#so i’ve explored all this shit

[foxonfier]

my favorite thing in the world to do is assign music to characters. and by assign i mean figure out their fav bands. fav songs, fav albums, fav musicians … their listening habits, their opinions in music. are they a music snob? do they not really care? do they listen more during the day, while working, or while they’re chilling at night? what are their unpopular music opinions? genres/decades they fancy? there’s so much you can do here and so much character depth you can add and uncover.

sometimes i just. lob artists/bands at characters to figure out what they’d think. grow their music taste and opinions yk. i think about the holts from adf quite often, it’s just fun to see the differences between three brothers and even their parents and how music is passed down vs how some go against the grain. dale might love the smashing pumpkins and tyler might hate them. complain about billy corgan’s voice, cross his arms and think about how much he hates this and how much he’d rather hear something like what’s the story morning glory (oasis). but not wonderwall! no, that’s beneath him, he may tolerate it but he doesn’t love it and resents the idea of it being assigned his favorite song just because he likes oasis. he doesn’t understand dale’s interest in weird shit like supertramp but can silently appreciate the rolling stones even if he finds it appalling that their album cover is a guy’s bulge. tyler can appreciate 70s but he just doesn’t…love it. too many long intros, not enough singing - i think tyler does enjoy hearing someone’s voice, so all that rock n roll guitar solo shit doesnt really fly with him. i know he’d just die if he ever heard dale play shine on you crazy diamond, he’d be like wtf is this? no turn it off i want to hear some real music. and dale’s like bro, this IS real music. this is literally pink floyd. and tyler’s all, i don’t give a shit change it. and dale’s like fine whatever. then tyler is like no, i don’t wanna listen to david bowie, just put it on some 90s or even some good 70s stuff, i just don’t wanna hear those weird solos. so funny to me.

and dale! i don’t see dale being into a whole lot of pink floyd - maybe just the popular stuff, esp the wish you were here album. if he dove into it more i think he’d enjoy it (especially the wall) but just hasn’t really given pf a big ole chance yet. just into weird shit, just music made for that certain demographic that people like tyler can’t and maybe never will understand. dale’s experimental and nods off to reggae, bob marley and (by extension) bunny wailer, and alton ellis. watches old docs on woodstock and the doors and jimi hendrix. probs got into stevie ray vaughan through his cover of hendrix’s “little wing,” he can just really appreciate a good fuckin’ guitarist. i think he’s a little all over the place, kinda the guy that listens to everything w other people’s influence, picking up on new songs along the way, kind of a magnet for new music. he loves his mom’s taste in music and they listen to some similar stuff. not sure yet if dale got sharon into reggae or if it’s the other way around. either way i feel like reggae is important to dale, he enjoys uplifting music and doesn’t really fuck with depressing shit, maybe more mellow stuff here and there but nothing like what jay would ever listen to. some of it is just too dark for him. so i do think he has a bit of a line despite picking up so much from others. doesn’t mean he dislikes grunge, he just doesn’t really enjoy songs like black or polly or even jeremy. tyler’s similar, not that he hates grunge or anything but if he even got a glimpse of nirvana’s “rape me” he’d be super turned off.

surprisingly i can see all three listening to pearl jam, kinda something that keeps the whole fam together. jay obviously enjoys the ten album, jeremy and black and once… thinks that whole album is a masterpiece. tyler likes yellow ledbetter and some other stuff off of vs, elderly woman and daughter… and dale i think also likes vs, def yield and maybe even some vitalogy ? better man and faithful, given to fly? yeahhhh. jay’s a full grunge fan, likes that crusty 90s, sonic youth and pixies and nirvana.. maybe a little old country thrown in from his dad. could definitely see jay being a deadhead if he’d ever been able to keep up with a band like that and wasn’t stuck to the confines of two rock. just enjoys jamming to music, electric guitar vibes all around. when it comes to blur vs oasis jay is probably gonna choose blur, much to his brother’s chagrin. not that he’d admit that, he’d probs say something like “i like em both..” just nodding along when tyler’s music snobbery comes up. unlike dale he doesn’t really mind that tyler doesn’t open his mind to different music. meanwhile i bet it annoys dale that tyler won’t even give songs a chance just because of the title. also have mentioned this in the past but jay does like a lot of girl singers, mazzy star and hole and sonic youth,, maybe even the cranberries ? can see “linger” being a guilty pleasure song of his. also he’d def enjoy the smashing pumpkins (which i am listening to rn hence why i’m bringing it up lol) so he and dale have that in common i imagine. shockingly enough i think jay might also weirdly be into like, 60s to mid-70s bob dylan? none of that christian shit he got into later in life but definitely simple twist of fate and like a rolling stone… that whole highway 61 album. maybe is possibly obsessed with that black and white bob dylan aesthetic, firing back at reporters and smoking cigarettes in every vid and being up on stage all by himself, just a guitar and harmonica. black shades and everything… and no i’m NOT just saying this because i’m also obsessed with bob dylan but jay seems the type what can i say.

