#two arts in one day... whadda hell

[nimarts]

I just really wanted to draw Poppy with vampire fangs. Because she deserves it. Take this

[ardenskyedarcy221b]

someone eats the last of the beloved cereal and it starts world war three at the breakfast table?? UMMMM hot summer day at the lake house?? Peter being obsessed with fire and almost burning down the lake house when they have a campfire?? anything at all w Peter being allergic to bug ??? ALL OF THE ABOVE lol this is a disaster of a prompt but I hope it gets the muse going!!

You asked for it: here comes the chaos!!!!

read and leave kudos on AO3

“All I want are s’mores!” he cries, following after Tony’s retreating back with all the gusto of tailing a criminal. “Just say yes and I’ll stop asking!”

“That’s not how this works,” drolls Tony, not bothering to crane his neck backward as he speaks. “Between you and the other four year old of the place, I’m strong in the face of unrelenting pleas.”

“Please.”

“No.”

Peter pouts, pulling out a pitiful, “Please, Tony?” from the depths of his soul. 

A pause. 

Peter doesn’t bother taping back his growing, victorious smirk since Tony’s back is still toward him. But the older man has stopped at the kitchen island, lunch plates forgotten before him, shoulders tensing up just a smidge, and Peter knows the signs of a crumbling empire. 

Then there’s a sigh. 

“A supervised campfire this evening. Morgan can stay up past her bedtime—“” 

“YES!”

“—but only if it’s Pepper approved.”

As much as Pepper Potts-Stark likes to feign the stern parent act, she’s as mushy for Peter and Morgan as her husband. Peter knows exactly what needs to be done in order to get Pepper’s approval. 

He spins on his heel, making for the stairs and shouts out for his little sister, 

“Hey, Momo! D’ya wanna take a selfie with me?”

He immediately garners her attention as he hears Morgan toss down whatever she was using and her thunderous footsteps racing from her bedroom toward the top of the stairs, screeching out a resounding, 

“YES!”

Tony groans from the bottom level. 

Peter grins unabashedly, swinging Morgan up into his arms and cuddles her close. 

“I think we need to send some pictures to Mom, whadda say?”

“Yes yes yes!”

Peter wanders into Morgan’s bedroom and plops down onto her rug, easing his back against her abandoned art table. 

“Dress up or regular selfie?”

Morgan tilts her head, brown eyes flicking toward the ceiling in thought. After a couple beats, she jumps in excitement and declares, “Regular selfies but I wanna wear a tiara!”

Peter nods, “Awesome! Go grab your purple tiara and come back over here, alright?”

She runs off as he pulls out his cell phone. 

Before long, Morgan is situated on his lap and Peter has his camera facing both of them. They take an obscene amount of pictures because Morgan likes to direct them on different poses. She’s rather bossy as she says to go between serious to silly to posing like they are Iron Man but Peter rolls with her assertions. 

“Guess what?” 

“Mmmm, what?!”

“Dad said that we can have a bonfire tonight!”

“AWESOME!” squawks Morgan, jumping from his lap, no longer interested in helping send the perfect picture to her mother and more interested in jumping onto her bed and bouncing. 

“Morguna!”

Morgan pretends she does not hear her father’s call of her name, bouncing until her tiara sits askew and even then continues showing her exuberance. 

Peter sends Pepper an adorable picture of two massively grinning faces with the message: Tony says we can have a bonfire tonight with your approval. 

Within moments, Pepper sends hearts for the picture and responds with a planning on catching anything on fire again?

Peter replies back with a no along with the angel emoji. 

In the end, Pepper gives her approval. 

Peter sweeps Morgan off her bed mid-jump, both of them squealing and laughing in high pitches, as he runs them back out of her room and races down the stairs. 

Tony hollers, “Lunch is ready, my two monsters!”

At the back of his mind, Peter feels for Tony having to wrangle both him and Morgan around for the remainder of the afternoon. Then again, he isn’t too concerned about it because despite his minor attempts acting indifferent, Tony is just as excited. 

“Let’s go collect wood from behind Gerald’s pin, shall we?” suggests Tony sometime after four, corralling them out of the garage after their latest volcano experiment finished and back into the late afternoon sun. 

“For the campfire?” asks Morgan, skipping behind her father, swinging her arms rather erratically. 

“Yeppers little Pepper.”

Morgan giggles then bolts on ahead to shower the family alpaca with her undivided attention. 

Now with little ears out of shot, Tony rounds on Peter, 

“Turn out your pockets.”

“What? Why!” 

