Why, when I’m ready to go and feeling confident and wanting to meet someone, do I lose all of my ability to attract another human person, but when I’m just trying get groceries at 8pm looking like I haven’t seen the sun in years and generally extremely tired and unsexy - why do people try it with me?? Why then! Why now! I am Unprepared! I need to get this milk home so it doesn’t spoil! Your lips are kissable but I am so hungry! My guard was down, damn it!

Hello! I've read your soap and price fics and you are amazing!!!

I had an idea for a fic for Ghost. The reader would be Soaps slightly older sister who isnt like Johnny at all. Im thinking she either picks up soap from base after an op or from the bar. I'll leave alot of this up to you but i just wanna see Soaps Sister meeting Ghost!!

Brother's Coworker

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soap's Sister!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the dim illumination of the streetlights, Ghost lays eyes on a woman leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp.

WORDCOUNT: 4.2k

WARNINGS: Little bit of angst, but mostly fluff and pre-relationship pining, loads of sibling banter, conflicting emotions, etc.

A/N: Finally able to use my sibling experiences for a fic lmfao, enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The woman was leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp, the custom color a deep forest green along the sides and a cream white coating the upper third. Ghost stared at her as the rest of the men filed out of the bar one after the other—Johnny and Gaz being especially loud. He blinks slowly, hands inside his blackened pockets.

Across the way, your ears perk slowly at the sound of rapturous shouts, but you only continue to look down the sidewalk at the long illuminations of street lamps and the glints of broken bottles on the ground. Over your chest, your hands shift in their hold on your biceps, your thin jacket crinkling. Light dances in your irises.

“Oi, is that who I think it is?!” Familiar Scottish drawl brings a smirk to your face, and you turn slowly to huff, snapping out of your silent thoughts. 

“Who else would it be, ya bloody git,” your voice carries, but it lacks the sheer volume of your brother’s; the great boom that reminds you of the bombs he’d used to make out of your mother’s hair spray bottles. 

Never a dull day in your childhood home, really.

“‘Bout gave me a heart attack, not answerin’ my calls like that!” Johnny laughs loudly, obviously drunk, and stumbles over merrily. You’re taken into a chest-breaking hug in mere moments, leaving you squirming with a deep grunt. “Should have your head, MacTavish.” You manage to squeak out, “Put me the fuck down, you horror. And what in the hell have you done to your hair?!”

“Oh, my dear sister.” Your brother lets you go as the three other men slink over, amused with the scene but some momentarily confused by the sudden introduction. Gaz laughs, and the Captain huffs a chuckle before fixing the position of his beanie on his head. 

Ghost, as always, chooses to watch like a looming shadow above the rest. 

Johnny puts a hand to his chest, the other remaining on your shoulder, “You wound me. Such cruelty stuck in your black soul; I say now, mother was always right—”

You smack the side of his head and Johnny grunts. 

“Ow!” He yells, glaring at you. “What the fuck?!” 

“Open your mouth again and I’ll wring you out, you arse. You know I will.” Grumbling, the Scot rubs the side of his head as you raise a brow at him. The stare-off lasts for a decent bit, and before the rest of the group knows what’s going on, the two of you are embracing each other once more; laughing loudly. 

Ghost’s eyebrows pull in slowly.

“Ah, it’s good to be back!” Johnny chuckles, holding you close as you pat his back.

“Of course, I’d find my kid brother at a damn pub on his first day home.” Taking a step away from the hulk of a boy, you brush down your shirt and jacket with a scoff. Looking up, you come to face the remaining men with an exasperated look. “He’s full of shite half the time, y’know, now. Can’t imagine what he puts you all through.”

“Bloody hell, Soap, you were holding out on us,” Gaz chuckles loudly, sticking out a hand for you to shake while he glances at the mohawked Scot who looks giddy despite being insulted by who’s very obviously his older sister. “Never knew you had siblings, Mate.” You take the man’s hand as he smiles brightly at you. 

“Kyle.” He says, and you beam back, “But Gaz’ll do just fine.”

“A pleasure,” your voice carries to John who you raise a brow at teasingly. “Well, look who the Reaper’s yet to drag down…Good to see you again, Captain.”

Price shakes his head, a smirk peeling his lips as Gaz steps back. 

“Still on that land of yours, then, Love?” The brunette asks gruffly, leaning back on his heels for a moment while you sag your side into Johnny’s arm. Your brother scoffs and loops his limb over the bridge of your shoulders as you nod. 

“You know it. Proper quiet when the neighbors aren’t up to a ruckus racin’ down the streets. Christ, those kids are devils—worse than Johnny and I when we were young.”

“Now that’s hard to believe, eh?” The man beside you laughs through his slurred words and you roll your eyes. 

Chuckling in return, you blink, spying on the intent black figure behind everyone else. Piercing brown eyes dig past flesh like a scalpel while you tilt your head to the side, interest alighting behind your skull. He doesn’t move or even greet you, just looks over you and then turns his attention to the street like a roaming bear would; hell, he certainly could be a bear with how big he was. Bigger than Johnny, even. 

This stranger wears a large brown leather jacket, the hood of his underclothes pulled up to cover most of the pale skin that would otherwise be visible. The long swish of light lashes captures you as you study the way he blinks slowly across the road. On his chin and on the top of his forehead, the fabric of a skeletal-painted balaclava shrouds him. Cargo pants and large black combat boots sit on his feet. 

He stands like a statue. 

“Who’s this then?” You call easily, and those eyes travel back to you even as the head doesn’t. It’s strange the way you seem to brush aside the blatant intimidation he exudes simply by standing.

“Ah,” John grunts, chuckling, before stepping to the side. “Simon, introduce yourself.” 

A low voice lowly wafts after a moment to silence, Manchester accent spearing you in the ears with its rough make-up, “Ghost.” 

You blink over at the Captain, but he just shakes his head and you move on. Johnny chuckles and whispers to you, “Don’t mind ‘em, Lt’s a bit rough around the edges.”

Plastering on a polite smile, your chin moves in a nod, “Pleasure to meet you, Ghost. Good to know the other two who look after Johnny out there.” The man beside you feels his face burn, free hand going to itch at his neck.

Ghost grunts and shrugs off the veiled praise, large muscles stiff.

“You’re actin’ like I’m not the one savin’ their skins half the time,” Gaz interjects on the Scot’s point.

“Is that what you call it?” You share an amused glance at John. 

Though, your eyes always sway back to Ghost, or Simon, depending on who you ask. He listens to the chatter, obviously, but he seems much more content to only stay with his hands inside of his pockets and study the street for...what exactly? The beast wasn’t shy, no, just…silent. If you didn’t know better you’d call him aggressively casual with the way his shoulders sit.

Stance relaxed but the underlying threat was palpable on the wind. Like a wolf rubbing his cheeks on the ancient trees of his territory. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ - it seems his very DNA states that.

Brown eyes suddenly lock with your own as if snapping into place and before you can release a squeak of alarm, you swiftly dart your gaze away back to the arguing Sergeants; face burning.

Christ, how long had you been staring at him?

“Alright, you two, ease off it!” Trying to distract yourself, you wave a hand. “You’re both too drunk to be gettin’ into street fights at this hour. Johnny, into the car ya fool.” 

Your brother slashes you with a grin.

“Fuckin’ finally, a decent bed!” It was tradition to give Johnny the spare room when he was back home—proper meals. 

“You’re callin’ mother, y’know.” You unlock your car and motion to the passenger seat with a frown. “I dinnae care if you’re trapped for hours—give the woman a rest of all her worrying.” 

“You heard the woman, Sergeant,” John forces the gravel out of his throat, rubbing at his beard. Something hits your chest as your brother opens his door as you stand in the cold. You glance at each man in turn; eyebrows pulling in with thought.

“Ah, what the hell,” your voice huffs out. Ghost watches you closely, blinking as he lifts a hand to itch at his neck from under his hood. The leather jacket crumples with tiny shifts of worn-out material. 

“Don’t suppose you boys need any good beds to rest your heads on for the night?” Wiggling your keys, you pat the top of your Hillman as you slide to the driver's side. Johnny slinks inside his own and chuckles as he closes the barrier with a careful thunk. 

“Hospitality finally leakin’ in?”

“Next time I hit ya,” you send him a bland look, “I’ll aim for the neck.” Fake flinching towards him, the man squeaks and snaps quickly back into the car door as you snicker lively. 

“Beast!” Johnny exclaims. You roll your eyes and shimmy down the window behind him, calling out as the rest share glances.

“Get in if you’re comin’ over! If not all the food I made yesterday’ll go to waste!” That seemed to get Gaz into the back, with only Price and Simon left behind. 

Brown meets blue and John’s beard pulls back with a smirk. He clears his throat, “Well, I’m not one to spit in her face.” The Captain walks over and grunts as he bends down. 

Ghost sighs under his breath and follows, impartial as to where this night is going. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, no doubt. The hard and unforgiving beds on base were the only things he could rest on now save the ground. And food? He could go without food for days.

Though, being Johnny’s sister bought you some favor, trust wasn’t something that Simon gave around freely. But the car you drove was nice, and the company of his Task Force was easy to basque in until they shipped out again. 

Simon sits down on the refurbished seat and softly closes the door behind him. Dead-eyed, he stares at Johnny’s headrest as you glance at him from the rearview mirror—seeing his shoulder dig into the glass of the window. 

You shove down a joke and hum. “Good, then, it’ll free my fridge at the very least.” 

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Gaz offers as you start up the engine, “it’s awfully nice of you to do this for us.”

“Ah,” Simon hears you dismiss as he turns to stare out of the window; so often feeling his gaze drawn back to you as a leaf attached to a tree might act. “Don’t worry your head about it. I like the company.” 

“Aye, just how she is,” Johnny says earnestly. “Was always the one to let me over with my pals when the football games were over—’cept we were usually covered in mud.”

“I’m still finding grass in my rugs, Johnny Boy,” you mumble, focusing on the road as a slight squeaking emanates from the front of the car. Simon picks up on it easily, not preoccupied with speaking. He glances at you but mentions nothing beyond a shuffling of his thighs. 

Outside the land slides past in shades of verdant green and gray as the town falls away. 

He was confused, rightly. You’d seen his standoffish nature but had chosen to extend hospitality as the old Greeks did just off a growl of his name. But maybe it was just because he was your brother’s coworker. 

Simon grunts to himself and rubs at his wrist. Throughout the ride, the two of you would glance at each other and try to forget that you had; when the long driveway of a large secluded home expands out above the car, Gaz whistles lowly.

“Bloody hell, Ma’am,” he states and John chuckles. You easily smile and roll your eyes. 

“Trust me, it was more work than it was worth.” Ghost’s attention is slightly peaked.

“You worked on it?” His tone implies he doesn’t care, but his eyes gore into the mirror to lock with your own. Blinking in surprise, even the others seem to be taken aback by the man's lack of venom in his speech. 

Ghost wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when he needed to, but he didn’t do mindless chatter. Your eyes cycle between the driveway and the masked Brit before you clear your throat. Johnny glances at you with a raised brow, slight confusion in his brows. 

“Mostly—left the nasty bits to people more knowledgeable than I am, but I did most of the grunt work, eh?” Simon hums as the car pulls to a stop inside the garage, eyes not leaving the back of your head. 

Your neck bristles at the sensation of unrelenting contact, but the burning that joins it is telltale. Licking your lips you twist the keys out and quickly shuffle out of the door to dispel the electricity in the air. 

“Alright,” you say, “out. All of ya���Johnny, you’ll be helping me with the bedding.” 

A groan is cut by an unimpressed glare. “...Yes, Ma’am.”

You huff and smirk. 

“Trainin’ him well I see,” teasing John as they all file out of the car, he shakes his head at the two of you as Simon scoffs. Gaz openly laughs as Soap’s offended look grows. 

You all enter the house as you direct them to the kitchen after they’ve taken off their boots and hung their jackets. “It’s all in the fridge, heat what you want, and don’t bother fightin’ Johnny if he takes too much. Tell me and I’ll make him sleep in the back near the chickens.” Your voice tells them as you pat your brother on the shoulder. 

Johnny grumbles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re horrible to me,” He jokes but his eyes shimmer with affection. As you leave to get a head start on the rooms, you smile and call out to him.

“That’s my job!” 

Backing out into the hallway, you leave with a deep well of happiness in you. You don’t even realize that the party had only contained three men instead of four until you’re in the linen closet and a shadow suddenly blacks out the light from the bulbs. Jumping slightly, your head swivels as you carry very many sheets and pillowcases in your grip. 

“Oh,” you mumble through cotton, smile growing as the flip in your stomach does, “Ghost! Done eating already?” 

The man is still and silent as he glances from your face to the sheets. Without a word, he halves the load and steals them as your jaw loosens in shock.

“Johnny’s outside callin’ your mum.” Ghost turns and walks out, but waits for you in the hallway to be directed. 

You push down the tightness to your throat and see the man’s feet shift on the hardwood. He looks funny, such a big man carrying bed sheets. His actions make your heart speed up. Brown eyes blink at you like a cat. 

“Well,” you chuckle, “always was one to get out of housework.” Trying a smidge more, you shift past him and turn off the light. “His barracks room dirty?”

“Pigsty.” Simon blandly states, walking slightly behind you. Your pace slows so you can stay beside him. He side-eyes you but says nothing. 

Leaning in slightly, you quip as Ghost tenses, “Can’t say I’m surprised. The man’s used to me bailin’ him out.” Chuckling, you go into the first bedroom and put everything on the bed. 

Simon grabs the pillows and starts to dress them quickly and efficiently. 

“But thank you,” you say, and the Brit pauses to look up at you, something swirling in his murky gaze. Earnestly, you tilt your head with a smile. “Ya can go back and eat more if you want. No need to help—you’re a guest.”

“Not hungry,” is all he answers, and gets back to work. You watch for a moment, perplexed, but not at all about to deny the assistance. A genuine grin twitches your lips. 

“Johnny writes about you, y’know,” your fingers pull at the fabric and you chuckle as Ghost’s incredulous look turns to you—face hidden but confusion is obviously seen. “Says he looks up to you quite a bit; something about Mexico.” 

Your face dips slightly, and Simon’s body stills. Along the pillow, his grip carefully tightens. He can’t find it in himself to walk out of the door and stand outside even if he knows he should. 

“I really can’t imagine what it’s like,” you mutter, shaking your head. Gazing at him, you study his wound muscles and secret flesh like a tapestry—wondering if he hides himself because of the safe anonymity or a sense of numb fear. 

He wouldn’t admit to either, you know. But something about Simon had captured your attention and now you had a face, or just a body really, to put to the written name like a puzzle piece. 

You take a long breath, “But you’ll never know how grateful I am.” 

By the way his chest stops moving and his body goes frozen, you think you hit something inside of him; the minute widening of his eyelids like pedals opening in the light. Simon peers at your expression, his eyes sliding from one point to another. 

Like he can’t really pinpoint what you want. 

Ironic really, because you didn’t want anything. 

“Don’t thank me,” is what he settles on, moving back to the pillow as if your words hadn’t stabbed him. “Johnny knows what he’s doing.”

Your small snort enters the air above the sliding sheets. “There’s no argument there.” A sigh echoes as you finish up, putting your hands on your hips. Across the bed, you two stare as Simon tosses down the pillows. The remainder of the sheets sit on the end of the bed. 

The man’s eyes narrow on you, and he clenches his jaw under his balaclava. 

“The only thing that I do know is that every time my brother comes back he smiles less than he did before.” You side-eye him seriously as you move. “I can only guess what all of it does to the others who don’t have anyone else to go back to.”

Simon’s breath halts in his chest before he finds the means to take down a slow inhale. Brown eyes glare intently, jaw tight, but it’s not the fire that gets to you…it’s the lack thereof.

Ghost doesn’t like this feeling, and your candidness was something he hadn’t expected.

“So,” you drawl, “I’m thanking you for giving him someone to joke around with—a distraction,” a teasing smirk, “no matter how blunt.” 

“I just told you—”

“Well, I don’t bloody care, do I?” Huffing, you smirk and tip your head back before snatching the rest of the sheets. “C’mon, we have three more rooms.” 

Simon watches you leave and tries to fight the rampage in his chest; the merciless slam of his heart to his ribcage. What had you done to him? A hand comes up and rubs into the bridge of his nose, fingers heavy and tight. 

What in the hell was going on? 

Growling under his breath, Ghost stalks out of the room only to see your back disappear into the next. In the hallway, he takes a long inhale and closes his eyes to steady himself. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man grunts. The tension in his shoulders was plainly visible. 

For the remainder of the room, Ghost would send you tight glances as he worked but didn’t utter another peep. You had taken his voice, or what little left of it there was. 

In many ways, you were like your loudmouth brother—your snark and your stubbornness. But you were different too. 

He feels his eyes trail down your form slowly from time to time. Capable; hardy. Simon blinked away and grunted under his breath aggressively. 

When everyone was done with their food and Johnny had come back in from his call to his mother, with a soft smile on his face, you knew it was time for bed. 

“Alright,” you strut into the kitchen with Ghost on your heels—his large arms crossed over his chest as he caught Soap's intense stare. The Lieutenant's brow raises, but Johnny only frowns in conspiracy before he looks over to you and itches at his chin. “Beds are made. You can all thank Simon for that, seein’ as Johnny used our mother as an excuse yet again.”

“And she was very pleased to hear from me!” Your brother points to you.

“She’s our mother,” you deadpan, “It’s her job to be, ya arse-face.” 

The boys all follow you down the halls as you point to the rooms. Gaz shakes your hand again and gives you a tiny hug in thanks while John pats your shoulder and calls a soft, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.” 

Both close their doors and you hear the large sighs through the wood. You have to wonder when they’d had a good bed to sleep on and a good meal. Last was your brother and Ghost, the latter of which kisses your head and hugs you tightly. 

“It’s good to see you, truly. Been missing you, little Hen. Thanks for lettin’ me over all the time when I’m home.” You melt and grip his shirt. 

“You’ll always have a place here, you know that. One call away…Now go to sleep. You smell like a pub.” He lightly chuckles against you. With a bond this tight, the two of you never had to say that you loved each other—it was just known.

Johnny squeezes you one last time before pulling away and slinking into his room, giving an unrecognizable glance to Ghost on his way in before the barrier slips into place with a quiet thunk of wood. The two of you look at and stare for a moment. 

“Lucky you,” your voice is quiet but easy to hear, “you get the room with a view of the field.” 

“Color me surprised,” he mutters, not looking enthusiastic. Against the tone, the look makes your mouth jerk in a laugh, and you cover your lips after a moment. 

Simon’s eyes unconsciously soften. 

You wave a hand, chest light, “Let’s go then, you brute.”

“Brute?” Simon grumbles, “Gettin’ familiar?” 

“Please,” you shake your head and walk to the last door in this section of the house. “You all became familiar the second we met.” 

The man rolls his eyes but has his smirk hidden as you open the door for him. He tilts his head in thanks and strolls inside.

You hum, crossing your arms ahead of you and leaning on the doorframe as he looks around, “Don’t think too much over it… The baseline is, you’ll always have a bed here if you need it.” 

Ghost slips out, “What are you? Bloody boarding house?” The swelling in his chest made his words harsher than intended, but you just smile cheekily at him as eyes lock.

“Hell’s bells, if you want ta’ get me a business card just go ahead and print ‘em off already. I’ve no problem with it.” He stares and you laugh, shrugging. “Makes me feel good.”

Splaying your hands, you back out. 

“I know you probably won’t sleep,” Simon pauses, feeling caught but not showing it. “Libraries down the hall—if you smoke, use the back door. Kitchen is free game.”  

“Why?” He asks and you blink, confused.

“Well, why not?” Simon glares.

“You shouldn’t trust people like that.” A loud laugh echoes and makes the man annoyed with you.

“Simon,” you say, and he finds himself hanging on every word that falls from your lips in the moonlight. “Not everyone is out to get you. If you’re friends of Johnny’s, then you’re friends of mine. That boy can sniff a cheat faster than a hound can find a hare.” Perhaps it was the way his shoulders went back at that, or how his brows loosened, but you finish off with a soft explanation. “You’re safe under this roof.”

You wondered, not for that last time that night, if he’d ever been told that. From how his balaclava moved with a sharp jerk of his jaw, you assumed never. It made your lungs hurt. 

With a few more seconds of quiet gazing you nod and move back. 

“Goodnight, Simon.” You leave him staring at the door as you close it—eyes boring into the grain so harshly they might catch fire. 

Ghost doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but his ears twitch at the echo of running water and soundless footsteps. He should leave, he tells himself; this is dangerous, a voice hisses. It’s not safe here, how could it be? There were no guards—no weapons. If someone were to sneak in there wouldn’t be an alarm. 

A secluded home. Nothing around. 

