#need mates to go bloke mode

[writeroutoftime]

I saw that your requests are open so I wanted to ask if you could please do something with Jamie Tartt where the reader plays for Arsenal women’s team, and he and some of the lads go to watch the CL semi at the Emirates against Wolfsburg, the reader is playing everything is fine until she has a nasty tackle put on her and she tears her ACL and Jamie goes into protective bf mode and then try to comfort her because she's going to miss the world cup. Thank you so much 🩷

words: 0.9k

a/n: hey lovely anon, thanks for sending this my way! hopefully, this is what you were looking for - please enjoy!!

oOoOo

Jamie loved moments like this. When he was the one sat in the stands, surrounded by his mates, snack in his hand, and cheering for his favorite team. Well, more like cheering for his favorite player - you.

It was a tense match between Arsenal (your team, which Jamie's was proudly sporting a jersey for) and Wolfsburg. Jamie and the rest of Richmond were on their feet watching as you dribbled the ball down the field, so close to being able to take a shot on goal. But, at the last second, one of the opposing team’s defenders came swooping in and knocked you harshly to the ground.

Time seemed to stand still as Jamie watched you tumble, his arms outstretched, and your name on his lips. “Referee!” he cried out, like many other onlookers. It was moments like this that Jamie wished the players you went up against were a bunch of blokes he could pummel for hurting you. Yes, it was unrealistic to believe you would never get a bump or a bruise, but that didn’t mean it hurt Jamie any less when it happened.

But Jamie quickly realized this was much more serious than a simple shove, and blood rushed in his ear. It didn't matter though as there was nothing else to hear as the entire stadium fell silent when they noticed the way you clutched your knee to your body, not yet having jumped back to your feet.

The referee blew her whistle, and your coach and team physio came rushing onto the field, kneeling next to you. Even though he was up in the stands, Jamie watched the way your face contoured in shades of pain as the physio gentle poked and prodded your injury, trying to determine the extent of your injury. Jamie ached to storm the field and take your hand, but Issac’s grip on his shoulder kept him ground.

After what seemed like a lifetime, a stretcher was brought out and you were taken off the field to a storm of claps from the stadium. Though the match continued, Jamie pushed away from his teammates, throwing some mumble of a goodbye over his shoulder, and ran down to the locker room. He was stopped from bursting into the locker room but caught one of your coaches.

“Please, where is y/n? I need to see her.” Jamie begged, tears blurring his own vision. While, realistically, he knew you were going to be okay, the thought of you alone and in pain tore away at his heart.

“The ambulance is outside ready to take her to the hospital. She just asked me to come and find you.” your coach reported.

Barley seconds after finishing her second, Jamie tore off towards the parking lot and saw the opened ambulance, you laying in the back, tears streaking your cheeks. “Babe.” Jamie called out, jumping into the ambulance bay, ignoring the nearby EMTs.

“Jamie.” you whimpered, reaching a hand for him to take, knowing the weight of his presence was the only thing that could comfort you in that moment.

“What did they say, love? They gonna have to chop it off?” he teased, trying to lighten the situation and his carefully brushed away the tears.

The smallest shake of your head told him this was much more serious than a sprain or a bruised muscle. “T-they’re pretty sure it’s a torn ACL.” you whispered, burying your face into Jamie’s chest as much as the situation allowed.

“Oh, love.” Jamie said, holding onto you even tighter as the EMTs locked the ambulance doors and began to drive to the hospital.

There was nothing Jamie could think of to make this moment any better. With the World Cup only a few short months away, there was no hope you would be cleared to play by that time. One looked at you and Jamie could see all the self-destructive thoughts that ran through your head because he knew the same thoughts would be running through his if the roles were reversed. He also knew if the roles were reversed, you would have already thought of ten perfect things to say to Jamie and he knew he needed to speak out.

“Look at me, babe.” he encouraged, gently cupping your cheek in his hand. “This doesn’t make you any less of a fucking outstanding player. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, a supposedly outstanding player who’s gonna miss out on her one shot of playing in the world cup.”

Jamie frowned, hating to hear you talk about yourself that way. “What makes you think this was your only chance?”

“Don’t be dense, Jamie. I know I’m replaceable, and this is just the start.” you pouted.

“Or, you take this time, get better, go back out there, and show them what a fucking star you are.” he countered. “I know it, and I know you do too, deep down. This doesn’t have to be the end, y/n. You gonna come back from this and make sure everyone knows that y/n fucking y/l/n is a name they’ll never forget.” he tells you, so passionately you can see the sparkle in his eyes.

Your heart is flooded with warmth as his words wash over you. Unconsciouly, you snuggled deeper against Jamie, grateful for his presence. And it was then you knew that even if you never played again, it wouldn't matter as long as you had Jamie by your side.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso imagine #rita writes

[hp-nextgen-fest]

The final week of HP Next Gen Fest was chock-full of amazing works, including quite the selection of cross-gen fics! If you haven’t had a chance, we highly encourage you to go check them out. Please be sure to leave our creators lots of love! Anonymous Masterlist coming later this weekend, with creator reveals scheduled for the 15th!

Jeddy

The Peculiar Case of Pineapple Sunglasses (T, digital art)

James and Teddy are working some undercover Auror case as a happy couple on a flashy cruise. As their feet touched the deck, James discarded his clothes, put on a pair of pineapple-shaped sunglasses and switched to full-on holiday mode. Only if he knew what torment it is for poor Teddy to focus on the case now.

tie up the boat, take off your coat (E // 16K)

There’s one element to this assignment that Teddy can’t quite get over—because it’s covert, they need a cover. And apparently, the only cover anyone could come up with on short notice is horribly cliché and frankly horrifying for reasons Teddy can’t exactly say out loud, especially in front of James. Honeymooners. They’re to pose as two blokes madly in love and fresh off their wedding, on a week-long cruise, and blissfully happy in their new marriage.

Scorbus

A Name for It (G // 2K)

Everyone has always teased Albus for not dating anyone, but the truth is that he's never really been attracted to anyone. Well... anyone except Scorpius. Then Madam Pomfrey teaches a sex ed class and the sexuality spectrum and Albus is thrilled to finally be able to put a name to how he feels.

Finding Myself (T // 6K)

Albus and Scorpius meet for the first time at University. They're room-mates who find a surprising amount of support and understanding with each other. They become close friends and...more.

Cross-Gen

Only If You Want It (Harry Potter/Scorpius Malfoy // E // 3K)

Scorpius only wanted two things in his life: Harry Potter and an Auror career.

Tear Us Apart (Harry Potter/Scorpius Malfoy // E // 10K)

Harry's problems started when his dear Albus was a fourteen-year-old boy, who wanted to invite his best friend during the summer holidays: Scorpius Malfoy.

Wait for Me (Draco Malfoy/Albus Potter // E // 80K)

Draco had always believed that Harry had been the one that got away. His one great love—his best friend. He had tried to let go, to find that love in another. But he had failed. He'd accepted his fate—if he couldn't have Harry in that way, just having Harry in his life could be enough. Despite his unrequited love, Draco’s life had changed for the better in so many ways. But nothing had changed him more than holding Harry's son in his arms—darling little Albus. That day, he became the most important person in the world to Draco. Watching the boy grow into the brilliant and determined young man had been a treasure, as tumultuous as it was. Be it teenage angst or failed relationships, Draco had always been there to pick up the pieces for his boy. Even when his feelings took a turn for the unexpected, Draco wouldn't trade their journey for the world. Not when his great love had been there all along—waiting for him. OR 30 years of thirsty pining for a Potter.

you are the daylight (Sirius Black/James Sirius Potter // T // 6K)

Sirius Black stumbles out of the Veil—three decades after he supposedly died—back into a world where Harry is now a middle-aged father and kids are using magical dating apps. James Sirius Potter is his self-appointed guide in this modern world, and his dead best friend's grandson, and has no right to be this attractive.

#hp next gen fest 22 #weekly roundup #jeddy #scorbus #hp cross gen #dralbus #scarry #sirius black x james sirius potter #jeddy fic #scorbus fic #hp cross gen fic #hp next gen fic #hp next gen #hp next generation

[xbadgerbearx]

i guess they are pretty funky

word count: 1.5k

Can’t Sleep: [2] … [4]

Your team prepared themselves as you started your journey to your new destination. You and Abner were talking about random things as you walked.

"You really like the dots?" Abner timidly asked.

"Are you kidding? Of course! You're so colorful," you said quietly with a smile.

Abner smiled to himself before motioning to your outfit. "I like your uniform too, it suits you. It makes your eyes stand out."

"Thank you! Ya know, I always thought you had a really nice nose- whoa, Abner, are you doing alright?" You cut yourself as you faced Abner for the first time during this walking session. He had those glowing dots on his face again.

"Oh! Those?" He was nervously covering his face. "Don't worry about-" splat. Abner tripped over a rogue tree root and fell face first into the mud. As you went to help pick him up, Flag turned around.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Everyone turned around to look at you two, well, minus Cleo, but she was sitting on a fallen tree almost asleep.

"We're tired, Colonel. We need a rest," she whined.

"Goddamn hobbyists," muttered Chris.

Soria turned to Flag, "We cannot stop. We need to hurry if you're going to help my people."

"Hey," DuBois intervened. "We're not here to help your people. But she's right, we gotta keep moving."

"I carry friend?"

"It's okay, Nanaue," Cleo said before turning to Abner. "It's happening to his face again."

"It's nothing, I tripped," he brushed off.

"Hey," Peacemaker said as he shoved Abner back. "Norman Bates, if that shit's contagious, we need to know."

"It's not," Abner tried moving forward before he was pushed again.

"What is it?"

"What's your deal, Chris? Stop pushing people around before I turn into something you're really not gonna like. And what's up with the obscure references?" You were getting fed up with Chris' bullshit.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"I don't know, how about your dead father? The one that killed himself in front of you when you were a kid?"

"How do you-"

"You'd be surprised how much your mom loved recording all your childhood achievements. Your fifth birthday—ring a bell?" Peacemaker had an unreadable expression on his face as you got in his face and lowered your voice. "You wouldn't believe how much information you can get on your hands if you're able to disguise yourself as a high ranking employee in Belle Reve."

Before any of you could make the situation worse, Abner cleared the tension with a sigh.

"It's a... it's an interdimensional virus."

"Fuck is that?" Peacemaker asked after seemingly forgetting what just happened. You think he was trying to not think about it.

"My mother was a scientist at S.T.A.R Labs, and she was obsessed with turning me and my brother and sisters into superheroes."

"Oh, Abner," you softly said as you placed a hand on his arm. Peacemaker looked between the two of you with a hard expression.

"She infected me. Now, if I don't expel the dots twice a day..."

DuBois asked, "Then what?"

Abner made a face that was hard to read as he said, "They'll eat me alive." He then chuckled dryly as if he himself couldn't believe it.

"What happened to your brother and sisters?" Flag questioned.

"Some lived. Some... died."

Cleo, now standing, asked, "And your mom, where is she now?"

Abner looked to you before turning to his team.

"Almost everywhere."

Everyone just looked at Krill for a few moments.

"Okay," Flag turned around. "Let's move out."

"Come on, we must hurry, or we'll be late to meet my contact," Soria ushered.

Sooner or later, well, later, you made your way to this blockade where a driver in a large van was being investigated. During your trip Abner had to expel the dots, and although he was embarrassed about the situation, you and Cleo tried keeping his mind off it. The soldiers surrounded the van after a minute and started banging on the door. That was your cue.

Peacemaker started taking people out with a silenced pistol, Bloodsport shot with his arm crossbow, and King Shark ate a guy. The rest of the team moved from their hiding spots once the soldiers were dealt with. Success.

Bloodsport banged on the van's window before asking, "Are you Milton?"

The driver choked out a tearful "Si."

After Soria directed him to a nearby pull off spot, you started looking at the contents in the boxes that were pulled out.

"Milton will drive you through town and to La Gatita Amable. There are clothes in the boxes for all of you so you can blend in." Cleo started putting on a random pair of sunglasses as you pulled out a fedora. Soria continued, "That said, the walking tiburon is gonna have to stay out of sight."

"I wear disguise," Nanaue said.

"Ohhh," Cleo drawled. "You're going to wear a disguise?"

"Si."

"Hey, he's learnin' Spanish," Peacemaker said offhandedly.

"And what kind of disguise?"

"Fake mustache," he said smugly.

"Yeah," DuBois interrupted as he moved more boxes. "Fake mustache isn't gonna cut it, mate."

"Aww come on," you cooed. "What if he wears a hat?" The fedora you picked up earlier was now sitting on the King of the Ocean's head.

"You still look exactly like yourself."

"That's the worst fake mustache I've ever seen," Chris added.

"And if you had fooled us, we'd have to kill you, shark-shaped bloke with a mustache creepin' up on us like that."

"FUCK!" Nanaue yelled as he stomped off. You snickered before turning to Abner with some clothes in your hand.

"What do you think?"

"Hmm? Oh, those look nice, although I saw something in another box that I thought you might like. Let me go get it."

As he walked away towards another box, you dropped the clothes you were holding as your face softened. Someone saw something and thought of you? That hasn't happened for a very long time. You started sifting thoughtfully through a nearby box when he came back.

"Here," he showed you the clothes. "I hope you like it." It was sweet how anxious he was getting over this. He must not socialize often.

Taking the clothes from him, you observed the material. It was... actually really good. It was something you would've loved to wear if you weren't forced to wear that stupid prison outfit, and it looked like it'd fit.

"Abner, this is great! It's a lot better than what I was originally going with," you laughed. "Oh! Here, I saw these pants and thought it would match the shirt you picked up."

"Thank you," he said shyly.

"I'm gonna change over there. Stand watch, please?"

How could he say no to you? "Of course," he said while respectfully turning around. As he waited, Peacemaker appeared.

"(L/n) around?"

"Huh?" Abner said, startled from Chris's sudden presence. "Uh, yeah, they went over there to change into their disguise. I'm looking out for them."

"Oh, you're looking out for them? Well look out for this, Patrick Bateman," Peacemaker wasn't looking so peaceful as he leaned in towards Abner. Dropping his voice, he continued. "I don't know what you think is going on between you two, but leave it, you understand me? Why would The Mimic want to go for someone as lame as you? You throw polka dots at people?" Peacemaker scoffed before finishing, "Quit getting in my way, or else."

Stay away from you? There was no way he could do that. You were seemingly the only person who liked him, and now he would have to end that? Fuck that.

Abner, admittedly with a little less confidence than what he hoped for, challenged him. "Or else what?"

Gosh, three words and his heart was already pumping.

"Excuse me?" Chris raised a brow.

Luckily before anything could be done, you emerged oblivious from the jungle while dawning your new attire. Your uniform was neatly folded and tucked under your arm. Both men looked at you and... wow. Abner was speechless. Literally. For the second time within you knowing him, you made his breath hitch.

"You look stunning," Peacemaker quickly said before Abner had a chance. That wouldn't really matter since your response was quite the cockblocker.

"Thanks! Abner picked it out for me," you smiled. You even gave a twirl to show off the outfit to your teammates. Abner just looked at you with such affection in his eyes.

"Anyways, your turn," you ordered as you took Krill's watching place so he could change. Peacemaker tried making some move on you, but you were clueless. Instead, you went into Mission Mode™ and discussed some tactics and strategies you could implement. Sighing, Chris humored you and joined your planning. Not too long later, Abner walked out with his disguise on.

"I'm not sure about this," he said while standing awkwardly.

"You look like an idio-"

"You look great!" you voiced over Peacemaker. "I love those pants on you."

"Really?"

"Yeah," you laughed. "They're funky."

"I-" Krill let out a laugh of his own. "Yeah, I guess they are pretty funky."

"Alright, well, we've gotta get back to the van," you announced while walking away. Abner blindly followed you with a dumb little smile on his face while leaving Chris just standing there in disbelief.

#the suicide squad (2021) #suicidesquad #dcu fanfic #polka dot man #bloodsport #peacemaker #ratcatcher ii #ratcatcher 2 #harley quinn #rick flag #abner krill #abner krill x reader #polka dot man x reader #cleo cazo #robert dubois #christopher smith #starro #reader #reader insert #Can’t Sleep

[fruitquake]

The Notebook

Remus had been in such a rush to get to class, he didn’t notice he had grabbed the wrong bag. In fact, in his absentminded state, he didn’t realize before he opened the bag to find Sirius’ things inside: Pieces of crumbled up parchment, a couple of chocolate frogs, a bottle of ink, and his notebook. 

Remus remembered buying that notebook with him, in a bookshop in muggle London. Sirius had immediately fallen in love with the notebooks that had silly “inspirational” quotes written on the cover. The one he had bought said “Shoot for the moon; even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars”, which didn’t even make sense. Of course, Sirius didn’t care if it made sense or not. 

“Alright, now, students, you will be taking notes today, so get your quills and parchment out,” said Professor McGonnagal as she entered the classroom. 

Fuck. Remus didn’t have his own bag, and therefore didn’t have anything to take notes with. He turned in his seat to try and catch Sirius’ attention, but to no avail. 

He would have to borrow Sirius’ notebook then, just for this lesson. He could give it back to him afterwards. 

But as he opened it, something written on the first page caught this eye:

This notebook belongs to Sirius Black Lupin. 

Remus felt his heart rate speed up as he flicked through the pages. On some of them, Sirius had written things like “S+R”, usually with a heart neatly drawn around the letters, as well as “Sirius Lupin” over and over again. A larger block of text caught his eye:

“Why do I feel this way? I know it’s wrong, but no matter how hard I try to make the feeling go away, it’s still there; making me weak in my knees every time I look at him. 

He doesn’t realize the effect he has on me. Every damn time he smiles, or ruffles his hair, or bites his lip when he’s concentrating… Someday, one of these things will be the bloody death of me and he doesn’t even realize. 

If he found out how I feel, he would surely hate me. He can’t know I’m hopelessly in love with him. No one can ever know.” 

Remus stared blankly at the page. Surely, this couldn’t be about himself? Sirius wasn’t in love with him… Was he? 

He quickly closed the notebook before anyone around him could see what was written in it, and turned around to look at Sirius. He was staring at his desk, though he didn’t appear to be taking notes, or doing anything, really. Remus couldn’t help but wonder if Sirius had seen him reading the notebook and if so, what was going through his head?

-

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Sirius’ ears were ringing, his whole brain in panic mode. It was like an alarm inside his head, frantically ringing out:

He knows, he knows, he hates you now, everything is ruined. 

He thought of all the possible ways out of this: Fakng his own death and moving to France and live under a new name. Or faking his own death and move to the other side of the world. Or perhaps even better, faking his own death and going into outer space, making a life for himself on Mars. In fact, he didn’t really have any idea that didn’t involve faking his own death. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus turn in his seat to look at him. 

Alright, Sirius, he said to himself. Keep your eyes down, don’t make eye contact. As soon as Transfiguration is over you can make a run for it. 

By the end of the day, he would be Pierre The Frenchman, living on a cozy wineyard in France. Or an astronaut on his way to Mars. 

But as the lesson ended and students hurried out, he started to realize he couldn’t leave. Even if Remus now hated him, he still loved Remus, and a life without him, even if he got to meet some cool aliens instead, wouldn’t be worth living. 

He stood up, finding himself face to face with Remus. “Hey,” he said, praying his voice wouldn’t betray his nerves. “I think you have my, uh-”

“Notebook?” Remus interrupted in a strangely high-pitched voice. “Haha. What notebook? I didn’t read it. I didn’t even notice it was there. Here’s your bag! Goodbye!” He tossed the bag onto Sirius’ desk, before practically running out of the door, leaving Sirius behind in the nearly empty classroom. 

“What on earth was that about?”