“It’s like house arrest but I gotta make sure you’re not carrying a lighter on you.”

“That’s lame,” but Peter turns out his pockets anyways, knowing that he isn’t carrying anything incriminating on him. “Happy now, Mister Worrywart?”

Tony sniffs, remains silent, then proceeds to dump several logs into Peter’s arms several moments later. “Go on and be helpful, Mister Menace.”

“That’s enough from you, old sport.”

“I still know how to use a repulsor, Mister Gatsby.” 

“Oooh, I’m quivering! I’m gonna be hunted down by Iron Dad himself because of his unsinkable crush of Leo DiCaprio.” 

Tony breaks first and snorts out his laughter. His father figure swats at Peter, though the teenager dodges the motion with ease of a pirouetting spider vigilante.

“I’m laughing at you, you goon! And mildly offend my kid keeps calling me old!” 

“So your infatuation with Mister DiCaprio has nothing—”

“Begone, you!” chuckles Tony. 

Peter shuffled away, beaming in triumph all the way to their designated fire pit. He can’t help tossing over his shoulder, “It IS a little weird both you and Pepper have a thing for him—" 

Only Tony doesn’t allow Peter to finish his train of thought all the way: a twig is tossed at his back and Peter finally lets go of their teasing. 

Serves Tony right, though, Peter thinks as logs fall from his arms into the unlit fire pit, see if he teases me about Kristen Bell again. 

However; knowing their relationship, Peter anticipates the new game of teasing each other about passed celebrity crushes will continue on until something new takes hold. It’s just how they are, really.

By the time Colonel Rhodes makes an appearance, bearing graham crackers and marshmallows (both mini AND jumbo sized!) and Hersey’s milk chocolate bars, Tony���s had to send Morgan inside to change clothes seeing as how she somehow ended up with Gerald’s bucket all down her front, and Peter takes the opportunity to greet Rhodey without the prying eyes of their best friend. 

“How’d you get him to agree to a bonfire so soon after last month’s incident?” prefaces Rhodey, raising an inquisitive brow at Peter. 

“Puppy eyes and Pepper.”

“Works like a charm every single time.”

They high five. 

As the sun sinks lower on the horizon, Pepper arrives home and Tony declares the start of their activities. Rhodey grills the burgers as Tony assists Morgan with making hot dogs over the fire. Pepper tugs Peter inside in order to grab paper plates, napkins, and condiments, and Peter obeys because he wants to keep Pepper on his side for as long as possible. 

But the way she keeps glancing over at him makes Peter realize she knows he’s got an ulterior motive up his sleeve. 

Best to ask for forgiveness and all that jazz.

Peter waits for the perfect opportunity. Ideally, it’s after dinner and either right as Pepper takes Morgan in for bed or his little sister is further away from the chaos. No matter what, Peter wants to keep Morgan safe. Tony has loosened up with his own hawk eyes making sure Peter behaves himself, but his wife hasn’t. Rhodey continues to throw encouraging head nudges. 

There’s only so much Peter can take before he gives into the pressure. 

Morgan fell asleep on Pepper ten minutes beforehand and Tony is whispering to his wife who should take the little girl up to bed. His two pseudo parents distracted, finds Rhodey turning to Peter and says, 

“I double dog dare you to throw gasoline into the fire.”

Peter turns to the other man and professes, “Coward. Make it a triple dare and I’ll do it hanging upside down from that branch over there.” and he points to a semi-sturdy looking tree branch. 

Rhodey snorts, shakes his head, and corrects his offer. “I triple dog dare you to throw gasoline into the fire.” 

And then he slips him a small, red bottle. 

Peter has to bite his lip from laughing. He swipes the loot out of Rhodey’s grip and stands up, slowly moseying over toward the tree he now needs to climb. 

Too bad Tony’s got tingling dad senses tonight. Peter doesn’t even make it halfway to the tree before he’s stopped in his tracks. 

“Peter Benjamin, that better not be gasoline in your hands.”

“Uh—”

“And you sure as hell better not being thinking about climbing that tree.”

“It’s for the aesthetic?”

Rhodey snorts behind him. 

“Don’t you think the loss of your eyelashes and eyebrows was enough of a lesson for you, hmm?” Tony’s voice comes closer as Peter’s shoulders sag in defeat. 

“But I like the whoosh!” whines Peter. 

Tony snatches the gasoline outta his hands. “And I like my kids in one piece.” 

What a low blow, Peter muses, not bothering to hide his amusement in the dark. All the same he says, as he spins around, “I’m pretty sure I’m flame retardant anyways, being part-spider.” 