Then why had your words seeped into him?

“You’re safe under this roof.” Simon closes his eyes harshly.

—

In the morning once everyone’s gone back to the base, you admit you don’t know if you’ll see Simon again; you probably won’t. But you find that you can live with that. The memory of his loosening tension is all you need to feel special in your own right. Those brown eyes that, if but for a moment, had bled so effortlessly feelings of something other than blood and death. 

As you sigh a dreamy chuckle to yourself, you get ready for the day before heading to your Hillman. The silent drive to work joins with the strange mix of weight and levitation to your chest. But halfway into town, it hits you. 

Silent.

There is an obvious lack of squeaking from under the hood of your car as you slide along the countryside. 

The smile doesn’t leave your face for weeks.

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Crossed Paths

Part 3 of 4

| Tangerine x Reader

| Canon-Typical Violence, Excessive Use of Swears

| Slight NSFT (Making Out)

| 2.3k Words

Part 1 Part 2

Tag List:   @queenofstarsanddarkness @venusthepirate @luhvbot @fruits1ut @hoalkk1 @snowymav​​  @kneelarmhstrung  @piechans 

Please ask if you’d liked to be tagged for the final part.

Reblogs are very much appreciated!

Naturally, you end up running into the Twins again.

Because that’s what they’re called. The Twins. You don’t ask why. You don’t get the sense it’s something that they like to explain, and they’re constantly bickering like brothers anyway. Suits them, really.

So what if you keep requesting cases where you think it’s likely they’ll pop up? It’s nice to have mates in this business sometimes. Not safe, sure, but nice. 

The woman claws desperately at the wire around her neck, a futile effort, while you take stock of your situation. Yeah, the Twins might be dangerous, but you’ve become sort of fond of them. Lemon is a sweetheart to you in a way you think he likely isn’t to others, and Tangerine…

Well, Tangerine is Tangerine, isn’t he?

Sure, you know, really, they’re incredibly dangerous men. But if you’re going to meet men on this job they’re going to be dangerous. And you’re not exactly Miss Congeniality yourself. 

Coming back to reality, you realise your mark probably stopped breathing some time ago. You untangle your garotte and let her body thump heavily to the floor, getting out your phone to take a confirmation picture. You’re pleasantly surprised to see there’s a text waiting, in the silly little group chat you’ve made with them. 

They both objected, pretended like they were too old to be in a group chat, but you’ll be damned if the three of you don’t use it every day.

🍋: gig in knightsbridge next weekend 

🍋: at a charity fundraiser or some shite

🍋: see you there?

Then, another text:

🍊: Stop sending multiple fucking texts when you only need to send one. I hate hearing my phone keep going.

Knightsbridge. It’s not exactly home, but it’s near. You’ve been hopping between jobs for so long now you’ve not been back to London for… well, you don’t remember, really. Your phone makes little clicking noises as you fire a message back.

You: will see what i can do. T, don’t be grumpy.

You see the telltale three dots of typing pop up a couple of times, then settle without a new notification. With a small smile you can imagine Tangerine huffing at his phone screen as he acquiesces to your request. 

Silly bastard, you think, fondly. Now idle, your hand reaches up to play with your ear. Rather, the chunk of helix you no longer have after that bullet clipped you.

After Tangerine tried to stop the bleeding.

Immediately you get onto the phone with your handler.

                                                     *

Knightsbridge leaves a bit of a sick feeling in your mouth as you stare out at it from the back of a taxi. Reminds you of being a kid again. Walking past the houses of cunts who were much richer than you for no good reason other than that they were born that way. Meanwhile you grew up on a council estate with such a black mould problem the kitchen wall collapsed one winter.

You cross your legs. No. You’ll never be like these people. However, you did find yourself getting a job, so you have to pretend to be like them for a night.

“Knightsbridge?” your handler’s voice had crackled, “Why’d you wanna go there?”

“Change of scenery,” you’d replied, rummaging through your mark’s fridge to see if she had anything worth pilfering.

A sigh, the sound of fingers on a keyboard.

“Huh.”

“‘Huh’?”

“There’s half a dozen hits put out for people listed at a gala going on next week. You’d better know what you’re getting into.”

Better know what I’m getting into indeed, you think, as you pay the driver and exit the cab.

The building you’ve been dropped off into looks like it’s some sort of modern art gallery. One of those hideous new builds with too many glass panes, too many ways for people to look in and spot someone being taken out. You can already see the place is packed. Men in crisp suits, women with fancy dresses, all standing around the perimeter of the place with drinks in hands and money in wallets.

Makes you sick.

The feeling is smoothed over, though, when you spot the Twins.

Tangerine and Lemon are standing just out of view of the entrance, tucked away between some of the poncy sculptures the gallery has outside. Tangerine is smoking and Lemon appears to be chastising him for it. Lemon catches sight of you first, and lights up.

“Here comes trouble,” he calls. You grin, pleased to see him.

Tangerine? Well. Tangerine just… stares. Dumbstruck. Only for a moment, though, then he shakes himself out of it. He stabs his cigarette out on a sculpture that looks like it’s made of old water boilers.

“Alright, lads?” you say, cheerfully, closing the gap between your parties. You reach out to smooth down Lemon’s suit lapels, adjust Tangerine’s tie. “Ah, don’t you two look handsome?”

They do. The Twins have always worn a suit well, but they’ve really outdone themselves tonight. All spotless jackets and shiny shoes. There’s nothing that gives them away as not being part of these rich punters.

“You look stunning, love,” Lemon says as he takes you in. You have to admit, you do scrub up alright. You’ve even put on a bit of slap, something you never ever do. Makeup is a waste of time on missions. But tonight? Well, it’s the exception to the rule.

The dress you’re wearing clings in all the right places. The little clutch you have at your side hides your garotte. You’re golden.

Feeling Tangerine’s eyes heavy on you, you turn to meet his gaze. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but for once doesn’t quite know how to go about it. Which is a surprise because usually you can’t get him to shut the fuck up.

Lemon looks between the two of you, then rolls his eyes.

“Oh, Christ. If you two are gonna do this I’m going for a slash,” he mutters, turning his back and wandering away. You barely suppress a snort of laughter, but your attention is fully returned to his brother.

“I… ah, look. I got you something,” he says, sounding a little unsure of himself.

“He nicked it,” Lemon calls over his shoulder. Tangerine shoots him a withering glance, but doesn’t deny the accusation. Instead, he rummages in his pocket before holding out his hand.

It takes you a moment to identify the gift. It’s gold, and it’s jewellery, but it’s too small to be for a finger. You don’t have any piercings, so for a moment you’re flummoxed.

Then it hits you.

Oh.

“T…” you say, softly. 

“Mind if I do the honours?”

You carefully move your hair out the way of your ear. With fingers more gentle than you thought him capable of, he reaches up and places the tiny cuff over your helix, completely obscuring the chunk that’s been taken out of it. Now? Now it just looks like you have a normal earring. 

“There,” he states, his fingertips just about caressing your cheek as he withdraws his hand. 

And then there you are again, staring into his eyes.

He says your name. So quiet you can barely make it out.

You step towards him.

There’s a screech behind you as a Mercedes pulls up outside the gala, breaking the moment between the two of you and causing you to turn. 

Your mark steps out, a middle-aged gentleman in a black tuxedo. He offers his far-too-young wife his arm as she makes her way around the car, all white teeth and bleached hair.

“Shit,” you say, “he’s mine. Better get a move on.” you look back at Tangerine. “You’re not here for him too, are you?”

“Nah. Our one’s already inside.”

“Oh, good. I was getting bored of winning anyway,” you grin at him, and he laughs at your impudence.

“Cheeky cunt,” Lemon says fondly as he returns to the posse. 

“Yeah,” you agree, and the three of you head inside.

                                                       *

It starts out fine. Mingling with the rich twats, keeping an eye on your target. You recall the case file as you watch him. Guy’s involved in human trafficking. Lowest of the low. You don’t usually get a lot of satisfaction from your jobs, but you know you’ll enjoy watching the light leave his eyes.

Turns out there’s some sort of meeting going on involving your mark and theirs. When the two of them head upstairs, the three of you agree one of you watches the stairwell while the others go and finish the job. Well, one of them waits, you’ve made it clear that you have to document your modus operandi.

Lemon and Tangerine turn to each other. You know, if you weren’t operating on such a tight schedule, there would be bickering. Instead Lemon just states:

“Rock-paper-scissors?”

Tangerine groans.

“You’re like a fucking child,” he grumbles, but puts his hands out anyway. Lemon shoots paper. Tangerine shoots scissors.

“‘Kinnel…” mutters Lemon, rolling his eyes and getting out his gun, assuming the position of guardsman. 

“We’ll be quick,” you promise. 

“Yeah, yeah, get a move on,” he says, though you can tell he softens from your words.

The stairs are some of those ridiculous ones without bannisters, made more to look good than to be easy to climb. The further interior design isn’t much better. You’re met with long, grey corridors with minimal lighting, almost like it was made to be annoying to you specifically. 

The two of you are quiet as you make your way along the doorless hallway, all business. It’s only as you go to round a corner Tangerine grabs you and pulls you back.

You go to ask him what he’s doing, but he puts a finger to his lips.

Footsteps.

Hard to tell how many, this place echoes like mad. Definitely coming too fast for you to make it back to the door you just came from. You could just start fighting, but you might easily be outnumbered.

“Shit,” you whisper. There’s nowhere to get to, and you’re running out of time fast. Footsteps are getting louder along the corridor. 

You look at Tangerine. He seems just as concerned as you are, scanning the area for any escape you might not have spotted. His search turns up just as empty.

An idea flits through your brain.

“Do you trust me?”

He blinks, processing the question, but his reply is sure.

“Yeah. I trust you.”

You grab his face between your hands and slam your mouth onto his.

For a moment Tangerine is completely still, confused, but he quickly cottons on to the cover you’re going for. One of his hands snakes into your hair, the other grabbing a hold of your waist.

He pushes you against the wall as security rounds the corner. This close, you can just about hear three pairs of footsteps. Three is fine. You can’t confirm it by looking, though, because your eyes are firmly clamped shut as Tangerine kisses you.

One of the security guards makes a noise of disgust.

“Alright, move along you two. Party’s downstairs.”

You don’t reply. Instead, you find yourself tugging Tangerine closer. His hips fit so well against your own, his waist is so narrow. You wrap a leg around his calf and slide it upwards, encouraging him to grab a handful of thigh. 

His moustache is rough as he kisses you hard, tongue touching yours as you open your mouth for him. And in that moment you realise there is nothing fake about this kiss. This is something you’ve both wanted to share for a long time and now you have the perfect opportunity to do it. No pretence, no stupid banter beforehand. 

Just a kiss.

Tangerine reaches between you. From the security guards’ view, it probably looks like he’s undoing his belt, as if he plans to fuck you right there in full view of them. You know better. He’s going for his gun.

“Come on, stop it now-”

As he lays his hand on your shoulder in order to break you up, you suddenly separate from Tangerine as fluid as oil on water - turning to catch the security guard in the nose with your fist. Tangerine fires before he really gets a good aim, hitting one of the others in the shoulder, the final in his knee.

It takes moments for you to slaughter them all. The gun works quickest, obviously, so Tangerine watches as you choke the life out of the guard who touched you.

Eventually he stops fighting and slumps.

In the aftermath, you and Tangerine are left oddly silent. You step over the corpse beneath you and over to him. In a mirror of what you did earlier in the night, you begin to fix up his suit, which has become rumpled - partly from the fight, and partly from the ferocity of the kiss. 

Really, you know you didn’t need to go through the pretence of all that. Really you could have just rounded the corridor and taken your chances.

Neither of you care.

Your hand traces up his tie until you’re caressing his neck.

“You once asked me why I don’t use a gun,” you say, quietly. When Tangerine swallows you can feel it under your fingers. 

“I did.”

“Well,” you sigh, “It’s because in this life, some people like to be choked. And some people like doing the choking.”

And that’s what Tangerine does on the spit in his mouth, so taken aback by the sudden confession. His pupils blow wide. You know, if there wasn’t a time restraint, you’d be following up that kiss.

But the two of you spring into action when you hear voices coming from down the corridor. Right. The meeting.

When you turn to finish tracking your mark, you can feel your palms sweat. When your garotte is wrapped around his neck a few moments later, while Tangerine takes out the rest of the cunts you haven’t gotten to, you feel no thrill.

You can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Oh christ, you’re fucked. 

Score: Two all.

Radioactive Ch 3: The Bird and the Worm

Summary: The heroes try and find Logan as they receive help from an unlikely source.

A/N: Title comes from “the Bird and the Worm” by the Used.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

“Where is he?” Abe demanded.

“I don’t know!” Ranboo started to sob from the stress, the instant the tears hit his face they burned his skin, steam visibly coming from his cheeks.

“Abe, stop, out,” Silver ordered.

Still in a fury, Abe left and Silver stayed in the interrogation room with several other heroes.

After Abe had come to and found Logan and Tubbo were gone, the heroes had gone back to talk to Ranboo who agreed to be questioned without an arrest. During that time, the city was rocked by a brief explosion. It was clear to everyone that Ranboo was nowhere near as calculating as his husband.

Outside, in the lobby Patton was trying to look after Michael, who was still in his little pajamas with his chicken plushie and crying.

“Hey, come on, your daddy will be back soon,” Patton tried to promise.

“Hey there Michael,” Ghostbur walked up and Michael hiccuped and stared at Ghostbur with relief.

“Bur!” Michael got up and raced for Ghostbur.

“Oh, don’t cry,” Ghostbur picked Michael up as the young child kept crying. “Boo’ll be back, promise.”

Ghostbur sat down as Michael started snuffling but he seemed to be calming down.

Tommy walked over and just stared at Michael.

“You’re really good with kids,” Patton complimented him.

“I’m really not,” Ghostbur frowned sadly.

“Yeah you’re shit with kids,” Tommy agreed. “You always were.”

“Hey come on, we can’t curse in front of a kid this young,” Patton admonished them.

“This is supposed ta[1] be Tubbo’s kid right?” Tommy was staring at Michael with an expression of loathing and a snarl in his tone.

“Y-Yeah?” Patton braced to get in-between Tommy and Michael.

“Then the little fooker’s[2] already heard it all then, ain’t[3] he?” Tommy decided.

Michael was still hiding in Ghostbur’s jumper, cuddling his little chicken close to his chest.

“Isn’t he just the cutest little thing, Big Man?” Ghostbur smiled.

“Thing? Yeah. Cute? I don’t think so, half its face looks melted off.” Tommy huffed.

“Ehh, like you looked any different, mate. I’m pretty sure Phil just vomited inta[4] trash can an’[5] you popped out.”

The heroes and the cops turned to see Jack Manifold appearing out of thin air as his invisibility potion fizzled out.

“You!” Tommy summoned his axe and got in front of Ghostbur and Michael. “The fook[6] do you want?”

Jack took out a card with a radioactive symbol on it, “I’ve got some hot shit ta[1] tell you.”

At that instant, Jack was jumped by three officers, the card disappearing into thin air in a puff of magic. Ranboo was walking out at the same time and rushed over to Michael to take him back into his arms.

“Boo! Boo!” Michael sobbed, patting Ranboo’s face with a hand.

“I’m back, buddy,” Ranboo buried his face into Michael’s short hair. “Da’s here. We’re going home.”

The instant Jack Manifold was brought into an interrogation room he began talking. He didn’t get into specifics, but he admitted that he was part of Dream’s gang, and that Tubbo was a weapon’s expert. But Tubbo kept all information of how he was building things very close to his chest.

“But,” Jack summoned the card back into his hands, making it disappear when Abe tried to snatch it away. “Tubbo made a mistake, little fooker’s[2] absolutely mad but he made me his back up. Tubbo can’t detonate his new toys without a second keycard.”

“How big a detonation are we e’en[7] talkin’[8] here?” Jackie asked.

Jack shrugged, “Well, don’t know how many ‘a yer demon friends felt that earthquake but Tubbo an’ I detonated one ‘a Tubbo’s new toys way north in Egoton’s haunted forest. Crater’s still there if you wanna check.”[9]

“That was an explosion?” Silver demanded. Bing had already left to check out the northeast forest, finding the cameras and speakers but it took him a couple seconds longer to find the crater. His readings could still detect the fading radioactive isotopes being leached from the air by magic.

“Yeah, we all did,” Jackie answered as Bing was searching. “That was you?”

“Me an’[5] Tubbo,” Jack corrected. “We didn’t e’en expect it ta work an’ I think Tubbo lost his mind. ‘Cause he was just standin’ there laughin’ his arse off like a madman.”[10]

“Where is Tubbo right now?” Abe demanded.

“I reckon he’d be back at the Server, probably still cacklin’[11] like a madman,” Jack sighed.

“Where’s the Server?” Jackie asked.

“I saw the crater,” Bing told them as his nanites reconstructed back into the room. “How big was the payload?”

Jack held up his hands, to show a disc about the length of his hand, “Bout[12] this big.”

“How big was the crater?” Silver asked.

“The size of a house,” Bing reported, showing the images to the others. “I think the bomb was meant ta[1] prioritize damage o’er[13] distance because it was deeper than it was big. Yeh[14] had a lot ‘a[15] pitchblende, what happened ta[1] the rest ‘a[15] it.”

“Used all ‘a[15] it,” Jack shrugged. “Some fer experiments, an’ others fer makin’ the payloads.”[16]

The atmosphere was so thick and heavy one could cut it with a knife.

“How many do you have?” Abe asked.

“We used a good bit ‘a[15] it in tests,,” Jack explained. “Tubbo was already conducted experiments on his own aura before he got his hands on the stuff. After Tubbo got done with those tests we only had about a dinner plate sized amount left an’ a lot ‘a waste we had ta dispose ‘a. But Tubbo took the other two cores we made. Was really paranoid ‘bout someone else havin’ or e’en seeing ‘em.”[17]

“So he can just make two more bombs,” Bing demanded.

“Make ‘em[18]?” Jack chuckled nervously. “He’s already got the cases fer ‘em, an’ the cores. But that fooker can’t detonate ‘em without me.”[19]

Jack summoned the keycard again. “Those two nukes aren’t worth a thing except a scare tactic without my aura. Someone else can take the card an’[5] try ta[1] use it, but unless I’m there it won’t do shit.”

“Okay, so we’ve got time ta[1] find the kid,” Jackie felt a touch of relief. “Yeh[14] said he was at the Server. Where is it? Is it like a safehouse or some kinda[20] base?”

“It’s Dream’s little nightclub,” Jack explained. “He controls who’s allowed inta the Server. He’s got our aura marked with somethin’. No one can physically go inta the place without Dream’s say-so. E’en if I told you all the address: 5485 NE Ralph St. You all couldn’t e’en get in the door without Dream’s permission.”[21]

“You guys took one of our heroes,” Abe commented. “Would he be at the Server too?”

“The thrall in the blue?” Jack asked.

“He’s not a thrall,” Silver defended.

“Sure, whate’er makes it easier fer you ta work with that freak ‘a nature,”[22] Jack shrugged. “I’m not sure, but he might be, Dream wants the legate in his back pocket so he’s probably tryin’[23] ta[1] cut some kinda[20] deal.”

“Well, he took the wrong Side for that,” Abe decided. “We can try and get contact with Logic again, you’ll be in holding until we sort things out.”

“You don’t understand, I want out ‘a[15] the Server, they’re all crazy maniacs.” Jack scoffed. “The worst thing that happens ta[1] me if I go back is I get yelled at by the Captains, an’[5] then Dream slaps me on the wrist with a discorporation.”

“We’ll talk about deals after we get Logic back,” Silver told him. “For now just stay put.”

“That’s better,” Jack scoffed, then chuckled to himself. “So how’s that blowhard Tommy?”

“I fail ta see how that’s any ‘a yer fookin’ concern,”[24] Jackie warned.

“So he’s doin’[25] well then,” Jack chuckled. “So he workin’ with yeh until he can get those discs back, or is he tryin’ ta be subtle fer once in his life?”[26]

“We’re not at liberty to use one of the Coalition’s real names, even if the individual were talking to knows it as well,” Silver warned.

“Geez, sure, whate’er[27], just be careful around Tommy, yeh[14] hear?” Jack warned.

“Why?” Silver ordered.

Jack let out an amused chuckle, “I get it, you heroes love a good sob story. But Tommy’s a fookin’[28] menace. Dream kicked him out fer[29] a reason, mate. You see there’s only one thing Tommy cares about: his dics. Dream has them under lock an’[5] key with some ‘a[5] the rest ‘a[5] our stuff he’s holdin’[30] hostage. Tommy will betray anyone ta[1] get ‘em[18] back: me, Tubbo, Ghostbur, Nikki. He’ll e’en[7] break Phil’s heart.”

