, as it always did. Alistaire tilted his head slightly, cheeks red, and muttered, in a low voice, "Perhaps I could try and convince you later."
He had wanted to be home earlier, but it hadn't happened. The paperwork had stacked up atop Alistaire's desk until it was at astronomical heights, and the memos kept zooming down the chutes and scattering messily everything he had painstakingly put in order, which had only served to make him more irritable. But right now, he didn't have to think about that. He could focus on this; on Harland's warm, solid presence, on the way he kissed back, melting into it like it was second nature. On the way he touched him as though he was something precious, lips against his ear to whisper, sending shivers up and down Alistaire's back.
He gave a small nod, swallowing hard, fingers still pressed against Harland's cheek. They lowered a second later, coming to rest on Harland's broad chest as Rupert came bounding towards them, Alistaire unwilling to completely sever contact; and besides, this was their son. He understood.
"Oh, is this your drawing?" he asked, reaching to pluck it from his son's fingers. It was a crude, scribbled thing, in some sort of crayon or pencil, but it was very clearly the three of them, standing squashed together. Alistaire felt something in his heart lurch that he had not known could be moved.
He looked down at Rupert, at his large, eager eyes, and said, "This is perfect, thank you. We can hang it on the wall, would you like that?"
Rupert gave a shout of joy, flinging arms around Alistaire's leg abruptly, so that he staggered half into Harland, letting out a small, surprised laugh. "All right, all right, we'll put it up - come here - "
He bent down and scooped the boy up into his arms, turning to face Harland, his eyes lighter than they had been in years.
"Should we hang up the masterpiece and then have dinner?"
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Posted: Tue Sep 04, 2018 6:30 pm
Sometimes Harland was just reduced to goofy smiles, on the edge of laughter, being home with Alistaire and Rupert. It always seemed too good to be true: Harland loved studying the handsome lines of Alistaire’s face, his serious expressions when he was focused or in public, the sharp glitter of thought behind his eyes. His face grew a little red as he thought about all of the qualities he loved about Alistaire, many of which could not be mentioned in front of their son.
Harland let out a relieved exhale as Alistaire said no one had been hurt. “Unfair indeed, mo chroí,” Harland agreed, “As always my sincere hope that all the nonsense’ll pass, an’ those dark clouds’ll part.” He meant it, with all his heart: the notion of Alistaire out there on the front lines… “Should I come back, d’you think?” Harland asked, quietly. A topic for another night, perhaps, but one he’d been meaning to bring up. He was an investigative writer now, sure, but that wasn’t always what he’d been. It just seemed… safer if Rupert didn’t have two fathers on danger’s door.
“If ye’d be so kind as t’ convince me later, that’d be swell,” Harland said of the massage, switching topics as quickly as he’d started. “I may even be persuaded t’ beg ye t’ convince me,” Harland said, “if that’d bring ye any pleasure.” Harland’s voice was a low rumble, his face flushed. Just being so close to Alistaire made his skin feel warm and tight, all he wanted was to be as close as he was allowed…
While Rupert bounded into the room, Harland’s hand slipped onto Alistaire’s where it rested on his chest, gently stroking a thumb across Alistaire’s fingers. Alistaire was right not to move away: their relationship was no secret from their son.
Rupert was incredibly eager to show Alistaire. Alistaire was the one he was always trying to impress. Something about him just made Rupert want to be acknowledged, made him want to instil a sense of pride in Alistaire. Rupert’s eyes were saucers, wide, nodding as he handed the drawing up to one of his dads.
“YEAH,” Rupert said, and then with a shy shuffle, “yes, daddy,” he said more quietly. The yelling phase of the greeting was over, at last. It took a while for Rupert to calm down once it’d started. He perked up again when Alistaire offered to hang it on the wall. The shriek of joy was immediate when Alistaire offered to hang it up, and he did indeed hurl himself around Alistaire’s leg and lock on. Harland immediately raised one lean arm to brace Alistaire, gently.
When Alistaire stepped away from Harland to pick their son up, the expression he had on his face made Harland’s eyes tear up. He wasn’t ashamed of the feeling: it was pure joy that he felt, looking into the happy, safe face of the one he loved. After a moment, he found his words, hooking his thumb through the belt loops of his slacks. “Where’ll we hang it, hmm?” He asked, “I think I’ll defer to your da on this one,” he added, grinning at Alistaire. “An’ someone’s got something’ else t’ tell ye,” Harland added, nodding at Rupert.