Tony sputters. 

And really, Peter just likes to mess with Tony any way he can. 

[88missmarauder88]

Sirius x Reader, Part Deux

So this is a companion to the first-ever fanfic request (located a few posts down the way), which was “Sirius x Reader” in which the reader was James’s sister and she and Sirius had a “moment” whilst listening to music. 

@underworldsheiress mentioned that she’d love to see James’s and Remus’s reactions, and I discovered that I wanted to see them too! lol So this is another Sirius x Reader but featuring a lot of James and Remus. It’s quite long, I think, but it was also helping me flesh out a larger story I’ve been working on forever, so it’s serving dual purposes, and thanks for the idea!

If anyone else has any requests, please feel free to pass them along. They’re helping me so much with my other story!

Something was different.

To be more accurate, several things were different, but in your still-half-asleep state, identifying them simultaneously was an impossible task. You forced your brain -- which currently felt like it was wrapped in a thick layer of cotton -- to focus on one at a time instead.

First, there was the realisation that you had just gotten the first good night of sleep you'd had in ages. You let out a nearly inaudible sigh as you slowly began to recognise the effects you'd all but forgotten. You weren't inexplicably still exhausted. Your body felt entirely relaxed, the tension drained from your neck, shoulders, and limbs. In fact, you'd go so far as to say you felt rejuvenated, like you could actually hop up and face a day with a smile on your face for once.

Day... that was the second realisation. Your eyes remained closed, reluctant to let go of your restful state, but you could tell by the glow of your eyelids that sunlight was filling the room. You also didn't feel as though you were in your bed. You were seated on something hard, tilted back against something softer, but that wasn't a primary concern. Merlin bless the chair or floor or whatever it was you'd fallen asleep upon because you'd actually fallen asleep.

Then there was that noise. It must've been what woke you, but you couldn't for the life of you place it. A constant, repeating pattern of long, static hisses and short crackles... shhhhpop... shhhhpop... shhhhpop...

With a heavier sigh, you resigned yourself to opening your eyes but only got the job half done before quickly having to shield them with your hand, the sudden light stinging a bit too harshly. With your hand still curved at your temple to cut the glare, you tried to look in the direction of the noise, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear away the bleariness. After a few moments, you finally spotted the culprit: The arm of Sirius's turntable had reached the end of a record, and the needle was teetering back and forth on the vinyl's edge in protest.

Sirius's turntable...

The last few realisations were made much too quickly and far less rationally.

The events of the previous evening came cascading down on you like a bucket of ice water. You were in Sirius's room. You'd fallen asleep listening to music, but not before you'd... before he'd... You squeezed your eyes shut again, biting down on your bottom lip in an attempt to steady yourself. You felt worried, nervous, and confused all at once, but there was also a lightness, like a crushing weight had been lifted from your heart. Strangely, it was that last feeling you were having the most trouble processing.

As slowly as you could, you tilted yourself forwards, then scooted quietly across the floor until you could turn and look behind you. Sirius had his right shoulder buried in the rumpled blankets that hung down from the end of his bed. You'd both apparently shifted in the night, winding up back to back. It reminded you of the position you'd all been taught in Defence Against the Dark Arts -- how to stand with your comrades in battle, to ensure all angles were covered, to leave no opportunity for a blindside attack. You wondered briefly whether either of you had ever been truly relaxed in your lives.

His hair curtained his face from your view, and you frowned at the way Sirius's arms wrapped tightly around his knees, which were drawn to his chest. With a pang, you flashed back to his 11-year-old self after you'd woken him from his nightmare on the Hogwarts Express. How he'd wedged his body into the corner of the compartment as if trying to escape not only whatever had been haunting him in his sleep but also the fact you'd just seen him in a moment of weakness. You'd both changed so much since then and yet, in unguarded moments like this, were still so much the same. That point was further proven as you reached out instinctively to brush the hair off his cheek, tucking it softly behind his ear. Sirius twitched a bit at the contact, his eyelids fluttering slightly as he murmured a few unintelligible syllables. He was dreaming, but at least it didn't seem to be a nightmare.

"Mmmmmph... phh... fuck off, Prongs, whadda you know 'bout snogging..."

You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, filing that away for future use, and reached over to set the turntable to rights.

"PADFOOT!"

Ugh, he's even annoying in my head...

"PADS! Get your lazy arse up!"

You froze as you realised you weren't imagining James's voice, then whirled around at the sound of Sirius speaking again.