“What’s on these dics?” Jackie asked.

“Far as I can tell?” Jack scoffed. “Some fookin’ shite sample music. I think Wilbur an’ Tommy made ‘em together. Tommy’s nuts o’er ‘em. An’ glitches are already territorial as shite. You should have seen Tommy after he figured out Ranboo an’ Tubbo were married, he just about set Ranboo on fire.”[31]

“We figured after the interaction at the warehouse that you and Tubbo had met Big Man and Ghostbur before,” Silver commented.

“Oh yeah, me an’[5],” Jack scoffed, “well, I knew Wilbur. Ghostbur’s a joke. I can’t tell how much ‘a Wilbur is e’en left in there. But I hope it’s nothin’ ‘cause if I e’er see a sliver ‘a him again it’ll be too soon.”[32]

“What do you mean?” Silver asked.

“Ghostbur used to be an empath by the name ‘a[15] Wilbur, you seen the winged demon that’s been goin’[33] around town, Phil?” Jack asked and Silver nodded. “Phil didn’t just split off some tough pieces ‘a[15] shit, he also split off two fookin’[28] maniacs. Wilbur died mad, Tommy is mad. Their whole family’s nuts, so keep yer[34] eyes on ‘em[18].”

Jack kept talking a little bit more before Jackie and Bing went off to the address to see if they would find Logan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. to

2. fucker’s

3. hasn’t

4. into

5. and

6. fuck

7. even

8. talking

9. Well, don’t know how many of your demon friends felt that earthquake but Tubbo and I detonated one of Tubbo’s new toys way north in Egoton’s haunted forest. Crater’s still there if you wanna check.

10. We didn’t even expect it to work and I think Tubbo lost his mind. Because he was just standing there laughing his ass off like a madman.

11. cackling

12. About

13. over

14. You

15. of

16. Some for experiments, and others for making the payloads.

17. Tubbo was already conducted experiments on his own aura before he got his hands on the stuff. After Tubbo got done with those tests we only had about a dinner plate sized amount left and a lot of waste we had to dispose of. But Tubbo took the other two cores we made. Was really paranoid about someone else having or even seeing them.

18. them

19. He’s already got the cases for them, and the cores. But that fucker can’t detonate them without me.

20. kind of

21. He controls who’s allowed into the Server. He’s got our aura marked with something. No one can physically go into the place without Dream’s say-so. Even if I told you all the address: 5485 NE Ralph St. You all couldn’t even get in the door without Dream’s permission.

22. Sure, whatever makes it easier for you to work with that freak of nature

23. trying

24. I fail to see how that’s any of your fucking concern

25. doing

26. So he working with you until he can get those discs back, or is he trying to be subtle for once in his life?

27. whatever

28. fucking

29. for

30. holding

31. Some fucking shit sample music. I think Wilbur and Tommy made them together. Tommy’s nuts over them. And glitches are already territorial as shit. You should have seen Tommy after he figured out Ranboo and Tubbo were married, he just about set Ranboo on fire.

32. well, I knew Wilbur. Ghostbur’s a joke. I can’t tell how much of Wilbur is even left in there. But I hope it’s nothing because if I ever see a sliver of him again it’ll be too soon.

33. going

34. your

. layercake

.LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

name: y’shai tia

“at yer service, mate. aye, though ye might wanna ask again inna moon ‘er so-- lil’ more papers ‘ta push through an’ the last bit’ll change there. still can’t gods damned believe it if y’ask me.”

eye color: blue (left), green (right)

“pree’ common combo fer seekers, y’know? green from me ma, can only guess the blue from dear ol’ pops. is tha’ how it works? i ain’ a genetics sorta guy.”

hair style/color: black, lackadaisical

“oi now, leas’ it ain’ a qiqirn’s nest. take care ov’ me braids though, if yer lucky jus’ might tell ye what they mean some day.”

height: 5 fulms, 9 ilms

“look, ‘m tall fer a miqo’te, thas’ gotta count fer somethin’. ain’ about the height, mate, s’all ‘bout how ye use what yer slapped with.”

clothing style: predominately black with abhorrent amounts of leather

“what, like either ov’ those things ‘er ev’r gonna go outta style? lookin’ good an’ bein’ durable, ye can’t really go wrong there. an’ it ain’t like ‘m allergic ‘ta change, startin’ ‘ta get used ‘ta this whole buttoned ‘ta the throat business. sorta.”

best physical feature: absolutely everything, take your personal pick

“c’mon now, lookit yers truly, notta shortage ov’ ‘bests’ in sight, choosin’ jus’ one would jus’ be cruel. thick thighs, thick arse-- lil’ thick in th’ head sometimes but, aye, leas’ yer lookin’ at somethin’ nice.”

.LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

your fears: physical restrictions, i.e. being bound, failing to protect those he loves and/or hurting them himself, powerlessness and ineptitude, particularly large coeurls

“cor, jus’ had ‘ta go from a fun question straight ‘ta this. lighten up, mate.”

your guilty pleasure: who’s guilty?

“ain’ nothin’ guilty ‘bout indulgence-- an’ i sure as shit don’ think ‘bout-- ... ah, fuck. guess there was one time... but that was long ‘go now, ain’ no point bringin’ it up.”

your biggest pet peeve: don’t get him started

“the fact that ul’dah exists, does that fuckin’ count? aye, yer right, ‘ta big ‘ta be a peeve. cor, i dunno, what ye cryin’ over spilt yak’s milk fer. i guess... aye, well, this is a personal one-like, but whiddle this fer a second; self-proclaimed sorts ov’ engineers who go off wif’out a single thought fer consequences. ... aye, aye, i hear ye, real fuckin’ bold fer someone like me ‘ta bitch ‘bout that, but, listen, a guy can change. it’s one thing ‘ta fuck ‘round with things ye don’ understand fer the sake of curiousity but ye also don’ see me gettin’ ass deep in allagan bullshit jus’ cause there might be a fancy toy there that tickles me boredom away fer a spell. shit’s got its conveniences, aye, not like i dunno the uses ova’ tomephone-- but most ov’ it is also fuckin’ dangerous, not sayin’ that it shouldn’ be explored proper, but not by some renegade blighter who fancies himself some magitek wiz so far up his own arse it makes yer local garlean look like a dozen o’ roses.

swear, ye got folks out here thinkin’ jus’ cause they can take apart a chronometer ‘er do some basic maintenance on a firearm that they’re ready fer solo-scavenging-- next ye know they’re wadin’ in aetherochemical spills an’ huffin’ ceruleum.

so that’s one fer the road there, ask me again sometime an’ i’ll enlighten ye ‘bout all the fuckin’ joys ov’ seeker racism ‘ve ‘ad the pleasure of gettin’ ‘ta know.”

your ambition for the future: much and more

“one day ‘atta time has always been me go of things, aye, gander though i ain’t without dreams, ‘specially now with tha’ stability in me life-- let me think ‘bout things that i nev’r really thought mattered ‘ta much ‘ta me ‘fore, the future an’ like.

firs’ thing that comes ‘ta mind would be me projects, bein’ able ‘ta have me own workshop has been both a blessin’ an’ a curse; blessin’ fer obvious reasons, curse cause ‘m startin’ ‘ta have one ‘ta many irons in the fire, if ye whiddle me meanin’. the biggest one though... even i gotta admit tha’ this is a generational project at bes’ outlook, but. workin’ ta’wards bein’ able ‘ta purify an’ clean the land ov’ the remnants of war-- speakin’ ov’ ceruleum spills an’ the like. with hope me husband says that we could maybe one day bring th’ elementals’ blessin’ back ‘ta tainted lands, thas’ his field of expertise at work there... jus’ bein’ able ‘ta rid the land ov’ imperial consequence is a worthwhile goal ‘ta me, i reckon.

oth’r than that.. there’s some silly things, aye, winna big marksman competition ov’ sorts, fish up a catch that no one’s ev’r seen ‘fore, get stronger... thas’ one thas’ nev’r changed, fer differ’nt reasons now mind.”

.LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

your first thoughts waking up: depends on the morning

“considerin’ the curr’nt season an’ all, most of me mornins’ start with me husband latchin’ on ‘ta me an’ not lettin’ me leave the bed at leas’ an extra bell fer the sake of warmth.

which is ‘ta say me first thoughts when wakin’ are pree’ fuckin good ones.”

what you think about the most: his husband, work, personal projects, underlying worries and responsibilities he’s not prone to publicly airing

“i ain’ exactly the ‘fee-low-sof-ick-al’ type, mate. keep it simple-like, thinkin’ ‘bout what’s in front ov’ me, the next step aft’r that.”

what you think about before bed: depends on the night

“‘pends on if ‘m too fucked out ‘ta even think ‘fore sleep takes me ‘er not. still, thoughts still mostly the same ‘gardless-- usually somethin’ long the lines of jus’ how godsdamned lucky i really am.”

you think your best quality is: once again.... take your personal pick

“well, ‘lready mentioned me ass, me thighs... if ye fancy scars me chest an’ back are pree’ damn nice too, me arms got some neat lookin’ ones lemme-- oh, y’don’t mean physical this time. cor, why didn’ ye say so.

shit, uhh... well, i ain’ the type ‘ta give up, come hell ‘er high water. shit tha’ might be a flaw but fuck it, it gets results, at leas’.”

.LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

single or group dates: single

“the hell issa group date? like a bunch’a folk all mated goin’ out? separate mated pairs? yer missin’ me here. only got eyes fer one, so the point is prolly moot.”

to be loved or respected: respected

“this issa easy one. trus’ me, know what is like bein’ ‘loved’ without respect, shit’s fun fer a spell, strokes the ego ‘til yer cummin’ yer own pride an’ fumes, but is all the same as a grog binge down at the Wench-- ev’ry single time ye’ll wake up feelin’ like shite an’ prayin fer death. ye can get mighty high on’a pain an’ pleasure cycle like that, aye, but ‘ventually the pain wins out.”

beauty or brains: they correlate

“me baby’s got both, so it ain’t like i gotta choose. ‘m a spoiled bastard, i know.”

dogs or cats: both

“cute buggers aren’t they, the both ov’ em. been at the mercy ov’ the teeth ov’ ‘em both too-- from coeurls ‘ta imperial trained bloodhounds. still, can’t rightly hate the animal fer instincts an’ trainin’, all jus’ tryin ‘ta survive.”

.LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

lie: naturally. but also poorly

“ain’ ‘xactly me strongest suit, fair, but ‘ll bullshit me way ‘round somethin’ if i gotta.”

believe in yourself: of course-- sincerity is a non-factor

“fake it ‘til ye make it, mate. call it cheesy writin’ on the wall ‘er what’ver ye like, shit does the job. no one gives a shit how ye feel ‘bout yerself-- jus’ fuckin’ tell yerself that ye got this an’ go. don’ look back.”

believe in love: he’s in it

“kinda hard ‘ta refute somethin’ ‘m experiencin’, y’know.”

want someone: every second of every day

“jus’ ‘cause ye already have it don’ mean that ye stop wantin it. aye, if anythin’ jus’ want ‘em even moreso. constantly, shit never stops. it’s fuckin’ heaven, lemme tell ye.”

.LAYER SIX: EVER?

been on stage: not professionally

“nothin’ like singin’ er dancin’, less ye count bar tables as impromptu stages.”

done drugs: not always consensually. but a moko edible every now and again isn’t such a crime.

“relax, ain’ like i make a habit ov’ it. special occasion, really. don’ fancy bein’ out ov’ it ‘ta of’en.”

changed who you were to fit in: naturally

“ye gotta if ye wanna survive beyond yer own comforts, mate-- that is if yer lucky ‘ta be born inta’ such ‘ta begin with. look, is called adaptin’, an’ if ye haven’ noticed we miqo’te are pree’ fuckin’ good at it. not even mentionin’ tryna fit in at home-- when i left it was change ‘er die; changed when i started learnin’ the common eorzean tongue, changed when i started dressin’ different, when i started learnin’ how ‘ta act, walk an’ talk so as ‘ta survive, hold me own. y’see it all the godsdamn time-- lookit every miqo’te who changed their name once they started livin’ in one ov’ the big cities, aye, not all ov’ ‘em do, but ‘nuff do ‘fer us ‘ta notice.

it’s adaption. it’s survival. hide parts ov’ yerself ‘ta preserve the greater whole. ain’t sayin’ it’s a nice thing tha’ we gotta do it-- but, aye, survival rarely is ev’r nice.

... if yer lucky though, if ye live long ‘nuff, ye can start reclaimin’ them hidden parts ov’ yerself back, aye, s’process.”

.LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

favorite color: black

“were ye expectin’ anythin’ else? ain’t gonna say no ‘ta gold either-- ‘specially of the rosey sort. they jus’ go ta’gether so well, y’know.”

favorite animal: jaguars, of course

“biased? me? ‘course not.”

favorite food: seafood in general, rustic homecooked meals, spicy food, way too sweet cream-filled coffee, nostalgic preference for almonds, coconuts, and fruit based desserts

“ye ev’r have those lil’ balls of cod deep fried in batter? could get meself sick on those buggers. too damn good. ‘specially if ye add a generous ‘mount ov’ dragon pepper ‘ta the fish ‘fore hand. ‘course if it’s good, fresh catch then ye can’t go wrong with simplicity neither, crab meat straight from the leg with no bells an’ whistles issa snack fit fer the finest.”

favorite game: card games, puzzles, anything that can spur fun competition, whether it be from hunting, to racing, to a snowball fight, isn’t adverse to the cheap thrill of betting on a race chocobo every now and again

“anythin’ can be good, fun competition if yer willin’ an’ rarin’, nothin’ like a lil’ friendly fire under yer arse ‘ta get the legs movin’ an’ cogs whirrin’.”

.LAYER EIGHT: AGE

day your next birthday will be: 28th day of the first umbral moon

“would be pree’ wild if me nameday wasn’ on.... me nameday.”

how old will you be: 29

“ugh, c’mon, i’m tryin’ not ‘ta think ‘bout it. knock it off.”

age you lost your virginity: between the ages of 19 and 21, he does not specify

“whas’ it matter? past is the past. leave it alone.”

does age matter: to an extent

“i ain’ no damn preacher, but it’s pree’ godsdamned obvious when someone is exertin’ power ov’r another. s’reason there be words like kid an’ adult. don’ fuckin’ be that person.”

.LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

best personality: bullheaded, smart, witty, compassionate, strong-hearted and strong-willed, brave, stubborn, impatient, and rather tactless

“maybe toss in a damn fine arse an’ voice like’a songbird-- wait, those ain’t personality traits?”

best eye color: rose gold

“bonus points if they gotta nice, natural glow ‘ta’em.”

best hair color: a warm rose peach with a streak of pale blonde

“what? ‘m a guy who jus’ knows what he likes. an’ i like what i like, cuff me if issa crime.”

best thing to do with a partner: exist with them in the entirety of life’s capacity

“call me fuckin’ sentimental, but learnin’ ‘ta fuckin’ live, really godsdamn live, with ‘em rath’r than jus’ survive... can’t fuckin’ be beat, jus’ can’t. shit’s golden, can’t wait ‘ta do it ev’ry single day on this star ‘til me times’ up.”

.LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

i love: “me husband.”

i feel: “pree’ chuffed, might go fer a nap.”

i hide: “poorly. mean have ye seen me, mate? ain’t easy hidin’ when yer this big. less’ maybe was in a house built with roes in mind.”

i miss: “me ma. aye, still lot’sa things that make me miss home, wouldn’ change where i am now fer the world, mind.”

i wish: “... fish. er, sorry, mind blanked there. they rhyme. been at sea fer the past few days now.”

tagged by: @ffxiv-sunderedsouls​ tagging: this is a stupidly late response so not sure how alive this particular meme is still but, here’s the deal; you wanna do this? do it and tag me THAT WAY i’ll know in the future to tag you in other things, good deal, right? right?!

First War Hurt/Comfort Getting-Together Fic. James is the one suffering from nightmares after he was tortured by Bellatrix. Sirius is a guilty mess. How about bed-sharing and love confessions, please?

When Sirius visited James in St. Mungo's, his face was pale. He didn't regain his colour for the entire visit. 

"You can't blame yourself," Lily said, a touch tiredly. It was war; everyone was tired. 

"I'm not blaming myself," Sirius growled, but Lily knew him too well to believe that. 

"I won't pretend to understand Black Family politics, but how the hell are you at all responsible for what Bellatrix does?" 

Sirius grit his teeth and didn't answer. It wasn't a Black Family thing she was missing; it was an Ancient and Noble Houses of the British Wizarding World thing that she was missing. Sirius had been the heir for the first fifteen years of his life, and his parents had treated him as such. Orion made it clear that anything that happened in their Family was his responsibility. Bellatrix was his cousin, and she had tortured his best friend. She would've killed James if Lily hadn't found him. "Don't mention it to James," he said. 

"What?" 

"Don't mention that I feel responsible." 

"Why not? He's your best friend, I think he'll notice." 

"James noticing isn't the same as you telling him. I'll deal with it when I have to-" if he had to "-but he doesn't need to be worrying about that when he should be focused on recovering." 

Lily looked at him evenly for several seconds, then nodded. "Okay. If you think it's for the best." She reached forward and hugged him, and Sirius held on a little too desperately. She didn't mention it, but he knew that he had noticed. James was the single most important thing to him, and he'd almost lost him. Hell, he had lost him. James had been missing for three days before he got rescued. And Bellatrix had been the one torturing him. Not only were they family, but Sirius knew how strong their family resemblance was. He'd seen pictures of Bellatrix when she'd been a child, and the only noticeable difference between her and Sirius at the same age was that her hair was more curly. For better or worse, Sirius had an idea of how she operated; she got up close and personal. She wanted for people to know exactly who was doing this to them. And if there was one thing that Sirius didn't think he'd ever be able to stomach, it was James looking at him and thinking of that. 

*

James was a little shaky when he was able to come home, but for the most part, he was fine. At least, that's what he kept telling Sirius. "Really mate, I'm fine. Not good enough for missions, but I'm fine to walk around our flat." 

"Yeah," Sirius said, frowning. He watched James from a couple feet away, wanting to hover but not wanting to get too close and trigger something in James's memory. If neither of them had to think about him getting captured and tortured ever again, that would be just fine. 

James grimaced when he sat down, then shifted until he found a good position. 

"If you're in pain, we can-" 

"I'm fine," James cut in. He looked up at Sirius and smiled. "Honestly. Just getting used to being back." 

"I don't believe you, but fine. Whatever you say." 

James's expression turned into a confused frown. "If you don't believe me, then why are you dropping it?" 

It was a fair question. Sirius didn't just drop shit, especially when it came to James and especially when it was about James being hurt. Sirius shrugged. "You've been through a lot; I don't want to argue about this shite." 

"Er, okay?" 

Sirius ran a hand through his hair and made some pasta for dinner. When it was done, he brought a bowl over to James but went back and ate at the table instead of joining him on the couch. 

"You feeling alright?" James asked. 

"'m fine. Why?" 

"Well you're sitting at the table. Pretty sure the only time we've eaten there was the day that we moved in." 

Sirius shrugged again. Shrugging was the easiest way to keep from talking too much, and he had a bad tendency to start talking and never stop when James was around. "Didn't want to upset your balance." 

"Okay," James said slowly. 

It might feel a little off right now, but James would get used to it. 

*

"Sirius?" 

A little shake on his shoulder. 

"Sirius." James. 

"Mmh?" Sirius blearily opened his eyes. The hall light was on and his door was open, so he could vaguely see James's features. He wasn't wearing his glasses, but that wasn't a surprise since it was the middle of the night. He was standing, not sitting on the bed, bent at the back so he was a little closer to Sirius's level. 

"Can I stay with you tonight?" 

"Mm." Sirius nodded, eyes squeezing shut as he yawned. 

"Thanks," James whispered. He left to turn off the hall light and came back in, sinking into the mattress as easily as Sirius used to do when they were at Hogwarts. He cuddled up to Sirius's side, and Sirius put an arm around his shoulders automatically. It had been a while since they'd done this, but it felt the same. Their bodies were shaped a little differently, and of course, back then, James had been the one holding Sirius most of the time, but his warmth was the same. He smelled the same as always, and even though the physical sensation of holding him was different, the way it affected him was exactly the same. It felt perfect, and Sirius hated himself a little bit more. 

"You okay?" he asked, because if James wasn't feeling any better, then there was no point to this-- Sirius didn't deserve to feel good if James didn't. 

"...I will be." 

*

"You wanna talk about last night?" Sirius asked over breakfast. James had all but dragged him to the couch and putting up a fight might have hurt him. 

"Not much to talk about," James said around his food. He swallowed, then added, "Nightmare. It'll go away after a while. But er, can I stay with you again tonight?" 