Sirius jumped. He’d completely forgotten that James was there too. He turned around to face him, making a desperate attempt at a nonchalant expression. “No idea,” he lied. 

James didn’t seem so convinced. “Why was he being so weird about a notebook? And what notebook was he even talking about, anyway?” He reached into Sirius’ bag, but Sirius was quick to snatch it out of his hands. 

“It’s private!” he said. 

But James had managed to grab the notebook, and had already opened it. “Oh.” he said, realization dawning on his face. “Oh!” 

“James, give that back!” Sirius pleaded, no longer able to keep the panic out of his voice. 

James looked up at him. “You’re in love with Remus,” he almost whispered. “Shit, mate. Everything makes so much more sense now.”

Sirius looked down, shame mixing with the panic. “You weren’t supposed to have read that.”

But James ignored this. “Sirius, you have to go after him! He clearly feels the same way!”

“No he doesn’t!”

“Yes, he does,” James insisted. “Did you not see him running out of here all red in the face. And how weirdly he acted before… Pads, that is not the behavior of someone who just learned his friend is in love with him and doesn’t return those feelings.” 

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. “You don’t know that,” he mumbled. 

“Yes, I do! Listen to me, dimwit,” James said, grabbing a hold of both Sirius’ shoulders, forcing him to look at him. “If he didn’t have feelings for you too, he wouldn’t have acted that way. There would have been an awkward conversation where he tried to let you down gently. ‘I really like you as a friend, Sirius, but I would like to stay just that.” Something like that, you know? He definitely wouldn’t have acted like that!”

Could James really be right? Sirius fiddled nervously with his shirt collar. “So… you think I should find him and talk to him, don’t you?”

“Exactly!” James responded. “Come on, no time to waste!”

Sirius sighed. “Alright,” he muttered, taking hesitant steps towards the door. 

“Actually, wait.” James said, grabbing his arm. “Look, Pads, I know I shouldn’t have meddled in this. That notebook was private. And, well… I imagine this isn’t how you planned on me finding out that you like blokes but, uh… I want you to know that I love you just the same. You’ll always be my brother.” 

Sirius didn’t have the words to explain what a relief it was to hear that from James. All of the sleepless nights he had spent, after realizing he was gay, picturing James’ reaction. In his imagination, it was usually the end of their friendship. James looked disgusted, angry, betrayed. But as he looked into his eyes, a deep, gentle brown, there was none of that. No hatred, no disgust. “Thank you, Prongs,” he said with a small smile.

James returned the smile, pulling him into a brief hug. “No problem, mate. Now go talk to Moony, for Merlin’s sake!”

-

Remus had gone to the place he always went when seeking comfort or a place to clear his mind: the Hogwarts library. Surrounded by books, with no people around, except maybe for the librarian, he felt strangely at peace. Today, however, there was no peace. His mind was running at a dangerous speed, way too fast for himself to keep up.  

Sirius liked him… maybe. It could’ve been a prank. Could Sirius have meant for Remus to find it? Was he trying to humiliate Remus by tricking him into confessing his own feelings? Or it could all have been something Remus’ own brain, desperate for love, had made up. Either way, he was going to do what he always did in uncomfortable or scary situations: ignore it until it hopefully went away. 

“Remus.”

Fuck. It was going to be hard to ignore the problem, when the problem was standing a few feet away from him, nervously fiddling with the strap on his bag. 

Sirius shuffled awkwardly next to Remus’ table, eyeing a chair as though he was debating whether or not to sit down. “I thought I might find you here,” he said. 

Remus got up, grabbing a random book off the nearest shelf. “Congrats, Sherlock,” he said snarkily, sitting back down again. He opened the book, pretending to read. It was better than having to face Sirius.

“Moony, I- I know you looked in my notebook,” Sirius said, pulling out the chair opposite Remus and sitting down.

Remus kept his eyes on the book, without catching any of what was written in it. Sirius continued:

“I don’t know how much you actually read, but… Well, I’m pretty sure you saw enough to know the truth.”

“No, I swear, I have no idea what you’re…” Remus trailed off. What good would lying do? He had known Sirius since they were both eleven. There was no one more stubborn or persistent. If Sirius wanted to talk about this, that would happen whether Remus wanted to or not. “Yeah, I did,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.” 

“I need to know the truth as well,” Sirius said. “If you don’t feel the same, that’s fine. I’ll… I’ll get over it, I won’t make it awkward or uncomfortable, I promise. But if you do feel the same…”

Remus opened his mouth, but no sound left him. He didn’t know what to say. This didn’t feel real. It was too good to be true. A prank, for sure. James was probably hiding somewhere, ready to jump out and laugh at him with Sirius if he confessed. 

Silence stretched for what seemed like an eternity, while an internal war wreaked havoc inside of Remus. Should he tell Sirius the truth, or stay silent?

But before either side could win, Sirius had already drawn conclusions from his silence.

“Right,” he said, his voice choked-up and distant. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed there was even a chance you liked me back.” He got up, before Remus could say anything. “Just forget about it, okay?”

Fuck. Remus looked up. Sirius was walking away, his shoulders slumped, his steps heavy. Remus stood up, knocking the chair over in his hurry. “Sirius, wait!”

He had caught up with him in a few long strides. Sirius turned around, his expression hardened like he didn’t dare let himself hope again. 

This time, Remus didn’t waste any time worrying about the consequences. He cupped Sirius’ face with his hands, leaning in to kiss him, and oh Merlin, was it the best decision he had ever made. 

The kiss was returned almost immediately, like it was all Sirius had been wanting to do for years. And maybe it was… Remus thought that was the case for himself, even if he had only recently realized it. 

Both of them lost in the other’s lips, they accidentally backed into a bookcase, sending a few books falling onto the floor. 

“Who’s there?” Called the angry voice of Madam Pince. 

Sirius and Remus looked at each other, both trying to suppress their laughter. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Sirius whispered. 

Remus nodded, letting Sirius take his hand as they both ran from the library. He grinned, feeling the rush of adrenaline and euphoria take over his mind. They hid in an unused classroom, both of them laughing and panting. 

“That was close, huh?” Sirius said. “Imagine if Madam Pince had seen us. She would’ve lost her damn mind.” 

“Definitely.” Remus’ cheeks hurt from smiling. “So,” he said. “Sirius Lupin, huh?” 

Sirius groaned. “Shut up,” he said, his face turning red. 

Remus laughed. “No,” he said. “Never. It’s embarrassing for you.”

“It is,” Sirius agreed. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Remus’ lips. “Will kissing shut you up?”

“Mmh.” Remus stroked his chin with mock thoughtfulness. “You know, it just might. Why don’t keep kissing me to find out?”

#me? writing something????? unbelievable! #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #james potter #marauders #marauders era #fanfic #fanfiction #wolfstar fanfic #marauders fanfiction

[lawformat3]

Greatest car accessories 2021: car tech you never knew a person needed

Best car and truck accessories 2021: car tech a person never knew an individual needed This isn? t going to be able to be a directory of Pimp My Ride-worthy very sonic sound systems, hot tubs within the back involving the truck, aquariums, or even chandeliers, but a functional set of all the car accessories which may actually improve the driving experience. Coming from dash cams of which will prove the innocence within a crash to wireless Bluetooth transmitters for car sound systems that will predate smartphone connectivity, the car equipment market is surely a variable 1. Best dash camera Best sat navigation Best car telephone owners But before we get into the cool gadgetry, there? s one necessary item that clinches the top area. Dog hair, sharp crumbs, mud, hairpins along with the odd 1p coin; by typically the end of typically the month, your automobile probably looks like the detritus dumping terrain, which means typically the clever and easy Dyson V6 Car & Boat is a no-brainer when that comes to? neet to purchase? car accessories. NEXTBASE 622GW DASH CAMSHAFT Catch drivers inside of the act together with this 4K dashboard cam There? s nothing more annoying than trying to explain to the insurance company that the car accident wasn? t your own fault, whatever kinds of tangled internet of lies the 3rd party is striving to weave. Nicely now, the evidence is in the camera. Recording in 4K high quality, this smart splash cam allows you to record and simply transfer footage in the device to your phone or residence PC. It utilizes a magnetic pad to secure on its own to the dial also it tracks your own GPS and speed to assure everything's good and square whenever you occur to experience an accident. TILE MATE ? Where me personally keys, where me personally phone?? Don? t know? Tile Mate? ll find these people While the bloke from Britain? s Obtained Talent may include enjoyed his 15 minutes of popularity (can? t bear in mind? where me important factors, where me cell phone?? Look it upward on Youtube, it? lmost all blow your mind), we understand only as well well the aggravation of actually misplacing these people. This handy gadget attaches to your keys; you are able to band it out of your telephone or consult typically the app to find out whenever they were last seen. You can also press typically the button for the Tile Mate itself in addition to it? ll ring your phone? and it? ll even create a noise on silent mode? handy, eh? DIVI USB VEHICLE CHARGER The Divi USB charger is probably the most compact vehicle chargers on the market, using a slimline design, which sits down almost flush with the edge with the outlet. It'll let you simultaneously charge 2 devices at total speed with 2 . not 4A in each USB port. Typically the aluminium case looks more premium compared to the plastic options in the marketplace, and the scratch resistance technology maintains it resembling brand new. The Divi phone chrgr has a number of protection guarantees, and arrives with a 10 month manufacturer warranty. FIREFLY BLUETOOTH RECIPIENT A slick alternative for turning your can into a Bluetooth speaker Add Wireless bluetooth to your mobile entertainment system with Firefly, the world's smallest music receiver. Firefly allows you to be able to stream music by your smartphone to any device with a great AUX input. Present plug Firefly directly into your audio system in addition to an USB electrical power source, and match it with your touch screen phone. Once paired, Firefly will remember your own device and auto-connect whenever you're close to.

https://www.flickr.com/people/191005363@N05/ ARTECK CAR HOP STARTER 8000MAH To have instant power improve If your car is getting on a new bit, and is just not always first start occasion, don't call a tow truck services or wait on the side involving the road for help, make use of the Arteck. This handy bit of device will group your vehicle as much as 20 times on a single charge, with heavy duty cables and grip built in. It can be heading also charge all of your compact devices, such while smartphones, tablets, cameras, wireless headphones, plus portable gaming systems, etc, and, if that wasn't enough, it has an ultra-bright RED torch built inside. LDESIGN WIRELESS BLUETOOTH FM TRANSMITTER Hit on the music with this convenient Bluetooth transmitter When the radio jingles literally cause you to be desire to blow some sort of gasket, hook upwards your phone to be able to this transmitter and even play your own tunes through your automobile stereo. With a great in-built microphone, indicate cancellation and noise suppression, this transmitter handily doubles up as a hands free calling device and triples up as a new charger. Plugging right into your cigarette lighter weight socket, this transmission device is easy to be able to use and, according to people that? ve already acquired it, provides tons of performance characteristics, too. AUTOGLYM THE GATHERING - PERFECT BODYWORK, WHEELS & INTERIORS Get you car looking brand brand new If you've just got a new car, or are looking in order to update your old car, you'd end up being surprised how efficient a comprehensive clean is certainly. In case you are looking with regard to a total clear, you can't get wrong with Autoglym's Bodywork, Wheels as well as Interior collection. The kit contains anything you need to be able to get your vehicle sparkling again, which includes bodywork shampoo, super resin polish, excess gloss protection, clean wheels, instant tyre dressing, alloy wheel seal, interior shampoo, car glass polish, vinyl and rubber care, a cloth or sponge, hi-tech finishing material, and finally, an aqua dry material.

#cars #detailing #automotive #automobile #truck #accessories

[nix1327]

Supernatural Shobbs AU

I wrote this back in October and just now remembered it. Enjoy lol

Luke had always been proud to be a Were; even prouder to be a wolf. Since he was little, his father had always preached to him about the importance of pure genetics and how, when he married- because that was something all wolves should do- he needed to marry another wolf with pure genes. Even after his father had left and he had stopped listening to the Pure speech bullshit, Luke’s mother had still thrown around the idea that Luke should be thinking about settling down, having a family pretty soon.

After he had turned his father in and left Samoa to join the DSS, the idea that he should find another wolf to settle down with still rattled around in his head. Apparently it had prioritized itself pretty quick, too; Samantha was proof of that. And despite it not having worked out exactly as he had hoped, he wouldn’t have it any other way. If he’d never met Sam’s mother, he, obviously, would have never had Sam. And if Sam’s mom had never left, well, he’d never have met Deckard Shaw. So, it all worked out pretty well if Luke did say so himself.

The fact that Deckard was human was something Luke hadn’t really thought much about. Being around Deckard, he hadn’t had reason to think about it. It was like the man had all of the abilities of a Were, what with the way he kept up with the crew. The way he could keep up with Luke. And that- that right there- was the main reason he hadn’t ever considered Deckard’s humanness. No, Luke had been too busy thinking about how Deckard could keep up with him in other ways.

When the Hobbs family had first met Deckard, they’d all been a little preoccupied with saving the world to really get to know him; in other words, they never got the chance to really sit down and grill him. And after the whole world-saving business, well, Deckard had more than proven himself to the Hobbs clan. They had warmed up to him pretty quick after that. Really, Luke’s mom practically spoiled Deckard now. She liked to show her affection for the man who had “reigned in her wildest son” by making extra special kopai for him. Also by hitting said son with her flip flops, scolding Luke for not feeding Deckard enough. Needless to say, integrating Deckard into the pack was like mixing sugar with water, the Brit just dissolved right in.

And it’s not as if being human was a bad thing. It’s just a little different than the Were Luke’s mother had originally thought he’d settle down with. Anyway, it could be a million times worse; Deckard could be a vampire or something of the sort. Yikes, Luke’s nose wrinkled even thinking about those bloodsuckers. Yeah, his human mate was perfect just the way he was.

****

It was late October, getting close to Halloween. Luke and Deckard were at the Hobbs residence, helping Sam with her costume. She was going in sugar skull makeup to her friend’s Halloween party tomorrow night. Apparently, it was the biggest party of the year, and therefore everything had to be perfect. The black skirt had arrived on the doorstep just that afternoon, and Sam had been ecstatic to see that it fit. Now it was dark out and Luke was sitting with her in the living room, helping her develop the control to change her eye color to her beta color, so she wouldn’t have to wear contacts.

“Bloody Amazon,” Deckard said, walking into the warmly lit room.“Can’t even get the face paint order straight. They botched it up so that it’s not coming tonight. Won’t even be here in time for tomorrow night.” Sam’s ears perked up at that and she looked worriedly from Deckard and back to her father. Sensing the beginnings of a “teenage angst storm”, as Deckard liked to call them, Luke quickly began thinking on his feet and smiled at Sam in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

“S’alright, Sammy. We can just go to the store and get some tomorrow after you get home from school.” Luke could clearly see how Sam’s shoulders drooped and she brought out the puppy dog eyes.

“But I need time to practice with it, Dad! I can’t put it on for the first time when I go to the party!” Deckard took one look at Sam’s big, sad eyes and was already reaching for his jacket from the coat rack.

“I was headed out to run some errands, anyway. It’s no trouble to pick up some face paint too. Plenty of time to try it out and get to bed on time for a school night,” he said with a wink to the teen. Sam’s entire aura brightened and she gave Deckard a megawatt smile.

“Deck, you don’t have to do that,” Luke hated the way his words darkened his daughter’s face, but he didn’t want Deckard to have to make the trip all the way out to Walmart when he was headed that way tomorrow. He could pick up the goods then.

Deckard shrugged a shoulder and waved off Luke’s concern. “It’s no trouble, Big Bird. I’m meeting a bloke that’s got a new piece for me tonight anyway. I’ll just pick up the paint on my way home.” Luke frowned slightly at that, but knew Deckard could take care of himself.

“If you say so, Princess.” Deckard rolled his eyes at the nickname, but still leaned up to give Luke a quick peck goodbye when prompted before heading for the front door.

“Deckard.” Deckard turned at the sound of his name and Luke gave him a meaningful look. “Stay safe.”

Deckard gave Luke a lopsided grin and an, “Aren’t I always?” before opening the door and heading out into the chilly night.

Despite the normality of the situation, Luke had a bad feeling about it all. He looked out and watched Deckard drive away before shaking himself and getting back to coaching Sam in control, brushing off the slight wariness as a side effect of the waxing moon.

****

Four hours later, after having sent a slightly upset but more worried Sam to bed, Luke was starting to get a little worried himself; the unease was flowing back into him and chilling his veins. Deckard had only said that he was meeting up with a guy to buy a gun, then grabbing the face paint before heading home. That certainly shouldn’t take four hours.

Luke waited a couple more minutes, weighing his options before he got up and headed for the kitchen. With his mind made up, Luke ripped off a piece of paper and jotted down a note in case Sam woke up to an empty house. He grabbed his leather jacket and his keys before heading for the door.

Luke pulled open the door and screeched to a halt when he saw the fist that was raised, as if about to knock.

“Jesus,” Hobbs jumped about a foot in the air. “Deckard? You scared the shit outta me. I was just about to come out looking for you. When’d you get here? I didn’t see your headlights in the driveway. Did everything go alright? You get the face pai…” Luke’s ramblings faded to silence as he squinted his eyes and took his first good look at his partner.

“Deckard? Are you alright? Oh my God is that BLOOD!?!” Suddenly Deckard was falling and Luke was catching him in his arms, sweeping him up off his feet and bringing him inside, kicking the door shut as he went.

Luke laid Deckard down on the couch and turned on the overhead lights. The sight made his hackles raise and his eyes flash. Deckard was covered in blood. His jacket and white shirt were completely stained, and his neck and face were splattered with red droplets.

Luke’s hands immediately flitted around Deckard before descending down to his abdomen and working his way up, checking for any grievous injuries. In his attempt to find a wound that could be responsible for the copious amount of blood, Luke happened to overlook the small wounds.

“Hey. Deckard. Deck. Stay with me,” Luke patted the other man’s face gently and tried to get him to keep his eyes open. “What happened? Deckard. What happened?” Deckard’s eyes opened for a moment, wild and alert. As his gaze focused in on Luke, the wildness cleared, his body relaxing in Luke’s grip as he realized he was safe and protected.

“Hey, Twinkle Toes,” he whispered before his eyes shut and he fell into unconsciousness.

“Deckard! Wake up! Wake up!” Luke shook the other man none too gently but Deckard didn’t move. He was completely dead to the world.

****

The first thing Luke noticed, when he had reined in his emotions and shifted into work mode, was the smell. There was this faint whiff of something sharp attacking his nose. It was coming from Deckard. Hidden under all of that humanness, there was the faintest trace of the supernatural. This was new.

Luke had gotten used to smelling Hattie’s fae powder on Deckard after he came back from visiting London, or Owen’s Werejaguar musk after Deckard got back from some black ops mission. He was most familiar with the intimate, salty ocean scent of his own pack reflected back on him by Deckard after the man had spent a few weeks with him. He had never, in all his time around Deckard, smelled a hint of the supernatural within him.

Because of this, Luke ruled out the option of taking Deckard to human hospitals. He didn’t know if they were equipped to deal with something like this. But it’s not like he could take the man to a Supernatural Hospital; there was no record of Deckard being a Supe and they might think he’d been hiding it. For which there were many severe laws in place that punished this. The only option Luke really had left was one he wasn’t too comfortable with. But with Deckard on his couch, possibly bleeding out from a wound Luke couldn’t identify, well, he’d brave just about any situation to get his partner the help he needed.

****

One phone call, a sleepy conversation with Sam, and an hour later Luke was standing in his living room, wringing his hands as one of Mr. Nobody’s best Supernatural doctors looked over Deckard.

All of Luke’s instincts were screaming at him to attack the doctor and get him off of his mate, but Luke chained the wolf down and kept him on a short leash. Deckard needed his help right now, not an overprotective wolf man.