so, the gist? dale is weird experimental mostly 70s/some 60s shit, tyler is 90s alt rock and jay is moreso 90s grunge and rock and shoegaze. can’t see any of them being much into 80s, maybe jay could get into the cure with some time but as of now i can’t see him being into it yet. bet dale could appreciate those synth solos that were so popular. maybe sharon listens to a bit of 80s… not too sure yet i’d have to see. i mean thats probs the era jay grew up in so? who knows. but yeah, dale is into bob marley and tyler oasis and jay nirvana, their tastes can obviously overlap and it’d be hilarious to see what they’d do with a joint playlist between all three of them and how they’d react to each others songs, may write that someday if the time is right.

why did i write this? because i needed to expel all of these jumbled music thoughts in my head and these three are the easiest to do that with. this may not be canon to anyone else in the adf fandom (btw this is not even my fandom but i’m here hi) but it makes sense in my head and i’m sticking with it. i may go deeper someday if anyone is interested or if inspiration strikes again so, we shall see. but yeah here hands you this essay

[danothan]

tough pill i have to swallow is realizing that “getting better” doesn’t mean “getting to do more things,” getting better for me means taking better initiative in protecting myself. and THAT means making sure i do LESS things

[itsalwaysforyou]

just remembered a wip i had which was jay at uni meeting normal people and desperately trying to act cool and normal whilst internally screaming about being in a whole new place with all new people and not having his gang with him

[nerdy-hyperfixations]

Sorry to be a hater but this is how I’ve been feeling recently

[gaylittleguys]

it’s actually so fucked up and evil that random white npcs from bg3 that show up twice got more dedicated fans than Wyll

[huntingrays]

so, i love and vibe w bi leo, it’s so good

however

something just hits different with gay leo who’s been performing heterosexuality for years

[kotalefanzu]

[minakoainosupremacy]

I’m sad, I’ve had a bunch of fun cool ideas sitting in the back of my head since like new years which I wanted to use for rare pair week, but like life has been kicking my ass so I didn’t have time to even start anything and now it’s over :( guess they will just keep living in my head until next year

[thatone-churro]

y’know just as soon as i start getting comfortable with the idea of being open/relying on my dad and him being more comfortable with my choices than i feared, i can essentially throw all that out the window with how vehemently he yelled at me at the thought of my getting my septum pierced (even though i never said i was yet. i said my side before i decide anything else). also making underhanded remarks of me never getting tattoos other than the one for my mom. like okay don’t ask me why i don’t tell you about anything or talk to you or anything. what the fuck.

[lovevalley45]

i’m really enjoying the living wood and seeing all the dragon elves but i’m excited to see parts of bahumia that we didn’t really get to spend much time in before or have changed super drastically since the last campaign

[noniez]

understanding and accepting that i will never in my life have a thought about brba that winds up being original

[kannagen]

went to my college’s bars for the first time this weekend and they were exactly as i expected. i did pregame too hard and was veryyyy drunk and i did have fun but they are lame and full of people i have no interest in. but alcohol and music will work on me regardless and no cover so whatever it was fun to be white girl wasted and bar hop for a night ☺️

[loaksky]

I don't know if you've done this yet but can we have mean ellie is FWB with the reader but she's jealous when the reader is into someone else 👀

i have not + you know what anon i could kiss your brain rn ! i definitely view this pairing as separate from this fwb!ellie x reader, but this could also technically fit in their early timeline since nothing else has really been established about them...

content warnings: language, ellie being an asshole (very on brand for me to write ig lmao), reader actually sticks up for herself in this one, but eventually folds (i would too for ellie ngl) 18+ content that includes; brief mentions of strap-on sex, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving).

author’s note: i’ve been so unmotivated to write, but this request awoke something in me idk...also, if you’ve sent in a tlou request (yes even from june), i’m still cooking i promise! (and not in the way that ellie keeps promises in this fic lmfaoo).

main masterlist | tlou masterlist

You didn’t want to say anything at first, couldn’t be too sure under the lowlights of the party with bass-y music that makes both the house and your chest throb with every beat, but you see it clear as day on the drive home and a passing streetpost illuminates the purpling flesh on Ellie’s carotid.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when your fingertips brush over the blooming bruise, obviously fresh and warm to the touch.