He should say no. James needed time to get over this-- if he ever was going to, torture wasn't exactly something you could sleep off-- and Sirius should respect that. The problem was that James wasn't acting like he wanted space; he was acting like he wanted to cuddle up to Sirius and never let go. Sirius had two lists when it came to James: Things James Wants and Things I Want For James. There was a lot of overlap, but when they disagreed, he almost always ended up doing what James wanted. James wanted comfort, and Sirius was available. Sirius wasn't going to refuse just because he thought he knew better. What was a little bone crushing guilt? He'd survive, and James would feel better. "Sure." 

"Thanks. D'you have to work today?" 

"Yes. For both." Both, in this case, meaning the Aurors and the Order. 

James gave a slow nod. "Wish I was going with you." 

"Give it another week, and you will be." Sirius shoveled the rest of his food in his mouth, drank the rest of his tea, then pressed a kiss to the top of James's head. It was only after he made contact that he thought maybe he should've kept his space. "I'll be back tonight," he said, walking to the door. 

"Don't forget to eat," James called after him. 

Sirius lifted a hand to show that he'd heard him but didn't reply. James should hate him right now. Hell, Sirius hated himself right now. How hard could it be for James to get on the same page? 

*

James woke up in the middle of the night, shaking awfully and clinging to Sirius like he was the only thing keeping him alive. 

"You're okay," Sirius said, holding him close. 

"I- Merlin I hate this. I keep- I keep thinking that I'm back there and then I see you and-" 

"Sorry," Sirius said, unable to help the self-deprecating tone out of his voice. 

"Sorry? Why the sodding hell are you sorry?" 

"I mean," Sirius said quietly, "I know I look a lot like her." 

James scoffed, pushing his face more firmly against Sirius's chest. "Don't be stupid." 

"Can't beat family resemblance. You want me to call Moony?" Wait, Remus might be busy. "Or Lils?" 

"I just want you," James said, his fingers relaxing then tightening again on Sirius's arm. "For fuck's sake, Sirius, that's all I've ever wanted." He was starting to cry, and Sirius felt even worse; he was supposed to be helping James feel better, not push him to all new lows. "How could you think I look at you and see her? I knew you first, I- I bloody love you more than anything, and- and-" He couldn't keep talking when he started sobbing, so he didn't try, just held on to Sirius until his shirt was wet with tears. 

Eventually, the crying tapered off, but he was still clinging to Sirius. 

"I know it's-" he stopped, swallowed "-it's not the best time, but I- I'm in love with you. Merlin, Sirius, I love you so buggering much, and I know you don't feel the same way, but I needed to tell you because I feel like I'm going bloody mad keeping it to myself and-" 

"Hey, it's okay." Sirius moved one of his hands up to the back of James's neck and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "It's okay." 

"I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. Merlin, James, don't be sorry. I love you too." 

"Yeah." James sniffled. "Yeah, I know you do, but-" 

"But nothing. I love you the same way you love me." 

James didn't say anything at first, but he wriggled to get a little more comfortable. "Really?" 

Sirius's fingers curled a little more firmly around the back of his neck. "Really. I just- bugger, James, I want you to be happy. I thought you wouldn't be with me." 

"Sirius... how could I ever be happy without you?" 

bad luck: chapter 2

do my best to ignore it

work summary: normalcy. remus lupin has always craved normalcy. so he keeps his life at home in wales, where he’s a normal muggle boy with normal muggle friends and normal muggle interests separate from his school life, of magic, mischief, and deception. the only thing allowed to cross the threshold? his skateboard. however, he tries desperately to hide it from his friends, for fear of his favorite, normal muggle interest being taken from him, his space being violated. too bad sirius black has shaken up his entire worldview, and he can’t keep his friends out forever.

chapter summary: remus is trying to keep skating a private affair, but failing spectacularly. three interactions in fourth year prove as much to him. he can’t seem to keep everything together. not like this. 

cw: internalized homophobia, slurs

2.7k words

read it on ao3

Remus was a forth year when everything caught up to him. His nights out of bounds had gotten wilder, and the first time he thought that skating would be taken from him, was when he woke up in the hospital wing outside of the bounds of the moon. He hadn’t even begun to explain himself when Madam Pomfrey pulled out his skateboard. 

“You’re lucky I don’t turn this over to Mister Filch, Remus.” She took on a tone that reminded him of his mom. All soft lilts in her voice, but with a sternness that reminded him that he had done something wrong, and was being subtly reprimanded for it. 

“Please,” He didn’t mean to sound so desperate, “i– please– there’s nothing in the rules about skating and I just need it. I have nothing fucking else, Madam Pomfrey, I just need some semblance of normalcy.” 

“I worried about your adjustment to being here. Albus said you’d be fine, but I can’t imagine it’s easy to keep a secret such as your own.” It was then that he was reminded of McGonnagal. It was in the way she sounded like she was teaching him something instead of punishing him for his actions. “But if I catch you unconscious and out of bounds again, I will not hesitate to turn it over, Master Lupin. You’ve got a long day of recovery ahead of you. I trust you’ll stay off of it until your concussion has fully healed.” 

He wanted to nod with fervor at that, but his head throbbed too badly. So instead he watched her put the board aside and out of view of anyone who came walking in. He was thankful for that, particularly when his merry band of comrades waltzed into the hospital wing. He doesn’t want to talk to them– he really doesn’t. Sure, they were nice to him. They found out about his secret and didn’t care. That had been kind of them, and he knew it. They could have told everyone. They could have turned their back on him, and gotten him expelled. But they didn’t. Instead, they had affectionately nicknamed him after it and had even named his secret. They called it his furry little problem. It was kind, he knew that. But he couldn’t fight the bile rising in his throat that he was in this hospital wing, not having Daniel pour water over his head until he woke up. He hated that he wasn’t at home in Gwynedd. He hated that he hadn’t been more careful. Because they could find out, and it would throw his balance off. It would change his entire center of gravity if they knew he was sneaking out of the dormitory to go skate. They might try to stop him, they might try to tag along, and at this point, Remus was unsure which would be worse. 

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when Peter’s soft voice cuts through his panicked haze. “Moony, you’ve gotta stop ending up in the hospital wing.” 

“Yeah, at this rate people might think you’re in love with Poppy,” James added.

“I resent that,” Remus muttered, his eyes trained on a spot on the wall in front of him. He didn’t know why his chest had that same vice grip feeling like something was deeply wrong with the statement. But instead of saying anything, he did his best to shake it off. These were his friends after all. It was fine for friends to take the piss. He’d be fine. 

“What even happened Moony? Evans apparently found you on her morning rounds.”

“Yeah! My girl’s worried sick over you, Moons!” 

“Firstly, and I hate to be the one to break this to you, she’s not your girl.” Remus starts, trying to give himself the time to come up with some excuse. “I was walking around with the map last night, trying to finish it, and I tripped. Must’ve smacked my head pretty hard.” 

Sirius leered at him like he knew Remus wasn’t quite telling the truth, and for a split second, he panicked over the deck behind the bed, painted with the phases of the moon. Thre was no way they’d believe it belonged to anyone but him, and he knew it. 

“Mates, don’t you have a charms lesson you need to get to.” 

“Fuck.” And then the three boys are running off. Remus couldn’t be more thankful. Now he only had to have Poppy release him from the hospital wing, and he’d be home fucking free. But given that after they leave, the healer does not return, he realized he probably wasn’t going back his dormitory just yet. So instead he closes his heavy eyes, and begins to run through how he’s feeling. Why does his chest tighten when is mates mention dating birds. Sure, a few years ago when it began, he could justify it as being because of his age. But he was fourteen now, and it was getting less and less easy to use those same justifications. Why wasn’t he interested? He felt like he should be. His thoughts begin to travel, as they always do, to a particular pair of storm grey eyes, that seem to hold some secret deep within them. He recognizes it, because it’s a look he wears so well. And yet, he can’t push himself to think more about it— it scares him too much. So instead he thrashes a bit on the bed, trying to fall asleep. But sleep does not come to him, not that it ever has easily. Too often, he has a thrumming in his veins that he can only quell on concrete, too afraid of not getting away fast enough. What he needs to get away from remains to be seen. After all, he only has snippets of memories of Greyback. So when fiery red hair enters the periphery of his half lidded eyes, he immediately is put on the defensive. Sure, he liked Lily. But he didn’t know why she was here, nor what she wanted. They were friendly, but they weren’t really friends. 

“You gave me quite the fright this morning.”

“Good morning to you too, Evans.”

“Are you really so arrogant that you can’t wear a helmet, Lupin?” 

“What do I need a helmet for? I tripped.”

“You’re full of shite and you know it. I’m not stupid, Remus. You, of all people, should know that.”

He sighs in defeat. “Lils, please don’t tell anyone. I just— I wanna keep stuff like home and stress relief kind of off limits here.” There was no one Remus would dare trust more than Lily Evans. She was smart and loyal, and from their long hours in the library together, he knew she valued him as a friend. 

“Alright.” She sighs in return, a look of endearment across her face. It reminded him of Erika. Erika, who, just like Justin, has picked him up so many times after he fell. “One condition.”

“Alright, what's the condition?” He hoped, in vain, that the desperation wasn’t sinking into his voice. 

“Come get me when you wanna go for a late night stroll. Buddy system an’ all that. Someone’s gotta get help if you crack your head open again.”

“Fine, but breathe a word of this to James and you’re dead to me.”

This was a deal Remus could live with. Lily was a muggle. She understood.  The two didn’t mix. The closest they had ever gotten was a few odd letters exchanged between him and Daniel, or him and Justin, all of which involved questioning why his school didn’t have a bloody telephone. It was something he only spoke about with Lily Evans. Lily understood him in a way the other marauders often didn’t. She understood why he missed the comforts of home, the things that his friends probably never would. She accompanied him on late-night skates, because, according to her, he could get hurt, and then who would heal him so he didn’t wake up in the hospital wing. Lily tended to roast him for how much he kept in his pockets, and the fact that he would forgo any and all wizarding clothes, in favor of his soft trackies and a beanie. She told him so often, that he looked like a proper skater as if he wasn’t one already. Shee also tended to lay into him for his outright refusal to wear a helmet, but at this point, it had become quite endearing. She was a prefect, and she covered for him when he was out of bounds. It was nice, to have someone who understood. 

It was nice, up until she made him confront his feelings. “You skate when you’re trying to process your feelings.” It was a statement, not a question. As if she was informing him of something. That was different if you asked Remus. 

“And?”

“Just wondering what you’re processing.”

“None of your business, red.”

“C’mon, Remus. Enlighten me.”

“You can keep a secret?”

“I keep secrets for you all the time.”

“‘S about Sirius, who I know you don’t like.”

“Lay it on me.”

He takes a deep breath to steel himself against what he’s about to do. “I’m–“ i think i have a crush on him. coward. “worried about him. coping the way he does can’t be healthy.” 

“skating out of bounds every night for four weeks and making your mates repair a board you broke in a rage is also not healthy, Remus.”

“Sirius has a lot more emotional range than me. I have for moods, silent brooding, loud brooding, silent skating, loud skating.”

“skating isn’t a mood.”

“it is now.”

She looked at him like she knew something he didn’t, but the conversation was laid to rest. He wasn’t budging on this one. He was too afraid of it getting out. It wasn’t exactly like being bent was acceptable.

It was their fifth year when his friends started to catch on. He was fifteen when he stopped trying to keep his head down around them. He had spent the last four years sneaking out of the dorm and running off to blow off steam on his board. He knew he wasn’t really supposed to, he’d been caught by prefects more than once, but what else was he supposed to do? He needed some way to decompress when Snape was snooping around, whispering about the faggot in the marauders. Often times, that same rumor went around about Sirius, but the boy maintained a parade of girls in their year who were interested, and no one really believed it. People had no problem believing that the prefect who spent all his time sneaking around alone and had never had a girlfriend was bent. It was all mounting pressure. His mam was starting to get sick, his classes were so hard, his condition tore him up repeatedly, and he worried about the safety of the marauders. All of it felt like too much. He needed a way to relax when everything was off-kilter, and he missed the rough concrete against his hands when he fell, or the sound of his wheels spinning beneath his feet.  It wasn’t something to be ashamed of– he knew that. But he was surrounded by wizards. A particular three of whom didn’t understand the muggle world at all, let alone the niche interest of skate culture. And besides, skating was a safe space for him. It was a part of his life that he kept closed off, like how he spoke welsh exclusively at home, or how he never talked about his friends.

Remus also liked the freedom the map had afforded him, he could skate through the grounds and the halls, attempting trick after trick, as a way to get acquainted with the secrets of the castle. He could make sure no one was coming when he needed to. But on the night they found out, he had left the map behind, left Lily behind, in favor of some much needed alone time. He had been trying and failing to figure himself out. He wanted to know what it meant when his eyes caught the way Sirius’s bone structure in the dappled sunlight of their dorm. He wanted to know why he couldn’t look away. He wanted to know why every time Sirius flirted with Marlene it made him angry. He wanted to know why it felt like his stomach was fluttering every time Sirius opened his mouth. But he knew why. He knew this was how James talked about Lily, he recognized that he looked at Sirius the way Justin looked at his girlfriend Erika. He wanted to know why this had happened to him. He was trying to grind out his frustration in the grip tape, with the fervor of every pop shove-it landed and every heelflip that he primo’d or pushed too far. Why did he have to be the poof of the friend group?  It wasn’t until Sirius stepped into his way, and he slammed on the hard stone floor, that he realized he hadn’t been paying enough attention. 

“Moony! What the hell are you doing?” 

Frustration, resentment, irritation, and so much more began to bubble up within him. Here was Sirius, bloody beautiful Sirius, forcing him out of his groove, and injecting himself into Remus’s safe space. His alone time. “What the fuck does it look like?” Well, maybe he didn’t have to be so rude. Perhaps it was a genuine question, but Remus couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when Sirius was staring at him

“It looks like you neglected to mention that you’re a bloody skateboarder. What the fuck, mate? I thought we weren’t doing secrets anymore. We became animagi for you Moony! How could you hold out on us with something so bloody cool?” 

Remus suppressed a cringe at the term skateboarder because it just wasn’t something people said. He knew it was some part of the skater in him that did so, with all of his lessons in skate etiquette (the dumb shit you need to know not to say was the name of that particular lesson) that had impressed this opinion on him. “It wasn’t a secret. It just isn’t something I mentioned. Besides, what’s it to you, Sirius?” 

A look of recognition passed over Sirius’s face, and Remus noticed the way his eyebrows furrowed as if he was growing cross. 

“Why are you being such a tosser, Remus? How’d you even learn this? I don’t know a single other wizard who owns a skateboard.” 

“You do know I had a life before you, before this smarmy, stuffy old place, before any of this shit. God, sometimes everyone here makes me just want to go!” 

And with that, he was off. He grabbed his board and ran, before jumping back on to get some much-needed air time. It was tiring to run from everything all the time. Remus couldn’t help it, of course. Not when he had so much to hide, with his friends constantly pulling pranks that only ever seemed to put his secrets on the line. This was something people could take away from him. He wasn’t willing to take the risk. The final weeks of the term came and went, with Remus not mentioning it a single time to Sirius. He wasn’t willing to talk about it, and he knew Sirius wasn’t going to bring it up until Remus decided they were done fighting.

He didn’t know that Sirius watched him leave, arms wrapped around himself in a self soothing position, and wishing he hadn’t put Remus in that position. He didn’t know that Sirius understood keep something tucked away because of a self preservation instinct. He didn’t know that Sirius resolved not to tell anyone while he was watching Remus, or that he thought it was fantastic that his moony had something that made him smile that wide. But it was okay that he didn’t know, because Sirius didn’t know how to tell him.

Modern Times Rock and Roll (Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader, SMUT!)

Part 7 of The Queen Repertoire

Warnings: SMUT!, Language

Notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO BEN HARDY! 

The music was pumping and his eyes stared fixated at me as I danced. I, however, paid him no mind, that is, until my friend pointed him out to me.

“Roger Taylor is staring at you!” she giggled.

I turned around and saw him standing at the bar. I smirked at him.

“Not bloody likely,” scoffed [Y/F/N]'s co-worker Annalise. “He's probably mesmerized by my shimmery dress and out-of-this-world curves.” She danced seductively.

“Why did we have to bring her again?” I whispered to my friend.

“She got dumped this morning,” [Y/F/N] said. “I felt bad...”

“Besides you've got your own man don't you?” the co-worker continued on.

“Yeah,” I said smiling. “I do.”

I'd met Roger a couple months earlier. Smile had just performed with their new singer and new bassist. The show had been wild and way better than it used to be. I thoroughly enjoyed it all. So much so I felt absolutely drained afterwards and decided to get one more drink before heading home.

I'd ordered my drink and proceeded to wait. As I did someone sat down in the stool beside me. “Her drink's on me, Reg.”

I looked beside me to see a familiar blonde with a cocky grin on his face.

“Her drink's on me, Reg” I repeated to the barkeep. “No offense I just don't feel comfortable accepting a drink from a stranger. You might slip me something for all I know.”

“First off the name's Roger, Roger Meddows Taylor,” he said. “And secondly I would never do something that fucked up. It honestly pisses me off whenever I see entitled wankers drug innocent girls to have their way. Like that piece of shit over there,” he motioned at a disgusting snake of a man slipping a pill of sorts into a girl's martini. The barkeep gave me my drink and went to toss the bastard out.

“Good eye mate,” Reg said as he walked away. Roger smiled and held his beer up to him for a second.

“Now what do I call you other than beautiful?” he asked.

“[Y/N],” I said. “[Y/N]  [Y/L/N].”

“Well [Y/N] would you care to join me for the rest of the night?” he asked me. My eye's must've grown wide for he promptly panicked. “Not like that, darling. No, I mean would you like to maybe hang out with me for a bit?”

Just then my ex walked in with his arm wrapped around the flavor of the week. We'd been broken up for six or so months and every now and then he'll call insisting I take him back. That he didn't mean to cheat on me. Wanker.

I immediately turn around desperate to hide my face.

“Is something wrong?” Roger asked.

“Asshole ex just walked in so...yeah,” I said panicking.

“Tall, ape-like with a ghastly jacket?” Roger asked peering over at him as sneakily as he could.

“Don't look!” I hissed. “And thank fuck I'm not the only one who hates that shite excuse for a jacket.”

Roger laughed then got closer to me. “Come on, I can get us out without being spotted by tall, dark, and wanker.”

“Really?” He smiled and held out his hand to me.

I normally wouldn't trust someone right off the bat but I was desperate. I killed the rest of my drink and placed my hand in his.

“Right now whatever you do don't go too far from me,” he started leading us to the stage. I panicked and grabbed his arm. “It's alright my car's parked by the back door we'll be out of here in no time.”

So I continued to follow him. We were almost out of the dance floor when Roger turned and froze.

“Shit he and the walking herpes are coming for a dance,” he damn near growled. He then drew me in close and we started to sway our way away.

“This song is pretty plain compared to your music,” I said shocking Roger. “What? You didn't think I paid attention to your band? I would have figured someone with an ego as big as yours would soak up such attention.”

“Well it's hard to maintain an ego and drum at the same time,” he pointed out. “So, what did you think?”

“I liked it,” I said. “It was different than anything I've ever heard before, and I love the energy you and your mates share. You all must really love each other.”

“We're family, of course we do,” he said. “We love each other and our modern time's rock and roll.”

Suddenly it was like a light bulb went off in his head.

“Everything alright?” I asked.

“Yeah, just have some words coming to me for a new song,” he said.

“Well, I can't wait to hear it,” I said.

He then peered over my shoulder. “Fuck they're getting closer, um, please don't kick me in the bollocks for this.” He then leaned in and crashed his lips to mine.

I was stunned at first but I couldn't deny that it was the best I'd had in a long, long, time. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him back. I don't know how we managed to get out of the dance floor while kissing without banging into the random pub-goers but we did. I didn't know it, of course, until Roger pulled back.

We were standing by the stage stairs, and Roger's cheeks had blushed a beautiful shade of pink. “Come on,” he said. We went up the stair and dashed to back stage where the back door stood. We bolted out and into his car.

“God, I owe you so much,” I breathed a sigh of relief once we started down the road.

“Well you can thank me by agreeing to join me for dinner some time,” he smiled.

“Okay,” I said.

“Really?” he said sounding relieved.

I smiled and leaned over kissing him on the cheek. I rested my body against him and watched as he pulled into a popular make-out spot in the local park. “I've never been here before.”

“Really? That twat never brought you here?” I shook my head.

“He probably brought the girl he cheated with though,” I said.

“It's his loss,” Roger said. “If I'm ever lucky enough to be with you I wouldn't ever let you go.”

“You don't even know me,” I said.