"Sirius, we have to--"

He was still asleep. But you could've sworn you heard him say your name...

"PADS!!!"

"Sirius!" you hissed, shaking his shoulder. He started awake, eyes darting wildly around the room before landing on you. Your chest tightened as you watched his face cycle through confusion, recognition, and finally relief. You hated that it had to be short-lived.

"Sirius, James... he's in the corridor, I think he's coming down here," you whispered urgently. "What we need to do is--"

"Pads, get up, you useless sod..."

James could only be a few feet from the door now, and before you could resume relaying your plan to Sirius, he was on his feet, grabbing your forearms and hauling you back against the end of his bed. You spluttered, trying to talk through the hair in your mouth -- not all of which seemed to be your own -- as Sirius bent over you, yanking the blankets all the way off his bed and piling them unceremoniously over your head.

"Sirius!"

"Shush!"

Somehow, through the thick layers of fabric now pressing down on you, you felt two final thwaps you assumed were his pillows. Shell-shocked and completely frustrated, you let out a huff as you heard the door to Sirius's room fly open. A sudden weight collided with your shoulder, tipping you sideways, as Sirius quickly leaned back against the blanket pile.

"Padfoot, you-- what're you doing?" James's voice rang through the room. How anyone could have enough energy first thing in the morning to be that loud you had never been able to suss out.

"Listening to my new album," Sirius answered, albeit a bit more high-pitched than normal. "See?" he continued, gesturing to his turntable.

"Why in the floor? And what the hell did you do to your bed?"

As Sirius began exalting the comforts of blanket piles, Remus came wandering in behind James, yawning broadly and scratching his chest through his t-shirt.

"Merlin, James, you're loud," he said through another yawn, which abruptly ended mid-exhale as he glanced about the room. James and Sirius had paid him no mind, and Sirius was currently patting the large pile of blankets and pillows behind his back repeatedly in an apparent effort to convince James of their superiority to just sitting on the bed. As he did, the blanket at the bottom of the pile shifted slightly, revealing a house slipper with which Remus was familiar. A slow grin made its way across his lips. Suddenly, he felt very much awake.

"Well, you're a slob, for one," James was chastising. "This isn't Hogwarts. No house-elves are going to pop in here and make your bed every day, meaning it's down to my mum, and if you're in here dismantling the whole bloody room every night..."

Sirius glanced up at Remus. Something about the look on his face made James's voice fade into a background drone; he looked smug and positively delighted, which was about as common as Acromantula venom. Remus wasn't a morning person, particularly this close to the full moon. Sirius quirked an eyebrow at him, and Moony's smile grew wider still. He looked pointedly down at something to Sirius's left. Turning his head slowly, Sirius spotted your slipper. He blanched, turning back to Remus with a panicked, pleading look. Remus's shoulders were shaking with silent laughter, but he managed to put his fingers to his lips, pulling them across in simulation of a zip to indicate James wouldn't hear it from him. Sirius shot him a grateful nod before grabbing a pillow and slamming it down onto your foot.

Remus rolled his eyes and let out an involuntary snort.

Underneath the violently jostling blanket pile, you were a mess -- hair rankled into a frizzy cloud, insides shaking, and you were beginning to sweat. Suddenly, a pillow came down hard on your foot, and you had to bite your tongue to prevent a yelp from escaping.

What the hell is going on out there?!

"What was that?" James demanded.

"What was what?"

"Why'd you slam that pillow down like that?"

"I thought... I thought I saw a spider."

"There aren't any spiders in this house, mate. Or actually, let me rephrase that: There never have been spiders in this house, but considering the state you've got this room in, we're probably going to be infested. Crisps packets on the table, chocolate wrappers under the bed, t-shirts every-bloody-where... look, like I was saying, you know I love you, but we don't have house-elves; you're going to have to pick up after yourself, now get up, we're setting this bed to rights..."

"NO!!!" Sirius and Remus shouted simultaneously. Under the pile, you smacked your hand against your forehead.

"Okay, what's going on," James said after a beat, his tone indicating he was done playing around. "There's something under the blankets, isn't there." He was met with silence. "What did you two sneak in here? Sirius, that had better not be a dog. I get that you think it'd be really ironically hilarious to keep one as a pet, but my dad's allergic, and--"

"You're right, Prongs, I'm sorry. It's a dog. Now get out. Moony and I will get rid of it."

"Why do I have to get out for you to get rid of it? It's got to go, but I wouldn't mind a look first."

"It's... mangy. Really awful, but it was the best I could find at the time. Ugly, big chunks of fur missing, possibly rabid-- OW!!"