“What the fuck?” she huffs, pulling the drawstrings on her hoodie to scrunch to fabric around her neck.

“Who gave you that?” you ask softly, expression on your face enough to devastate, but Ellie’s always been different, an anomaly of sorts when it came to the matters of her stony heart.

“Why does it matter?” she scoffs.

“Ellie,” you sigh. “You know why it matters.”

She’s swinging a right at the intersection, nearing the residential you live in.

“It doesn’t,” she grunts. “Because at the end of the night, it’s you I’m fucking, isn’t it?”

And you don’t know why the way she puts it stings so much this time around when she frequently reminds you both directly and indirectly that while you may be her most recurrent hookup, you’re definitely not her only one, but it does. Does so much that you’re turning your face towards the window to hide the tears that are pooling.

Because all you wanted was Ellie. Wanted her in ways she wasn’t willing to give you. Wanted to learn and grow with her, but she wasn’t budging and lately, you’ve been feeling stupid.

When she turns into your neighborhood, you speak.

“Just drop me off, please.”

Ellie’s slowing down, palm finding purchase on your thigh.

“Babe, c’mon,” she practically whines, kneading the skin there. “Don’t be like that.”

You shift away from her, gather your purse from your feet as she continues through the different apartment buildings.

“Babe,” she calls again when you barely wait for her to stop and you’re pushing the car door open.

And maybe it’s childish, but you’re wounded and quite frankly done with the back and forth.

“She’s probably waiting for you,” you add petulantly.

“Babe, seriously. You’re being annoying,” she warns.

“And you’re being a dick,” you bite back. “First, you drag me out to a shitty party where I don’t know a single soul even though you promised we could just chill and smoke while watching that stupid fucking space exploration documentary, then when we get there, you’re leaving me with a bunch of sleazy assholes while you do god knows what with the same girl you’ve been telling me not to worry about for the last five weeks.”

And of things Ellie’s looks horrified at, it’s the fact that you’d been observant enough to recognize the girl she’d thought she whisked away before your prying eyes could catch on.

“I’m not fucking stupid, Ellie,” you say with resignation. “I tried to turn the other cheek because I really fucking like you, but you treat me like shit and I deserve better than that.”

Of course you don’t know it, but those fucking words bite. They’re an automatic trigger because unbeknownst to you, both of your friend groups think the same thing. Aren’t afraid to let her know otherwise. And she’s obviously well aware that, Christ, yes, you absolutely deserve better. Is actually really insecure on the low because she doesn’t know why you stick around with a piece of shit like her when you could have so much better.

So she does what she does best when she feels like a kicked puppy and lashes out.

“Of course Little Miss Princess deserves better,” she mocks. “What fucking ever. I don’t know why I flaked on a ten for such a stuck up bitch.”

And you see right through her, know that she’s all bark and no bite, but it hurts regardless, when you step off to the side and she’s leaning over the center console to shut the passenger side door herself.

She’s revving off without another word, and to add insult to injury, your phone’s pinging obnoxiously once you get out of your well-needed shower.

els <3 sent a video.

It’s the blonde from the party. Of course those dumb LEDs pulse red in the background, making Ellie and her flavor of the night look a thousand times more seductive. Ellie’s kissing her sloppily, whispering things against her mouth that you can’t quite pick out.

els <3 sent a video.

The next video’s grainy, but you can hear the tell-tale squelch, the girl’s shaky moans and Ellie egging her on. Your cheeks are on fire and you feel like you’re about to throw up.

els <3 sent a photo.

You wonder if the girl knows, that Ellie’s sending you the most compromising footage of her. If she knows how grimy the green-eyed girl truly is, sending someone else pictures of her stuffed hilt-deep with the same strap Ellie’d used on you.

els <3: still think u deserve better ?