“You said this was his blood?” Luke was broken out of his thoughts by the kneeling doctor.

“Yeah. I’m certain it is. I can smell it.” Luke wishes he couldn’t.

The doctor made a humming noise that grated on Luke’s nerves and tested his patience. Thankfully, he wasn’t left waiting long before the doctor adjusted his glasses, opened his mouth, and started explaining.

“Well, the good news is that I know what’s wrong with him. The bad news is that, you being what you are, aren’t going to like it.” The doctor turned towards Luke, his eyes behind his glasses flickering back from their beta color. Luke’s hackles raised at his comment and he couldn’t help the growl that escaped.

“‘What I am?’ What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” the doctor said, getting up off his knees and taking his glasses off to look Luke right in the eye, “that you, a Werewolf, have a problem because he,” the man gestured to Deckard, “is a newly made Homo Nosferatu Vampiris. More commonly known as a vampire.”

Oh.

OH SHIT.

#deckard shaw x luke hobbs #hobbs/shaw #hobbs x shaw #deckard shaw #luke hobbs #samantha hobbs #supernatural au #werewolves #hobbs and shaw #fast & furious #shobbs

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 30 ~The Last Stand~

Claire stepped out of the pub, inhaled the fresh cold Autumn air and plucked the phone from the back of her jeans pocket. She'd decided to give Jamie a call to find out if he was still working. She listened to the phone ring while navigating the pavement filled with people coming in and out of pubs and restaurants. The time spent with her friend John had been pleasant and refreshing. It was great to talk to someone who wasn't from within her social circle and not had to go into discussions about Jamie and her present concerns. For the first time in ages, she felt more optimistic. Maybe it had something to do with the change of scene after being stuck in the repetitive work, home and sleep cycle. Or perhaps it had to do with her decision to stop moping and thinking the worse of what's to come. Being alone with her own thoughts at the moment wasn't a great idea by a long shot, which could cost her at the worst of times her peace of mind. Geillis was right. She needed to be more proactive about her issues instead of dwelling on the negativity.

Jamie's voicemail came on, so she terminated the call, weaving through a small group of revellers as she came closer to her destination. If he wasn't home, she knew he would be soon. Mildly tipsy, she'd left John at the pub not long after a couple of his friends had joined them at their table. She'd made it a point that a pint of lager and a dram of whisky was her limit for tonight if she was going to make it to Jamie's place whole and without staggering. 

The sky was overcast and dark by the time she made it to Jamie's building and slipped the key into the main entrance, opening the heavy, wooden door. She hadn't seen his BMW parked anywhere in the street and thought he must still be working. Shivering and feeling the cold, she rubbed her hands together, craving for a nice mug of tea and the comfort of the snug recliner. She made a move towards the stairs, the sounds of her clunky boots echoing in the hall and the retro-styled wall lamp dramatically illuminating the interior as she started her ascend.

When she finally made it to the apartment, she slid the key into the lock, opened the door and slipped in. She heard jazz music coming from the surround system, and the lights in the hallway were dimmed.  Jamie's home!  Anticipation bloomed in her heart. He must have taken the taxi and left his car somewhere, a habit they both had when they'd had a bit to drink. Humming, she pulled off her jacket and hanged it in the cloak wardrobe. She stopped by the console table to deposit her keys and phone, and saw several post-it notes in Jamie's hurried writing and crumpled receipts. She absentmindedly glanced at them and lifted her head when she heard movements in the kitchen.

Impatiently, she toed off her ankle boots and headed towards the door that led to the open-plan room, a smile curving her lips when the smell of pizza made her stomach growl. It was a stranger's voice that froze her smile, a distinctly soft feminine laugh. She opened the door slowly, the lit kitchen illuminating a brunette girl with only a towel draped around her body. The girl was tall, and her long dark hair fell in soft waves just below her shoulders. She was pouring wine into two glasses.

Her head pounding and chest tightening, Claire stepped into the room. A part of her was screaming for her to leave immediately, but the other half wanting to see this through, to look Jamie in the eyes and show him she would not disintegrate. Although her feet weighed like lead, she took another step. And then another, the thin string of control almost at its breaking point, ready to snap at any moment. 

When the girl finally turned and realised she wasn't alone, she let out an ear-piercing scream that sent a pair of heavy feet running towards their direction and almost busting Claire's eardrums.

Claire's hand clenched, her fury pushing hard through her veins. She ignored the girl's screams and waited for Jamie to come out.   But ...

"Claire? What are ye doing here?"

Holy sweet Moses!  Instead of Jamie, she was greeted by a stark naked Rabbie. Flusteredly pointing her finger at his dangly bits, she clapped a hand over her eyes and looked the other way. "Oh for the love of God, Rabbie put that ...that ...that thingy away." Tall as Jamie as he was but a gangly version, no way was she ever going to look at Jamie's wee brother the same way again. And to say the very least, there was certainly nothing wee about him.

"It's a penis," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "Jamie's got the same, ye ken?"

Oh God, he's even as cocky as his brother.  A hand still covering her eyes, Claire stomped her foot to make a point. "Rabbie!! I know what it is, for heaven's sake ...just put it away and put some clothes on, will you? I'm not speaking to you unless you're fully clothed."

"Roberto? What is the meaning of this? Who is this woman? What is she doing here?" the brunette girl rapidly launched the questions in a thick Spanish accent. 

" Tranquila querida, it's only my future sister-in-law," he soothed. "Come, let's get dressed."

Future sister-in-law? Oh, whatever next?

"But she saw your berenjena,"  the brunette pointed out, a sulk evident in her tone.

"You calling my cock an aubergine?" Rabbie gently chided. "Now that's uncalled for."

The girl giggled as Claire heard them move away, and only when she was certain she was alone, did she take her hand off her eyes.

With shaking knees, she collapsed onto the nearest chair and wondered what the hell just happened.

..........

Jamie checked his phone as he headed towards the parking lot and noticed he had a missed call from Claire. She hadn't left a message, and when he'd tried to call back, she didn't answer. He'd just finished a session of photocalls for a sports magazine and was hoping to catch up with her in the pub. And find out more about this, John.  But which pub?

His thoughts zeroed in on Joe and immediately called his number.

"Hey, buddy." Joe sounded merry, and there were music and loud voices in the background. He thought maybe he joined Claire at the pub.

"Hey, Joe. Is Claire with ye?"

"Claire? No, sorry, mate. I'm out with the lads from work. Have you tried calling her?"

"Aye, but she's not answering. She told me she's going to a pub, but I didn't have the sense to ask her earlier which one."

"Mmm, we usually frequent The Last Drop. Maybe you ought to try looking for her there."

"I will do." Jamie found his car, got in and closed his eyes, only half-listening, trying to remember his other purpose for calling.

"I hardly get to see you nowadays, buddy. Claire told me you've been really busy, and she barely gets to see you too. But then, work is work isn't it? Can't turn your nose up when the opportunity knocks. Got to take it by the ..."

"Joe." The moment he said his name, Joe stopped talking.

"Yes?"

"Claire went out with this doctor bloke ...whatshisname ...John from St Leonards. What do ye ken of him?"

"John? John Grey?"

"Aye."

"He's sound. Pretty straight-up guy, ace doctor and hilarious as fuck."

Jamie coughed, an uncomfortable weight settling in his chest. "So ye ken him good, aye?"

"Of course I do. I got Claire that temp job, didn't I? He's a good pal of mine."

Jamie got straight to the point. "Why is he hanging out with Claire? Doesn't he know ...eh ... she's with me?"

A few seconds went by before Joe let out a loud unrestrained laugh. "Whoa! Who are you, and what have you done with James Fraser?"

He muttered a curse under his breath. "Look, listen ...I don't have time for this. I haven't been around Claire lately, but that's all gonnae change very soon. It's just that I've been so busy with the sports complex and interviews and other stuff, I thought she might feel I've neglected her and all. And I was wondering if she'd said anything to ye or ye'd had any hints of her going off me and started seeing other people."

"Well, mate that's what happens when you don't keep an eye on your lass ...you snooze, you lose," he replied laughing.

Irritation skated his back. "Stop taking the mickey, Joe! If ye ken something, spit it out."

"Hey! Hold yer horses, man," Joe countered, this time his tone sounding more serious. "You can't blame me for taking the piss. Are you even listening to yourself? You start asking stupid questions, you'll get stupid answers. Fuck, Jamie ... sometimes you're a picnic short of a sandwich. What do you think of Claire? Do you think, just because you don't have time for her, she'd start seeing other people? She's got more depth than that."

Jamie banged the back of his head against the headrest of the car seat, biting his tongue so he'd not say anything he'd regret later. "Ah, bugger it."

There was a long silence on the other end. Jamie wondered if he had better luck calling up Geillis, but at his state at the moment, he didn't think he had the patience for her usual smart-ass remarks.

"John is gay." Joe finally spoke.

He straightened up. "What?"

"John is gay, and he has a boyfriend, but that isn't the point here. Even if John wasn't gay, you don't have anything to worry about Claire's devotion to you. And my piece of advice ...if your conscience is bothering you not spending much time with her this much, then I suggest you do something about it. She's been messed about a lot. And I sometimes wonder why she chose to be with a man who has a past like yours. But hey, I'm not judging. So if it feels like she is a little bit distant, it's just her self-preservation mode kicking in. She doesn't ask for much, Jamie ...but a little reassurance that you're there for her will go a long way. That's all I have to say to that."

Something loosened up inside of him, and he realised he'd been holding his breath and clutching the steering wheel in a tight grip. He allowed himself to slowly relax and breath. "Thanks, Joe," was all he could manage. Nursing unnecessary worries was probably the universe's version of biting him on the arse for all those times he'd broken many girls' hearts even though he'd told himself many times he'd never led anyone on. But right now, he needed to put those excuses and insecurities aside and focus on Claire and making their relationship stronger.

"Jamie?"

"Aye?

"Welcome to the incredible world of jealousy. For the price of admission, you get an inferiority complex, palpitations, cold sweats, and a nearly irresistible urge to commit murder, But don't worry, buddy it's all just part of the teething problem. You'll survive."

Jamie let out a laugh, said goodbye and hung up. 

Having Claire in his life was worth the self-doubt and every pain in the arse things that came with it. But Joe's words' kept repeating over and over in his head.  Well, mate that's what happens when you don't keep an eye on your lass ...you snooze, you lose.  It was meant to be a joke, but he didn't like that one bit at all. Just a glimmer of risk to his relationship, suddenly, all he'd worked hard for, lost all of its meaning. Back when his entire life was all about making money out of fear for a shortlived career, he'd been ready to sell his soul. Then he met Claire. He'd said he was done with Forbes, done with the paparazzi, done with everything but the feisty Sassenach that turned his life upside down. However, not much had changed from his old life. He was still running around, trying to court big names in the celebrity world to sell his brand. Then the realisation hit him hard that there's a possibility he could lose her for good if nothing changed and he couldn't, at that moment, ever imagine another man with her. If that happened, it wouldn't be a laughing matter. And if that happened, he would never find another woman like her and all he'd have to show for in his life were the long hours at work but with no one to share it with. Just like what Ned Gowan once told him not too long ago. He closed his eyes to keep those horrible visions at bay. But somehow the images still managed to seep into his consciousness, and it terrified the hell out of him. 

It dawned on him, he would give up everything, pay every cent of his fortune to keep Claire his.  What the hell is happening to me?  Maybe it had something to do with the time he'd spent with her when he didn't need to be anyone other than himself. Perhaps it was the way that, through her, he had taken a good hard look at himself and wanted to change. But he needed to do more to guarantee she wouldn't slip away.

But first, he needed to find her.

.........

Claire poured hot water over the chamomile tea bag in the mug and then a healthy measure of whisky in a tumbler. After the horror of seeing a half-naked girl in Jamie's kitchen and Rabbie in the bare scud, she needed the soothing effects of the herbal brew and the immediate heat of the alcohol to calm her nerves.

She lifted a hand and saw it was still shaking. She'd already taken the pizza meant for Rabbie and company out of the oven and washed the dishes to keep herself busy and pacify her jitteriness. Even the sight and smell of melted cheese couldn't entice her to have a piece of their untouched dinner, her earlier appetite gone and dissipated. The feel of walking into what's supposed to be a romantic setting clung to her, as did the guilt for doubting Jamie ...and if she kept thinking about it, she was going to need more than a dram of whisky.

Dropping down on the nearby stool, she allowed herself to simply be and for once to stop overthinking. So far it hadn't done her any good, only given her sleepless nights and probably making Jamie worried with her constant display of disappointment. These small acts of dubiety against her practical nature were starting to become a liability and a bad character trait. She really needed to pull herself together and give Jamie some credence.

Rabbie walked into the kitchen, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and a tinge of red highlighting the tips of his ears. "Hey," he said, clearing his throat.

They looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing.

He ran an impatient hand through his hair. "God, that was embarrassing."

She wiped the tears from her eyes. "You didn't seem embarrassed when I saw you bollock-naked."

"Oh, that ...no. I'm not embarrassed about that." He jerked a thumb towards the living area. "Ye weren't supposed to know what we were up to ...I meant, at least not here in Jamie's apartment."

"Your girlfriend?" she asked.

"Maria ...aye ...weel, it's complicated. We've been on and off for the last six months. Tonight wasnae supposed to happen. I called Jamie earlier if I could crash here for the night and he said yes since you hardly come here anymore. On the way, I stopped by the pub and saw her. We had a few drinks, and then one thing led to another, we came here for some privacy and then ye appeared. She's still rattled about ye being here, and she's gone all shy. I'll introduce ye another time since she desperately wants to go."

"It's getting late, Rabbie. You can stay. There's enough room."

"Thanks but no thanks. We're good."

She gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry for ruining your evening."

"Ach, think nothing of it," he reassured with a wave of a hand. He was about to turn and go when he stopped on his tracks. "Ummm ...Claire?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell Jamie I brought a girl here."

"If he doesn't ask, I won't say a word," she said, smiling. "After I've drunk my tea and whisky, I'll go straight to bed, so I don't think Jamie will get a chance to ask questions."

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "umm ...I cleared all evidence in the guest bedroom."

"Good."

"See ye around, Claire."

She nodded and waved at the girl, thankful she didn't have to go through small talks with Rabbie's on and off girlfriend. As much as she would have loved to know more about the beautiful exotic looking girl, she couldn't wait to be on her own. Suddenly feeling spent from the roller-coaster emotions she'd been through that day, she downed the whisky in one go. She and Jamie needed to talk. Jamie wasn't the only one dealing with these massive changes in their lives. In the space of three months, there had been enormous upheavals in both their personal and professional lives, and she needed to tell him exactly what she was feeling even if only to vent and release what was troubling her. Constantly letting her imaginations run away from her wasn't healthy and certainly not good for their relationship.

Satisfied with her logic, she went to Jamie's bedroom, undressed and put on one of his t-shirts. And then she went to the kitchen and poured herself another dram, forgoing the tea, and taking it with her to the living area. Placing it on the coffee table, she plonked herself down on the massive leather recliner. It was her favourite place to snuggle into beside Jamie's arm. It had a remote, a seat warmer and it reclined into full position. Pulling the tartan blanket over her, she made herself comfortable. Forty winks were all she needed to regenerate and rid herself of today's troubles before Jamie arrives.

As she began to relax, a sense of peace settled over her. She murmured occasional comments to herself, reminding her of the things she needed to tell Jamie and making a mental to-do list for tomorrow. Gradually her limbs became heavier, and her lids closed, the image of the list floating away with her awareness.

"Claire?"

Her name sounded like dark syrup and caramel, rolling from a tongue. She sighed and lifted her face upward, too drowsy to raise her arms - the distinctive scent of Jamie, soap, and a hint of aftershave connecting to her senses. 

"Hmmm?"

Calloused fingers caressed her cheek, and she leaned against that warm hand and kissed his palm. A low mutter escaped his lips. "Christ, Sassenach, I've been looking everywhere for ye."

"I'm here" She stretched, her muscles contracting and releasing in anticipation. She sighed. "And you smell delicious."

"Sweet Jesus, ye're killing me."

The foggy haze of sleep clouded her brain waves. She blinked and reached out to brush back a strand of curl that fell on his brow and trace the edges of his soft, full lips with a fingertip. "You're so beautiful," she murmured. "Far too beautiful for me, though. Aren't you, Jamie?"

"A dhia. What am I going to do with ye?"

His lips brushed over hers, warm, firm, and sure, sipping from her mouth like he was savouring an expensive glass of whisky. The taste of him exploded on her tongue, and she whimpered, opening to him fully. He kissed her slow, without any concern about taking his time, tasting and sucking languidly until she dissolved into the recliner and the flesh between her legs throbbed with need. 

Just when she was fidgeting to get more of him, he broke the kiss and stared into her eyes. "I was out of my mind searching every pub in Edinburgh for ye. And when I went to yer cottage, and ye weren't there, I thought ...I thought ...Christ I dinnae even want to say the words. Just thinking about it is tearing my guts out."

A little butterfly fluttered in her belly. "I'm sorry ..."

"No." He swept a hand over her hair and cupped her cheek, an unfamiliar light gleaming in his blue eyes. "I'm the one who owes ye an apology."

The unfiltered display of concern, dread and hope was visible in his face, making her want to alleviate the burdens on his shoulders and erase the worries she'd caused. He was trying so hard for her, a terrain she'd never encountered before when she was with Frank. She straightened and laid a soft kiss on his lips. "Well, I guess we just need to talk things over and ..."

Jamie gently pushed her back down onto the recliner. "Where do ye think ye're going?"

She frowned. "Ah, well, bedroom ... that's if you don't mind me staying over for the night," she mumbled.

"Is that so?" he whispered, a flicker of amusement lighting his eyes.

"Huh?"

"No."

"No?"

"Open yer thighs for me, Sassenach," he murmured, a muscle popping in his cheek. Without waiting for her reply or reaction, his lips coasted along her jawline, his hot breath on her skin, sending shivers spiralling down her spine.

"Jamie!"

"Sssh, let me love ye, Sassenach."

She wanted to object. There was so much she needed to say, express and unload, but her body had other things in mind. Her legs parted of their own accord, her desire to feel Jamie more potent than she realised.

Shifting on his knees by the recliner, Jamie slid his palm up her inner thigh. He stalled when he reached her centre and planted two fingers over the soaked seam of her panties, stroking the sensitive flesh underneath with deliberate slowness. Every particle of oxygen in Claire's lungs rushed out of her, lust turning the corner like a horse set free and thundering across the paddock. She could only close her eyes and allow Jamie to slip his hand inside the tiny scrap of garment that hid her modesty.

When his fingers slid down her wetness, her hips jerked on a moan and heat flashed in Jamie's expression. 

She grabbed his shirt, drawing him in for a kiss, to taste more of him.

"No," Jamie muttered.

"Please, Jamie. I need you. I want you inside me." They weren't the words she'd planned to say tonight. But she still meant it in a way that went beyond her physical need. She needed his presence, his heart, his love, his mind, his spirit, and everything that makes Jamie, Jamie.

"No, Sassenach," he whispered, shaking his head and biting his lip. His fingers parted her folds and teased her nub in a tight circle. "I want to watch ye."

Head dropping back, her brain started to short-circuit, and her pulse boomed in her ears. She almost cried out loud when Jamie's touch abandoned her briefly to push the blanket away and strip her panties off, baring her for his perusal. Not that she could find an ounce of shyness left to care at that particular moment. The way he was touching her, rid the last vestige of finesse and decorum she had left, writhing wantonly to the movement of his skilful fingers. She was so hot, she thought her skin would surely scorch if touched.

"Sassenach, look at ye. So fucking beautiful, so bloody perfect I could do this for eternity, and it would never be enough."