“I know you like Smile,” he said. “And I know you sometimes sit at the bar alone with a frown on your face and drink in hand. I know when not in class you hang out by the tree outside Imperial's library and read. And I know that when you were fourteen you attended a party and had the most magical kiss of your life with a young boy who's voice cracked annoyingly, and whose hair kept getting in his face. Though you probably don't remember that part considering the room was dark as night.”

I sat back and looked at him in shock. Not even my friends at the time (who dragged me to said party) knew about that. It was a game of 7 minutes in Heaven and I never actually found out who the boy was...that is until that night in Roger's car.

“I should have known by the overly suave pick-up lines,” I laughed. “I'm surprised you didn't just go with the old technique.”

“What? You mean,” he cleared his throat. “Didn't you feel it?”

I rolled my eyes. “Feel what?”

“The Earth,” he said leaning closer to mean. “It shifted with our meeting.”

I laughed. “That is still cheesy.”

“And you still love it,” he laughed bringing his lips to mine.

And just like I did then I felt the magic.

Sometime later, with the radio on low with music that wasn't his bands modern times rock and roll, he laid on top of me in the backseat. We were naked and he was lined up with my entrance. He kissed me once more and slipped in, cursing under his breath once he was inside me.

I couldn't help but let out a “FUCK!” either as he stretched me. He moved gently, his brow furrowing as pleasure took over. I felt it too, and my God...it was honestly the most brilliant feeling in the world. Almost as if to drive the point home, a moan escaped from my lips.

“You like that?” Roger asked. I nodded, moving my hips with his. “Good, 'cause I―Fuck!―I love fucking you.”

We continued like that for what felt like hours. The windows fogged up and once Roger started thrusting into my sweet spot it was damn near impossible for me to contain myself. “OH FUCK ROGER!” My moans became louder and the tension within my body grew stronger. My toes curled up and suddenly I was screaming into the night as I tightened around him. My body trembled as I came down from my high. Roger followed soon after moaning loudly as he shot his seed into me.

We laid there together for a while, sweaty and in bliss. He took me home soon after and we'd been together ever since.

Now as I danced with my friend and Annalise, Roger continued to stare at me. Finally he gulped down the last of his drink and started towards us. Annalise, with the smuggest look on her face approached him.

“Hey there,” she greeted him seductively while attempting to grind on him. “I couldn't help but notice you staring. Would you care for a dance?”

“I was actually going to dance with my girlfriend,” Roger said. “So if you will excuse me.” He brushed passed her and embraced me. “Hello darling,” he pecked me on the lips.

“Hi,” I said beaming up at him.

“Wanna go? Music's kind of shit tonight,” he said.

“Yeah true, it's no modern times rock and roll,” I said right before we started heading out leaving Annalise to gawk.

We married a year later and I became pregnant. At the end of every night, he would sing the exact same words to me...

Well I hope this baby's gonna come along soon You don't know it could happen any ol' rainy afternoon

When I asked him about he just said it was part of a song the band was recording for their first studio album. Said that a very special girl had inspired it.

“A girl who loves our modern times rock and roll,” he'd say kissing me. “And who loves me.”

I laugh and kiss him as I would for the rest of our lives.

Taglist: @okaykathryn  @fairestkillerqueenofall @onceuponadetectivedemigod @boherahpsody @thebohemianpenguin @ihatethespacebars @madsthegroupie @freddie-bulsara-queen @rose-de-jaune @xxkellsvixen19xx @valeriecarolinaw @5sos-wdw @hearttshapeddboxx @spicyarreagaa @fluffffffffffff @pleasingiswhatweaimfor @hatemylifesofuckingmuch @jollyavacado @painandpleasure86 @haileynicoleseavey17 @queenlover1997 @rrogerrz​ @peachyywine​ @mrsmazzello​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @zwiezraczek​ @night-writer-writer​ @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever​ @tinywildeace​

Baby, You’re A Rich Man XI

Chapter: 11/28

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The next few days were an absolute drag, Ringo even called up work and asked if anybody needed their shift covered cause he just wanted time to speed up. He hadn't seen George since they went out to get his suit fitted, at least that was the last time he'd seen him in person; he'd seen George a lot in his mind. Ringo started to really miss him, and the flowers beginning to wilt in his kitchen only made his sadness all the more intense. It was still two days until the wedding, but Ringo felt like he really couldn't wait any longer. He kept hoping that George would visit him at work but he never did, and Ringo wondered if he ever would again. Eventually he caved in and decided to give George a call. He finished work at 3 and plucked up the courage to call George after only 20 minutes of pacing and debating. The sound of the phone ringing made him nervous, and once again he considered hanging up, he had no idea what George's schedule was and he could be busy, he might not even be home. After a few moments of Ringo pacing as much as he could without pulling the phone out of the wall, a voice answered but it wasn't George's.

"Hello?" It was Paul, and Ringo instantly felt nervous.

"Oh- Hi, Paul. It's Ringo. Is George there?" Ringo fiddled with a loose strand of hair.

"Oh, hi Ringo. Yeah, he's just in the loo, don't expect he'll be too long. How are you, anyway?" Paul had such a soothing voice, and Ringo easily calmed himself listening to it.

"Yeah, yeah, not too bad. And yourself?" Ringo tried to sound casual.

"Yeah, alright... Did you need George for something?"

"Not particularly. Just haven't seem him in a few days, wanted to check up on him." The nerves were coming back now.

"Aw, that's well sweet of you." He paused "He won't want me telling you this but he's been going on about you non-stop. He's been so excited about this wedding, keeps gushing about you in a suit." Paul chuckled lightly and it made Ringo blush.

"Oh really? I hope I'm worth the wait then." Ringo smiled "Will you and John be there?"

"We sure will be. You practically get disowned if you miss events like these. They're alright, John has a tendency to get a bit drunk and start a row. But- Oh, here's George now I'll pass you on." Paul didn't have a chance to say goodbye because George rather quickly snatched the phone, Ringo could hear Paul and John laughing in the background.

"Hey Ringo, they weren't chatting any shite were they?" George sounded a little flustered, it was a side to him Ringo hadn't really seen.

"No, not at all. I just wanted to see how you were, but if you're busy that's fine I can call back la-" Ringo began.

"No, I'm not busy!" George said hastily, then paused and Ringo imagined he was cursing himself "Are you alright?"

"Good, yeah. Just, er- Haven't heard from you in a few days, you know?" Ringo chuckled nervously.

"Missing me already, are you?" George lowered his voice.

"Suppose I might be... What have you been up to?" Ringo wished he'd thought of something to say before he rang.

"Not much, just business stuff really. That same family's been kicking up some trouble again, but we seem to have it under control." George explained, he'd returned to his normal self now.

"Oh dear, you haven't been hurt or anything have you?" Ringo winced when he thought about the state George had gotten into last time.

"No, no. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it." George chuckled.

"Pretty?" Ringo scoffed.

"Well, I'd like to call you something else but I've got company you see." George's voice grew huskier.

"You're not half a bleeding flirt, George." Ringo tried to sound like he didn't like it, but that wasn't the case.

"Oh right, and what's the other half?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Do tell."

"You'll have to wait to hear that one."

"Aren't you a little tease?"

"I'm not a little anything."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

Ringo let out a spluttered laugh at the comment, as much as he'd love to talk dirty to George over the phone right now he couldn't contain his laughter "Look, I shouldn't keep you from your mates."

"Who says they're my mates?"

"You do, you pillock. I should get going, I'm pretty knackered from work. What time are you gonna pick me up Thursday?" Ringo really wanted to stay, but he didn't really want to let anything on to Paul and John - even if George hadn't been too good at hiding it.

"Probably around 9, I'll bring the suit and all that and we can get to the wedding about 10?" George had a twinge of hopefulness in his voice, and it made Ringo smile.

"Now when you say 9, do you mean 9? Or do you mean showing up an hour earlier so you can catch me being a sweaty mess?" Ringo chuckled.

"Well, I do mean 9, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to see you a sweaty mess again." Ringo could hear the grin on his face.

"I'm sure that be arranged." He didn't give George a time to respond, as much as Ringo knew he wanted to "I'll see you Thursday, then. Bye, George."

"Goodbye Ringo. Don't forget to wear those rings." George joked, but there was a darkness behind his words.

Ringo just smiled, said his goodbyes again and hung up the phone. His mood was immediately lifted after speaking to George, it was like it transported him to a whole other world. As much as he'd rather see him, he didn't dare bother him again, especially if he had important stuff to deal with.

Paul's words kept echoing in his mind the next couple of days, and every time he thought about George talking about him it made him smile. Ringo wondered why he didn't tell these things explicitly to him, like the things he'd heard when he was outside his front door, and he expected it was the same reason Ringo hadn't been completely honest either - they just liked each other so much they were scared of ruining it. It was stupid really, but a strange sort of tradition when getting to know someone.

Ringo debated in his mind whether he should tell George how he really felt, he had no fear of rejection since he knew George's true feelings, but still something told him to take things slow. Ringo was fairly happy with the stage they were at now, it was comfortable, and if feelings became explicitly involved it might take it to somewhere a bit stranger. He hadn't thought about anything that serious with George, but maybe now it was time to start; he was going to be his date after all. George was going to show him off to the rest of his 'family' without any shame, it seemed like a pretty big step for Ringo but he wondered whether George just did this all the time, like it wasn't that big of a deal. It wasn't a pleasant thought, so Ringo tried to avoid it. For now he was just going to see how things went, there was no use planning for a future that might not happen after all.

All Ringo was sure of was that this whole wedding ordeal was going to be a large step for him, especially for his relationship with George, and he just had to go with the flow and see where it took him. In all honesty he knew where it was taking him: straight into George's bed, and Ringo had no issue with that at all.

Thursday finally came around, and Ringo had luckily remembered to book the time off work. He made sure to wake up nice and early, which was a struggle, so that he could hop in the shower and freshen up before George showed up. This time, he arrived on time, and Ringo couldn't help the excitement bubbling in his stomach when he heard him knocking on the door. He'd gotten dressed even though he knew it was pointless, a part of him just wanted to look presentable. He swung the door open probably a little too excitedly, and George was standing there with his arms full.

"I believe you ordered a suit, sir?" George chuckled, plonking a shoe box into Ringo's hands as smoothly as he could.

"I believe I did." Ringo smiled as he led George into the living room once more.

"In the end I decided to just get you the one, so if you can try to tone down your handsomeness I'd much appreciate it." George lay the suit on the back of one of the chairs.

"I suppose I'll have to try." Ringo joked, standing in the doorway when George gave him a funny look.

"Well go on then, what are you waiting for? Try it on!" George scoffed as he unzipped the suit cover.

Ringo shifted his weight "Oh... Right now?"

"If you wanna make it to this wedding then yes, right now." George tutted sarcastically "If you want to close my eyes or something I will, but I was kinda looking forward to this bit."

Ringo blushed, then sheepishly walked further into the room and put the shoebox down on the floor. He walked over to the suit and took it out of its cover, holding it up in the hanger so that he could see it in the mirror. It was a very nice suit, nicer than anything Ringo ever thought he'd ever own. There was a tie and a handkerchief too, but they were of clashing patterns, not that Ringo was a fashion expert of any kind but it did seem an odd choice. He looked up at George and... Oh. He realised that the handkerchief of his suit was identical to the pattern of George's tie, with his tie matching George's handkerchief. Ringo blushed.

"Sorry if its a bit cheesy, I thought it'd be nice... Funny y'know." George turned away to look in the mirror, Ringo could've sworn he saw hints of red on his cheeks.

"No its nice, was just a bit confused at first." Ringo smiled reassuringly then began to undress.

He felt George's eyes on him as he lifted his jumper above his head, he felt the sudden urge to cover himself up or to ask George to leave the room, but he powered through the embarrassment and continued to take off his clothes. Standing in his boxers and his socks, he took the suit off the hanger piece by piece and worked his way into it. Even the shirt was nice, Ringo guessed it probably cost more than his entire wardrobe put together. He lay the tie undone across his neck, he was a little embarrassed that he wouldn't be able to make it look presentable enough, so decided to leave it until last. The whole time he felt George watching him, and while his gaze was somewhat predatory it didn't make him feel uncomfortable, at least not in the negative sense, and whenever he looked up at George he would give him a small smile. He squeezed into the shoes, the first real leather shoes he'd owned, and wiggled his toes in them as he walked around the room to break them in somewhat.

"Does everything fit?" George cleared his throat before speaking.

"Feels like it. I hardly recognise myself." Ringo chuckled as he stepped up to the mirror.

"You look good." George breathed, taking a step closer to him "Who knew I had such good taste?"

"In suits or in men?" Ringo winked, fiddling with his tie hesitantly.

"Looks like both." George smiled darkly "You need help with that tie?"

"Uh... Yeah, I do. Bit embarrassing but even in school I could never do it properly, was always getting yelled at for it." Ringo continued fiddling with the fabric awkwardly.

"Come 'ere." George laughed, his quick fingers getting to work as he tied Ringo's tie for him.

Ringo gulped rather obviously as he looked down at George's hands, he couldn't help remembering how he had been thinking about them last. George pulled his focused gaze away for a second to glance at Ringo, and Ringo suspected that George knew exactly what he was thinking. George just chuckled, then turned Ringo to face the mirror with him.

"There, we make quite the pair. Don't you think?" George grinned widely, his arm across Ringo's shoulder.

"Huh, we sure do. Could give Paul and John a run for their money." Ringo chuckled but then panicked when he thought he might be insinuating something.

"Urgh, don't mention them. You know how hard it is to find a fella when you've got those two as the shining example? You shouldn't even worry about meeting my parents, them two are the real test." George let go of Ringo then, who only blushed at the thought of meeting George's parents.

"How long have they been together?" Ringo started fixing his hair that had been ruffled out of place.

"It's hard to say. As long as I've known them they've practically been inseparable. Technically I think it's 3 years this year, but I could be wrong." George stood behind Ringo then, and ran his hand quickly through his hair to mess it up.

"Funny." Ringo rolled his eyes "Was it easier around them, then? I mean, being... You know."

"Being a flaming queer?" George laughed "Yeah, I suppose it was. I mean we all messed around quite a bit when we were younger and it just stuck."

"Messed around like, with each other?" Ringo was almost looking presentable.

"Scandalous, I know. It was just boys being silly, or at least that's what we pretended it was. Then suddenly it stopped, and Paul and John were dating so I had to find my fun elsewhere."

"Have you been with a lot of guys then? If you don't mind me asking." Ringo tried to not sound as curious as he felt.

"Depends what you mean by 'been with'. I've been around the block a few times, but never anything serious. Never taken one to a wedding, let's just put it that way." George smiled somewhat sheepishly.

"Well aren't I lucky?" Ringo felt comforted by George's answer, even though he knew he shouldn't care about his past.

"With a face like that, I'd say so." George stepped closer to him again and lifted up Ringo's chin gently to stare into his eyes.

"You're one to talk." Ringo whispered.

"You better shut me up, then." George rubbed the stubble on Ringo's chin gently.

Ringo smirked and leaned in to the other man, one hand going for his hip under his jacket and the other caressing his neck. George hummed happily against his lips, Ringo smiling into the kiss. He wondered if he'd ever get tired of kissing George, or if it would ever stop lighting a fire in his stomach, because it certainly didn't seem to be happening any time soon. George put his hand on the small of Ringo's back and dipped him backwards slightly, pushing his chest up against him. Ringo moved his hand to George's face and he felt him jerk slightly at the feeling of the cold metal of Ringo's rings on his skin which made Ringo chuckle. He had gotten used to that reaction, but seeing George respond like that instantly made him smile. George deepened the kiss, grabbing the fabric of Ringo's jacket and taking a fistful of his hair at the back of his head. Ringo moaned lowly as George pushed his tongue into his mouth, feeling his sharp teeth teasingly nibble at his lip.

Ringo was the one to break the kiss when he felt himself getting a little flustered, he didn't want to end up being late because they had pushed the late night entertainment forward, that certainly wasn't a good way to make a first impression.

"Shouldn't we be heading off?" Ringo panted, his face still only inches away from George's.

"I suppose we have to." George smirked "But I expect to pick up where we left off once we get back to mine."

"If you insist." Ringo smiled awkwardly, and it made George smile too.

George stepped back then, adjusting himself for a final time in the mirror before heading out of the room. Ringo remained in front of the mirror, the nervousness of this important social event was beginning to sink in, and he worried that he wasn't going to fit in there. He remembered how the tailor had regarded him, how he could sense that Ringo wasn't one of them, and then imagined it on a larger scale with every one of George's friends turning their noses up at him. He had been so concerned with handling George that he hadn't even considered the magnitude of the situation. He looked pretty sharp, or so he thought, but was it good enough? He let out a sigh and saw George waiting for him in the doorway.

"Ringo, stop being ridiculous. You look gorgeous, now let's get driving or I'll get a belting from Paul for being late." George's words were serious but his smile was warm and it helped Ringo relax.

As Ringo walked past George into the hallway, George seized his hand swiftly and raised it up to lips, pressing a soft but long kiss on the back of palm, his gaze unbreakable from Ringo's before heading to the front door. Ringo blushed and followed behind the other man quickly, once again having the door opened for him and stepping out into the cold morning. George's car was waiting across the street, and the two of them walked towards it briskly. Before Ringo opened the car door, George tapped on the roof of the vehicle to grab his attention.

"You've got no need to be nervous. I won't know half the people there, and the other half I don't like." George chuckled "Just see it as an opportunity for free food and a lot of free drinks."

"How much is a lot?" Ringo forced a smile, but he couldn't fully hide his nerves.

"Well last time I went to one of these things, I woke up in the next town over with all my money gone and a headache that lasted a week." George smiled a toothy grin.

"Sorry I thought you were supposed to be convincing me to go?" Ringo raised his eyebrow.

"Ha ha." George said sarcastically "Look, we only really have to show our faces for a little bit. We can leave as soon as you've had enough of it all. But I don't think you're gonna wanna miss seeing John picking another fight with a lamppost."

Ringo sniggered "Well, I can't miss that now can I?"

George just smiled then climbed into the car, Ringo following suit. Before they set off, George placed his hand on top of Ringo's and squeezed it tightly. Ringo let out a breath he wasn't even realising he was holding, then turned his hand around so that he could interlock his fingers with George's. It only made his heart race faster as he felt George's skin against his own in such an innocent and affectionate way. It was reassuring to know that he didn't have to hide this, at least not right now, or for the rest of the day. Even if it was living in a fantasy world somewhat, he would enjoy it for now at least. George squeezed his hand once more, running his thumb slowly across the back of Ringo's hand before pulling his hand away and starting the car.

Ringo had a feeling that this was going to be one of the best day's of his life, and it was only the beginning of a whole series of things. The beginning of his life with George. He could get used to saying that.

Deserve What You Get

Sirius/Lily, Sirius/Lily/James

Summary: Both Sirius and Lily want James, but they know that they’re not good enough for him. Some time together though... that’s not a bad idea. 

On AO3 or below 

It was a regular Saturday after the war ended, which meant that there was another party to celebrate everyone that was still alive and kicking. For Sirius, this meant sulking in a corner with a drink in his hand as he watched James flirt with yet another random arse person. (And okay, Fabian wasn't really random, but he didn't understand why James insisted on throwing himself at a different person every single week.) 

Lily came up next to him this time, a beer in her hand and a look on her face that said she wasn't having a good time either. 

"How's it going Lily?" Sirius asked. 

"Fine." 

"Yeah you always say that when you're drinking beer. Didn't you call it 'the weak grain piss of alcoholic beverages'?" 

Lily snorted, leaning her head back against the wall. "Yeah, and it tastes like shit." 

"Then why are you doing it?" 

"I don't think you're in a position to judge me for my brand of masochism." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

She gestured with her beer towards James and the way he was currently beaming at Fabian like he was the best person alive. What an arse-- although, yes, Fabian was pretty awesome, but still he wasn't exactly James's type now was he? 

Sirius glanced at her, wondering if he should deny it. Want was as clear in her face as it was in his own though, so he just shrugged. "I'm not good enough for him and I know it." He paused, then added, "You're not either." 

"I know. I had my chance back at Hogwarts and I didn't take it." 

"He was kinda an arse back then," Sirius said, in the interest of fairness. 

"Course he was, but you still loved him." 

"What can I say, as long as it's him, I don't care." Hell, Sirius hardly knew what attraction to another person felt like. Lily, for example, was bloody gorgeous, and he had some sort of interest in her, but bugger if he knew what to call it. 

Lily hummed. "So how long've you been pining?" 

"Longer than you," he said, and that's all the information he was going to give on the subject. 

"Well yeah," she said, but she didn't pry further. Either she knew that Sirius wasn't going to talk about it any more, or she didn't actually care to find out. She took a pull from her beer and pulled a face. 

Sirius snatched it from her hand, ignoring her protests. "If you're going to engage in self-destruction, why don't you pick something a little more fun, hm?" 