You delete the thread and her phone number.

Ellie expects you to crack first, you always do. Because even if she isn’t shit, she’s your biggest weakness and she knows it. Can say so with confidence, because maybe the same can be said about her.

She hasn’t fucked you in nearly two weeks and not a single body she touches can elicit the same feeling that you do. And in the back of her brain, she knows why, but Ellie’s prideful. Won’t dare admit it out loud.

So she cracks first. Texts you between classes.

me: i have a few joints + a coupon to tino’s if you’ll let me come over… :(

my #1 girl: Who’s this?

Ellie throws her head back and groans.

me: cmon baby, dont b like that. im srry i was mean, ill make it up to u

my #1 girl: I think you have the wrong number…

me: babe stopppp

Her text bubbles turn green after that message.

You forget that Ellie has a copy of your key because she’s never used it in the five months that the two of you have been in this precarious situation, and your heart falls square to your ass when you emerge from the shower to find her setting up a box of pizza on your coffee table.

“Ellie, what in the fuck?”

She feigns nonchalance, pulls a few joints from her jacket pocket. But the aroma of weed or the grease of the pizza isn’t what makes you wrinkle your nose.

It’s the smell of flowers that waft from a pretty vase sitting on the cut away of the kitchen counter.

Your gaze fixes on the girl who settles on your couch.

“You need to leave,” you say stonily.

“But I just got here,” Ellie says. “And I brought you pizza…and flowers.”

“I’m sorry, did you think that a five dollar pizza and a bouquet of flowers from Saver’s was going to fix the fact that you’ve been so fucking awful to me for the past half year?”

Ellie shrinks.

“Well, no…but—”

“You practically sent me a homemade porno of you and some other girl you fucked to get back at me for setting a boundary, Ellie,” you say sharply. “What, did it not work out? Did you—”

“I’m trying to be the bigger person here,” Ellie sighs. “I am sorry. I just—”

“You what?”

“I don’t fucking know, okay?” Ellie snips. “God, you’re talking down to me like you’re a fucking therapist or my fucking mom and—”

You’re shaking your head, crossing the room and picking up the pizza from the coffee table to shove in her arms.

“I don’t have time for this,” you mutter. “Kenzie’s going to be here any minute now—”

“Who the fuck is Kenzie?” Ellie balks, caught like a deer in the headlights.

“Ellie, don’t,” you warn.

“Don’t what?” she practically seethes. “You think I’m just gonna be okay that you’re spending time with some other stupid bitch? Maybe you’ve forgotten, but you’re mine.”

And she shouldn’t have glanced down at your cleavage as you cross your arms over your chest, but Ellie’s weak and you look too fucking pretty for your own good.

“Yours?” you ask incredulously. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Yes, mine,” Ellie affirms. “All fucking mine and no one else’s.”

“God, you’re so full of shit, Ellie,” you scoff. “I’m supposed to be loyal to you and be okay with you having a roster, but I can’t go on a date with someone I genuinely like because it fucks with your brain to have a legitimate interest in somebody?”

“You like her?” Ellie asks in disbelief. “Like, like her, like her?”

“Yes,” you reply without hesitation.

And that makes Ellie’s jaw set, makes her narrow her eyes at you.

“You like her more than me?” she taunts.

And maybe she has you there, but you refuse to give her the upper hand.

“I could learn to,” you answer honestly. “Because Kenzie is kind to me. She doesn’t treat me like an option, doesn’t act like she’s God’s gift to the fucking world and that I should kiss her feet for giving me the time of day. And I get it, you don’t like me the way I like you—”

“You think I don’t like you?” Ellie asks like the thought is unfathomable.

“I don’t think, Ellie, I know. We went into this without any strings attached, we established that it’d just be fucking, but I was honest in telling you that I caught feelings and you used that to your advantage. You lied to me on multiple occasions, you make me look stupid, like I’m fucking crazy.”

And you wish you’d gotten through your spiel without choking up, but Ellie’s the first girl you’d liked in a while even if she was bad news. And when you thought that maybe you could shake her, she’d come barreling back.

“Baby,” she murmurs, face softening as she’s crossing the space between you two to cup your face in her hands.

“Don’t call me that,” you hiccup, trying to push her touch away.