Jamie rubbed her swollen nub with his thumb, chuckling when her back bowed with a groan. His laughter subsided when he lowered his head and sucked the tip of her breasts through her shirt. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more of his ministration, he caught her nipple between his teeth and simultaneously, twisted his middle finger up inside of her.

"Oh God, oh sweet Mother of God," she whimpered. "I can't...oh, Jamie, please. It's too much."

"Aye, ye can,  mo chridhe," he said hoarsely, adding a second finger and pushing up her shirt to suck her nipple. "Move your hips more."

Jamie's command only drove her urgency higher. Unable to reply, her body did the talking and obeyed his instructions, her body thrashing as sob after sob escaped her lips. Her movements became more frantic when a coil inside her wound tighter and tighter, and his fingers delved in deeper. With her nerve endings going off like little bells, Claire moved her hips in time with his fingers. They drove in and out of her, faster and faster until she almost couldn't stand the oncoming onslaught of an impending release. It built, engulfed and intensified around her, just like in an opera when the act reaches a crescendo.

"Oh, my God, Jamie ...Jamie," she cried out, seizing the front of his shirt. "I'm...yes, yes, yes."

The climax billowed through her and clutched her muscles, blowing cinders at her nerves until she swore she would combust. Jamie's finger found her sweet spot and stroke it with swift, sure movements, a scream forming in the back of her throat.

"Aye, scream yer little heart out, Sassenach. That's my lass."

And she did, making her orgasm more luminescent and sweeping like she could jump into it and disappear. Perhaps she did for a few heartbeats, because when she finally opened her eyes, there was only the smell of Jamie's neck, the feel of his strong arms around her, even though she had no recollection of him pulling her close.

He kissed her softly, a small smile lighting his handsome face.

After her heart had settled into its usual rhythm, she reached out and touched his face. "Jamie, we need to talk." When he frowned, she quickly gave him a reassuring squeeze with her hand. "No ...it's nothing bad ...or anything like that. It's just that I have a few things I need to get off my chest."

Relief descended on his expression, softening his face, almost making her feel guilty she was the cause of the worried look. "Aye, tomorrow, we'll talk ..."

"But you're working, and we'd been putting this off ..."

"Are ye working tomorrow?" he asked, his thumb caressing the base of her neck.

"I have a late shift and ..."

"I'll take the morning off, and we'll talk." When she didn't answer, he pulled his phone from the back of his jeans pocket and made a demonstration of turning it off. "Phone off. Tomorrow, we'll have breakfast and talk. But tonight I just want to hold ye, is that alright, Sassenach?

She nodded, sighed and went limp, suddenly feeling drowsy but a lot lighter in her chest.

Moments later, he carried her boneless body to bed and laid her carefully down on her back. After a quick wash in the bathroom, Jamie stripped off his clothes, climbed into bed, and curved his front to her back, holding her tightly in the dark.

Just before sleep claimed her, she heard Jamie whisper, "Ye're mine, Sassenach as I'm yers," his arms pulling her in closer as if afraid she would get up and go. Before she could dwell on it, his words danced away with her consciousness into the oblivion of deep sleep.

#melodyheart #startingover #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

[justthehiddleswrites]

After The Rain | A Luke Windsor Companion Fic

Note:  Based off of @redfoxwritesstuff The Things You Find (in the Rain) series.

Summary:  Luke has to deal with the aftermath of Tom’s “heroic efforts”.  This is why Luke keeps a solicitor’s number on speed-dial.  For the day he kills Tom.  Hilarity ensues as Luke untangles the mess.

Warnings: fluff, implied smut

-

Tom fucking Hiddleston.  The man seems like a charmer, like the perfect gentleman.  But only Luke had the privilege of being his publicist.  Tom fucking Hiddleston.  Luke spent a good portion of his days wondering what the hell that handsome tit of a wanker got himself wrapped into and how Luke would straighten the mess all out.  

That man would send Luke to an early grave. Today should have been an easy day. He scheduled Tom for a few meetings, a couple of interviews, and then a dinner meeting. After that, Tom was off the hook for the next few days and Luke relaxed at the prospect of no damage control for a few days. All that stupid man needed to do is keep out of trouble for 48 hours. He didn’t even last 24.

Luke grew concerned when Tom didn’t return his text late last night, but he shook the bad feeling in his stomach off as Tom going to sleep early. But once texts started flooding in the next morning, Luke’s blood pressure skyrocketed. BAD PUPPY ALERT. That’s code for a Hiddleston situation. Luke sighed as he hustled over to the computer and pulled up his Google Alerts.

HOMEWRECKER HIDDLES! HEARTBREAKER BREAKS JAWS! RUNAWAY BRIDE MEETS THE NIGHT MANAGER!

And the pictures. Oh Jesus, the pictures.

“That fucking tit!” Luke bellowed as he banged hands onto the desk.

He punched in the number he memorized long ago. Voicemail.

“Tom! Mate!” Luke tried not to sound outraged but failed. “Call me as soon as you get this message. There is a situation.”

He hung and texted Tom.

CALL ME.

Luke left his flat and headed into the office. People inundated his phone with messages. He ignored them until he reached Prosper’s office. 10 missed calls, 24 new messages, none from Tom. Luke’s stomach dropped. He opened his desk drawer and pulled the extra large bottle of antacids out and shook one out into hand, looked to the computer screen and shook two more out and chewed them down with no water.

Luke called Tom again, voicemail again.

“Listen, Tom, I’m not sure what you are playing at, but if you don’t call me back in the next 15 minutes, I’m coming over.  I need answers.”

He threw his phone onto the desk and turned to reading these social media posts and news articles. After 10 minutes, Luke discovered Tom confronted some guy and punched him in the face before leaving a hotel with his wife and later spotted kissing that same woman at the front door of his house.

Luke didn’t wait for the last 5 minutes. He got into the car and drove as fast as laws would allow him. In a flash, he pounded on the door of Tom’s home. After some time, Tom answered the door.

“Why the fuck are you not answering your phone, you sodding arse!”

“Luke…” Tom looked confused as Luke pushed his way into the home. “What’s going on?”

“Really, Tom?” Luke retorted, the sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “What’s going on?  I thought you went to Cambridge, prat.”

Luke took the silence to glance at Tom, looking for signs of scandalous behavior. Hickies, bite marks, something. Tom wore only wearing his underwear but no marks save the bandage on Tom’s hand.

“Where the fuck are your clothes?”

“In the bedroom?” Tom answered with a question.

Tom hoped to avoid this conversation. The longer he avoided it, the longer he lived in denial about today’s events.

Luke removed his glasses, pinching his nose.

“You are the reason I keep a solicitor on retainer.” he grumbled at Tom.

Tom’s face breaks into a small smile.

“Thanks, mate! You didn’t have to do that for me—”

“IT’S FOR ME, YOU RIGHT BASTARD!  For when I kill you and then hide the body.”

Tom’s expression akin to a puppy being told he “a bad boy.”

“Tell me about the girl.”

Tom walked into the living room as Luke followed. Tom’s relaxed and languid stride contrasted by Luke’s short, staccato steps. The man embodied anxiety and stress.

“Can I get you something, Luke? Water, tea? You are looking pale.”

“TELL ME ABOUT THE GIRL, TOM! You can bullshit everyone else, but I know when you are stalling, you wank, so spill it.”

Tom sat on the couch and gave Luke the rundown of the night before, finding Maggie on the street, drunk off her ass, taking her to his place. Tom left out the part of somehow ending up in just his boxers.

“She needed to go get her things. Stood by as moral support. The guy was a total dick.” Tom chuckled, filled with nerves.

“And you’re the knight in shining armor to the girl in this scenario.”

“Maggie. Her name is Maggie.”

“Maggie, the married woman.”

“Not for much longer.”

“But still married now. And that…” Luke gestured to Tom’s bandaged hand.

Tom assumed the punch bruised his knuckles, but when the adrenaline wore off, they started to ache. He wrapped them and promised himself to go to a doctor in a few days.

“… Well deserved.” Tom puffed his chest out.  

Luke got up and paced the room. He pulled at his hair.

“You realize you’re the reason I’m going bald, right? It is all you, not Cat, not Nick, not Emma!”

“Luke, you are overreacting. She needed help. What was I supposed to do?! Leave her on streets?”

Luke sat down. The stomach acid burning his throat. Tom recognized that look, he left to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of antacid and handed to Luke.

“Thanks.” Luke popped two more. “You are aware you are not a prince, mate? You are not a knight in shining armor.”

Tom blushed.

“I’m aware.”

“Now that we got that cleared up. Let’s damage control. So this Evan bloke already told his side of the story, so we will need to play this with kid gloves. We don’t want it to seem like your some kind of marriage wrecker.”

“Which I’m not.”

“Of course, mate. And we need to keep the girl…”

“Maggie.”

“Maggie, away from the press until we figure out a statement. Where is she staying?”

Tom looked at the floor.

“Oh no,” Luke gasped, “Oh no you didn’t. Are you a fucking child?! ARE YOU A CHILD?  She’s here isn’t she? She is fucking here!”

Tom opened his mouth to respond, only to close it again.

“Where is she, Tom?”

Maggie, having impeccable timing, entered the room, wearing only one of Tom’s button-down shirts.

“Hey Tom, do you have—”

She stopped when she noticed Luke. The two men argued until they caught sight of Maggie and she attempted to slink out of the room, having no energy to dealing with more conflict today.

“You better come back here. This involves you too!” Luke demanded.

Maggie sat down next to Tom. Tom wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. Luke’s head exploded.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? You just met yesterday!!!”

Maggie smiled up to Tom.

“What can I say? He’s a good human.  A good man.” Tom returned the smile, squeezing her closer.

“NO, HE’S NOT! He is a fucking bloody wanking bugger twat bastard who is single-handedly ruining my life and career.”

Luke took a deep breath before falling back onto the couch.

“Feel better, mate getting that off your chest?” Tom asked, a smirk on his face.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Now explain this.”

Luke narrowed in on Tom and Maggie’s interlaced fingers.

“Shall I explain darling or you?” Tom inquired

Luke rolled his eyes.

“You do it. dear. Maggie nuzzled into Tom’s side.

“It’s simple, Luke. Maggie and I are looking to give this a chance. Fate going by the name of Bobby brought us together. And I don’t care about the press or social media.  Let them talk.”

Luke stared at the two of them. He lived through many of Tom’s relationships and he never recalled seeing Tom as happy as he appeared now. Tom’s happiness was almost enough for him to forgive him. Almost.

“How romantic. In the meantime, I have to control this. You—” Luke pointed at Maggie.

“You need to lie low. Stay at a hotel.”

“She is not going anywhere.” Tom draped a protective arm over Maggie’s shoulder.

Fixing the PR nightmare took priority over arguing with Tom.  He would save the fight for another day.

“Fine. She stays here. But the two of you stay inside. Order in, close the curtains.  I’m clearing your schedule for the next week and a half.”

“But—”

“I’m. clearing. your. schedule. Until this is under control. No going outside, no walks in the park with Bobby.”

Bobby perked his ears up at his name.

“And no photos, you tosser!”

Tom’s face moved into full puppy dog mode again.

“Fine.” Tom responded like a petulant child.

Luke lifted himself off the couch.

“I’m nothing more than a glorified babysitter.” Luke muttered to himself.

“What did you say?” Tom asked, Maggie giggled.

“Nothing. I hope you know what you are getting yourself into.”

Maggie smiled as she squeezed Tom’s arm.

“I’m willing to find out.”

“Both of you are bloody fools.”

“Let me show you out.” Tom chortled.  

Tom rose as well and walked Luke to the door. Once out of earshot, Luke turned to Tom.

“She seems nice.”

“Yeah.”

“You seem happy.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you say anything other than ‘yeah’?”

Tom laughed.

“Yes, my friend.”

Tom opened the door and Luke gave him a quick hug.

“You are aware I hate you, mate.” Luke said with a smile.

“No, you don’t. But thanks for saying it.” Tom patted Luke’s shoulder.

Tom moved to close the door.

“Good luck, mate.”

“Thanks. Take care.”

“Oh, and my phone broke last night, so good luck calling or texting and there may or may not be photos of last night with me carrying a very inebriated Maggie into my house.” Tom blurted as he shut the door in Luke’s face.

Luke’s eyes widened, and he banged on the door in vain.

“WHAT!? Open the door, you bastard!!”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x ofc #luke windsor #luke windsor fanfiction #luke windsor fanfic

[scribblesonpebbles]

A Silence Too Long

Link: ao3 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing: Johnlock Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Main Tags: Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Swearing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, John is sad, Kissing Cuddling & Snuggling, they talk about feelings, Emotions Word Count: 1526

Click here to read ♡! Or read below!

┊ ✧･ﾟ

“Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you?”

“No, of course not.”

****

It bothered him.

John should have known better, really. He had always sought out companionship whether it was with his rugby mates, his trusted comrades from the army, random blokes at the bar or the various women he had dated. Having someone else’s presence beside him with their attention and smile on him like a spotlight felt good to him. While it sounded self-centered, it was more like he was glad to have reassurance that someone acknowledged his existence, and maybe even cared for him.

And then Sherlock Holmes waltzed into his life. Belstaff coat, cheekbones and all. He was danger dangling on a chain in front of him and John chased after him like it was the only thing he ever knew. Sherlock focused his mind on the Game so it wasn’t often he would have his brilliant flatmate’s attention on him, but when he did… bloody hell, he would get goosebumps and tingles throughout his spine from Sherlock’s hyperattentive gaze on him analyzing every crinkle of his eyes or twitch of his fingers.

After they started a romantic relationship, John thought that it would be fine. He had Sherlock, who would look at him with a mischievous gleam in his eyes before they catapulted into adventures that would leave a rush in his body for weeks. Sherlock, who completed him and cherished him.

It’s because it was Sherlock that things would never be so easy.

“I’m putting biscuits and water on the table,” John slowly said while setting the tray down. He eyed his unmoving flatmate on the sofa, the man not even blinking when John had come into view.

It was day 9 of what John called Sherlock on Silent Mode. His boyfriend hadn’t spoken a single word to him and rarely moved other than to grab whatever was on the tray and thoughtfully munch it down or to get up and use the loo. The strange part was that there wasn’t even a case going on—they hadn’t had any cases for a while now. John told himself that there must be a good reason behind it all. Perhaps some top secret mission from Mycroft he couldn’t tell him, or he was thinking of an earlier case they couldn’t solve. No matter what rationalizations he came up with, loneliness still found a way to creep up on him. The times he had gone out for a pint with Greg or chatted up with Mrs. Hudson never satisfied him like the way he ran around London with Sherlock or even the small moments between them like watching crap telly.

He would get through this slump. It was far from the first time Sherlock cooped up in his mind, although nine days was a record time for it. Besides, from their introduction Sherlock had explained himself.

“Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other,” he had spoken and looked at John with a scrutinising gaze. ‘The worst’ weren’t eyeballs in the microwave or the man’s massive arrogance, rather, Sherlock had deduced that the worst for John was in fact him not talking for days on end.

This brought him to keeping Sherlock hydrated and fed during this period and to push down the instincts of wanting to jump on the man and shake him into awareness. Sherlock had warned him about this from the very start so it wasn’t in his right to complain.

“I miss you,” John whispered, his voice cracking on the last word. He brought a hand up to pet at the dark curls. No reaction as usual. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that John realized he could feel his bottom lip trembling.

****

Day 11. Sherlock blinked rapidly and John was by his side in a second.

“How are you feeling?” John spoke with an uneven tempo. “Do… do you need anything?”

“John?” Sherlock’s voice was groggy as he sat up slowly. When he turned his head to get a proper look at John, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as he took in his appearance. “Your complexion is pale, no color in your cheeks. Eyes red and faintly puffy. Just now your voice quivered…” the detective’s eyes widened, “Oh.” Long arms then wrapped around John’s waist.

“Sher—?” He was cut off by a surge of strength from Sherlock, the lankier man pulling him down on the sofa and shifting until John was lying comfortably on top of his lover. One strong arm was across his back to clutch him tighter. His free hand worked through John’s hair, caressing with long fingers. John’s head was tucked under Sherlock’s chin and the former could feel his soft breathing.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock murmured, the vibrations of his voice felt in John’s body. From being held so warmly by his lover, John couldn’t help but bury himself into Sherlock’s neck and let out shaky sobs. Hot tears seared at his eyes blurring his vision while he bunched his hands in the other’s shirt weakly. He breathed in Sherlock’s scent and focused on his soothing touches that told him he was there with him, that he wasn’t going to leave. Baritone mutterings of apologies were pressed into his hair; an ‘I love you’ a whisper of tenderness. John nestled in further to let himself be consumed by Sherlock.

A half an hour passed, they felt as if they were the only ones in the world. John’s head was clearing, his sobs turning into quiet sniffling. Sherlock was humming softly and never faltered his pace of brushing his hand through the fair blond hair.

“Sherlock…” he started, his throat dry, “I-I’m okay now. I’m sorry about…what just happened. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t apologize,” came Sherlock’s fond tone. “It’s my fault. I underestimated how you’d feel about this.”

John breathed in sharply, “What, underestimated how needy I am?” He felt frustration boil up in him. “I should be able to handle myself while you’re busy, yet here I am behaving like some kicked puppy,” his face was getting hot with shame, “Christ, Sherlock, I’m a grown man. A doctor. A soldier.”

“And you are my lover. You deserve to be treated as such and here I had failed to do so.” He squeezed the smaller man tighter, “John, you mean everything to me. I am so sorry.” John let out a sigh and melted himself into Sherlock again, embracing their closeness.

After a few minutes, John eventually mustered, “What were you doing anyways?”

“I…” his partner paused and sucked his lips in. “It has been eleven days, correct?”

John tilted his head, “Um, yes.”

Sherlock nodded and took a long breath. “I had researched about dating and I discovered that anniversaries are of importance. Our anniversary of when we officially became… boyfriend and boyfriend—” he scrunched his nose a bit, still not used to relating to them in such insipid terms, “—is coming up in one week. I thought we could solve a cold case on our anniversary and go somewhere nice to eat. I had been in my Mind Palace, simulating each option and figuring out which one you would enjoy the most.”

John’s mouth hung open. “Bloody hell, I had forgotten all about our anniversary. Well, now I feel like a bastard, you were being thoughtful the whole time while I—”

“That’s not the point, John,” Sherlock interjected. “It’s no excuse. I went into one of my trances without saying anything to you. I will strive to put an end to that.”

Head shaking, John spoke, “I don’t mind if you don’t tell me beforehand but… please don’t leave for so long.” He sounded so small.

Sherlock cradled his lover, “I promise,” he kissed him lightly on his forehead. “And in return, can you...” he trailed off and the blond nudged him quizzically before Sherlock found his words, “I need you to know that you do not need to be ashamed of your emotions when they arise. Your strength does not suddenly disappear if you cry. I know I’m not the poster child for sentiment, but,” Sherlock bit his lip, “I hate seeing you beat yourself up like this.”

Silence fell between them as John let the words process. “Alright, I’ll try,” he said quietly. God knows how he had mastered pushing down the pain that threatened to bubble up inside him. It was necessary on the battlefield. “It’s hard, Sherlock, but I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock’s voice was soft. John untucked his head and shifted so he could press a kiss to the other’s chapped lips. Sherlock deepened the kiss. When they pulled back for air, the corner of Sherlock’s lips were tugged. “You know,” he quirked his eyebrow, “I can’t have you on me like this all day. You’re quite heavy.”

“Oh, sod off,” he huffed. “You’ve had criminals three times your weight tackle you. I’m sure you can handle me,” John snuggled deeper into the warmth of his lover. Sherlock smiled and with an appreciative nuzzle to him, they were lulled to sleep, sound in each other’s arms.