"Is that an offer?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Well it wasn't, but it could be if you were interested." 

"I vote we go back to your place and see if it's any fun." 

"Why not yours?" Sirius wasn't exactly thrilled to bring home a hook-up in the flat he and James shared; it just seemed wrong. Not that Lily was only a 'hook-up', but still, it felt weird. 

Lily wrinkled her nose. "Marlene and Dorcas are having a 'romantic date night', which basically means they'll be shagging on the couch. I don't know about you, but I don't want to have to walk past that." 

"Mine it is." 

*

Because Lily was a friend, she stayed the night afterwards. It didn't feel awkward or summat, but Sirius did sort of forget that James would be there in the morning. Unless James did end up going home with Fabian, but considering his poor success rate, it wasn't likely. Lily had kinda forgotten about that too. 

She was in the kitchen trying to start a pot of coffee for them. The grounds were easy to find, but the filters were acting like they had a vanishing spell on them. "Sirius," she called, "where do you keep the bloody coffee filters?" 

"Lily?" asked a voice that was very definitely not Sirius. 

She jumped, banging her head against the cupboard door. "Ow," she said, holding a hand to the spot as she winced. 

James was staring at her, looking absolutely dumbstruck. "What are you doing here?" 

"Er. Nothing?" she tried. 

That was the moment that Sirius showed up. "Hey Lily, I found your- er, morning James," he said, hiding her bra behind his back. She hadn't been able to find it earlier, but it's not like she was running out the door, so she hadn't bothered to look very hard before going to the kitchen. 

James was looking between the two of them, mouth open in shock. "Are you- what the- when the fuck did you start dating?" he said eventually, shouting the question at Sirius accusingly. 

"Erm." Sirius shifted his weight uneasily, and Lily piped up. 

"It's not really dating. It's er, more like we had sex last night and we don't know if it's going to happen again." 

"Do you want it to?" James asked, and it didn't seem like either answer would make him happy. 

Lily and Sirius shared a look because they hadn't thought this far ahead, and they sure as hell hadn't talked about it yet. 

"I dunno," Sirius said. "It's not like you're still hung up on her or that she's an ex. I- well James, I thought it'd be okay. Like, why would it matter to you, y'know?" 

There was a long moment, then James smiled at him sheepishly. "Right, sorry." He glanced at Lily, then back to Sirius. "Just surprised, yeah? It's not like you've ever brought someone home before. Sorry," he said again, this time directing it at Lily. "I'll just, er- get out of your hair then." He beat a quick retreat, leaving both of them frowning after him. 

"That was weird," Lily said. 

Sirius nodded in agreement. "Very. Though he did ask a good question. Are we doing this again?" 

"I mean," Lily shrugged, "I had a good time. Seemed like you did too." 

"I did. Oh, filters are above the fridge, I'll grab them." He moved boxes of cereal aside to open the cabinet, then snatched the little bundle. 

"Why do you keep them all the way back there?" 

"I normally only drink it when I'm trying to reach a deadline, and James doesn't drink it at all." 

"Why not?" 

"He says it tastes like dirt." 

"As opposed to the ever so wonderful tea he's so attached to?" 

"I dunno mate, it's just what he says." 

There was quiet as Lily started the coffee. 

"Do we wanna do this again?" Sirius asked. 

She glanced at him, and he shrugged. 

"We both said that we had fun, and it's not like the other shite is going anywhere. Might as well, you know?" 

"Yeah, sounds good. Are we saying every weekend or every other or...? What are we doing?" 

"You could just call me when you get horny." 

Lily snickered. "Yeah Sirius? You want to be my booty call?" 

"I've done worse," he said with a smirk. 

"Oh don't worry, I remember." 

*

He and Lily had been doing... whatever it is they were doing, for about a month now. After that first, weird morning, James had been fine. At least that's what Sirius thought until he got home early from a business lunch to find Remus and James talking. He didn't see them, rather he heard them talking from James's room, and he decided not to announce his presence loudly when he heard his name mentioned. 

Assuming that it was going to be an embarrassing story about him, he crept closer to eavesdrop-- though if he was found, he was going to claim that it didn't count as eavesdropping if it was happening in his home. 

"I thought it was a one time thing," James was saying miserably. "Or a two time thing? I dunno, but I never thought it would turn into an actual relationship." 

"What does it matter?" Remus asked gently. "You said you were over Sirius before we graduated." 

A jolt went through Sirius. Over him? Why would he be the one that James was over? Shouldn't they be talking about Lily? And what the hell did he mean graduation? That would mean that James had liked him at Hogwarts, when they'd been joined at the hip and never went anywhere without the other. 

James sighed. "I know, I just- I guess I wasn't as over him as I thought. Or Lily for that matter." Sirius couldn't see him, but he knew that James was running a hand through his hair. 

"Prongs, I know this isn't what you want to hear, but they're happy together. I never thought that I'd see Lily with someone she actually liked, and Sirius..." 

When the silence went on too long, James prompted, "What about Sirius?" 

"Well," Remus said uncomfortably, "I never thought he'd get over you." 

"What?" 

"James, Sirius has been in love with you for as long as we've all been friends." 

"Why didn't you say something!" 

"I'm not in charge of your love life, James," he said in a hard voice, and there was a barely audible 'sorry'. Remus's voice went back to normal. "Listen, I thought you had a crush and that you'd be over it in a couple months. I was wrong obviously, but I didn't want for Sirius to end up heartbroken. He's... he's finally moved on. Please. Don't tell him now and ruin everything." 

"But he-" 

"No, James. He's happy. You had your chance, and it's too late. For both him, and Lily. Just let them be together, and after a while, you'll get over it." 

There was a long pause, and James muttered, "Yeah, I guess. Thanks for talking some sense into me Moony." 

"Now there's the full time job I've been looking for," he joked. "You can always talk to me Prongs. Any time you want, I'm here for you." 

Sirius was having trouble breathing. He didn't remember making the decision to go see Lily, but one moment he was in his flat, and the next he was on her doorstep. 

She opened the door a little later, surprised to see him. "Sirius? What are you doing here?" 

"I erm." He licked his lips. "Think we made a few assumptions about James." 

Lily looked at him for a moment, then stepped aside to let him through. "Come in, I'll put the kettle on." 

*

"This isn't going to go well," Sirius murmured, unlocking the door so he and Lily could enter. 

"Would you stop saying that? Even if James turns us down, it'll be fine." 

"What am I turning you down for?" James asked guilelessly, looking up from his book. 

"Well I was hoping you'd hear us out before saying no," Lily said. 

"Okaaaay. What is it?" 

Lily looked to Sirius to start talking since that's what they had agreed to. "We er, I mean, Lily and I, we were wondering if you wanted to date us. Like, all three of us as a couple instead of just the two of us." 

James blinked once, twice. "You're serious?" 

They both nodded. 

"Oh. Erm, I guess-" he started to say, then stopped. "You're not taking the piss?" 

"I don't think that would be very funny," Lily said. 

"Okay. Erm. If you're sure...?" 

"We are," Sirius said. 

"Then er, yeah. That sounds good." 

*

A few weeks of dating and they had a big fight when James admitted that he thought this was a phase for them. A couple months after that got smoothed over, Lily moved in with them. 

The alarm went off and Sirius slammed a hand on the top to shut it up. 

Lily groaned, smushing her face against James's chest. 

"Aw, c'mon Lils, we have to get up," James said, scratching his fingers against her scalp. 

"You're too chipper," Sirius mumbled. 

Lily rolled over to hide against Sirius's chest since James was too awake. Her hair got wrapped around her face, and she bat it away impatiently. 

James got up, stretched his arms above him with a satisfied noise, then looked at his partners. His beautiful, loving partners, that didn't look like they planned on getting up any time soon despite promising him that they wouldn't be late to breakfast with Peter and Remus this time. He ambled towards the kitchen to start coffee, knowing that the scent would get Lily up, and once they were both out of bed, Sirius would follow. 

It would still take them a while to fully wake up, but it would take even longer for them to realise that James had set the alarm for earlier than usual just to be sure they would be on time. Whatever, they deserved it.

Guilty or Innocent - Jonae’ra Vedeshu

Asked someone to marry you?

Jonae instantly stammered, stumbling over his words as he shyly rubbed his neck. “Uh heh n-no. I fancied a girl enough once an-an thought ‘bout askin’ but… we uh… we broke up before I could.” He frowns slightly but shrugs. “Not meant to be I guess.”

Kissed one of your friends?

His eyes widen a little and he now worries what type of interview he got himself into. “Me first girlfriend was me friend first so… I guess that counts? But… no. Not since then.”

Danced on a table in a bar / tavern?

Jonae laughed and shook his head. “Oi no. Thank the twelve no. Had a friend dance on a bar an’ I had to git him out b’fore we got booted out but no. Not myself. Got more sense in me not to get that knackered.”

Ever told a lie?

Jonae’s ear’s droop and his posture shrinks a little. “Me best mate likes to go after more dangerous hunts… By that I be meanin’ people. Me mum have a heart attack if she knew I was pickin’ up them type of bounties… So yea… Fibbed more than I cared to. Told her we was hunting monsters when we was really after thugs and bandits.” He sighs. “That’s the extent of it though. Not make it a habit of tellin’ lies.”

Had feelings for someone you can’t have?

Jonae thought a moment before sighing and shrugging. “Aye. A crush or two. Neva done nufin though. Not that I got the confidence to talk to pretty girls. But oi, it’s also a matter of respect though eh? Not gonna act on feelin’s if the girls taken. Not right, mate.”

Ever kissed someone of the same sex?

Jonae shrugs and shakes his head. “Peck on the cheek or head from me dad an’ older brothers when I was little but nothin’ past that. Nufin romantic.” 

Kissed a picture?

His ears drooped and he became somber. “Aye. Kissed the picture of me dad an’ older brothers. They died during the Calamity. Miss em.” He looked up quietly.

Slept until 5pm?

“Oh ya, mate.” He nodded quickly. “More than once. Usually after bein’ on the road an’ comin home.”

Worked at a fast food chain / restaurant

Jonae shook his head. “Neva have. Looks difficult though so… Not keen on tryin’.”

Stolen something?

“Ok look, mate.” He said quickly to defend himself. “I neva stole nufin but that don’t mean Raz always stealin’ stuff. An’ I happen t’be there. Look. Raz is a shite head an’ I don’t condone nufin like that.” 

Been fired from a job?

“Eh a time or two. Cheap ranch owners not wantin’ t’pay for honest work. First time was a ranch owner not wantin’ to pay when I killed all the beetles in his farm… Long story, they was antlions. Not beetles. An’ he didn’t wanna pay more.” He frowned. “He didn’t pay me so I found another antlion an’ led it to hims ranch. An’ left it there.” He shrugged.

Done something you regret?

“Mum says I worry too much an’ think too much on the past. Lots I regret. But can’t do nufin to change it. So ya think on it an’ learn. Move on, she says.” 

Laughed until something you were drinking came out of your nose?

Jonae chuckled. “Lots. Me best friend is a riot. Think he tries to get me to spit me drink out most of the time.” He laughed.

Caught a snowflake on your tongue?

“Oh aye! Course I did. Promise me kitten sis I would. First time seein’ snow was amazin’.” He smiled.

Sat on a roof top?

“Literally what I do when home in Ul’dah. Somethin’ relaxin’ sittin on a roof top at night watchin’ the night play out. It’s peaceful.”

Kissed someone you shouldn’t have?

“Eh no. Only had a couple of girls… That I got that far with.” He blushed deeply. “An we was datin’ by then.”

Sang in the shower?

He thinks a moment. “I hum. That count?”

Been pushed into a body of water with all your clothes on?

Jonae gives a dead pan expression and sighs in annoyance. “Ye-up. More than once. Cause me best mate is a shite head.”

Shaved your head?

His silver eyes go wide and he looks up at his hair. “Oi no! Nor would I… Like my hair.”

Made a boyfriend / girlfriend cry?

He shakes his head. “No, neva mad eme girlfriends cry. Least not that I know of…”

Shot a gun?

Jonae smile wide and patted the long barreled revolver at his side. “Aye. A time or two.” He winks.

Still loved someone you shouldn’t?

“Ugh aye. For a time still had feelin’s for me ex. Even though she broke me heart.” He paused a moment. “That what you mean, right?”

Have / had a tattoo?

“Not yet! But I want one. Maybe a wolf or somethin’. I dunno.”

Liked someone, but will never tell who?

He just stares at you for a long moment. “Theres a couple girls I… gotta crush on. But oi no. Neva tellin’ em. Pretty sure I barely exist to them.” 

Been too honest?

“I mean… aye? A time or two? But all things that need be said.” He said with a sigh.

Ruined a surprise?

“Oi, listen. When I was a kitten, ya couldn’t tell me nufin. Was terrible at keepin secrets… I’m better now.” He chuckles.

Been told that you’re beautiful by someone who totally meant what they said?

Jonae blushed deeply, “Aye… Or I think she meant it... “

Stalked someone?

He sighs with a frown. “By stalk, ya mean follow someone that had a bounty on their head? Cause done that few times with Raz… But if you mean stalked as in… creepy stalked? Then… no. No I haven’t.”

Thought about murder?

Theres a pause. “No… Neva cross me mind… Now sometimes I go wit’ me best mate to hunt people wit’ bounties. But our aim was always to capture alive but… some fought pretty hard… But neva went into these sorts of things thinkin’ that.”

How about mass murder?

There is a very long pause as he thinks the interviewer is disturbed. “No. No mate. Neva thought about it other than its a terrible thing.”

Cheated on someone?

“No.” The answer was very quick and sharp. “I value loyalty an’ the thought of bein’ with another girl while with another is deplorable, eh?”

Gotten so angry that you cried?

“When I found out me last girlfriend cheated on me, aye. I did. As I broke up with her.” He frowned.

Tried to stay away from someone for their own good?

“Aye… few years ago… Raz an I got inta hot water with a bandit clan. Had t’stay away from me family til the whole thing got taken care of. Didn’t want them comin back an’ hurtin’ me family.”

Thoughts about suicide?

He very quickly shook his head. “No. No way mate.” He sighed. “Sure times get tough an it’s hard livin up to me dads foot steps but me mum and sis’ lookin to me for support. If I go then they got nufin. They mean too much for me to think that selfishly.”

Had a girlfriend / boyfriend?

He gives a dead pan look. “Feel like… this shoulda been the first thing asked… Yes… Two ex girlfriends.”

Gotten totally drunk during a holiday?

Jonae shakes his head. “Not a heavy drinker, mate. Well, no. No I’m not but last New Year Raz got me right knackered. But I don’t make a habit of it.”

-

Tagged by: @ivyffxiv​ (OMG THANKS FOR THE TAG! Sorry this to FOREVER.)

Tagging: Who ever wants to do this! I don’t know many people. T_T Work and life in general have limited my time on FFXIV as well, sadly.

If you dont mind doing prompts and trent and ben (w); could you do something about trents birthday? Please?

Hiya! I’m sorry I’ve left this for so long and it isn’t for Trent’s birthday but I did write this for @trentsreds birthday and I hope it suffices!

—————

They meet in the middle. Trent had turned his nose up when Ben had suggested Birmingham, moaning an excuse that it’s a longer drive for him than it is for Ben and after a 30 minute argument that clogged up both their camera rolls with screenshots of the route on maps, they’d agreed on some unassuming town halfway between Oxford and Liverpool. Ben hadn’t heard of it before but, over FaceTime to a view of Trent’s bedroom ceiling as he clattered around in his en-suite, Trent had told him it has a Nando’s and a Wagamama’s so they should be fine. Ben had just snorted.

So he’s driving to the post code Trent had sent, tapping the wheel in time to the radio turned up obnoxiously loud. It’s after physio and training for Trent, so the roads are quiet and smooth, nothing slowing him down. He feels a little antsy like he always does, nervous energy and apprehension fizzing around inside of him; he misses Trent so much that every time seeing him again feels like walking through his front door and smiling at everything familiar. Trent could be home, maybe, the kind that’s a quiet love and comfort he craves when he’s away and melts into when he’s there.

Ben shakes his head to stop himself being so sappy, phone telling him placidly to turn left in 2 miles in order to reach his destination. It’s quiet around here, starting to get dark in the creep of winter; Ben can see Trent’s car, Trent propped up against it typing furiously on his phone, fingers playing with the frays in his jeans. He looks up at the sound of tyres crunching against grit and beams. Ben has to swallow a few times to push his heart back down his throat and into place. He grins back when he’s stopped convulsively swallowing, waving his fingers pathetically. Trent smirks.

“Hiya.” He says as soon as Ben’s swung his legs out of the car. He’s holding his arms out already. If Ben didn’t have 13 years experience of it, he’d probably blush.

“Hey.” He smiles back, arms around Trent’s shoulders, head tucked against his neck.

It’s funny, really, how this isn’t any different from normal. Ben’s tummy is still a mess of overlarge butterflies desperately flapping their wings, brain telling him over and over again, burning against his skull, this is a date, this is a date, this is a date, this is a -

“You alright?” Trent asks, looking at him funny.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah.”

Trent shakes his head exasperatedly, leading him through the door to where they’re evidently eating, somewhere cosy and dimly lit with prices that make his eyes ache. He scours the menu, wondering why on earth it’s so expensive for what is essentially a glorified pub, and gleans no answers.

“Costs an arm and a leg.” He mutters.

Trent rolls his eyes. “Enjoy it. Shite date, you are. Ungrateful.”

Ben scoffs and they kick at each other childishly under the table. Trent suddenly pulls his feet back, mouth gaping open as he apologises profusely and Ben stares at him blankly until he rambles about Ben’s injury apologetically and Ben snorts into his drink.

“I’m not made of glass.” Ben snorts, but secretly he’s a little touched.

It’s easy, and Ben berates himself because of course it is. They did this long before they labelled it as a date and they’ll do it long after. Trent tells him all about Melwood and the lads and listen with bright, clear eyes as Ben tells him about Oxford like he’s genuinely interested and doesn’t care about anything more than what’s coming out of Ben’s mouth.

“Such a sap.” Trent mutters when Ben’s licking his dessert spoon clean. He decided to forget about his nutritionist’s strict restrictions tonight. “You’ve been blushing all night, y’know.”

“Fuck off!” Ben snaps. “I have not.”

Trent just glares at him from under his eyebrows and Ben wonders if they’re gonna kiss again. He stares at Trent’s lips for a bit as he talks, wondering if they’ve always been that pink and he’s only just started noticing before Trent tells him off for not paying attention and he zones back in in time to smile at the waiter for the bill.

They leave in silence, hands brushing as they hiss at the cold. Ben smiles and knocks Trent’s side, glad when they fall back into a constant bickering whilst they walk to their cars. Somehow they’re the only ones parked in the car park, and Ben wonders if they can get away with it. If Trent is brave enough. He knows if he posed it like a challenge, Trent would do it on pain of death.

“I wanna kiss you.” Trent says suddenly as Ben’s mulling it over, chest puffed out before he visibly deflates. “Can I - can I kiss you?”

Ben rolls his eyes, smacking a hand off Trent’s shoulder so he lolls back exaggeratedly. “Of course you can kiss me. Muppet.”

Trent snorts, shaking his head in mock-disbelief before his face smooths out and he’s closer, closer, so close if he were to stay still at that distance Ben could count every one of his eyelashes. He’s just started wondering how many eyelashes that could be when Trent’s lips brush against his, chastely, softly. So gentle Ben wants to shove him again in exasperation whilst another part of him wants to preen and blush. He nips at Trent’s lip and flushes anyway, as he presses their lips together firmly.

His lips go numb somewhere along the line, dry and stingy, fingers cramping where they’re gripping the springy curls at the top of Trent’s head tightly. He’s vaguely aware that his jeans are starting to feel uncomfortable, but he can feel against his hip that Trent is too, so he doesn’t mind. One of them whimpers and another follows, sounds passed between them back and forth and eventually Trent whines so pathetically in his throat that Ben has to pull away to laugh helplessly into his chest.

“You alright there?” He teases.

Trent scoffs. “Never been better, mate.” And Ben lifts his head up to see his smile somehow sincere and joking simultaneously. He rolls his eyes again but something settles in his stomach fuzzy and warm. Christ, they’re ridiculous.

“Score another goal for me.” Ben tells him. “That’s how I’ll know you’re serious.”

Trent raises an eyebrow. “If I could score on command, Ben, y’know I would-“

“Smartarse.”

Ben’s expecting a similar, empty, taunt back so when Trent just pecks his forehead, warm and soft, he knows he goes pink. Trent giggles triumphantly, knocking their shoulders together roughly and it’s all so easy, just a natural transition that Ben wonders how much longer they could have had if they’d have put some more brain cells together a little earlier.