“Babe, stop,” she says firmly. “I’m serious. You think I don’t like you?”

“Well, you don’t fucking act like it,” you mutter. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyways because whatever this was is done. You’re free to do what you want, who you want, whether you like me or not.”

God, do you unwittingly light a fire under Ellie’s ass when she thinks of what this Kenzie girl could do to you if she lets you walk out the door. Absolutely loathes the thought of anyone else knowing what you look like in any state of indecency, that you fucking cry watching children’s movies, that you snore like a freight train if you’re tired enough and have a weird ass penchant for pickle chips when you’re high.

“You’re not going on that fucking date,” Ellie says with finality, palms sliding from your shoulders to skim down the length of your arms and situate over the swell of your hips.

“Who says?”

“Me,” she huffs. “Because I’m going to make it up to you and we’re going to smoke these blunts and eat this fucking pizza and I’m going to make you cum so fucking hard, you won’t even remember that you were thinking of leaving me for someone else.”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Ellie,” you reiterate. “You can’t just–”

“Maybe not then, and maybe not in this moment, but I will be,” she says, and the words catch you completely off guard.

She’s catching your bottom lip between hers to further disorient you, kissing you like this could very well be her last.

“Just give me some time,” she whispers, walking you back towards your bedroom. “I’ll get my shit together for you. Promise.”

And you know deep down that you shouldn’t believe her. She’s just feeling territorial and grasping at straws to keep you leashed, but Ellie’s always been such a good kisser and she’s devouring you like she really is sorry.

She’s tossing your against your unmade bed, caging you between lithe limbs as she leans back on her haunches to take you in. Your blouse rides up to reveal the flimsy bands of your lacy little thong and Ellie’s lacking decency as she flips your skirt up to reveal a growing patch of wetness.

“Were you planning on getting fucked or do you always go out like this?” Ellie ponders, fingers rough as she pulls the tiny scrap of fabric down your legs and nearly salivates when a string of your arousal leaves with it.

Your lips part to answer, but her thumb’s dipping between your folds, pad collecting some of your slick from your drooling slit to smear over your achey little bud.

“I asked you a question,” Ellie says gently. “You just gotta be honest with me, baby.”

“S’hot out,” you whimper, fingers closing around her wrist when your body jerks against a particularly delicious stroke of her thumb.

“Yeah?” she clarifies. “You wouldn’t let any else touch you, would you? Not when I take good care of you like this?”

Her other hand comes to toy with your entrance, doesn’t give you any warning before her middle and ring finger are sinking inside slowly.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine.

“You’re my girl, you hear me?” Ellie murmurs, leaning down to catch your clit between her lips. “You’ll be my number one, always.”

She’s teasing at first, tongue languid against your fluttering pussy, but you’re quiet, back of your wrist caught between your teeth to muffle your moans.

One of her hands reach up to yank it away.

“Say it,” she barks, pulling away from your needy heat.

“Ellie,” you whimper.

“Say it,” she repeats firmly.

“M’your girl,” you moan shakily, thighs quivering as she smoothes her palms over the underside of your thighs to push them up to your chest.

“Yeah, you are,” she whispers, spitting harshly on your heat. “My favorite fucking pussy.”

She’s eating you out like she’s missed you, like she’ll only be satisfied when you finally cum. And maybe it’s true.

Maybe not.

Especially when she draws nearly three orgasms from you and practically knocks you out.

You don’t know how long you doze off for, but when you finally wake up, the sun has almost completely set, bathing your room in a burnt orange glow that leaves your dewy skin warm and sticky. And perhaps it’s wishful thinking when you call Ellie’s name, met only with the echo of your raspy voice. After all, you’re tucked on the wrong side of bed, elusive girl nowhere to be found.

As you dress and search for your phone, you can’t even find it in yourself to be surprised.

neng ©️2023

[steddieas-shegoes]

AU where Eddie’s mom manages to get away from Eddie’s dad when he’s a small child, goes to the only place she knows is truly safe: Wayne.

Wayne takes them in no questions asked, helps her raise Eddie, makes sure his dad never comes around (maybe works with Hopper once he’s named Chief to make sure he gets behind bars as soon as possible).

So Eddie gets the love of his mom, and the love of his Uncle Wayne, and shit is still hard, money is still tight, he still has trouble fitting in, but it doesn’t distract him from school so much.