You threw your elbow as hard as you could in the direction of what you hoped were Sirius's ribs. You were done playing as well. James was never going to leave without seeing what was under the blankets, and if Sirius had just listened in the first place, you wouldn't be in this mess. Scrabbling to your feet, you yanked the blankets off your head, regretting immediately your disheveled appearance and how you knew James would interpret it.

"What... the FUCK?" 

James didn't say it loudly, though, and that's how you knew things were quickly heading south. He said it with a deceptive control that you knew how to translate: danger. Well, you could be dangerous, too.

"You," you said, untangling your feet from the pile, "ask too many questions, you nosy git."

"What the hell are you doing in here? Why do you look like... that?" He was talking to you but glaring at Sirius, who looked positively stricken. He was doing his best to shrink back into the curtains around the bed, but you could also see him surveying the room for its best potential escape routes. You realised he'd likely spent the majority of his life doing the same thing at Grimmauld Place. Looking for places to hide. Cringing in anticipation of pain. Wilting under the wrath of his parents. Trying to find an escape. And he'd finally found it. He'd come here, where he belonged, where he was supposed to be safe and happy and able to breathe again, and you would be damned if you were going to let your brother make him remember where he'd come from, not even for one second.

"Not that it's any of your business, James, but we were listening to music. As for why I look like this, I assume you're observant enough to have noticed that I just crawled out from under about four bloody blankets."

"For the record, he's not very observant at all," Remus offered. "I mean, your slipper was sticking right out in plain view..."

"Shut it, Remus," James snapped, turning back to you with his eyes narrowed. "And why were you under the blankets in the first place if that's all you were doing?"

"Because your best mate wanted to avoid having you fly off the broomstick like you do every time somebody does something without asking your permission first!"

"I swear that's why, James," Sirius cut in quietly, his back still against a bedpost. "I just panicked when I heard you coming down the hall, and I didn't want you to think-- we fell asleep, and that's all we did. Sleep. We didn’t move off the floor all night."

James's eyes widened to such a degree you wondered if they mightn't just pop right out of his head, and you'd have laughed at the mental image if the circumstances had been different. As it was, you pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing deeply.

"Sirius, he didn't know I was in here all night," you muttered to the boy.

"Oh... oh, fuck," Sirius whispered, bouncing the side of his head repeatedly off the bedpost.

"He must have done," said Remus. "You're both wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday."

"Weren't you the one who just said he's not at all observant, Mr Helpful?" you asked.

"Oh, right... wow, we're all really shit at this, aren't we?" Remus grinned cheerfully. You couldn't help but giggle under your breath at that, which just set James off again.

"Sure, everything's so funny, just a big joke, and it's all on James because he was stupid enough to think he could have his best mate move in without making a move on the nearest breathing female."

Your whole body was suddenly tingling with fury, and you barely noticed that both you and Sirius had taken a subconscious step towards one another as you spoke simultaneously.

"She is not just 'some female'..."

"How dare you say that about him..."

"Bad form, James," Remus said in a low voice, his face the picture of seriousness now. "That's way out of line, mate."

"This may come as a shock, James, but not everything is about you, you arrogant prat," you said, voice shaking as angry tears began filling your eyes.

James at least looked remorseful, darting a hand through his hair and continuing on to the back of his neck, which he rubbed self-consciously while letting out a heavy breath.

"Look, I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm just... I can't..."

"Come on," Remus said, grabbing James by the arm and pulling him towards the door. "You need to cool off."

James didn't protest, and as Remus pushed him into the corridor, he turned back to you and Sirius. Sirius was looking down, one hand clutching the bedpost, his breathing shallow. You regarded Remus through the shimmer of the tears you were still refusing to let fall. "I'll talk to him," the boy said quietly, giving you an encouraging smile before walking out and shutting the door behind him.

You could see in your peripheral vision that Sirius hadn't moved, so you followed suit. You could scarcely even remember now the peaceful state in which you'd woken just a little while ago, and it made you angry. You certainly didn't know what would've been said between you and Sirius once he woke up, if anything at all. Maybe you'd have just gone back to your room and let him sleep. Either way, it shouldn't have been taken out of your hands, something simple and lovely made stressful and awkward.

"I'm sorry," Sirius said finally, not looking up. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Done what?"

"Any of it."

Your stomach lurched slightly. "That's... unfortunate to hear, I suppose."

"Good," he said, and you looked up, confused, to find him still regarding the floorboards but with a funny little half-smile on his face now. "Because I don’t mean that. But it's what has to be said for now. I should've thought about what might happen. I didn't mean to start anything between you and James."