#johnlock #sherlock fic #johnlock fic #sherlock #my fic #hurt comfort #john watson #sherlock holmes

[celtics534]

Harry, Baby, Hurry Through the Window Tonight

As promised, the hinny Christmas fic! Huge thank you goes out to @gryffindormischief​ and @thedistantdusk​ for being awesome and helping out with this cute story. Written for the SIYE challenge.

Another Muggle AU based from the prompt:Okay, he’s not Father Christmas, but he did have a very good reason for breaking into the house.

Also Read On: FF.net and AO3

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny flicked on her bedroom light at the second loud crash. She had bolted out of bed when the first thud echoed from the kitchen. Because the cat had been snuggled beside her, Ginny had no idea what or who it could be; she lived on her own. 

 She rose off the mattress slowly, hoping to avoid making the old frame creak. Grabbing the cricket bat from beside the bedroom door, she cautiously stepped out into the corridor. She didn’t live in a large flat. Just a few basic rooms, such as a kitchen and toilet. Hell, the kitchen was only separated from the sitting room by a small island tabletop.

 The house was dark, but Ginny knew the layout of her ground-floor flat well. She stepped over the dumping spot for her team kit, which never seemed to make it into the laundry bin at first. She then dodged the recently arisen Christmas tree near the sofa. The kitchen was cast in a half-light from the streetlamp outside, giving Ginny a view of a dark shadow crouched near the sink. 

 Not giving it a second thought, Ginny raised the bat up high bring it down as hard as she could on the figure. 

 "Fuck!" The figure spun on its heels, keeping low to the ground but now raising arms to cover its head. Ginny brought the weapon back up high, more than ready to swing again when the man made a stop gesture. "Wait. I can explain."

 "So can I." Ginny brought the bat down to his shoulder with a satisfying smack. "You broke into my house."

 The man --and now Ginny knew it was a man -- nodded as he crawled sideways, trying to get out of her swinging zone. "Yes I did, and I'm sorry about that, but it was the first place I found with an unlocked window!" 

 "Were you looking for an easy score?" Ginny followed him as he scooted across the floor, her bat at the ready. "Because if so, you’ve got another thing coming!"

 "Easy score?" She saw the man blink as he passed in a long beam of the street light. His eyes made her pause. They were hypnotic green. He shook his head wildly. "No! I wasn't coming to rob you. I was trying to get away."

Ginny held her pose, bat ready for the next swing, but her brow furrowed. "Get away from what?"

 The man kept his hands up, his palms showing. "Can I stand up to tell you? The floor is rather uncomfortable."

 She considered saying no; she didn't want him to have any advantage. But instead, she nodded. When he rose onto his knees, Ginny kept her voice low and menacing like Bill had instructed her all those years ago; it kept fear in her opponent. "You make one wrong move and I aim for the side of your head. And I don't miss."

 His eyes went wide as he nodded. "Fair enough." When he got to his feet, Ginny couldn't help but give him  a once over. Not only were his eyes entrancing, but he was fit. Really fit. Messy black hair stuck up in odd, strangely appealing angles on the top of his head, which somehow worked well with the scruff growing on along his jawline. Fuck. If robbing houses wasn't his career, then he must be a model. 

 Don't go there, girl, Ginny scolded herself. Now was not the time or place. The man was a full head taller than her so she had to look up in order to see his eyes;she wanted to be on guard for any changes, not just because they were so… provocative. 

 "So I guess I'll start with my name." He gave her an awkward yet way-too-endearing smile. "I'm Harry."

 Looks and a name to match royalty. Fuck, Ginny! She pushed her ridiculous musings aside. "All right, Harry." Ginny gestured with her chin towards the stools that sat by the island. "Why are you in my flat?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 "So just to get this straight." Ginny pointed the uneaten half of her reindeer-shaped biscuit. "This bloke at the pub thought you were making a move on his girl, but really she had made a move on you. So you ran away because he had mates ready to beat you up. You choose a random road and decided to try and hide in one of the flats. The first few windows were locked but mine wasn't, because I'd burnt dinner last night and needed to open the window to let the smoke out." She quirked a brow. "Does that about sum it up?" 

 Harry nodded, taking a sip from the chipped mug that Ginny had given him. This had become one of the weirdest days of his life. It had started with that handsy girl in the bar, and now he was having tea and biscuits with the woman who's flat he'd broken into. After he'd started his tale, Ginny had started the kettle, and now thirty minutes later, they sat together like best mates. 

 Really though… Harry couldn't help but like Ginny. She was inquisitive, funny (based on the comments made during his storytelling), and not to mention she had one hell of a swing. And none of that even started to cover how fucking attractive she was. At first, he'd considered letting her keep swinging that bat at him if it meant he could stare at her.  

 "So there is just one thing that I don't quite understand." Ginny licked at her upper lip, removing a few stray crumbs. Harry had to force himself to focus on her words rather than her movements. "Why did you try to open windows? That just seems like an odd choice to make."

 He nodded. She made a good point. "Honestly... I heard their voices yelling down the street and I just went into a ‘get the fuck out of the way’ mode. I didn't really think. It was a first instinct." 

 Ginny smirked an all too sexy smirk. "Quick on your feet there, Harry." 

 Was it normal to get aroused from someone saying his name? Harry swallowed hard, hoping his cheeks didn't give away his current -- thoughts. “Well, I mean...” His hand came to rub the back of his neck. “They don’t let just anyone become a bobby.”

 “Hmmm.” Ginny’s smile became mischievous. “That true. Gotta be careful with who you trust with handcuffs.”

 Harry, who had just taken a bite from his biscuit, started to choke. He coughed, clearing his lungs of the offending cake. 

 Ginny laughed, reaching across the small table to pat his back. “Really, I should be asking to see your warrant card.” 

 Through sharp intakes of breath, Harry reached into his trousers pocket and pulled out the little wallet he kept his card in. He flipped the cover off, revealing his horrendous photo. Ginny examined it for a long moment, taking in all the information, before nodding in satisfaction. “I guess you’re safe from my bat.” She winked. “For now.”

 “Much obliged,” Harry said through large breaths. 

 She smiled at him, leaning back into her chair. They sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of merry crowds milling outside filtered by the thick flat walls. Harry tried to keep himself from staring at Ginny, but it was a nearly impossible challenge. His eyes flickered between the freckles that spread across her cheeks and nose and the few strands of hair that remained out of the messy ponytail falling over her dark brown eyes… her bewitching eyes. Pull it together Potter!

 He cleared his throat, nodding towards the last biscuit on the plate. “Wanna split it?”

 Ginny cocked her head, squinting at him in consideration. After a moment she smiled and nodded. “I guess in the Christmas spirit, I’ll share.” She broke the wafer in half and handed one side to Harry. “But just so you know, normally I wouldn’t share.”

 “Well, then I feel honored.” Harry bowed his head at her before taking a bite. 

 She snorted, biting off the top of Santa’s hat. “So, now that you’re a wanted man, what’s your plan for the night?”

 Harry shrugged. “I guess I could go back to Remus’. I was supposed to meet an old college friend at the pub but he never showed, and”-- he checked his phone-- “never even texted to tell me what happened.”

 Ginny shook her head. “Some mate you have there.”

 “He probably got distracted by his girlfriend.” Harry rolled his eyes. “His excuse will be something along the lines of, he won’t see her for a week.”

 “Wow, your mate and my brother would get along swimmingly. Sometimes I think my brother will follow her in the loo -- and not to do anything that would get them on Santa’s naughty list. He just because he can’t be apart from her.”

 Harry laughed. “Joined at the hip?”

 “To say the least.” Ginny shook her head. “But back to you, my friend. What’s Harry’s new big bad Christmas Eve.” She glanced at the clock above the stove. “Make that Christmas Day plans?”

 “Oh, you know, going gallivanting across London. Find the blokes from before, challenge them to a duel to the death, win, impress all the women that have gathered around our battle and then find my future wife in the crowd. You know, a normal Christmas miracle.”

 Ginny stared at him for a moment, her mouth agape, before she started laughing so hard her shoulders shook. 

 Warmth spread through Harry’s chest as she laughed. Fuck, she had an adorable laugh. 

 “You, my good sir,” Ginny spoke through the tail end of her guffaws. “Have high holiday hopes.”

 He shrugged, hoping to feign nonchalance, but really his head was concocting a holiday fantasy around him and her. “What about you then?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, that the smile on his lips diluted. “What were you doing home on this fine eve?”

 Ginny brought the tea mug up to her lips, taking a sip before replying, “If you must know, I was already in bed. I have a long drive tomorrow morning and I wanted to leave early.”

 “Where are you going?” Harry tried to keep his tone casual while his mind played through different scenarios, all of which ended with her meeting her ruggedly handsome boyfriend for Christmas tea and having their own little present exchange. 

 “My family always gets together for presents. Typically I would be there tonight and we’d watch Love, Actually, but I had to work today so I figured I’d just leave tomorrow morning.” Ginny’s smile became wistful. “I thought about watching before bed tonight, but --” She shrugged.

 “It’s not the same,” Harry spoke quietly, knowing exactly what she meant. He knew what it was like to put off traditions that had once been an integrated part of the holidays. Ever since Sirius had…   

 When she locked eyes with him, Harry was certain there was more than just understanding passing between them. Her gaze seemed to ignite something inside him, making his whole body tingle. 

 “Would you like to watch it?” Ginny’s laid-back tone didn’t match the ardent look in her eyes. “I have the DVD somewhere around here.”

 Harry nodded. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

 Ginny beamed at him, making his heart race like he’d run a marathon. She stood from her chair and gestured towards the sitting room. “If you can figure out the entertainment system, I’ll make us some popcorn.”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Ginny pressed her nose into the warm pillow, refusing to let go of the satisfying feeling of being snuggled up in such a pleasant blanket. When the tip of her nose collided with something hard, her eyes opened in confusion. All she could see was green. Her pillowcase wasn’t green…

 She pulled away from Harry’s shirt, quickly becoming aware of her surroundings. Her sitting room sofa, a throw blanket, Harry’s back against the back of the sofa, his arm resting over her hip. Ginny was too shocked to move. What the fuck had happened last night?

 As if it were a film, her mind replayed the previous night. Settling down to watch Love, Actually, talking throughout the movie, scooting closer to share the blanket, how her head had used his shoulder as a pillow. 

 Okay, Ginny forced herself to take calming breaths, which didn’t really help anything seeing as it just filled her lungs with Harry’s woodsy scent. How does he smell so good? She mentally shook herself. Not the time, Ginny!

 Slowly, she lifted Harry’s arm off her. As gently as she could, Ginny rose off the cushions, hoping not to wake Harry. Ginny picked her phone off the coffee table, checking the time. She had just over an hour before she wanted to leave for her parents’ house. 

 Ginny considered her options. She could wake Harry and kick him out, wake him up and talk with him, or just leave him and make herself some breakfast. It wasn’t a hard decision, as her stomach growled loudly. 

 It didn’t take her long to scramble some eggs and toast. As she took the kettle off the hot mat, a groan came from the sitting room. Ginny considered her options again. Deciding it would just be easier to keep everything natural, she grabbed another mug from the cupboard. 

 When Harry’s head stuck up over the back of the sofa, shivers ran up Ginny’s spine. She’s always had a thing for messy dark hair, and mix that with everything else Harry had going for him… I swear to God, if you don’t calm the fuck down, girl.   

 “And here I was gonna bring you breakfast on the sofa.” Ginny laughed as Harry nearly fell off the cushions to look at her. His charming green eyes blinked rapidly. 

 “I -- uh --” Harry’s voice was alluringly rough, and Ginny had to contain another shiver. He cleared his throat. “Not that your sofa wasn’t comfy or anything, but why did I sleep on it last night?”

 Ginny snorted. “Because I wasn’t gonna let my almost robber sleep in my bed.” 

 Harry started at that. “That’s not what I --” 

 “We fell asleep watching the film last night,” Ginny interrupted, hoping to avoid giving Harry a heart attack. 

 “We --” Harry stood from the sofa and made his way over into the small kitchen. “Oh, right.” He stopped in beside the table, his forearm resting on the back of the chair. “Well, happy Christmas. I didn’t have time to get you anything, sorry.” 

 Ginny laughed. “Seems we’re both forgetful. Will you settle for a good breakfast?”

 “Best present I’ve received all year.” 

 It shouldn’t feel so natural, Ginny thought as Harry set the table with utensils from the drying rack. She shouldn’t feel comfortable with him eating at her table. Fuck, she definitely should not want to crawl back into his arms. But there was something about Harry that was just -- magnetic. 

 They ate, chatting about nothing and yet everything. She brought up how excited she was to spend Christmas with her little nieces. Harry smiled as he told her about getting to spend the holiday with his old university mate. They talked well after their plates were clean. Ginny knew it was getting closer to the time she needed to leave, but she didn’t want to. 

 It wasn’t until they were cleaning the plates together (her washing, him drying), that time became real again.

 “What time are you leaving?” Harry asked as he placed the dry fork into the drawer she’d shown him. 

 Ginny looked at the clock. “I should have left five minutes ago.”

 “Oh.” Harry’s tone was casual, but Ginny swore she saw his shoulders drop. “I guess I should get going, then.”

 Ginny wanted to say no. She wanted to ask him to stay, which was completely ridiculous. And yet, she wanted him to be there when she returned from her parents. Ginny wanted to curl back up on that sofa and watch another film… or not watch a film. 

 She was so distracted she didn’t notice that she’d been scrubbing the same plate for entirely too long until Harry’s hand came over to stop the motion. He’d moved in close, his eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?” 

 He was so close she only needed to lean up in order to connect their lips. It would be so simple, she even started rising onto her toes before something stopped her. She pulled back, clearing her throat. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the day.” 

 Harry nodded, his cheeks turning pink. “Right.” He put the flannel down on the counter before grabbing his coat off the back of the kitchen chair. He turned back to her, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Ginny, I -- I --” He sighed. “Enjoy your Christmas.” Then he was gone, closing the front door behind him with a gentle click. 

 Ginny put her head down on the kitchen counter, regret coursing through her entire body. Why the fuck hadn’t she at least gotten his number? She lifted her head to see it was well past the time she should have left. Sighing heavily, she went to go gather her presents. She needed to get going or face her mother’s wrath for being late. 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Harry tried to flatten his hair for the sixth time in ten minutes. There was no reason for his nerves. He was just stopping at his mate's childhood home for a bit. Harry just wished Ron had told him about the trip to Devon. When Ron has asked him to spend the holiday with him, Harry had mistakenly assumed he'd meant at his flat. 

 "Knock it off." Ron laughed as he turned down a long dirt road. "I told you, my mum's gonna love you, despite your inability to comb your hair."

 He sent Ron a rude gesture, which just made the redhead laugh harder. The drive curved every which way, making Harry grateful he didn't get car sick. After a few minutes of winding this way and that, they pulled up in front of an old farmhouse. The foundation was off-kilter, making the rest of the building lean, but Harry loved it. It had such a homely charm between all the Wellington boots on the front porch and the chickens roaming the side garden. 

 Ron parked the car between a Land Rover and old Ford. He reached into the back seat, pulling a bag full of wrapped gifts. "Just a little something for everyone." Ron shrugged off Harry's inquisitive look. 

 They made their way through freshly shoveled paths that lead to the front door. Without knocking, Ron walked into the house calling out greetings. Harry followed behind him, looking around at all the framed photos and comfy sitting room furniture. Three men chatted while a blonde woman tended an infant.

 "Ah, you must be Harry." A pleasant voice spoke from the adjoining doorway. A balding man held out his hand. "I'm Ron's father, Arthur." 

 Harry took the offering. "Thank you for having me." 

 Arthur's smile was just as calming as his voice. "Of course! Molly and I have been excited to meet the famous Harry Potter. Let me introduce you to everyone." Arthur placed a warm hand on Harry's shoulder, guiding him through the room. "There's Bill, Fred, and George over in the chairs there." He pointed to the group of men, two of whom had identical smirks. "Fleur, who is married to Bill, and their youngest, Dominique."

 Fleur looked up from the baby and smiled at him. Arthur roved over to the doorway he'd come from, which lead to the kitchen. While the sitting room has been peaceful with a crackling fire, the kitchen was a storm of activity. 

 "And this is my lovely wife, Molly." Arthur beamed at older woman mixing some sort of batter. "Molly, Ron's friend Harry is here." Molly stopped mixing, placing the bowl down on the counter before wiping her hands on her already covered apron.

 Harry expected a handshake or maybe a pat on the shoulder as a greeting, but Molly didn't do anything in halves. She pulled Harry into a bear of a hug, making him worry about his ribs cracking. “Lovely to meet you, Harry.”

 “You too, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry choked the words out. 

 When she released him, Harry took a deep breath. “Call me Molly, dear.” She looked over her shoulder at the well-scrubbed table where two women sat. “Oh, you haven’t met Angelina and  Alicia. They’re dating the twins.” The two women gave him a welcoming grin as they continued rolling dough. “I would introduce you to our daughter, but she’s out with Vic.” Molly glanced up at the ceiling with an annoyed look, that was negated by the smile on her lips. “I asked her to help me and then like magic she was minding the little one.” 

 Like a summoning the back door opened wide, letting in a cheering little girl. “I won, Aunt Ginny.”

 “That you did, girl, that you did!” That voice. Harry’s heart jumped into his throat, he recognized that voice. Ginny walked in, her smile wide as she looked down at her niece. “But next time you won’t be so lucky.”

 Harry knew his jaw must be on the floor, but all he could do was stare. That morning all he’d wanted to do was kiss this woman, but then she’d backed away. He hadn’t wanted to push her, so he’d backed off. But fuck! She had been in his head all day. The way she seemed to heat his entire body with just one look, and how perfect it had felt when her head rested on his shoulder. Harry regretted it the moment he’d walked out her front door, he’d even considered turning around but there had been a voice in his head saying maybe it was just one-sided. That maybe she’d had pulled away from him because she didn’t want to give him false hope. 

 But when their eyes met in that kitchen, Harry could feel it again. That raw heat, mixed in with shock. Ginny’s mouth fell open. “You!”

 “Ginny!” Molly scolded. “That’s no way to greet someone.” 

 Ginny turned towards her mother, blinking rapidly. After a moment she took a deep breath. “You’re right, Mum.” When her focus came back to Harry, he swore his heart skipped a beat. “So, which one of my brothers is your old uni mate?”

 “Ron.” Harry was shocked that words were able to get past his tied tongue. “I -- uh --” He was very aware that everyone in the kitchen was watching them: Arthur and Molly with confused smiles, Angelina and Alicia with grins that were more impishly amused. 

 Ginny seemed to notice the eyes on them as well because she pointed a thumb over her shoulder towards the back door. “Care for a tour around the garden?”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Ginny couldn’t stop glancing over at the man walking beside her. The entire drive over she’d cursed herself for letting him leave that morning, and now he was at her parents’? She didn’t believe in the idea of fate or destiny, but the moment she’d looked into his gorgeous eyes… Ginny started re-thinking her theory. 

 "So --" Harry cleared his throat. "Don't have your bat on you, right? Because I know how you respond when someone arrives unannounced."

 "What?" Ginny had to reel her mind back to the present. "Oh, right! Well, I always happen to keep a spare in the boot of my car.” She stopped in the middle of the cleared path and pulled Harry to halt by the hand. When his eyes locked onto hers, warmth spread throughout her body like wildfire. She sent him what she hoped was a coy smile. “But if you’re telling me I may need it." 

 Harry tugged her back as she pretended to head towards her car. His pull was more powerful than she’d expected and Ginny fell right into his chest. Harry pulled back, his cheeks red from more than just the cold. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to -- I, uh --” 

 Ginny couldn’t take it anymore. What was the point of avoiding -- whatever this was between them? Her mind drifted back the film they’d watch the previous night. “So is this the moment I casually mention I wanna marry you, have loads of sex, and have your babies?” 