He graduates his first try, squeaks by with Cs and Bs because he’s smart, he’s just so easily distracted. Even gets into the community college, but has no idea what he wants to do until his mom is helping him with a pre-req English course. She says he’s naturally good at unpacking a story for anyone to understand it -“even when I ain’t the brightest star in the sky”- and he realizes maybe his talent of telling stories and helping people understand stories could make him a good English teacher.

Now that he has a plan, he’s focused, invested on getting into a university so he can be certified to teach. But he still struggles with math and unfortunately, he has to pass to move on.

That’s where Steve Harrington, freshman at Hawkins Community and Technical College, comes in. This isn’t the Steve that Eddie remembers from high school at all: he’s quiet and shy, doesn’t make eye contact, is really fucking smart.

Steve agrees to tutor him if Eddie agrees to help him with his final paper in his English course, a 10 page fictional exploration of a time in history.

“Use your imagination!” “Just pretend you’re writing a memoir.” “This is the longest sentence I’ve ever read and that includes Tolkien books.”

Steve blushes, makes corrections when Eddie suggests them, makes flash cards with formulas for Eddie to memorize for his exam.

They spend nearly every day working together, studying together, tutoring each other.

When Eddie passes his exam, he’s so excited, he runs right to the library, where he knows Steve is putting the final touches on his paper. He doesn’t even wait to catch his breath from running across campus to kiss him.

And suddenly Eddie isn’t the only one out of breath.

[auckie]

Remembering dream I had where I met two trans guy artists living in a cool city and they invited me over for like a month, and they were very like established and had my dream jobs (one was a mechanic the other was a park ranger working at a center for like environmental shit so they could advanced in their career beyond just patrolling a park like two hours outside the city). they invited me into their polycule and I was really hesitant bc I’ve never really wanted to be poly but I was so enamored by the opportunities that I accepted without much hesitation despite not knowing them like, at all. And both were workaholics so I never saw them and just lived at their apartment and for while it was great bc I could focus on writing and had a part time job at a diner, but then they kept bringing home the most random fucking people to join the polycule. Like a 69 year old, very beautiful but jaded opera singer, a disgraced CFO for an Enron like company, some beatnik wannabe who worked at a gas station, a mother of three who clearly had no interest in any of us, literally like just people on the street, and every time they did a new room generated within the ever growing apartment that was themed around that person. So some of them were really cool and beautiful like Memphis 80s minimalist styled, some were straight out of an arts and crafts Californian home, there were some that were kinda gross and packed with shit and smelled weird, and I kept exploring all of them getting progressively more and more lost and panicking bc I was gonna be late for work, until I finally found what I instinctively knew was called ‘the pound room’ where they kept an incomprehensible amount of Oscar Meyer baloney packages and like PAGES upon pages of the exact same two ocs in *barely* different positions, going at it like animals, almost as if each drawing were meant to be a painstakingly hand drawn frame of an animation. And when I found this room and was going through the drawings, the dream suddenly felt like that scene where Wendy finds Jack’s ‘all work and no play’ pages on the typewriter. And I got goosebumps and suddenly smelled all the baloney, bc it wasn’t refrigerated, and turned around to see that someone was in the doorway. It was the two original trans dudes who had fused into one larger trans guy who looked like a combo of both of them, and the second I recognized that he slammed the door shut and locked it, and I knew I was trapped and gonna die there.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I've been obsessed with your writing for a while now, ur poly marauders is just perfecttt. The way you write them is just so accurate to my personal characterizations and head cannons :)

I had an idea that I thought would be cute but feel free to ignore if it doesn't inspire you ofc.

I was thinking about poly! Marauders x goth! Reader. Like reader forcing them to watch her favorite horror movies or explore abandoned places or like go to a concert or smtn

Omg and the reader dressing up to go out with them and them just dying cuz the eyeliner and fishnets and everything (who can blame them, goth girls r gorgeous 😍😍)

Thanks lovely!!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 927 words

“Is it on me?” James hears the door open, followed by Sirius’ voice, growing shriller. “Is it on me?” 

“I don’t think so.” You sound one part amused and two parts exasperated. “Stay still, I can’t look while you’re moving around.” 