You snorted. "If it hadn't been this, it would've been the last slice of toast at breakfast. This was nothing to do with you. You know him as well as I do at this point. If it wasn't his idea, he hates it. Until he doesn't."

Sirius nodded, finally turning to face you. "All the same, I think I should go for a bit." At the panic that must've shown on your face, he quickly added, "I just mean for the rest of the day. I'll go for a ride, come back when there's less chance of being punched in the face."

You nodded back reluctantly, and he began walking to the door, stopping abruptly a few yards short. Turning on his heels, he strode quickly back to you, moving the still-wild hair off your cheek and pressing his lips against it, lingering just long enough that it couldn't be construed as a peck. Just long enough to send the blood rushing to your head at alarming speeds. And just as quickly, he was back at the door. "See you tonight," he said as he slipped out.

You stood a few moments, wondering how your body managed to accomplish the feat, considering you felt like you'd lost all control of your motor skills. Finally, it surrendered as well, and you fell backwards into the pile of blankets, a blissful smile on your face.

"Because, Moony, of course he is. And stop snickering when I say this and answer me because I mean it: Have you ever known Sirius to be serious about anything?"

Remus complied with the no-snickering demand with effort, clearing his throat before responding.

"Yes, actually. I have. Granted, the list isn't long, but he's serious about us. His friends. He'd do anything for us, you in particular, and I believe you know that. He's serious about being nothing like his family. And besides, Prongs, it's worth saying again that I really think you're overreacting here. You know how they are about muggle music, they listen to records together all the time. They clearly weren't doing anything wrong. What's the big deal?"

"It just... felt different, I don't know how to explain it," James groused. "And since I know they don't have real feelings for each other, it would just be more frivolous flirting on his part and her being too naive to even notice what he was doing."

"I'm sorry... they don't have any what for each other?"

"Feelings. Like... fond feelings, I mean. I know they care about each other, they're friends. But most days, they're barely in a room together five minutes before they're in a row about something or trying to one up one another on a prank or just giving each other funny looks. They don't get on. Not like Lily and me..."

At that, Remus couldn't contain his laughter anymore. James glared at him.

"I'm sorry, Prongs, I really am, but we are talking about the same Lily who charmed a handful of sugar quills to chase you away from her train compartment like little daggers not two days ago, aren’t we?"

"She just doesn't know how to express her feelings for me yet."

"All right. Fair enough. Let's say for the sake of argument that's true. Then wouldn't you say it's possible two other people we know don't know how to express their feelings for one another yet either?"

James raised a quizzical brow, and Remus sighed.

"Prongs, just because your feelings for Lily are out there in the great wide open for all of us to see -- much more of than we'd like, I might add -- doesn't mean that's the way everybody acts. If you think Lily hexes you on a daily basis because she's repressing her adoration, then might it not be possible that Pads and your sister are going through something similar? To put it scientifically, sometimes, in the absence of an immovable object, two unstoppable forces have occasion to meet, and sparks will, inevitably, fly."

James looked at Remus as if he were speaking Mermish, and Remus shook his head, rolling his eyes wearily.

"They fancy each other, you nit."

James's eyes bulged for a moment, but he shook his head adamantly. "No. No way. They fight like... well, cats and dogs," he grinned.

"I'm not about to stand here and explain romantic nuance to you, Prongs, but just take me at my word for a second and then ask yourself why they wouldn't be afraid to show their feelings. Afraid of what it might mean for their friendship, how the rest of us might react, how you would react -- and well done there, by the way. Imagine for a minute what sort of mood you'd be in if you thought pursuing Lily would ruin everything else in your life."

James's predominant expression remained confusion, but Remus could see something else there now -- something that looked a bit like dawning horror. Remus decided to wrap it up with a bow for him.

"Did you happen to notice the way they stepped towards each other, not you, when you said those nasty things earlier? That they moved to defend each other first, not themselves?"

James let out an extended groan, tilting his face skyward and covering it with his hands. He remained like that for about half a minute before mumbling into his palms.

"They're bloody besotted, aren't they?"

"Afraid so, mate."

"Merlin's bollocks," James moaned into his hands. "How did I not pick up on that. Idiot, me. They're both mad as hatters, tempers with bloody millimetre fuses, it's like they were made for each other, fuuuuuck, I feel ill..."