 If Ginny had thought his cheeks were red before, Harry put a tomato to shame at that moment. His mouth fell open as he stared at her. She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, his memory placing the line. He closed his mouth, a hesitant smile crossing his lips. “How about we start with the second thing on your list and make our way from there?”

 “I think...” Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck, bring him to her eye level. “I can live with that.” She pressed her lips to his. It didn’t take long for Harry to respond. His fingers pressed into her hips with a tantalizing pressure. With his body pressed tightly to hers and his scent (that addicting woodsy smell) filling her lungs, everything else seemed to disappear but him. 

 “Ginny? Oh!” Molly’s voice was the first thing to break through the fog Harry had created. Ginny pulled away to see her mother standing by the back door. In retrospect, she and Harry should have gotten out of sight of the house, but she just hadn’t been able to control herself. 

 Molly gave them what was supposed to be a sheepish grin, but instead her entire face glowed with delight. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to know where she left my pie pan, but I’ll just go rummage through the cupboards. Just pretend I was never here.” And just like that, Molly was back in the house. 

 Ginny snorted. Her mum had never been one to see her children in their relationships. She’d expected to be told to get inside and get to work, but instead, her mother had --

 Harry blinked at her, his brow cutely creased in confusion.“What’s so funny?” 

 “My mum just encouraged me to keep snogging you.” Ginny shook her head, unable to hold back her amusement. “She once made Ron stop holding his girlfriend’s hand.” Her eyebrows creased. “But to be fair that girl was crazy, and everyone knew it. I guessing mum just didn’t like her.” 

 “Oh.” Harry’s confusion cleared, slowly replaced with a bashful smile. “But you think she likes me?” 

 Ginny leaned up to kiss him again. “I know I do.” She reluctantly pulled out of his arms. “Hey, you’re staying for supper, right? Would you like to stay for supper?”

 “Would you like to stay forever?!” 

 Ginny turned to the sound of her mother’s voice. Molly was hanging out the kitchen window watching the scene like an enthusiastic film watcher. All that was missing was the popcorn. “Mum!” Ginny yelled across the yard. “What are you doing?”

 “I said to pretend I wasn’t there, not that I wouldn’t be there.” Molly’s mischievous smirk was clear even from a distance. “What do you say, Harry dear?”

 “I --” Ginny turned back to Harry who was shaking, from what could only be silent laughter. “Oh, don’t encourage her,” she complained. 

 Harry laughed out loud this time. He pulled her back into his warmth, his mouth inches from hers. “And what will you do to stop me?”

 “Ah!” Ginny moved her fingers up to play with the little hairs at the base of his neck. “My bat isn’t my only method of persuasion.” Harry’s breath hitched as she ran her nose along his jaw. Just as her lips hovered over his, she stepped away. “But it is one of my favorites.” She turned and started towards her car. 

 Looking over her shoulder, Ginny laughed at the dumbfounded look on Harry’s face. Then he shut his gaping mouth and began chasing after her. As he caught her around the middle, his nose pressed into her neck. She spun in his arms and his mouth pressed to hers in a scorching kiss. Ginny had never been happier to have someone break in through her window. 

 She pulled back, nuzzling her nose to his. “I’ve got to say, Harry. You’re the most satisfying burglar I’ve ever had.”

 Harry snorted, “Just wait until I steal your heart.” When he brought his lips back to hers, she had to admit he was off to a good start.

#hinny #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry X ginny #harry potter fan fiction #hinny fanfic #hinny fic #hinny christmas #christmas themed! #christmas fluff

[mvnvgedmischief]

bad luck: chapter 3!

i’m not coming home

3.3k words

cw: abuse

read it on ao3

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: sirius runs from home, and his first point of contact is remus lupin, his estranged best mate. in the fallout of the prank, remus responds to the call the only way he knows how, on his skateboard. 

When Sirius ran from home, Remus was the first point of contact. It wouldn’t be unfair to say Remus had asked for that responsibility when he tucked his mother’s business card into Sirius’s leather jacket every time he looked worse for the wear. Sirius with his smarmy, stuffy family practices and his sunken, sad grey eyes, had made Remus begin to reconsider keeping skating a secret long before that fateful phone call. Remus, in all of his broken-down sadness, and his insecurity brought on by the condition recognized something in his expressions, which were devoid of any real feeling. It was like his best mate decided to put on a mask, and that hurt Remus deeply. Not because he was angry with Sirius, but because he wanted Sirius to trust him. Remus recognizes the lack of trust and had tried time and time again to convince Sirius that his life was worth living in full, away from the paralyzing fear that kept him up at night. But Sirius had brushed it off with silencing charms and a sad smile, and dismissed the problem entirely. “it’s not that bad, moons.” he always promised, but Remus was inclined not to believe him. He was inclined to disagree, every time Sirius cast a glamor, or every time he flinched when someone yelled at him. It wasn’t like Remus didn’t notice. He was far more perceptive than anyone gave him credit for. But he didn’t want to pry. He hated when others pried into his own life, and he assumed it was the same for Sirius. If Sirius wanted to tell him, he would. So instead, every time his chest ached for Sirius, or his stomach felt like it was full of butterflies because Sirius looked at him, or every time his skin went alight because Sirius was touching him, Remus said nothing. He said nothing because there was nothing to say. Sirius was his best mate, with some personal problems unfolding, and it was none of Remus’s business if he didn’t want to talk about it. He swallowed his pride, his courage, his voice. And instead, said nothing, did nothing. But every time he and Sirius ended up in an embrace, he held him just a little bit tighter, and a little bit closer. He pushed his mother’s business card, as a muggle social worker, into Sirius’s hands and his jackets for emergencies, and they didn’t talk about it. They didn’t speak, because there were no words. Instead, they remained silent, with silent exchanges and muffled tears passed between them like love letters. 

That was, until the prank. The prank set everything in motion, everything changed after it. Everything was different because Sirius tried to make him a killer. Remus never wanted to hurt anyone, never wanted anything like that to go wrong. But Sirius had opened the door for Remus to hurt someone, had allowed Snape, of all people, into their monthly ritual. It was painful and cruel and Remus resolved never to tell him another secret. He didn’t tell him about the anxiety attacks that consumed him every time Snape was around, nor the insurmountable guilt he felt after every moon. He didn’t talk to Sirius, nor did he speak to the other marauders. He isolated himself, craving the safety of soul-crushing loneliness. There were no other options, really. Not when Remus had been put at risk like that as if there was nothing to keep him from being expelled from school and thrown into Azkaban. So he decided it was easier to be alone. 

But when Sirius ran, Remus was the first point of contact. He saw his mom on the phone with him, watched her face shift into something he’d never seen before, a fear he’d never experienced with her. He heard her voice quiver when he told him it was for him. He watched her call his father and prepare the chimney for travel via floo, should they need it. 

She watched him in return, and he knew it. He knew his mum could read the panic on his face, he felt her grab his hand and remind him how to breathe again because oxygen refused to be processed by his lungs when he heard the words “hurt” and “don’t let them take me back there.” So in a haze of fear, he let his father side-along apparate to go rescue the boy who stole his breath and his heart, only to crush it under the knot of the whomping willow. It had only been a few days since the end of term. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to what could have happened and what could have hurt him. He doesn’t know. That feels like the worst part. But when he sees Sirius, slouched and bleeding on a barstool in Gloucester, he does the only thing he can do. He casts Sirius’s arm over his shoulder and helps him to his feet, ushering him out of the muggle pub and into a secluded alley for Lyall to apparate them to the Potter residence. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion and too fast all at once.

“I love,” he heard Sirius mumble, and he wasn’t sure he heard him quite right, “– Moony” 

“Love you too, you bloody nonce.” His eyes were long past the point of welling with tears. He didn’t want Sirius to know how worried he was, but here was the boy he had been crushing on for over a year, shaking and crying and delirious because he was so hurt. He was trying not to read into the statement– he knew Sirius didn’t feel that way about him. He’d made it fairly clear that he didn’t care when he let out all of Remus’s secrets to Snape. He knew that Sirius didn’t really care, he just didn’t know how to use a telephone. He was trying desperately to remind himself of that when Sirius was crying as they arrived at the Potter’s and begging Remus to stay with him. He knew Sirius didn’t care– he was trying so hard to remind himself of that when their hands were intertwined and Euphemia was trying to convince him he needed to go to Saint Mungo’s. 

With a violent sob, James is pulling Sirius against him, and Remus can distantly hear Euphemia telling him that they need to go to the hospital, and when Sirius is back in the house and better, she’ll send an owl. Remus nodded mutely, allowing his father to gently guide him away, and apparate him home. Remus can feel himself collapsing into tears and screams, but he doesn’t know what to do. He never really had an idea on how to deal with his emotions. So he does what he always did, he grabbed his board and ran. He ran to Daniel’s house and knocked on the door, with shaking hands and red-rimmed eyes. Daniel, ever the sensitive friend, opened the door and understood. He understood that Remus needed to just get out, to remind himself of the security of Bangor and that the world was not crashing down around him. So they skated until the sun went down, and when it did, he helped Remus load their rinky-dink old ramp into the car. He was thankful he had these friends, who understood what he needed. He was thankful, even when he heard Daniel whisper “If this doesn’t make that bloke fall in love with you, there’s no hope for the rest of us” and his heart skipped a beat. 

 Remus drove all night, in his mam’s beat-up old car. He knew he could take the floo, shrink the ramp, and make it an easier, quicker mode of travel. But Remus needed that time, alone behind the wheel of the car, to collect his thoughts. Was he really doing this? Would Sirius even want this? He hadn’t heard from the Potter’s yet, that Sirius was out of the hospital, but part of him didn’t care. He’d sit on their front steps for the rest of the week if it meant he didn’t have to spend all of his time worrying over whether or not Sirius would be okay. He would rather throw up than be in his bed right now, tossing and turning because he just didn’t know. 

When he arrived, Remus had little more than a skateboard strapped to his backpack, and his uniform of jeans, a hoodie, a beanie, and a denim jacket, and a few extras of the same outfit in his backpack. He knew that this version of himself was foreign to his friends. They didn’t recognize him when he looked like this. He wasn’t exactly stupid. And they weren’t exactly well integrated into the muggle world. It would be dumb to think that he’d look like he belonged upon arrival. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t– because he didn’t have time to think through the clothes he was bringing, he didn’t have time to think through the plan before he left. That was what the drive was for. And, if he was as unlucky as he felt, the subsequent waiting on the stairs leading into the Potter’s home. He knows no one is home when he gets there. There are no lights on in the house, no sound coming from inside. So he sits, and he waits. He waits until the sun sets again, with his weak stomach lurching every time he thought about leaving to grab some food, and a bar of chocolate untouched in his pocket. He waits, staring down at his beat-up Chuck Taylors, his patterned socks, and his frayed second-hand jeans that were ripped at the knees from all of the falling he had done off of his board. He can’t stop thinking about the haunted look on Sirius’s face, or the bruises blooming on his aristocratic cheekbones and the way blood had matted in his hair. His mind only stops replaying the image when a loud CRACK breaks up his thoughts, and Sirius, James, and Euphemia and Fleamont are before him. 

“Siri– I- uh–” Remus can’t find the words and he’s floundering. He’s floundering because Sirius is still covered in bruises that could have been healed so easily, which is symptomatic of a larger issue. He notices that James is ushering his parents inside, leaving an emotionless Sirius outside on the steps with Remus.  Remus wanted him to react. He wanted him to notice that he was here, dressed like a muggle and skateboard in hand, the phases of the moon painted on the underside glaring up at him as if daring him to keep talking. But Sirius doesn’t say anything. Instead, he carded his fingers through his hair and continued staring off into some unknown space. Remus felt bad he felt wrong for showing up, and even more wrong for being here.

But then Sirius is cupping his chin and tilting it up, with a curious look on his face. He’s initiated a touch that Remus is not going to back down from. He refuses to. Not when the look in Sirius’s sad eyes has gone from distant to endearing, and his lips are forming the words, “I meant it.” That’s all it takes for Remus to press forward, connecting their lips in a chaste, sweet kiss. “Me too.” He whispered back, shaking hands fallen at his sides. He doesn’t know what to do, not really. He doesn’t know how much touching is okay or if Sirius even wanted physical contact. He just simply doesn’t know. 

“I – I didn’t know how to say it– so I brought a ramp.” He whispers, in the small space between their lips. 

“You didn’t know how to tell me that we were okay and that you wanted this so you brought a ramp to teach me how to be a badass skateboarder like you?” Sirius asks, with a laugh that reminded Remus of the long nights planning pranks in the common room, and Remus doesn’t even have to suppress the urge to laugh this time. Instead, his eyes were welling with tears, and before he even knows what’s going on, Sirius’s rough, calloused hands meet his cheeks and he’s wiping them away. “I know it’s dumb, Pads. I really do, but I don’t know how to do this. I don’t even know what I can do I–” 

“Re, I’ll stop you any time. Don’t cry, yeah. Healers got me fixed up just right.” 

Remus feels his shoulders relax, and his arms are winding around the other boy before he can stop himself. He buried his head in Sirius’s chest, breathing him in the way he hadn’t allowed himself to for years. All of the nights when Sirius fell asleep waiting up for him after the moon, all of the gentle touches that lit his skin on fire with passion and want couldn’t measure up to this moment, with Sirius all around him, safe, and for once, understanding what he wanted. 

“Moons,” Sirius’s voice feels like it rumbles from deep within his chest, and Remus LOVES it. He loves the way it makes him feel surrounded and warm and like he had done something right. “You’ve gotta teach me a fakie bet flip.” 

“Let’s get you on a board first, you bloody plonker.” But then they’re kissing again and Remus knows he’s experienced magic before but never like this. This was the kind of magic his mom had told him about in the stories of his youth, the kind of magic he experienced that first day on a board in Bangor, that first time he landed a kickflip. This was magic that was stronger and more powerful than anything he had produced in charms class. 

After a few more blissful moments outside, the boys hear the click of the door and jump apart. They’re being ushered in by Euphemia, her smile wide and her tone inviting, and she’s telling them about the beds made up for them in the rooms beside James’s. But it doesn’t even matter, because Remus can’t hear over the thrumming of his heart in his ears, can’t see past the lovesick gaze Sirius is throwing his way, can’t think beyond the one he’s returning. It feels perfect. 

The two boys spend the night together in bed, barely getting any sleep. Everytime Remus feels his eyes closing and his mind go silent, he’s jolted awake by Sirius screaming, and every time Sirius does the same, he’s jolted awake by Remus whimpering. Remus wonders if the two of them will ever be able to sleep in the same bed without muffling themselves with a silencing charm, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Not when Sirius’s arm is carelessly thrown across him, and he smells like ink and earth and firewood. No, Remus would probably never be able to pull himself from this bed, so long as Sirius was in it. 

The next day, they’re forcibly ejected from the bedroom. Not by any magic or any kind of nightmare, but instead by James screaming for Remus. 

“Moony! Get your arse down here right fuckin’ now!”

“Language!” Fleamont calls from the kitchen. And with that, Remus and Sirius are detangling their long limbs with an embarrassed smile, although neither one is really feeling ashamed of the compromising position they were removing themselves from. Remus finds himself bounding down the stairs, Sirius falling behind with the tenderness of his limbs and muscles and his limp. But Remus didn’t notice, too focused on the way James was mall-grabbing his board and swinging it around the kitchen. 

“What in Merlin’s name is this thing, Moony?” 

“‘S a skateboard.” He finds himself muttering, his fingers pressing crescent moon shapes into his palm in frustration. He knew coming here meant he’d have to be more open about this part of himself, and stop hoarding it as if it would go away should someone else see it. But that didn’t make this encounter any easier. 

“Moony’s gonna teach us, Prongs. It’s cool, promise.” Remus nods curtly as if punctuating Sirius’s point. He goes to agree, but he’s cut off by Euphemia calling them to the table for breakfast. 

When the three boys finally make it outside, after food, and quite a few draughts and potions for Sirius, Remus can’t help how nervous he feels. He’s summoned the ramp from inside his car, and placed it on the pavement outside the steps to the Potter home. He’s trying to tune out James���s rambling about how excited he is to see what the hell this thing even does. He usually tuned people out when he was skating entirely, so this wasn’t anything new. What was new was the fact that he was about to let two other boys, with no skill on a board, test his out. And then he’d have to give them pointers on how to get better. But he doesn’t need to think about that. So instead he just pushes off, flies off the ramp, and manages a backside pop shove-it heel flip. He turns to look at his friends, only to see their eyes glazed over with awe, and their hands clapping together in some weird, high society applause. He turns and skates back over, an inquisitive look on his face. 

“Don’t be weird about this shit, god.” 

“Don’t invoke a muggle deity on us, Remus! We’re just impressed.” Leave it to Sirius, to make him laugh with such an idiotic statement. It was unfair, in Remus’s eyes, that he could do that. It was unfair that Sirius made his hands sweat and his knees weak with a look, or a laugh, or a touch. It felt ridiculous and completely uncool, so he tried to suppress it. 

“Merlin’s beard, Moony. Is that thing even safe?” 

“We’ve done worse, Prongs.” Came Remus’s short reply. He didn’t like it when people spoke of skateboarding like it was skydiving, nor did he like it when people made it out to be simple and require little skill. It was a learned behavior, not a natural talent, and Remus had worked to get as good as he was. But James wouldn’t be convinced, making his way back inside with the excuse of writing Peter and Lily so they’d stop worrying. Remus was thankful he and Sirius would get some time alone, if nothing else, although he had no intention of actually letting him on his board in the condition he was in.

An hour later, and Remus isn’t sure how they got there. He doesn’t know when Sirius convincing him to let him try, but they had spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out which way Sirius should stand on the board, hands clutched tightly for stability, and trying to get the hang of simply going straight. If you asked Remus, going straight was much more than he probably should be doing right now, with the sheer number of injuries he had racked up, but Sirius assured him that he could take care of his own health. Remus tried instructing him on how to propel the board forward, and for a while, it looked like it might work. That was until Sirius hit a pebble, and fell on Remus, pinning him to the ground. 

“Bloody hell, mate. You’re too tall for skateboarding. I’ve decided I can’t teach you.” 

“Oh yeah?” Sirius countered, “Alright, Moony. Don’t teach me.” He pressed his lips to Remus’s sweetly. “But then you’re not getting another kiss, as long as I live.” 

“I’ve lasted the last three years, you might need a better threat than that.” The two dissolves into a fit of giggles and Remus began to wonder why he’d kept skating a secret from Sirius in the first place. Clearly, it wasn’t something that Sirius thought was dumb or ridiculous, so why hide? 

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #moony and padfoot #sirius black x remus lupin #skater! remus lupin #bad luck #my shit #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders era fic #listen i know this is all i've posted in the last 24 hours but i really like it ok pls don't let this flop

[ceejay1163]

The Teal* Bronco (*Turquoise)

First off I want to tag the amazing @aquadolan whose hilariously accurate reaction videos make me laugh cry every time I see them and makes me feel like we are experiencing the video together and having a laugh like a couple of mates despite being in opposite sides of the world.

Now for my reactions to 'Tricking my brother into thinking his car was flipped'

The ring mmhmmm just yes

The clapping tho? Not about it

Ethan has a shorter attention span then me and that's impressive

I did not pick the boys to like roller skating although they ice skate so it makes sense

Little bitch haha

I like the jumper. It looks fuzzy and cozy

How long did this take to plan? Honestly it seems like it would be taken forever

Roasting the matchingness to the car

He seems to actually be jealous that Gray's favourite car isn't the one he bought. That's adorable. Fuck I'm not even 2 mins into the video

And now the car is broken

Wait did I fuck up? Am I recording?