James leaves the dishes in the sink to soak, too curious to prioritize chores. He finds you both in the entryway. Remus is observing from the couch as Sirius stands rigidly still and you pick through his hair unhurriedly. You’re both covered in dust and what looks to be cobwebs, made even more apparent on you by your dark clothing. 

“I thought you were going to drop clothes off at the donation bin,” James says bemusedly. 

“We did,” you reply, at the same time as Sirius says, “It was a trap!”

Remus lifts an eyebrow. James is glad he’s not the only one who seems to be missing something. 

“There’s an old abandoned church not far from there,” you explain casually. “I wanted to check it out, and Sirius thought it could be fun to explore, too.” 

“That was before I knew it housed the world’s largest spider population,” he argues. “Fuck, can someone get this thing off me? If I feel anything crawling I’m gonna flip shit.” 

“Aren’t you already?” Remus murmurs. You grin at him, stepping back to let James take over for you. 

“I assume I’m taking out the web?” James asks, picking out a piece. 

You sigh. “Sirius thought he saw a spider in the car—” 

“I know I did, thank you.” 

“—and he’s worried it got on him. But I’ve been looking, and I haven’t seen it.” 

“I’m fairly sure it would have crawled off by now, love,” Remus says, sitting up on his knees and beckoning you to the couch so he can pull the spiderwebs out of your hair, too. 

“All I know is, if no one finds that thing on me, I’m going to take the world’s hottest shower to make sure it’s dead.” 

“You’ll have to hurry,” Remus reminds him. “Our reservation is at eight.” 

“We can be a few minutes late.” 

“We cannot.”

“Fuck!” James jumps a good few feet back, hands frozen in front of him. 

“What?” Sirius cries. His shoulders seize up. “What is it?” 

“Shit, sorry, it’s nothing. I thought I saw something move, but it was your hair.” 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking kill you.” Sirius puts his face in his hands, sounding less murderous than teary. “Remus, please.” 

“I’ll take care of you next,” Remus replies, dedicatedly combing his fingers through your hair. 

James mumbles an apology as he goes back to doing the same thing to Sirius. All in all, you look like you’ve actually gotten the brunt of it. You’re covered in spiderwebs, likely a result of you simply putting far less work into avoiding them than Sirius. You seem unbothered as Remus unsticks a rather large one from by your ear.  

You go off to change for dinner first, because Sirius refuses to move until both James and Remus have each checked him over for spiders twice, and even then he still insists upon his shower. James can’t say he’d feel differently in his place. 

He thinks he might need a cold shower himself when you come back out. 

“Angel,” James breathes. It’s both an endearment and an observation. His eyes stutter their way up you, continually snagging on fishnet tights and kohl-lined eyes and the little lace ruffle lining your top. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. 

“You look lovely,” Remus says, smooth where James is not, and you grin as you lean down to kiss him on the cheek. A pink tinge rises up from beneath your boyfriend’s freckles and scars. When you lift your lips, you leave a dark imprint of lipstick behind that James has absolutely no intentions of telling him about. 

“So do you,” you say, as though he’s not wearing the exact same thing he was a minute ago. (Though James is nonetheless inclined to agree. Remus always looks lovely.) Your eyes turn to James, the black liner making them look deeper and even more striking than usual. 

“You do, too,” you tell him. He feels a flock of butterflies (do butterflies have flocks?) scare into flight in his stomach. 

His grin feels wobbly, but certainly not for lack of enthusiasm. “Thanks,” he manages. 

“So, I was talking to Sirius in the bathroom,” you say, sitting on the arm of the couch. James’ eyes follow the movement of your skirt, the way it rides up with the motion. He warms in several places. “He says that if the spider’s not on him, it has to be in the car. He won’t get in it until we’ve checked.” 

Remus exhales heavily through his nose, and you nod your agreement. 

“I’m not convinced he actually saw anything,” you say. “He is so paranoid.” 

“Or maybe you,” James leans over to kiss your cheek, unable to restrain himself any longer as he reaches around you to squeeze the fat of your hip, “are just far too even-tempered from watching so many horror films.” 

“No, he’s paranoid,” Remus agrees with you, groaning as he gets up. “I’ll check the car. If I don’t find anything, we’ll just say we caught it.” 

“I’ll help.” You slip off the arm of the couch, starting after him with springy steps. 

James follows, if only so he can stand behind you and keep you from flashing the next-door neighbors when you bend over to look. It’s strictly selfless.