Remus chuckled quietly as James scrubbed his hands up his face and into his hair, tugging in frustration. Remus felt for him, of course. That couldn't be an easy realisation for any bloke to make about their sister and their best mate, but better now than later, now that Sirius was living in the house. James screwed up his face and stood in silent agony for another few moments, hair jutting out in every possible direction, before his shoulders slumped and he let out a loud breath.

"Well, Moony, there's only one thing for it then," he said, straightening and looking purposefully at Remus.

Remus went cold, sucking in a startled breath. Introducing James to the facts had been something he felt needed done, and he'd definitely counted on theatrics, but he hadn't counted on an ultimatum -- or his sudden apprehension about what that "one thing" might be. If James was about to ask for his help convincing the two they were wrong for one another, he would have to think fast to devise a delicate way of telling his friend he felt the exact opposite -- not to mention prepare for another fight. Before he could speak, however, James went on.

"We'll have to force them together. It could get ugly... might be a bit like shoving two Jarveys in a bag... actually, that's exactly what it's going to be like. Pads is a stubborn sod, and she's not much better, not to mention they both curse like bloody sailors these days..."

An audible whimper of relief escaped Remus, and he burst out laughing, walking over and pulling James into a quick hug.

"What's wrong?"

"I swear, I thought you were about to ask me to help you put them off one another."

James smirked.

"Don't get me wrong, Moony, I still think the whole thing's unbelievably disgusting. But... I reckon I'll get over it. If, of course, they do one another some good. I mean, they're both absolutely mental, so who else are they going to find to put up with them, realistically. Plus, better to know your enemy and all that. And..."

He paused, his expression sobering as he adjusted his glasses.

"Whenever Sirius is in a state -- a real state, one of those ones where we can't handle him and you start worrying he’s going to do himself damage -- where do we always find him? And vice versa?" James asked.

His eyes made very clear that this particular question was the only one that really mattered. Who loved James's sister as much or more than he did? Who loved Sirius as much or more than James?

Remus nodded, patting James on the shoulder and letting the unspoken answer hang meaningfully in the air.

[sofreakinmanyfandoms]

The Craigslist Date - Chapter 1

Hey all, thought I’d try my hand at writing a fic since I enjoy reading them so much. I’m going to try to update every day for the first five days just so I can get some sort of masterlist started, and then it’ll drop to updating weekly. Please give feedback whether you like it or not! It’ll help me grow as a writer. Much thanks to @thorne93 for being a sweetheart and reading it before I posted!

Word count: 1415

Warnings: None. I hardly even swear irl, so there’s not even really any of that in here. There will be fluff in later chapters, though.

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Something had to be wrong. You pushed your thumb and forefinger against the bridge of your nose as you closed your eyes against the computer screen’s brightness. The numbers weren’t adding up. No matter how many times you re-counted, you still came up $200 dollars short. You needed the numbers to be wrong.

How in the hell were you supposed to come up with $200 by this weekend? You thought briefly about selling a kidney, but you were pretty sure none of your English Lit major friends knew anyone who’d be buying one.

If only you could work more hours. Around classes and studying, the hours you were able to work in the school cafeteria barely covered your normal expenses, much less any surprises. After that uninsured jerk hit your car two weeks ago, you’d had to get your taillight replaced to avoid any traffic tickets, and your bank account was suffering. You hadn’t eaten anything but ramen and hot dogs in over a week and you were getting sick of taking sponge baths to lower your water bill. While your next paycheck would be enough to cover your utilities, your rent was due in five days and no amount of penny pinching would magically add $200 dollars to your account before then.

With a sigh, you opened up Craigslist and turned to the want ads. Maybe you could sell your couch. Or your dresser; your clothing was usually kept in piles on the floor anyway, right?

You found someone willing to pay $100 for a bed frame – your mattress would work just as well on the floor, right? – and were about to click on it when a listing at the bottom of the page caught your eye.

Looking for woman to take our (M) friend out on a date - $250

You blinked and double-checked to see if you’d read that right. There had to be a mistake. But when you looked again, $250 dollars was still staring back at you. They must be looking for a hooker, you thought. Unable to help yourself, you clicked the link.

“Four friends are in search of a female date for a fifth friend (male). Payment will be given up front. Must be a female at least 20 years old and free Friday the 30th from 6:45-9pm. No sex required. The date will be in a public place, so you don’t need to worry about being kidnapped. (We promise none of us are creepy.) Looking for someone interested in art or history, if possible. To apply text (917)555-6011; please include your first name and why you responded.”

Well…that was certainly something. You leaned back in your chair and reread the ad. So they weren’t looking for a hooker. But what is wrong with their friend that they felt the need to pay someone to go on a date with him?