“We’re so bloody stupid.” He says ruefully.

Trent laughs, pressing him back into his car door again. “Speak for yourself.”

Ben opens his mouth to retort but it’s swallowed by Trent’s mouth, wet and messy and they’re laughing again when they pull away. They stand, forehead to forehead, so close Ben can only see a blur of smooth skin.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Trent mumbles.

Ben smiles. “Duh. See you. Good luck.”

“You too. Don’t strain your foot.”

Ben rolls his eyes, mutters something about yes, mum and then they nip at each other without really saying anything before Trent peels himself away, for the final time.

“Love you.” He grins.

Ben returns it. “Love you too.” And it doesn’t cost him a thing to let go of, because they’ve told each other they love each other from 7 to 20, like they’d say hello or goodbye. Trent blows him a kiss with a wink as he pulls away and Ben scoffs, waving back, driving down the same road tapping the steering wheel in time to the radio, cheeks hurting with his smile.

Fearghal & Kaitlin

Fearghal: [So the setup is sending her a postcard pretending to be a mate visiting in England for whatever reason (could be fam you get the vibe, nothing suspect given the time this is) but giving enough info that she 1. Knows it is him 2. has the number of at least a phonebox nearby if not a phone in his care home 3. a time when he plans to first call the phonebox nearest their home in Ireland, assumedly this is some sneaky twin shit they've pulled similar enough before that she can catch on without any of the rest of the fam also doing so; only question is how long do we want it to be since he left?] Kaitlin: [3 months ish later then and they've turned 15 but only just for our ref how do we think the situation is with his dad etc like would he just be acting like he's dead cos is to him?] Fearghal: [basically my vibe was they wanted to weaponize Tabby killing herself for their gain, like make it something political even though literally not about that bar the fact her family and his family and co didn't want them together and she was a dramatic teenage girl in love (no offense but like) and so when he wouldn't go along with that there was a massive fight, actual, between him and his dad and then Fearghal left 'cos there's never any option but to do as your told with this fam and he can't lose face with all the other people etc etc and the story the dad is telling the fam etc is that Fearghal deserted them which not untrue but yeah, good enough for all the olders to disown him too so it'd be like we don't talk about him and if someone else bring him up you denounce him] Kaitlin: [let's say there's a crying baby in the background cos like in my OG post she can use her youngest sister needing fresh air as an excuse so casually left her outside the phonebox but might be able to hear her if she's going for it] Kaitlin: How ya Fearghal: K? Fuck's sake, you've not had a bastard, have ya? 's'not been that long, like Kaitlin: Catch yourself on! mind how ya ma was fit to drop, you eejit? well we're all lurred she had another girl who I'm hauling about as my cover, so I am Fearghal: [Laughs] Still easy to windup then [slight pause to take in that it's a girl and is here, like not the biggest shock but also literally no way of knowing at this time so] And go on, don't leave me in suspense, what name they burden the poor fucker with Kaitlin: [makes an unimpressed noise like fuck off] full of that good craic you are, bet the brits are buzzing to hear it. You ready? Niamh Roisin, it's a cracker, like [sighs] Fearghal: [laughs some more] Yeah, catch me on that most wanted list, obviously [makes a wincing noise like no] Christ, actually lost it fully then, has she? Made it longer than some but dunno if mentals get to heaven, haveta ask Father Quigley, like Kaitlin: [laughs herself] yeah yeah [makes like a idk noise] can you lose what you've never had? A good catholic'll find a way, to be sure, and she is that, our ma [makes a scornful noise at the mention of the priest as is standard for her] Fearghal: [makes a mm noise to agree] Suppose so, don't reckon much was said 'bout being good to 'em once you had 'em, so be alright [sighs] What have you been up to, then...How's it been Kaitlin: if it was she'd recite between the lines to keep us anyone's problem but hers, poor critter [sarcastic laugh because mum's getting no real sympathy] it could've been 3 days from when you went off for what's changed and not- [a long pause because everything's shit and we know it is] Fearghal: What's God if not top babysitter, eh? Cheaper than telly and who's giving money to the BBC [scoffs but cuts it short 'cos yep] And I'm fine too, you rude cow Kaitlin: and stand him next to our earthly da and he comes out lookin' class [chefs kiss noise] Hey now! [makes a fake noise of shock like she's appalled at the mention of the bbc] watch your profanity around me, dicko! [really long exaggerated sigh as a pisstake] a'course you are, land well anywhere, but hit me with your bars, it's no bother to hear how right I am Fearghal: If you can get him stand still long enough, like and you ain't a lad so no chance, babe [does pisstake wistful sigh] Forgot you needed protecting from the evils of this world, my apologies [coughs awkwardly then, stalling for time, fiddling with the phone in ways she can probably hear] Taking a bow as we speak, can't fit in here with me but the adoring fans are aplenty over this way, well more than there so fuck it, life's grand so it is Kaitlin: Wise up, boy, he only sways slightly of an evening on these ones lately so he does [but her voice is MAD because fuck being a girl in this fam] Did you now? Thank fuck my new lad has his uses then, like [takes a deep breath to try and calm down but exaggerates it for the pisstake because have to, god forbid they are serious rn] I went and saw your former biggest fan under that rock they've carved with protestant shite, no word on if life's grander for her now it's ended or if she's regretting she didn't send her prayers up saying she wanted another bite of the cherry, one that wasn't yours- [stops like I've probably gone a bit far here and shouldn't mention his dead ex anymore] Fearghal: Good for him [through gritted teeth like let's never talk about him thank you] Like you need a replacement protector, got how many ready and willing at home, just DYING to beat the shit out of some 15 year old kid for your honour and just for the craic of it [does it back, like and then is silent until the pips are going but he's still there 'cos they stop when he puts more money in] You'll be under some rock with Catholic shite if they catch you in their graveyard [says it much more quietly than he's said the rest] Kaitlin: [makes a noise of disgust that doesn't need to be exaggerated for the pisstake cos genuinely horrified at this fam thanks] what honour? Shame you brought down on us with what they caught you at [but her voice is softer too because didn't mean to go off and also doesn't mean any of that we know] supposed to scare me, is it? [said like I wouldn't be here to give them a chance to do it just like you weren't] Fearghal: Why you need to ask one of the others, ain't it; can't be the best looking of the bunch and the best behaved, got to leave something for 'em to do and impressing n pleasing him 's'never been high on my to-do so have at it, lads [does meh noise like this is all so casual] Called the fear of God for a reason, aye Kaitlin: [does the meh noise back and it's her turn to awkwardly fiddle with the phone/cough while she works up to saying what she does next, more quietly than she has anything else] how's it truly then? Away and everything. Free and clear Fearghal: It's, like- just shit because you realize that everything that happens in that fucking town, all the stuff that rules our lives and is all they give a shit about, no other cunt does, you know, Kait? Sure, its on the news when another bomb goes off or don't and that; but the English don't even have to think about it, their day to day ain't affected at all, no fucker but our lot cares and what's the point, honestly? Everything we were forced to at least think was important, if not fecking stupid, ain't and now I don't- [Stops to do some actual breathing to calm down] Not to mention I'm thick as shite, thanks for that and all- 'cos frees a bloody joke [laughs bitterly] I get by, now, got a place to stay so, don't haveta worry but don't be hopping the next ferry yourself, girl Kaitlin: [when you're just silent for ages because as much as you think it's bullshit you're basically in a cult rn with no chance of getting out so what can you say like] not that thick, warning me off coming to keep an eye on all these english girls with theirs on ya but no bother 'cause mind I get sea sick and class as boking on brits sounds I'd get fairly covered myself before I made any casualties of 'em Fearghal: Know enough about girls and enough about you to know the two don't need mixing, that's just school of life, that [moving away a bit and telling someone who's impatiently waiting to fuck off] Stay put [when you say it firmly like serious voice] That wain and the rest needs someone VAGUELY sane about to stand any chance, fuck me, Aislinn's already been corrupted and she's barely in double digits [kicks the box] Kaitlin: [laughs because yeah don't let her around any girls you like babe] you should know enough about me to know what giving me your orders'll do fer ya and what it'll make me do [but there's no actual real threat in it we all know she's staying for the bubs] Sane as you by that count, ain't I? [can't help genuinely sighing] Mammy's girl is Aislinn been like it since she was old enough to play house [grimaces at the thought cos never that bitch] got the rest under MY apron strings, grand they are and it goes for the stories I tell 'em every night after prayers, rest easy yourself knowing that, yeah? Fearghal: Alright, alright [hear the 🙄😏] But if you wanna be the next to bring shame on 'em, you can do better than a cheeky abortion, surely? [shakes his head] Yeah. [Pause] Yeah [Coughs again] I'm doing my bit, swear, it's gonna take a while 'til I can send you anything and I've got to work out how when I do- it ain't for them, just you lot but like I said, not cheap Kaitlin: [an outraged noise like who do you think you're talking to, of course I can do better than that etc] Yeah. [Pauses herself because again what to say, there's so much it's too much] I've got faith in the right shite, Gally [nickname ftw because feels] it'll work out. We'll work it out, like we did this Fearghal: 'Course we will, K. No other choice, is there [definitely not a question] Kaitlin: not a real question, is it? [she knows its not] Fearghal: you want me to ask you one? Kaitlin: do English girls fall for that? Fearghal: Enough of 'em, yeah Kaitlin: [makes a ugh noise] how you've got a bed, is it? Fearghal: Theirs top where mine is Kaitlin: I deeply feel that Fearghal: [makes the kinda sad 'ha' sound like 'I know'] Not all bad though, some class drugs about and you don't get kneecapped for taking a casual interest Kaitlin: [does a little hooray down the phone] Fearghal: Send you some but your phones probably tapped so I definitely won't Kaitlin: thanks or no thanks, depending who'll be listening Fearghal: Cover those bases and the baby's ears Kaitlin: nothing to be heard over her crying Fearghal: don't lie, you miss me that much [laughs] Kaitlin: fuck off [but laughs too] Fearghal: Will do Fearghal: so many English girls Kaitlin: [exaggerated being sick noise] nowhere close to a ferry and sick as a dog, don't start me any further Fearghal: You think I escaped to pray every day and fight the good fight, like Kaitlin: if you still pray you ain't escaped fuck all Fearghal: Not living on my knees for no cunt, sis Fearghal: am being haunted, for my sins, though Kaitlin: Be on track to commit more, you'll have enough ghosts for all manner of shite to get done Fearghal: No rest for the wicked on the one hand, but on the other, idle hands and idle minds [breathes out like so conflicted and confused] Kaitlin: [a change in tone because serious] She's gone, so are you. Leave it here. Leave it in this fucking town Fearghal: Not a choice Kaitlin: Can be Fearghal: Nah, s'not, boths already happened Kaitlin: Happened to you, gives you a say in how you deal with it Fearghal: Yeah Kaitlin: You've lived in one haunted house as things stand, ain't you? Miss home that much, is it? Fearghal: How could I not? Live for these lectures, like Kaitlin: [an unamused noise because you're basically calling her a nagging girl which ain't a mood] Fearghal: [the pips again] Oh shit, should robably let you go, yeah? Kaitlin: Yeah probably [but she obvs doesn't wanna that'd be clear] Fearghal: Tell the kids I miss 'em, won't ya Kaitlin: I'll even include her out there Fearghal: Try and send a picture some time, alright Kaitlin: 'Course Fearghal: You too, kid Kaitlin: [laughs but in a more genuine way] You're my twin brother, calling me kid is calling yourself a wain, you eejit Fearghal: That's alright by me, like Kaitlin: I'll not baby you, got enough noses and arses to wipe here while you're hand holding these brits Fearghal: No handholding, on me life, just good old-fashioned- [will cut him off before he can be gross] Kaitlin: [we can say she cuts him off with a very unamused noise as per like no thank you] Fearghal: G'wan then, piss off before that kid freezes to death Kaitlin: [doesn't wanna be the first one to hang up obvs] Watch yourself then Fearghal: You too Fearghal: When can we do this again then Kaitlin: When can you? It's no bother for me to slip out with this ginger whinger, needs fresh air so she does Fearghal: [laughs then is pondering like umm] Try next Sunday, after church, if I don't answer then I'll send another postcard or whatever, yeah Kaitlin: Tryin' to get a free sermon told to ya, respect that hustle if not the message Fearghal: Obviously, how am I getting to heaven from England? Kaitlin: [laughs] no angels in England is there not? You'll have been thinking on your feet for fresh pick up lines all these months, no wonder you ain't had time for me, like Fearghal: Something like that... [Trails off 'cos don't wanna tell her what's really been going on but also does 'cos not its like that and its been a lot to just deal with on his own] Kaitlin: But it's something else like what? [cos sees through you boyyy] Fearghal: It's alright now, like Fearghal: but it ain't as if the old man sent me on me way with anywhere to go, is it Kaitlin: He didn't put a bullet in your head as a send off, that's what gets me to sleep of a night, but- [trails off because she was gonna say she knows it hasn't been easy but she doesn't know how hard it's been and she's not trying to guess like let's compare struggles] Kaitlin: Yeah [another pause] Fearghal: Should've put one in his [so under his breath it's like did you mean that to be heard or] Kaitlin: You'd have to take ma out an' all, I don't reckon the broken heart myth is anything other than another story, and probably a few of us would make the cut for cute little orphans but you and me'd have to catch ourselves on quick and wise up Fearghal: Make Tara look after you all as well as Diarmaid's kids, see how committed to the family she really is [sniffs 'cos we been knew] Kaitlin: [makes an identical sound cos twinning] I'll take her out if she was bothered to try and get near 'em Fearghal: Least Owie is old enough to help out, young enough to give a clout, yeah? [genuine concern] Kaitlin: [scoffs because we know he's a bit of a knob but it's still affectionate because] Fearghal: He'll be alright [but doesn't sound as reassuring as that's meant to be 'cos like unlikely at this point] Kaitlin: He's got me, my will's stronger than god's so father Q likes to say [laughs] under his breath, a'course Fearghal: [laughs back but its less 'cos sad] He doesn't always chat shite Kaitlin: Reckon he's a soft spot for me Fearghal: [makes noise like 'hopefully not too soft' but is joking, doesn't need to be that kind of priest] Kaitlin: I don't wish you were here Fearghal: How could he not, with the charm [but just jk like] Is it better, in some ways Kaitlin: It's...[trails off cos we all know even if there's less hassle it's not better as far as she's concerned and the loneliness is a real mood] I'm buzzing you got out [genuine but her voice is sad] Fearghal: Your turn next, I mean it Kaitlin: After we get a few birthday's under Niamh's belt [pauses because it's sinking in how stuck she is for now] and the rest, give 'em a fighting chance Fearghal: Yeah Fearghal: I'll make it easier, any which way I can Kaitlin: Me too, for you, I mean Fearghal: I'm grand, honest but cheers [more pips] I am outta shrapnel though so- Kaitlin: Don't be putting honest on a lie [frustrated sigh because nobody wants this to end but she wouldn't have money] speak Sunday and like I said, watch yourself Fearghal: Love ya, K ['cos no time to take the piss for it or protest] Kaitlin: [let's say she gets cut off before she can say it back for the pain]

wolfstar pride pt. 3

(please rb in case the linked posts still don’t show up in this new algorithm!!!)

As the last of the parade goers wandered off and said their goodbyes, Sirius tousled Remus' hair and announced that he was hungry.

"What do you reckon, Moony? Fancy a bite with ol' Sirius and the girls?"

Remus' heartbeat a bit faster, but he pretended to ponder it over a moment.  "Suppose I could eat. I am craving chocolate." He admitted with a shy smile, ducking his chin. Now Sirius' heart kicked up.

"Right then. I know just the spot." He eyed a payphone outside of a petrol station. "I'm going to duck out and call a friend. Well, he's more like my brother. See if he wants to join. Back in a mo'!" He jogged off and Remus gathered Dorcas and her girlfriend, who was trailing the sign behind her tiredly and cheered at the proposed nourishment. Sirius walked them down to an American style diner crammed in beside three or four seedy pubs. They slid into a large booth in the back corner, Sirius smushed up against Remus without even thinking, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He shifted his weight so that his shoulder was pressed against Remus', who was starting to believe that maybe it was.

"Budge over." Marlene said as she threw a cheeky glance at Sirius. "I wanna sit next to your boooooooyfriend." An hour ago, Remus would have turned red on the spot and leapt up from the table, stammering excuses and protestations, but now his eyes darted over to Sirius' unimpressed expression and then back to the girl's as he tossed an arm around the back of the vinyl lacquered seating and across Black's shoulders, before scooting them both down. Then he smirked, one corner of his freckled mouth turning up. "There's room, why don't you get closer, McKnickers."

Even Dorcas looked impressed as their mouths all dropped open. Remus settled back in his seat with a self satisfied grin just as a tallish boy with unruly dark hair and the thickest set of black frames Lupin had ever seen loped up to their table, with a tiny red headed girl in tow. "What are you lot doing gapping with your mouths open like fish?" He asked, fighting a laugh, before throwing himself down on Sirius' other side and picking up the menu. As the girl examined their choices, he peered at them from the top of the laminated cardboard. "Alright then, lads? How was your... event?"

Marlene scoffed, while Dorcas flipped him two V's. "Lads!" She cried in outrage. "Last I checked, you know, I weren't no lad!"

Marlene's face shifted into a bemused smile as she innocently sipped at her glass of water. "Last I checked, too." James' eyes went wide and his face reddened. Dorcas and Sirius both dissolved into uproarious laughter and even Remus chuckled at the group's friendly teasing.

"Alright, alright! That's enough, ladies!" The tiny girl spoke for the first time, and her voice was much stronger than Remus had been expecting. "Don't break poor James' heart by reminding him about the night life he's missing out on! He can't bear it, you know how sensitive he gets."

James rolled his eyes and shoved her good naturedly with a gentle hand. "Piss off, Evans." He said all smarmy, before ducking his head to kiss her once, then twice, then long enough that the rest of their friends began to cheer or jeer.

"Come on, mate, you've already got one in the oven!" Sirius called out and they finally broke apart as a waitress took their orders.

Remus turned to him. "Is she really pregnant?" He whispered and Sirius broke into a wide smile. "Yep. Eight months along in a week or so, not that you'd know it. It's like she uses magic to hide it, or something."

"But it's not magic, Sirius, it's just clever layering of clothing and never letting anyone stare for too long. Not that I'm ashamed, of course." She cut in, rolling her eyes at Black and fixing him with a sharp stare.

"Congratulations, er..." Remus began.

"Lily." She offered her petite fingers to him across the table to shake with a new bright smile. "Pleasure to meet you.."

"Remus. Remus Lupin."

"Pleasure, Remus. And thanks. We couldn't be more excited."

"Or surprised." James added. "God, you never think it'll happen to you... One time you forget and now you're awaiting a sprog." His eyes shone, and he kissed Lily again, on the top of her head.

She turned back to Remus. "Not going to ask why I'm near to pop and out and about, then?" She began, but Remus waved a hand.

"Think you can trust your own judgement. And I'd bet that you aren't the type to let anything stop you." He replied easily, leveling her stare with a kind smile. Her grin broadened and she leaned over James to punch Sirius' shoulder.

"Oh, I approve." She stalled and placed a hand to her stomach with a dignified wince. "Baby does too."

Sirius mimed wiping away tears and blowing his nose loudly into James' discarded jean jacket. "I'm gonna be an uncle." He blubbered, clutching Remus' arm as though in hysteria. They all laughed, then were distracted by the food arriving.

"God, what is wrong with the Americans! And can I grow up to be just like them?" James had crowed upon seeing the wide array of fried foods they'd ordered. Nobody noticed that Sirius didn't take his hand off Lupin's arm, or that Remus slid his own over it to keep it there.

~

Once everyone had finished, forcing down the last burnt chip at the bottom of the basket (Marlene) or loudly slurping the final sip of a milkshake (Sirius), they all elected to go round someone's house and "get blitzed," as Dorcas put it. The debate lasted a while, Remus listening the whole time without much input seeing as he was basically a stranger to them all, and he lived in a bad part of the city in a shite little flat he wasn't too keen to have people over to. Dorcas and Marlene had crazy housemates, Lily lived back home in Cokeworth and was only staying with James until they could move into a house of their own outside of London, James had somehow forgotten the keys to his flat and someone called Pete wasn't answering the phone, leaving him fuming about the ten pence he'd lost to a phone booth, and Sirius was currently sleeping on James' sofa, so they were running out of options quickly. Marlene and Dorcas returned from the drugstore in Piccadilly square, where they were currently stopped, and waved the brown bag at the rest of them.

"Come on then, whiskey's getting cold!"

Sirius raked a hand through his hair with a groan. "Alright, alright, I've a shitty idea."