The gum Ethan. Eww for fuck sake mate don't be a pig.

'I have really bad attentional problems' yeah.. your English might need some work too

When's the last time I ate? -literally something I say most days

Roast him for dropping out of school and not remembering common phrases and sayings

Why do all Ethans pranks involve Graysons cars?

Also not wanting to say what time you wake up. Same

Laughing at yourself

I'm cool, I'm cool actually no I'm not

Groggy or drunk?

Slap. Pain kink anyone?

That damn projector

Air quotes

Did anyone understand the car mumbo jumbo? Like at all? Did anyone care?

Good job keeping a straight face Ethan. He won't suspect a thing.

Fun-ny

Why do boys turn everything into challenges? My nephews do it all the time

Full actor mode

Too many words in Google mate. Google doesn't care why you need a Photoshop artist

More air quotes. Except out of sync.

It's just a prank bro.

Bitter he can't go skating. Poor bubba

Morning voice half an octave lower. Yes please

Groaning. Thank you

I always end up falling asleep at least twice after waking up the first time before getting up. V relatable

Him jumping into bed to pretend to be asleep reminds me of being a kid and bolting through the house in the middle of the night after getting up to get a drink or something, trying to avoid monsters or waking up the parents

Jumpers with shorts?

He's got slippers. Awww

Realising a flaw in his plan when the car doesn't work.

Too many cars in the driveway

CRINGEY PHOTOS. WOO.

Fucking drama queen

That stupid photoshopped photo

Real us. Not actor mode us haha

Mr Dolan 😏

Doesn't analyze it too much. Good idea

He has such bloke-ish child like writing

The calf tattoo 🥺

Socks and slides Grayson? That's almost as bad as socks and sandals. Fucking hell

Love a man in light grey sweats

Run Ethan go back to bed. You're so grounded (idk)

He pulled Ethans hip so hard. Jesus

What is that bike thingy in the background?

WHO DOESN'T LOCK THEIR FUCKING CAR??? YOU FUCKING IMBECILE

Now Gray let's put on our big boy thinking caps. It's not Ethans fault. Entirely. You also didn't lock the fucking car

Booty 👀

Not knowing if you have insurance. Mate you should look into that. (Also a very me thing to not know)

Gray is loosing it. Like actually looks like he's gonna do the frustrated crying thing

"That's not chill you need to fix that." Pretty sure sleeping is pretty chill. Also how does one fix being a heavy sleeper (other then by having kids)

"You need to be able to wake up in the morning and get shit done" no need to call me out like that

Let me call the *mumble mumble mumble*

It's fucking turquoise- whelp fuck have to change the title

Who steals a turquoise car at 9am? He's loosing it

Awe he doesn't want people to get hurt. Cutie

Seriously why hasn't he called the police yet? When I got home from my nanas funeral to find my house broken into the first thing I did was call the cops. And then cry cos it was like 10pm and I'd just driven like 12 hrs so I was hella tired

He's V loud. And then V quiet.

You motherfucker. Ok rude but understandable

That sigh of relief and the laughter

All of the adrenaline just left Gray immediately. Also hiding under a blankie? adorable

"Where did you put it?" Immediately forgets haha

Did you ruin it and turn it pink or something? You're getting a rep E and why does Gray assume it would be painted pink?

The sound effect over Gray pulling up his pants to hide his plumbers crack 😂

You need to rub it out. I mean ok sure

"I kinked up bro" just why 😂

Slap. SPINNING. It's a theme park ride

You stole my car- Dude where's my car movie anyone?

Car upside down you say? Forshadowing

Grayson gives up on life.

Nope never mind he's dramatically throwing himself onto the bed and screaming into the blankets like a teenage girl

Also booty

FROG

Don't dance Grayson

It's all in the puff bro

Mr Dillon, not Dolan, Dillion

Grayson has left the building look

Nose boop

The eye movement. Wait you what?

Beard pulling

Give me the phone. No you are having the phone. Ok fine.

Intense eye contact for real tho

That dumbass look on his face. Grayson is shooketh to hell

Do they even understand any of this car mumbo jumbo? Does it even make any sense?

I don't know shit about insurance. Seriously dude that's not smart

MY CAR

That's not chill bro that's not chill at all. Putting them on a ban for the words chill and bro. More to be added. They use those words more then I use the word mate and that's impressive

I'm taking the phone and subtly suggesting human error (negligence) and a potential law suit

Oh you have footage? Talk to my older brother

I don't know much about cars. Dude

More stupid looks from Gray

I don't wanna see it

More screaming

More yelling Grayson

We can move your car but it's gonna cost you more money

Not falling for that pic

Just put it on the next one. Gray it's not a fucking bus. There's no schedule to have the next one come out. Use your head darlin'

More yelling in the car and swearing

How did he organise the street thing? Like actually.

Also surely it's illegal to pretend to have roadworks and fuck up traffic

VROOM. You go lil blue car

BULGE 👀 this is when I stopped paying attention the first time I watched it.

What is the camera guy (kyle?) wearing? Who said that be one were allowed to be a thing again? I'm not impressed

Grayson is v frustrated

DON'T LITTER

Neither of you should be allowed to dance. Its not good

That's the wrong question to ask about the camera guy's clothes

Fist clap

Wait where's the car? Is it safe? Poor Gray his brain is malfunctioning

Camera goes to Grayson. Ooh look bulge. Pans away. Move back ooh bulge.

If they keep upping the ante someone's gonna get hurt

I don't know what's inside of me. Never a good thing to say

Still allergic to dogs 🥺

HOLY SHIT THAT HAPPENED

I haven't heard you scream that much for that long 👀

Grayson's pretty loud. I would like to test that. Please and thank you.

Deep breathing

SOOOO HARD. (I volunteer)

I am going to prank the actual s out of Ethan. Really taking the not swearing thing seriously huh

Sure whatever you say. He doesn't believe you'll get him back Gray. Kick his ass

Bruh

Eric deserves a medal for his phone acting. Well done faceless dude named Eric

I give up. I give up on everything. If that's not a fucking mood

Double bitched sounds like it should mean something else. Just saying

Boob caress

My guard's up. No your guard can't be up. Pretty sure that's not how it works Grayson

Just don't hurt me. Grayson is so not listening to him. He's still mad

No rules

It was fake There's no rules

Ethan being hurt Gray doesn't love his present

Still mad.

Rubs sweat all over comfy jumper. Childish

HE STILL LOOKS FUCKING LIVID.

Alrighty take three of finishing this thing. Tumblr crashed yesterday after I spent like 2 hours writing this and deleted half my comments. I couldn't finish it then cos it was almost 2am and I had work today so I redid it from like the 20 minute mark of the video. Then I saved it to my drafts And published it but it deleted the last like 5 minutes of comments so I had to redo them again. Here's hoping Tumblr sorts it's shit out cos it's late and I have work again tomorrow. 🐨

[gutterballgt]

Happy Pride!! Do you think Chuck and Raleigh would celebrate? If so, how? -Kai

Oh, man!

Because Raleigh has no intention of “celebrating” at all, at least not in public. Everyone who needs to know at the shatterdome knows, and that’s enough for him. Most of the outside world thinks he’s straight, and he’s not exactly thrilled with that, but it’s none of anyone’s business that Raleigh Becket, golden boy and savior of the world, is bisexual. He’s done far too many post-Pitfall interviews and press tours as it is, and he just wants to keep this one thing to himself.

Chuck has no patience for that shit.

He’s been stuck in battle mode for more than half his life, and he wasn’t even really aware that Pride was a thing until Mako brought it to his attention by wearing a rainbow scarf into a planning meeting one morning. Once she explained, he was on fire to Do The Thing.

Needless to say, he was a bit put out when Raleigh said no and meant it.

“Oi, there’s a parade tomorrow and everything. I wanna go be in it. I’ve never had a parade that wasn’t for the goddamn war before, and I fucking want to go.”

“So go.”

“With. You.”

“I’m not going.”

Grumbling, Chuck crossed his arms and pouted. “You don’t wanna be seen with me? ‘M I suddenly not good enough for Raleigh Fucking Becket?”

Rolling his eyes, Raleigh stood up from where he’d been lounging on his bunk and moved to stand right in Chuck’s face. “If you want to announce that we’re together from the mountaintops, that’s fine. Herc can put together a press release in an hour.” He shrugged. “But if you want me to lead a parade, the great Raleigh Becket in a trademarked rainbow shirt with a pithy slogan on it so the news can have a soundbite to replay over and over… no.”

“But mate, think how many people out there would feel strong enough to come out knowing a hero like you is–”

“No.”

“Raleigh–”

“Chuck. I said no.” His jaw clenched. “You don’t… I can’t….”

Surprised by the vehemence of the response – Raleigh hadn’t so much as quibbled at Chuck’s initial, awkward overtures and freely admitted he was bi, so where was the problem? – Chuck backed down, though not without feeling a bit hurt.

And Raleigh saw that hurt and sagged, his head lowering.

“You don’t get how it was, okay?”

Chuck didn’t know what had happened, but it had clearly been enough to cause this much ruffle in a man who’d looked into another dimension without flinching. If it was bad enough to make Raleigh Becket balk….

So, instead of getting petulant or, worse, angry, Chuck softened his tone. “Tell me?”

Sighing, the bloke sat back down on the bed. “You weren’t really in the program for the glory years, were you? When we were all rock stars?”

Wary of a misstep but wanting to help now that he realized there was a problem, Chuck slowly sat down beside the poor sod. “I was in the academy. Reckon I knew how it was, but yeah, by the time I was able to pilot, jaegers were already falling on the regular.”

Raleigh nodded without looking at him. “Yance and I were the golden boys. All-American beef, not too bright but very photogenic. The PPDC trotted us out into the limelight every chance they got. Showed us off like prize pigs at a county fair.”

Chuck cleared his throat. “I might remember a bit of that. Might still have some publicity stills, if I’m honest.”

That got a glance from blue eyes that finally held a hint of warmth and just the tiniest quirk of a grin.

“Good to know. Anyway, Yance was straight as an arrow, but I’ve always had an eye for both. Once word of that got to the brass….” The hint of amusement faded, and the bloke looked away again. “They clamped down on it like a vice. No word of any scandal, or we were out on our asses. No hint of anything but good ol’ heterosexual boys being heterosexual boys. We could bang all the female jaeger flies in the world, but if I so much as kissed a man….”

Chuck wanted to storm from the room and find someone to beat up. Preferably whatever homophobic fuckshit had come up with such a bullshit policy. Since that fucker was likely dead or holed up in the so-called safe zone where all the rich wankers had migrated inland, he made himself stay put.

“Anyway.” Raleigh shrugged like it didn’t mean anything, but his shoulders were too stiff to pull it off. “Just… you can see why I don’t want to be the PPDC’s poster gay now when they refused to acknowledge me when it could’ve done the most good.”

No one had ever told Chuck to hide who he was. Hell, he was actively encouraged to be as big an insufferable ass as possible because, by the time he was comfortable enough in the spotlight to spout off, the PPDC needed all the press it could get, good or bad. To find out that Raleigh had been threatened, had been bullied into cutting off that part of himself, into hiding it away until the end of the fucking world had made such things moot….

He forced his fists to unclench, then put an arm around the bloke’s broad shoulders. “Listen, mate. Maybe… maybe now is when it would do the most good.”

Blue eyes shot him an annoyed, narrow-eyed glance.

“I’m serious.” Sighing, he leaned his forehead against the bloke’s temple, plastering himself up against Raleigh’s side. “All that shit is done, yeah? The whole world is starting over. Mate, I’m not asking you to be the poster child, eh?”

Raleigh stayed silent and still. Unmoved.

“Raleigh, love… you saved the whole damn world. That means you get to tell it to go to hell and be who the fuck you want to be, yeah?” He huffed softly, giving the rigid bloke a gentle squeeze. “Who the fuck would dare to tell you different?”

After a long, long moment, that hard, resisting body relaxed a bit. Relaxed a bit more. Gave in and actually leaned against him in return.

“You really, really wanna be in a non-military parade, don’t you?”

He grinned against the silly wanker’s cheek. “In the worst way, mate.”

Lo and behold, Raleigh actually chuckled and turned his head until they leaned forehead to forehead. “Such a jerk.”

Smirking softly, he opened his eyes and looked at the pretty bloke he’d been lost on since the moment he strode into the jaeger bay looking like a homeless person. Beautiful, really, even with those knock-out baby blues closed.

“I’m not asking you to lead the parade, Raleigh. Not even asking you to wave at the cameras or make nice with the press or be a role model for baby gays in need of a hero to emulate.” Another gentle squeeze. “Just wanna walk down the street with thousands of people like us, holding your hand with one hand and flipping off the homophobes with the other.”

Another chuckle, and the bloke opened his eyes. Jesus, that blue. Went right to Chuck’s heart every goddamn time.

“Okay, okay. That, I think I can do.”

Elated, he gave the bloke an impulsive kiss, then smiled against those pretty lips. “Too right, mate.”

“But I’m not wearing a slogan.”

“You don’t have to.”

“…I might wear a rainbow.”

“That can be arranged.”

Grinning, they separated enough to actually plan their strategy. They had a Pride parade to attend, and Chuck intended to do it fucking right.

Herc decided to go along for solidarity. Mako, of course, had already planned to attend. Pentecost had to resort to a wheelchair most days, thanks to the more aggressive chemotherapies sapping his strength, but if Mako was going, he was going. She had supported him all those years, and it was his turn to support her.

In the end, almost the entire shatterdome ended up marching, some as allies and some as active participants, and the ones that didn’t go watched on their viewscreens and cheered their fellow ‘dome mates on.

And when it was all over and Raleigh swore he’d be washing glitter out of every fold and crevice of his body until Christmas, even he had to admit that it had been a damn good day.

The next year, Chuck didn’t even have to ask.

#chaleigh #pacific rim #pride month #it'd be nice if bigotry weren't still alive and writhing by the time the kaiju war ended #but this is humanity #and we suck #but we're trying to get better #and raleigh and chuck would so be there for it #Anonymous

[mclennunf]

How about you do a fanfic when john found out about paul's accident 👀

it’s really not that good so i apologize, but enjoy! xox

~

Paul had couple of mopeds rented for a few days while visiting his father and brother in Liverpool, when his mate Tara Browne came to visit. Tara was an extremely kind bloke that Paul really enjoyed being around and spending quality time with. Tara was an extremely sensitive man, who would frequently stop by at Cavendish to visit his dear friend Paul McCartney and discuss things like arts and music. On this particular visit, Paul was very excited to show Tara the Liverpudlian scenery that he grew up with. As they rode the mopeds up to Wirral, which was quite close to Liverpool, to see Paul’s cousin Bett, the sun began to go down, the night sky began to appear and the moon slowly rose up.  

“Look at that, mate.” Paul called to his friend behind him on his own moped as he pointed to the moon, holding onto the steering bracket with one hand. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Paul smiled, still gazing up at the sight, thinking of the days when that moped was a bike, and it was John alongside him. “Yeah!” Tara called back. Suddenly things were moving in slow motion for Paul. One second, he was looking at the moon, and the next minute he was looking at the pavement. It was too late to pull himself back up.…John was staying at Cavendish taking care of Paul’s new puppy, Martha, while Paul was off in Liverpool visiting the rest of the McCartney’s. He was worried he would be bored without his dear Macca, but he and the puppy ended up having a wonderful time playing and running about. John especially enjoyed when he would play guitar or piano, the small puppy would curl up in a ball between his feet and snore. Usually any distractions from writing would throw John off completely, but with Martha he didn’t seem to mind.

Paul was due back today, and John was buzzing with excitement. He was rather upset when he found out that Paul was going to Liverpool without him for a whole week. John got lonely easily, but with Martha there it didn’t seem so bad! John had just finished cleaning up the house, tidying it so that when Paul came home he didn’t feel the need to jump into domesticated-Paul-mode, and he would just spend time with John and Martha. More preferably, alone with John. Most preferably, in bed. 

“Your daddy will be home any minute now!” John told the small puppy, who was too busy chasing her tail to care about what John had to say. John chuckled to himself, and sat down at Paul’s piano, tinkering away at a few songs that he was eager to show Paul when he returned.

Paul knew it wasn’t going to go over well when John laid eyes on his face. His stitched up lip. His chipped front tooth, and scraped up eyebrow. Paul stood at the door of Cavendish holding his luggage, and sighed. He might as well get it over with. Paul opened the door as quietly as he possibly could, and set his bag down. He slipped his shoes off and smiled when he heard John singing softly as he played a melody on the piano. 

Paul’s heart warmed when he turned the corner into his music room, seeing his best mate sitting on the stool in front of the piano, with the puppy by his feet. “Johnny.” Paul said softly. “Macca!” John jumped up, startling Martha. “John stop, don’t turn around yet.” Paul halted him, feeling his chest swell with panic. “What?” John stopped, doing as he was told though, for once. “John, I don’t want you to see me yet.” Paul admitted. Of course, he was afraid of John’s reaction to the accident, but he was also afraid he wouldn’t like the way Paul looked anymore.

“Paul, I haven’t see ye in a week.” Paul could hear the pouting face John was pulling. “John, somethings happened.” Paul sighed, walking a little bit closer to him. “Yer scarin’ me, baby.” John crossed his arms as he spoke. “I’ve had a bit of an accident. Tara and I-” John cut him off almost immediately. “TARA?! I couldn’t come with you, but TARA could?!” John’s arms came down to his sides, his fists in a ball as he spoke. “Tara came up to visit me and my family, John. It was only for one night.” Paul exhaled, forgetting that John would make a big deal out of that, too.

“Anyway..” Paul continued. “Tara and I were taking mopeds up to see me cousin Bett, y'remember her?” He asked, watching John’s arms slowly move back up and cross themselves on his chest, and then the back of his head gave a slight nod. “Well, I got distracted by the moon. Y'know how I’m always tellin’ ya that when we’re apart, look at the moon and remember I’m lookin’ at the same one?” Paul sighed, he hadn’t spoken this much since his accident and now his lip was beginning to throb. “I was thinkin’ about how we used t'ride our bikes at night, and how big the moon was. I was telling Tara how beautiful the moon was, and before I knew it, I was flat on my face.” As Paul finished telling his story, John’s arms came back down to his side, but this time his hands were leaning against the piano, as if ready to push himself off and to Paul. “I’ve roughed meself up pretty bad. If you want t'look now.. y'can. I just wanted t'warn ya.” Paul braced himself. John spun around quickly, his face angry, but it soon melted into a face full of concern. “Baby,” He walked over to Paul quickly and pulled him into a hug, causing Paul to grunt a little. John pulled away, holding him tightly by the shoulders, examining his young friend’s face. “Look what you’ve done,” To Paul’s surprise, John’s eyes were full of tears. “I’m okay,” Paul smiled weakly, showing off his chipped tooth. “Yer tooth! You’re all chipped and battered!” John’s voice became shockingly high pitched as he spoke.“What if you had DIED, Paul?! What the hell would I do then?!” John asked, his hands moving down from Paul’s shoulders to his hands, between them, squeezing them tightly. 

Paul knew this reaction would come. “I didn’t die, Johnny.” Paul reassured him. “But what if you HAD?! Fuckin’ hell, Paul, I told ya that Tara bloke was no good, gettin’ ye into all these fuckin’ accidents.” John began to rant, murmuring and cursing under his breath as he looked down, away from Paul’s damaged face. “Johnny,” Paul cupped his cheek, but John quickly pulled away and began pacing around the room. Paul noticed Martha staring up at the angry man. “You can’t go off and die on me, Macca, fuck. Not you. Fuck!” John was really losing it now.