A series of quacks from your phone pulled you out of your head and back into the present. You looked at the text and smiled. “Hey sis!” it read, “I saw these flowers and thought of you. Since I can’t give them to you in person I’m sending you a pic.” A picture of your younger brother beaming while holding a fistful of buttercups accompanied the message. You shot back a, “Thank you so much, Jeremiah! They’re beautiful,” with a selfie of your smile and put your phone back down.

Maybe that was it. Maybe their friend had Down syndrome like Jeremiah, or was on the autism spectrum and had a hard time meeting people. You were good with people like that. Maybe you could make enough to cover your rent and make someone’s day at the same time. Hell, with $250, you could even get some food that wasn’t ramen and take a real shower.

Reservations gone, you picked up your phone again and typed in the number. It took you less than a minute to type up your message and hit send. Now all you had to do was hope you made the cut.

 ----------

“Nat, Sam’s phone dinged! Maybe our ad got a reply!”

Nat shook her head as Clint yelled from the kitchen. She yelled back from her spot curled up on the living room floor, “No one’s answered in the past two days. I told you no one would go for it. It’s a stupid idea.”

Clint poked his head around the corner. “But maybe someone finally did. And if it’s such a stupid idea, why’d you join the money pool to pay for it?”

Nat sighed. “Because Steve’s never gonna find his own date, no matter how many suggestions I feed him. Check to see if it’s a reply or just a regular text.”

“I can’t. Sam changed his password after Bucky changed his phone background to that picture of Fluttershy and he won’t tell me what it is now.”

“Fine, toss it here.” Nat caught it easily and put in the new password.

“Hey, how come he told you but not me?”

“Because I’m not the one who told Bucky what it was last time.” Nat pulled down the notification so she could read the first bit. She cocked an eyebrow. “Well, whadda ya know. We did get a reply.”

Clint hopped over the back of the couch and peered over her shoulder. “I wanna see! I wanna see!”

“Hello,” the text read, “my name is Y/N, I’m 22, and I’m replying to your craigslist ad. I’m replying because I want to help your friend have a really nice evening, and if I’m being completely honest also I need money for my rent that’s due Saturday.”

“Where’d my phone go?” Sam called out from the kitchen.

“It’s in here! Our ad got a reply!” Clint called out, bouncing up and down like a little kid. “Her name is Y/N, and she –”

“Let him read it himself,” Natasha interrupted. Sam came into the room and she passed him his phone. Clint kept bouncing as Sam took his time with reading the text.

“What should we text her back?” Sam asked, looking at Nat.

“I think –”

“I’m asking Nat, Clint. You have terrible ideas.”

“Hey,” Clint pretended to pout. “I came up with the idea for the post, didn’t I? That was a good idea.”

Sam shook his head. “Finding Steve a date on Craigslist is not a good idea, even if it does end up working. It’s just a better idea than anything Tony came up with.”

“Well, from the little bit we know about her, Y/N seems nice,” Nat interrupted Clint before he could protest. “She might be a little young, but Steve’s old enough that we knew that would happen. I’d say we give her a chance. It’s not like we’ve been swamped with replies, and Tony already made reservations at the restaurant for this weekend.”

“Done,” Sam said, drafting a reply.

 ----------

You jumped when your phone quacked less than 15 minutes after sending your text. It’s okay. I’m sure it’s just Jeremiah. You checked your notification. Nope, not Jeremiah.

You smiled as you read the text. “Hi, Y/N,” it started, “thank you for your reply. You sound like a sweet person, and honesty is a great quality that definitely isn’t going to disqualify you. If you’re sure you’d like to do this, I’ll give you the date details. My name’s Sam, btw.”

Your heart was beating as you sent your affirmation. This time it only took two minutes for Sam to reply.

“Be at Daniel on E. 65th at 6:45 this Friday. I’ll meet you out front and pay you before it starts. Your date will be there at 7; his name is Steve. Don’t worry about prices; everything is covered. If you don’t have an appropriate dress, we can arrange one for you. Let me know if you need anything.”

You suddenly realized you had stopped breathing. Daniel was classy and expensive. If they could afford that for two people, no wonder they could pay you $250 for showing up. Good thing your mother had bought you that dress when you were home last break. “Y/N, you never know when you’ll need a formal dress, and by the time you know, it may be too late to buy one.” With a quick text to Sam confirming you got his message and wouldn’t need a dress, you went to your closet. Friday may be four days away, but you wanted every bit of your outfit planned beforehand.