Rupert buried his face against Alistaire’s shoulder, shaking his head, but grinning.
Naturally, Rupert had been asking for a puppy again; they couldn’t get a bowtruckle for the boy, as much as he wanted to, but maybe a pet like a nomaj’d have would be alright. Harland shrugged a shoulder, still smiling at them both, stepping closer and gesturing to take hold of the drawing and carry it safely.
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Posted: Wed Sep 05, 2018 7:32 pm
He could not get enough of Harland's smile.
It was this that had driven him to seek out Harland in the first place; this, that had made Alistaire feel something for the first time in years. That bright, open smile that laid all of his emotions out on the line - and sometimes his shyer, quieter, gentle smiles that were reserved for Alistaire and Alistaire alone.
They drew him in, body and soul, and made him feel wanted. Precious. Taken care of.
Loved.
His cheeks were flushed as he glanced over at Harland, a borderline inappropriate comment on the tip of his tongue that Alistaire might have said, were it not for the arrival of their son a few seconds later. He was suddenly bombarded with images and thoughts of what was to come later, and it took him a moment to gather his mind together, shaking away the vivid imagination, though his cheeks were still red.
Alistaire drew Rupert up into his arms, propping him on a hip with one arm wrapped around him to keep him steady. His other reached for his wand, slid it out of its little leather holder, and waved it once. The picture flew gently out of his son's hands and floated serenely towards the wall beside the front door, next to a small, framed moving photograph of Alistaire and Harland together. He waved his wand again and the picture stuck itself obediently to the wood.
Alistaire's gaze flickered towards Harland, and he slid his wand back into its holder before sliding his free arm around Harland's waist, drawing him near.
"What does he have to tell me now?" he asked, playfully prodding Rupert, who giggled and pressed his face more securely into Alistaire's shoulder.
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Posted: Thu Sep 06, 2018 5:35 pm
Seeing Alistaire's cheeks flush was one of Harland's favourite parts of life, absolutely. He couldn't help the joy and attraction he felt every time Alistaire blushed at something he'd said or done. It felt rewarding, somehow.
Rupert giggled as Alistaire waved his wand to seat the picture next to the moving photo of Alistaire and Harland. Harland strode towards it, and as was customary every time he saw the photo (he couldn't help it, there were even two slightly lighter spots on the frame where he'd done this so many times the metal had a more loved gleam) he stroked two fingers along the edge of the frame. He smiled in a sort of distant, secret way, remembering the time that photo was taken. Once upon a time, Harland had never even entertained the notion someone like Alistaire could love someone like him.
Harland was happily drawn into the family embrace, slipping one of his arms around Alistaire loosely in return, licking his thumb and getting a smear off of one of Rupert's cheeks. He was drawn from his reverie, and present in the moment again.
"It may be somethin' ta do with a pup," Harland said, "Or was it that Rupie wanted a fish?" Harland teased Rupert. There were many squeaky protests as Rupert explained how gross fish were, and how HE WANTED A DRAGON but that Harland had said they couldn't possibly keep a dragon. "In any case, best t' sit down an' eat, whether or not we discuss the possibility of a hairy fourth friend," Harland said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Alistaire's forehead.
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Posted: Fri Sep 07, 2018 10:53 am
He flushed an even deeper red as Harland touched the photograph. He was so damned openly affectionate that it still made Alistaire feel off balance sometimes, in the best way possible. The small figure of himself in the photograph shifted a little closer to the small Harland beside him, glancing out at them with a slightly embarrassed expression.
It was perfect like this, with Alistaire's arm around Harland's waist and Harland's arm around Alistaire's waist, Rupert still perched on Alistaire's hip. It was perfect, even with the moments that weren't, even with the concerns and the fears and the uncertainties and the frustrations. It was a life that had not been won easily, and so Alistaire cherished it more than he could say because of that.
"We can't have a dragon," said Alistaire, but he was smiling. "I don't think one would fit in our house, silly."
His lashes fluttered a little at the kiss to his forehead. Alistaire tilted his head up to look at Harland, and the expression on his face was so openly in love and wondering without him even being aware of it, his gaze tracing Harland's face. He gave him another quick squeeze, biting his lip, and then leaned to press a kiss to Rupert's forehead in turn before slowly letting him drop back down to the floor.
"Do you mean a dog? Please say you mean a dog and not an acromantula," said Alistaire, as he stepped towards the kitchen table, where the food sat waiting.
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