“John.” Paul’s stern voice made John stop in his tracks and look back to him.“I’m okay, you’re okay. Everything is okay. I’m not dying, I’m here.” Paul smiled a bit, being sure to hide his tooth. John quickly made his way back into Paul’s arms, and though they moved from there to the couch, and from the couch to the bed, John didn’t leave Paul’s arms. 

And Martha was there, too.

#mclennon fanfiction #mclennon oneshots #mclennon prompts #anon #answered #mclennon drabbles

[missjanedoeeyes-blog]

Ron and Hermione are HORRIFIED when they hear how Draco talks to Harry about his weight, but somehow it's even worse once they figure out the feedist truth to it.

Harry knows it’s fucked up, but he dearly loves it when Draco says awful shit to him.

Like when he’ll lean over and whisper the most obscene things to Harry in his ritziest accent: “Are you sure you need that biscuit, Potter, you’re about to pop a seam as it is,” or “Here, finish this, I know you’re still hungry, chubs,” or “So greedy, Potter, my god, can you even get up? Shall I levitate you to bed?”

It’s not even all that surprising when Draco starts to do it in front of people. He’s enormously perverse, for one thing, and he knows good and bloody well how much it turns Harry on, for another. So of course it was only a matter of time before he slipped it into conversation in front of Ron and Hermione. It’s not even subtle, by Malfoy standards: just Draco raising one haughty eyebrow when Harry orders dessert and then tapping his wand right on the roundest part of his belly. “Careful, tubby.” It’s spoken quietly, maybe quietly enough that Ron and Hermione can pretend they’ve misheard; they haven’t, though, and Draco didn’t intend for them to. They both look horrified.

Harry’s cheeks and libido both burst into flame. Draco, the smug bastard, looks as icy and removed as always—except, Harry notices, the tips of his ears are just slightly pink.

Draco drops a few more of these little gems throughout the conversation, delivering them so urbanely that it seems almost normal—except, of course, that it’s not normal at all. By the time they Floo home that evening, Ron has reached for his wand twice and Hermione is nearly apoplectic.

Harry is hard enough to drill diamonds with his dick, and Draco looks obnoxiously pleased with himself.

*

The Floo call Harry receives from Hermione the next day is Peak Granger. She’s indignant, concerned, and full of lots of cogent points about how Harry deserves to be treated well.

Harry doesn’t quite know how to stop her once she gets going, so he nods along, occasionally saying something asinine about how Draco was just kidding, which is an unconvincing defense if he’s ever heard it. And speaking of hearing—he knows that Draco is sitting in the next room, listening to every word of this supremely awkward conversation, probably enjoying it to the hilt. Twat.

*

Of course, Draco is supremely unsympathetic to Harry’s plight, when they end up discussing it that night.

Harry glances over at Draco, who’s lying prone on their big bed, arms behind his head, bare torso pale and lean, obnoxiously attractive in the moonlight.

“It’s just bloody awkward, having them feel sorry for me,” he mutters.

“Weasley doesn’t feel sorry for you, he just wants an excuse to hex me in the back.”

Harry snorts. “That too.”

“Shall I stop mentioning how fat you’re getting, darling?” Draco’s voice is silky. He only uses pet names when he’s gearing up for something spectacularly filthy. “Stop stuffing you full of those abhorrent pasties you love so much? Ignore how much you struggle to get your robes to button?” He reaches over and taps Harry firmly on the belly, hard enough to make a little slapping sound and set his tummy to jiggling. “Pretend I don’t know how much it gets you off for me to point out how tubby you’re getting, even when they’re listening?” He pauses theatrically. “Especially when they’re listening?”

“Nooooo,” Harry says, just shy of a whine, and Draco’s hand slips lower on his belly, squeezing the soft pudge below his navel. “I just—fuck, Draco—it’s just embarrassing.”

“So tell them, then,” Draco says lazily, wiggling his fingers beneath the tight, tight elastic of Harry’s pajama pants.

“Tell them what, exactly?”

“That you’re a kinky sod and practically come in your pants when I tell you to go on a diet before I’m crushed under your gut when we shag.”

God, Draco sounds like such a fucking prick. It shouldn’t be so sexy. Really. It shouldn’t.

Harry gasps despite himself, shifting a little so that Draco has better access to his tummy—or his cock, if he’s so inclined. “You think that’ll make it better? ‘Hey guys, no worries, I’m getting off on it?’”

Draco shrugs, his attention clearly focused now on Harry’s belly, where he’s tracing his warm palm over the little pink stretch marks that have popped up. “Of course, Potter. Clear it right up.”

*

It’s a toss up, whether Hermione or Ron takes it worse when Harry tries to explain things to them the next evening when they stop by for a drink.

Ron’s eyes bulge nearly out of their sockets as soon as Harry’s done speaking, and then he’s immediately shaking his head. “You—you like it? When he’s mean to you?”

“Just about the, um, fat thing,” Harry clarifies, because Jesus, he’s not some sort of—well, he is some sort of deviant. Just a highly specialized one.

“Merlin, that’s fucking weird.” Ron frowns, then drains his beer and shakes his head. “Can’t just fancy blokes, you have to shag Malfoy. And then can’t just shag Malfoy, you have to date him. And then can’t just date, shag, and fancy Malfoy, you have to…do that…with him. In front of us. Mate, you’re lucky I love you, you weird bastard.“

For her part, Hermione moves from shock straight into lecture mode. “Harry, I don’t mean to kink-shame you,” she begins earnestly, and Harry ponders the possibility of self-Avada Kedavra. Is it possible? If anyone can do it, it’s Harry, right? Just Savior himself right out of this wretched conversation, one swift AK to the temple.

“—it’s just that these sorts of things need to be carefully negotiated, and both partners need to be very aware of what constitutes safe play,” Hermione ploughs on. “Do you have safewords?”

Death. That’s the only thing that will save him now. So long, cruel world.

Instead of Death, the Floo flames to life and Draco steps through, a small mountain of takeaway cartons levitating in front of him.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he declares, clearly not sorry in the least. He brushes invisible soot from his robes and waves his wand, sending the half dozen cartons of food to land neatly on the coffee table.

Before Hermione or Ron can respond, Draco flicks his gaze to Harry. “I didn’t know if you wanted Chinese or curry, so I got you both. Plus extra naan and samosas, and those wretched egg rolls you like so much.” He smiles broadly, an expression so pleasantly Slytherin it almost hurts to look directly at it, and then has the audacity to wink at Harry. “Wouldn’t want you wasting away, Potter.”

Hermione twitches violently.

Ron makes a choking sound disguised as a cough.

Draco smirks, clearly daring them to say anything, and Harry considers again the possibility of casting an unforgivable on himself.

*

Later, once Hermione and Ron have said their awkward goodbyes and Harry’s settled on the couch, open cartons strewn around him and one perched on his tummy, Draco leans over and shoves a dumpling into his mouth, managing to make the gesture both forceful and sweet. “See, Potter, I was right. Isn’t it better now your friends know the truth?”

Harry swallows, then opens his mouth to disagree, because no, it bloody well is not better, not with Draco waltzing in and rubbing their faces in it, and—

Before he can get a single word out, Draco pokes an egg roll between his lips.

“Schmmff,” Harry tries, and Draco nods sagely.

“Of course, Potter. I agree completely. Honesty’s the best policy, et cetera.” Draco’s lips twitch, like maybe he wants to leer but can’t quite muster the necessary prickishness to pull it off. It morphs into a bizarrely gentle smile instead. “Here. Have another egg roll, chubs.”

#anon asks #chubby Harry Potter #harry x draco #chubby kink #Draco saying filthy feedist shit to Harry is one of my favorite things on this earth

[gxldentrio]

i got you this rose and i need to know

Summary: She’s all looks, Petunia is. Tall, thin, elegant. Sheets of blonde hair frame her face, white and pink pearls adorn her pale neckline. And when her eyes squint and her teeth show—that’s when Lily knows she’s in trouble.

Word count: ~2.4k words

A/N: For the two loves of my life, who share this glorious day as their date of birth. I love you to the moon and back. @bantasticbeasts @yulbos. (Also, thank you @ shawn for letting me borrow your lyrics for the title. Could not have done this without u)

FFN / AO3

*

It’s all very complicated.

At least, that’s what she tells herself.

 i.

They were arguing again—Lily can’t really remember what about, except that it hadn’t been exactly pretty. The second Lily’s insults became directed at her brother-in-law, an awful man named Vernon Dursley, Petunia got all angry and shrilly like usual, and then Lily’s tongue got sharper, and –well.

Her sister had wanted to make a point, and so it was only natural that when she implied Lily was unable to get a boyfriend of her own, which was—supposedly—why she was so incredibly rude to Vernon, Lily would have blurted out that she was in fact, in a relationship, thank you very much.

In hindsight, Lily reckons she should probably get a new mouth, one that waited for her to think before it started talking. Wouldn’t that be fucking great.

 ii.

When Lily comes home after school one day, she finds her sister sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a gossip magazine—either Ok! Magazine, Grazia or Marie Claire, she doesn’t really remember.

“You’re not really dating, are you, Lily?” is the first thing Petunia asks her, with her nose turned up in disgust as she stares down at her younger sister. “No respectable male would be caught dead with you.”

Lily scoffs as Petunia places down the magazine. “First of all, why do you assume it’s a guy when I’m as bisexual as they come—“

“You’re confused, is what you are—“

“—and secondly, I’m not messing with you. I have better things to do with my time than find new and exciting ways to annoy you,” she replies, rolling her eyes.

A dangerous smirk dances on Petunia’s lips, and as her eyes light up, she says, “bring him ‘round for dinner, then.”

“I will,” replies Lily, staring defiantly at her sister’s eyes, daring her to go ahead.

She watches as Petunia picks at her impeccably manicured nails. “Next Saturday, at seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

“We won’t,” Lily snaps, her voice two octaves too high.

Petunia smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth and perfectly hydrated lips.

“Fantastic.”

 iii.

She’s laying on top of Potter’s bed, with her feet hanging off from the side and her face pressed into his pillow. She lets out yet another long and pained whine, and then says, “what have I done?”

“How should I know?” he replies from the leather swivel chair, biting his lip and furrowing his brown in concentration as he attempts a triple head combo on Ultimate Mecha Strike III. “The only thing you’ve done since you got her was complain about a ruined life. No clarification whatsoever.”

“It’s really bad. Like, worse than Sirius’-obsession-with-Gasolina-bad.”

He looks over at his bed and pauses the game, carefully placing the remote control on his lap.

“Get on with it, then.”

“I may have…” Lily’s cheeks are redder than her hair now, and for some reason, she can’t find it in her to face him.

“Yes?”

She gasps for air before blurting out, “I-may-have-told-Petunia-I-was-dating-someone.”

James, the idiot, throws his head back and lets out the loudest bark of laughter, one that can only be rivalled by Sirius’ that one time during the year eleven ball when they saw Dumbledore roller-blading through the venue.

“It’s not funny, Potter,” she huffs, because of course he’d revel in her agony.

“On the contrary, Evans, it’s hilarious.”

“She wants me to bring them over for dinner this weekend,” adds Lily, looking absolutely miserable, and of course, James replies by laughing even harder. “What am I going to do?”

He pauses to think for a second, furiously running his hands through his hair, when suddenly, his eyes light up.

“What?” asks Lily, mid-ponytail-adjusting.

“I could be your fake-boyfriend,” James proposes, shrugging his shoulders like it isn’t that big of a deal. (It is.)

Lily lets out a breath.

“Would you?”

“This will really annoy Petunia,” he prompts, licking his lips.

She looks down at his mouth, but shifts her attention back to his eyes before replying, “so it’s settled then.”

James stretches his hand forward. “Carved in stone.”

Lily takes it, and they both hold on for slightly longer than necessary.

“Brilliant,” she nods. “Thank you for doing this, Potter.”

“It’s no problem. I’ve always liked a good ruse.”

It’s a shame, then, that in reality Lily is completely infatuated with the bloke and would love nothing more than to grab him by the collar and shove him into the nearest closet. And, when Algernon –Potter’s cat– comes in with a bacon sandwich, it almost feels like he can sense how distraught Lily is over the whole thing.

Much later in the day—Potter invited her to stay over for dinner, because of course he did— they’re sat in his carpet, soaking up the moonlight, a bottle of rum that James nicked from Euphemia’s cabinets swinging back and forth between the pair of them.

“You were my first kiss, Potter,” Lily admits.

“You were mine, too.”

She tries convincing herself of how lucky she got, because honestly, it’s quite the perfect set-up. They’ve been mates for so long now, and she’s at his house more often than not, and he took her as his date to his second-cousin’s wedding.

Still, there’s something tugging at her heartstrings, but she vows to try her damn best to squash it. Whatever butterflies she’s got going on have got to go.

 iv.

At precisely seven o’clock, Lily rings the doorbell, James at her side, holding her hand. When Petunia opens the door, he tightens his hold on it.

The house looks just like always, but tonight it feels even colder. It’s not particularly pleasant living with Petunia and her husband, but even Lily is not used to the icy blue hue that colours the kitchen. It’s the dead of winter and it almost feels like the weather is doing it on purpose. Maybe Petunia had something to do with it—she’s always liked having connections.

Petunia greets the two of them with a smile, a fake one, of course, and looks Potter up and down as if she’s testing him, as if she’s testing them. She can hear Vernon’s voice coming from the living room, rough and gravelly, and Lily hates it, hates that she feels like an outsider in her own house. James senses this, and presses a kiss on her left temple, all part of the act, nothing short of bittersweet.

They make their way to the dining table, calm and quiet, and James puts his arm around Lily’s shoulders, a silent way of telling her he’s there and she can rely on him for support.

She knows. He is her best friend, after all.

Petunia serves them meatloaf and mash, with green beans on the side. Vernon tucks right in, blissfully ignorant to Lily and Petunia’s silent argument. Vernon Dursley is not dumb, but he’s also not particularly clever, and Lily wishes that was the worst she had to say about him.

Today, however, he’s not important. What matters is that she and James make their sham of a relationship seem believable enough.

It’s harder for her than it is for him, she learns. He doesn’t have to think before reaching up to trace the back of her hand, or to flick her on the nose. Lily guesses he must have loads of practice in pretending, what with every ploy he pulls with the rest of the Marauders, his brothers in everything but blood.

And so, because he knows Petunia, James doesn’t launch into an elaborate story of how the two of them came to fall in love, and then into a relationship. Instead, he sums it up in two quick sentences, tries to act as normal as possible, and stares deep into Petunia’s eyes as if to say ‘I’m on her side.’

If Lily’s parents were here, it’d be different, he’d be different, but they aren’t. They aren’t—and well, Lily finds it best not to dwell on such things. This is what she has to deal with. This is her life now.

She is certain her sister can feel the animosity radiating from James’ body. He’s tense, and Lily can feel his leg jumping up and down in a failed attempt to let go of all the pent-up energy. She places her hand on his thigh. He looks down, and then his eyes trace the skin up her bare, freckled arm, to her exposed collarbone, to her flushed cheeks.

She’s all looks, Petunia is. Tall, thin, elegant. Sheets of blonde hair frame her face, white and pink pearls adorn her pale neckline. And when her eyes squint and her teeth show—that’s when Lily knows she’s in trouble.

*

“She saw right through us,” Lily breathes, holding her head between her hands as she crouches down on Potter’s sofa.

“You don’t believe that.”

“I do,” Lily murmurs, and then her silent sobs become louder and it doesn’t take long for her to be drowning in her own tears. It’s a good thing his parents aren’t home.

“Hey, hey, hey,” James tells her, his voice so gentle that it’s barely even there. “What’s wrong?”

She can’t really tell him, of course. Can’t tell him the way it stings, because he’s a damn good actor and she’s desperate for it to be real. It’s overwhelming, and she’s tired, and she just wants to go home, but where even is that anymore? Certainly not at the house, where she’s treated like absolute garbage, and has been for the better part of two years.

“Lily?” he asks, running his hands through his hair, making it even messier than usual, and Lily wishes it could all just stop.

“I think I’m having a panic attack,” she says, and realisation dawns upon James’ face. It doesn’t take long for him to go into full-blown nurse mode. It’s not unusual for Lily to keel over with anxiety. Now that he has a name for it, he knows how to deal with it—he’s done so before.

“Lily,” he starts, slower this time, “breathe with me, okay? We’ll count to ten.” In and out, in and out. “You’re doing great, I’m right here.”

She closes her eyes and does as she’s told, and eventually her head stops spinning and she clings onto James like he’s her only lifeline. “Thank you,” she croaks out, and he shakes his head and assures her that it was no problem.

“How can I help?” James asks, carefully sitting next to her. Lily shrugs, at a complete loss about what to do. He is, too, until an idea pops into his head, except it’s coming from a place of wishful thinking, and so ridiculous that he doesn’t know if he should share it.

Lily, of course, notices. “What is it?” she asks, biting her lip so hard it could bleed.

“We could… um…”

“Yes?” she prods.

“We could practice,” James coughs. “For when she’s around.” He can feel his flaming hot cheeks burn, but when he sees the way Lily’s shoulders relax and her eyes light up, it’s worth it.

“You don’t have to do that, James,” she tells him, in the quietest little voice. It’s sweet, and somewhat hoarse, and he’s oh so very attracted to her.

“I don’t mind.”

She bites her lip again. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. Besides,” he presses, “it’s not like we’ve never done it before.”

That was true. They’d been about fourteen at the time. It had been right after school, and they were bored out of their wits and wanted to get it over with.

“So there’s no reason for it to be awkward,” Lily replies, excitement starting to bubble in her stomach.

“None at all.”

“That’s great.”

James nods. “I’m going to kiss you know.”

And so he does.

 v.

It’s been two months since the beginning of their charade. Neither of them have been able to sleep, the fact that this is only a ruse tugging at their brains, ripping at their insides. It didn’t take much to convince Petunia, to be honest. She just… walked in on one of their practice sessions and that was it. That, of course, only meant that now they absolutely had to keep it going.

Besides, it’s not like they can fake-break up to get it off their backs. No, Petunia’s annoying as is, it simply wouldn’t do to add fuel to the flame. They’re too young to be prey.

It’s the beginning of March and they’re back in his room, the colourful walls mocking their shared misery. In the midst of the strained silence, Lily hears James mutter, “I can’t do this.”

“Huh?”

“This,” he says, this time a little louder, gesturing to the space between the two of them. “I can’t keep this up anymore.”

He wouldn’t. He can’t. No.

“It was your idea!” she counters, panic starting to cloud her vision. She’s desperate, scared out of her wits that this is their downfall. She can’t lose him too, not him, she’s lost so much already.

“Yeah well,” he starts, and Lily notices how he looks about to burst, “I thought I could ignore my feelings, but I guess not, uh—“ his mouth clamps shut. He’s said too much, and there’s no turning back now.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Lily asks, the tiniest hint of hope flaring up inside her, and she’s trying to contain it, because it’s likely that she only heard him wrong, but she can’t. She can’t and it’s taking over.

“I’m in love with you.” It’s Earth-shattering. “I’m in love with you, and I can’t deal with it anymore. I can’t stand not knowing what’s real and what’s not, or if there’s anything real at all, because—fuck I wish it was, all of it—“

Suddenly, her body is flush against his. Their lips are tangled together and she’s prodding his mouth open, and it’s desperate, really, the way he’s clinging to her back and she to his neck.

And then, they slow down, and it soon becomes more laughter and smiling and teeth-clashing-against-teeth than actual kissing, but it’s fine, really, because now Lily has her answer. This, right here.

This was home.

#fyeahjamesandlily #jily #jily fic #hp #marauders #bantasticbeasts #yulbos #txt #mine #my writing #prongsno #hiddenpolkadots #alrightevans #fetchalgernon #snapslikethis