"So one of your usual ideas then?" James quipped, raising an eyebrow. Sirius smacked him on the backside of his head. James stuck his tongue out at him, then Lily smacked him again and chided him for acting like a tiddler when his unborn child was around. James lovingly placed a hand on her abdomen and cooed apologies at her belly button.

Sirius' face twisted in a grimace for a split second, and James was suddenly at his side and not laughing any longer. They all circled around him as he stared down at his boots. Hating to just stand there idly, Remus stepped forward and pressed his fingers into Sirius' hand. He squeezed back and finally spoke.

"We could go to the ol- my house... No one's there since my mother died, and it's technically mine... I've just been avoiding going over there."

James balked at him. "Ta, mate, but you don't have to go back there if it's too much." Remus frowned. What had happened at the place that Sirius would rather stay on a sofa at James' with three other people than go there?

Sirius shrugged, all smiles as though his minute of panic had never happened. "Nah, it's just sitting there anyhow. Might as well use it to keep our drunken arses out of the cold." With that he stepped forward with a dramatic thunk of his boots on the pavement, and began to lead the way. James and Lily had actually driven in her car, so they all piled in for the ride to the Black home. Remus gave Marlene the other seat, but they protested when he tried to curl up at their feet, so he ended up half on her lap and half on Sirius'. He very awkwardly attempted to at least angle most of his bottom away from the girl, as she probably didn't want to be crushed under a lanky male behind, and because to his chagrin, Sirius probably wanted exactly that. He tried not to think about it too much, focusing on the strains of the Clash trailing in from the radio.

Sirius' house was grand. It was sandwiched between two other very large and posh estates on a street that was completely clear of any refuse and not a spot of graffiti to be seen. When he unlocked the door and led them inside, the interior was a different story. Cobwebs darkened the gloomy corners of every corridor, complimenting the peeling gold wallpaper and cream paint flaking off of the banister. The heavy brocade curtains all wheezed a layer of dust when Sirius threw them open to let in some air through the windows, some of which sported cracked or missing panes. The ancient floor creaked as they gingerly tiptoed around in observation. Ghoulish hunting trophies and lifelike oil paintings of harrowing and stern figures followed their every move. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Lily shiver.

"Well, here's home. Cozy, isn't it?" Sirius preened, smacking a switch hanging out of the wall to bring light flickering in from an ornate brass chandelier overhead.

"Right..." Remus replied, attention turned to the large black cloth draped over a heavy gilt frame, now illuminated.

"That's dear old Mum." Sirius told him with false adoration and just a hint of bitterness. "Keep her covered up so that I don't have to feel her judgement whenever I come by to pay the caretaker's wages."

Sirius could afford to hire a caretaker who didn't seem to even do his job, and yet he slept in James' living room? "There's a caretaker?"

"Well, no, not really. I keep changing the locks on him so he can't get in, but he usually finds a way. Like magic, it is. Cor, I'd bet he's here even now, creepy bugger he is." Sirius chuckled, before a loud scream sent both men racing into the kitchen.

"What the bloody hell!" Remus exclaimed, as they found James, pale as a sheet and clutching the space between the wall and the ice box, across from a squat old man bent onto the floor surrounded by piles of silverwear.

"Pansy here be scared o' old men." He grumped, mouth twisting into a sneer as he gestured with a delicate wrist and his polishing cloth as though it were a ladies handkerchief. Then he shrieked in a high falsetto, "Gave me a fright sir, Ohhh!" and swooned.

James scowled, and Sirius moved to haul him up from his spot, kicking over a pile of incredibly tarnished spoons. "Mr. Kreacher, get the hell out of my house before I call the police. I took your last key."

The Kreacher fellow jerked out of his grasp. "Bah! What a waste it is in your hands, too! Look at how you keep the place. Look what you've done to the family silverware!"

"Do not make me ask again. Take this and leave us." Sirius pushed a crumpled twenty into his hands. The bitter caretaker nearly growled at them as he slunk out the door.

~

"Well, that effectively removed me of ten years of my life." James announced briskly, clapping his hands together as Marlene and Remus walked about lighting candles with Sirius' silver lighter and a book of matches. They were holed up in the basement, one of the only places Sirius could stand to be in, and therefore one of the cleanest.

They'd laid a few small and threadbare blankets on the ground, yet Marlene and Dorcas still huddled together for warmth. "Freezing my bollocks off here, thanks, Siri, darling." Dorcas groused, and her scowl deepened when James shot back, "I thought you didn't have any bollocks Dori, dearest."

"Then why aren't we drinking?" He replied, twisting the cap off the bottle, their second one as they'd shared the first between the four of them on the walk and ride over, and something much more fancy than their pharmacy score from the Black cellars, with a roll of his eyes. He fixed the short haired girl with a sarcastic smirk; he knew she was mostly being dramatic, seeing as it was summer and just under 18°. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Oi, save that for Marlene!" He jeered as she shoved at him, and Marlene, hearing her name and Sirius' voice called out, "Wanker!" without even looking up from the long shaft of the candle she was lighting. Sirius shrugged and set the first bottle on the stone floor with a clink and a devious glint in his silver eyes.

Remus chuckled, then looked to Lily, sitting against one wall, James' jacket tucked behind her back. "There a history I'm missing here?"

Lily smiled then arched an eyebrow at the pair. "Oh them? Marlene was Sirius' first kiss in year four. Played seven minutes in Heaven. I know, much more mature than spin the bottle." She joked. Remus laughed again. "Then they dated for about two weeks. Lot of snogging, those two. Then someone accused him of being her beard and she went off on them. Somehow the shouting match turned into an invitation to dinner to prove she really liked her man. Guess who the accuser was?" She deadpanned, eyes settling on Meadowes, still harassing Sirius.

Said "wanker" was rubbing his hands together and beckoning Remus over. "Gather round, ducks, and give us a spin. Who's first then, Evans, are you game?"

Lily, unmoving from her somewhat more comfortable spot, shook her head with a wry smile. "God, no. I kissed enough of you lot when we were 15." The rest of the group began to cahjole her, even Remus calling out, "Come on, Evans." and throwing a wink in her direction.

"Oh alright!" She conceded, shooing off James, who was still at her side. "Be a dear and spin for me."

The bottle whirled clunkily around for a few moments before its head settled between Sirius' feet.

"Oooo!" Marlene giggled. "You've got to kiss Lils, Sirius."

"With pleasure." Sirius said, pretending to fan himself with an exaggerated lick of his lips. Remus watched his tongue swipe out from behind his teeth.

"Ohh no!" Lily protested, pointing a finger to James. "He spun for me. He's the one who's got to snog you." James and Sirius pulled the exact same look of disgust, staring at each other, aghast.

"That's bloody incest, Evans, and as the mother of our child your suggesting it quite disturbs and concerns me!" James cried.

Sirius wrinkled his nose haughtily. "I shan't be kissing... That." The rest of them laughed and said they had to, rules were rules, it weren't personal, innit? With a sigh, James trudged forward, eyeing Sirius apprehensively. At the last moment a grin quirked at the corners of his mouth and he grabbed Sirius' by the back of his head, hurdling him forward to smash his lips... against his forehead with a loud smack. His glasses smushed up against his hairline, the both of them drew away laughing.

"Mate, I didn't know you loved me that much." Sirius told him, false shock coloring his tone.

"'Course I love you, arsehole!" James chirruped over his shoulder as he placed his glasses back onto his nose and crossed back over to Lily. The next few spins of the bottle saw Remus peck a slightly stunned James Potter on the lips, Dorcas kissing Sirius full on the mouth, and quite a bit of snogging from Marlene and her girlfriend, who were cheating and placing their feet in the bottle's trajectory. Eventually, and without any sapphic intervention, one quick flick of the wrist of Sirius Black pointed the bottle directly across at Remus, whose cheeks pinked only a little... from the alcohol, of course. He looked up at Sirius with a sort of blank expression that was equal parts hesitant and Well, try it, then... and rose to his feet only to find Black still firmly planted on the floor.

"No." He said, with a careless shrug of his shoulders.

"No?" Remus repeated, halting in his tracks. His stomach dropped.

Sirius shook his head, tossing his hair out of his eyes, which were hard. "No." He intoned again, with a certain finality that declined any further explanation. "Won't do it."

"Oh." Remus said, still a bit confused, though on his way to being angry, and hurt. "Right, then." He resumed his seat, legs crossed, holding his own elbows. At this point Marlene was half asleep in Dorcas' lap, Dorcas herself being a giggling mess. He couldn't understand what he'd read wrong.

part one part two inspo 

Blind Bags/Boxes

Can we talk about this?

Cause I wanna talk about this These things are getting a little ridiculous.

We all remember the old packages with a bit of air inside where you could just grope the bag until you find the character you’re pretty sure is the one you’re looking for, buy it, and call it a day.

Remember that? I remember that.

Nowadays it’s all the characters are in some plastic covering where you can’t feel out the shape, and they’ve got those pin sized holes that let’s the air move around but you can’t see shite all inside it. And if it’s not a bag it’s a bag within a box and you’re sitting there looking like a daft idjit shaking them all about trying to figure out who yer holding. Gunna try to rain man myself a wall mart exclusive through some shimmy shammy shakin’.

And don’t even get me started on these ridiculous ratios they’re setting up nowadays; I’ll give ya the 1/24 mate, if we’re talking 12 figures per case then that means every 2 cases should have one of these figures in em’. Arright fine, fair enough, just gotta find 2 different cases and be lucky enough to feel out the box with that 1/24 bugger and pop on home. That in itself is difficult enough, but a 1/72, are ya havin’ a fuckin’ laugh you goddamned troglodyte?

So I figure, right I’m a die hard collector, I don’t collect everything, just the things I like, yanno if it catches my fancy, and it’s a game, or show, or movie that I enjoy and I wanna show my support and decorate my space with it, I’ma go and buy some merch. And if you’re like me, and are getting mad fed up with them blind bags and boxes, out here trying to afford your damn bills you can’t be popping $60-70 bucks down on a case of 12 mystery figures trying to collect the whole assortment every time you see a set ya like. I know I don’t got that kinda money, and I know you don’t got that kinda money.

So my friend suggested that I make a blog about this stuff, try to share some tips and tricks, post some pictures of how I find what I want, share the collection I’ve built up, and just have fun.

Kid Brother IV

I wake to the bright light from my windows the next morning. Or afternoon, I realise as I check my clock. I thank myself from last night for being responsible and drinking tons of water before going home as my hangover is nonexistent. The warm body on the sheets next to me hums in his sleep and I recognise the shock of red hair as Josh. So I guess we did end up at my place, I realise as the night comes back to me.

Josh's hand is wrapped around my midsection and his face rests near my shoulder. He looked peaceful in the morning light, and he was a perfect gentleman last night-just as he'd been when we went out a few months ago. But a small feeling in the pit of my stomach makes me feel uneasy. In another life, I could see Josh and I getting on but in this one, Josh couldn't be more than a friend. Because now that I've had my first night with another guy whilst aware of my feelings for Joe, things didn't sit right. Especially when it was his best mate I slept with.

Zoe and I became best friends in primary school and Joe and I got quite close as kids too. After a certain point, however, we drifted apart as he was always trying to annoy Zoe and I or play pranks on us when we were trying to hang out. He'd always have a cheeky comment to everything I said which led to many years of arguing. But before that, we got really close. I don't even think Zoe realised how close her brother and I used to be.

The thing was, I used to sleep over at the Sugg house a lot when my parents were going through a divorce and because I had nightmares I would sometimes leave Zoe asleep and sit in their living room for some fresh air. One night, I ran into Joe who was sneaking a midnight snack and we got to talking. And after that, every time I slept over, Joe would come down around midnight and we would stay up. He told me what was going on with him and I told him everything I couldn’t tell others. He gave shite advice, I smile thinking about it, but he was a great listener. We stopped after my parents divorced and I lived with my dad. And once I got my first boyfriend at 15. Joe and I argued a lot, he was always making fun of me for the things Zoe and I did, for the kinds of boys I dated. But I can barely believe we shared so much with one other at one point.

I remember the other big moment with Joe from when we were kids. Our senior dance Zoe and I both had dates. Mine was my boyfriend I was dating since Christmas but the night before the dance he broke up with me over IM and I was devastated. Joe, upon hearing what happened, wore his nicest shirt and took a rare shower and showed up in Zoe's room while she tried to coat my lashes in waterproof mascara. He said he could go with me and honestly, it was one of the best nights I had all year.

"Hey," Josh's sleepy voice wakes me from my trip down memory lane. He kisses me on my bare shoulder and brushes his thumb against my waist, sending butterflies to my stomach. "You're up."

"Yeah," I sigh. I turn to face him and we examine each other for a few moments before he speaks.

"I shouldn't feel guilty, I mean we've done this before we knew we-that we had Joe in common. You know it's not that what we have is bad. You're beautiful and amazing but I just feel guilty?"

I exhale a laugh, "I know exactly what you mean."

"I thought so, that look on your face earlier was pretty easy to read."

I stroke his face and he returns a sad smile. "I really do like you, I wish things didn't turn out like they did all this while ago."

"Me too," he sighs. "I actually really like you too. But I think we can be great friends don't you?"

"I do," I smile. "Friends with a rich history."

Josh opens his mouth wide while he laughs and it's contagious. "You have a thing for Joe don't you?" He asks once we quiet down.

"What?" I begin to build up a defence but I realise I'm laying mostly naked with his best friend and basically it's not like he was going to tell Joe about this particular moment. "Maybe, I'm not quite sure yet."

"You do!" Josh pokes me. "You're denying it to yourself. And Joe talks about you too often and now that I know you like him too-quite frankly I don't know why nothing's happened between you two."

"Ugh," I bury my face in the duvet. "I don't want it to be weird! He's always been Zoe's younger brother and I used to see him like that too! I'm just not sure-"

I'm cut off when my phone begins ringing. I lean over to check and see Joe's grade school picture staring up at me. Oh gods.

"That's Joe," I say panicked. "What do I do?"

"Is he here?" Josh scrambles to get up while remaining covered and I hold the phone in my hand like it's about to go off at any second. "Maybe he's just calling about last night? Pick it up."

I do as Josh says. "Hello?"

"Y/N jeez I've been buzzing up to your flat for ages are you just waking up?"

"Joe-uh-yeah I'm just waking." I look at Josh wide eyed and he deflates into the bed. We were going to be found out!

"Can I come up at least!"

"What are you doing here?" I manage to ask.

"I told you last night we would do something today to make up for it. Y/N you remember right? It's 1pm!"

"Right," I vaguely remember. I grab my robe and slip it on, walking out to the hall to buzz Joe in. "I'll see you in a bit."

"Shit Y/N!" Josh says when I come back into the room. "What do we do?"

"Okay," I run my fingers through my hair, I was really in deep. "You stay here in bed, don't show up. I'll sit Joe in the front and get ready in the bathroom. We'll leave and I'll text you when you're clear to go? He'll never have to know."

"Okay yeah," Josh agrees. "Just make sure to hide my things from the front."

Right, I place Josh's shoes in the closet and throw his jacket into the room with him just in time to hear Joe knocking.

"Oh, you really did get up." Joe comments when I open the door. I blush, in trying to clean up any evidence of Josh in the living room I forgot to look at myself in the mirror. When I catch my reflection, I burn with embarassment. My hair was a mess and I had remnants of top eyeliner on my cheekbones.

"You want anything?" I ask Joe as I grab a makeup wipe and take off last night's makeup.

"I'm good, late night?" Joe sits on the couch and watches me remove my makeup.

"Kind of. What did you wanna do today?"

"Thought we could grab lunch. Just hang out, I want to redeem my behaviour from yesterday so I'm even willing to go to one of those museums you loved to visit on school trips."

I laugh, I can't believe Joe remembered. "I haven't been to one in years Joe! I'd love that!"

"Yeah? Perfect! I just have to let Josh know I can't film with him and Mikey today then."

"Wait what?" I panic. Josh? Did he know or was I being paranoid.

"I was supposed to film with them today but I'll ask him to do it tomorrow. It's not a big deal."

"Oh, right!" I act casual but my heart is racing. "I'll just...get ready quick."

Just as I think we're in the clear, a phone goes off in the kitchen. But not my phone. The ring tone is distinct and it belongs to Josh's phone. I watch Joe's face go from confused to a realisation and then to a dark shade of angry. I stand frozen as Joe finally meets my eye.

"You went home with Josh," he says plainly.

"Well," I say but I have a hard time even explaining myself. Joe looks so upset and disappointed with me and it's like we're 10 and I've just told him the girl he has a crush in finds him weird.

"Hey," Josh shows up behind me. "Y/N your spare futon sucks. Oh hey Joe, didn't hear you come in." Josh puts on a whole one-man act as he goes searching for his phone. "Have you seen my phone I thought I heard the ring tone."

"In the kitchen," I manage to say. Joe looks between us with suspicion so I try to cover up. "Josh and I had a nice chat last night, catching up since we lost each other's numbers. I let him crash since it got so late."

Joe nods but I can tell he doesn't believe me. "Why haven't I got to sleep on your spare futon?" He asks and my heart sinks. He was testing the story, cheeky little Sugg.

"Trust me bro, you don't want to." Josh calls out. "You can try laying in it, you'll split your back."

I want to tape Josh's mouth shut. Why was he carrying on the story! "Maybe I will," Joe says as he gets up and walks past me to the guest room. I don't have time to find Josh and slap him across the face so I run after Joe. But when I get to the guest room, the guest bed is disheveled and a button up lays crumpled on the floor as does Josh's jacket. Wow, Youtubers really knew how to out on a prank and this one just saved our asses.

"This is solid like a rock," Joe says from the bed. He's relaxed again and I can tell he's bought the story but I want to cry from all the anxiety it caused me.

"It's not like I ever have people sleeping over." I joke.

"You should change that," Joe says and he gives me that look again. Like the one from last night where he means more than he's saying.

"Okay!" I clap my hands. "I'm getting ready-half an hour max!"

Joe groans, but he heads back to where Josh is. I apply my makeup with shaky hands.

Josh ends up joining us for lunch. When we get a moment alone while Joe finds his car, I yell at him for being so callous and then praise him for his quick thinking. And somehow, Josh and I are not awkward at all as we all hang together. We laugh and talk about things like we'd been friends all alone.

Josh leaves as we head to the museum and Joe decides he wants to see the popular paintings first. I take a few pictures of him and he forces me to take some too, making me promise I would update my Instagram.

We find ourselves walking along the river while the sun begins to set and it colours the sky in magnificent colours.

"Are sunsets as romantic as sunrises?" Joe asks.

"What?" I look at him, confused.

"From Zoe's place, the sunrise you said was romantic. Are sunsets just as romantic?"

"Oh," I laugh. "Sunsets are definitely more romantic in my opinion."

"Yeah?" Joe asks as he holds out his hand to me. I take it gently and he pulls me towards the railings where a bench lays. We sit on the bench, my hand in Joe's which rests in his lap. The sky begin to darken as the sun sinks lower but the sky remains a kaleidoscope of oranges and pinks.

"You're actually right," Joe finally says. "This is gorgeous and romantic."

"Yeah," I laugh. I glance at my hand still in his lap and my heart can't help but skip a beat. "Joe?" I get his attention. "How do you manage to do this?"

"Do what?" He lets go of my hand to face me. "What you mean?"

"I dunno," I say flustered. "You're generally-you rarely take anything seriously...but then you sit here with me and I experience such a serene moment with you watching this sunset. I don't think any boyfriend's ever made me feel this way. But you're just Joseph, y'know? But you're also...you're not. You've grown up and I barely noticed." I finish, my voice a whisper.

"I hope that's a good thing." Joe states.

"Yeah..." I pull out his contact information from my phone and try to counteract the tense moment I'd created. "But you're also this kid." I show him his half-lidded grade school photo I have for his contact.

"Y/N!" He tries to grab my phone but I snatch it away. "That's not funny I've already asked you to take it down!"

"Never," I cackle but when Joe threatens to use a horrible picture of me I pretend to agree. But there was no way I was actually doing it.

"So wait are you saying I'm mature?" Joe goes on.

"Okay I never said that," I tease. "But matured, yeah."

"Hm," he says and leans back with a thoughtful expression.

"Do you want to go back to mine?" I ask. What was I doing! My feelings were in a mess enough spending the whole day with him and now I was inviting him back? But a part of me just wanted to say 'f it' and kiss him already. I wanted this weird tension to be over, to confirm if he felt for me what I felt for him. And whether what I felt for him was legit.

"Do I get to sleepover on the rock solid bed?" He questions while we make our way back.

"My bed's pretty comfortable," I flirt. He stops in the middle of walking and stares at me, shocked.

"I can't believe you just said that."

"What? We've had sleepovers before," I say innocently.

"Right," Joe runs his hands through his locks and goes along with it. But I take note of the way he reacted just as I wanted him to.