#tattoo parlour AU

[rauchendesgnu]

...they deserve a flowershop/tattoo parlour au where they can be happy ok?

Also, I do have ideas for more characters, but do let me know if you have any inspiration! (Especially for more Martin tattoos! rn he has the pen on his right forearm, the lighthouse on his left forearm, the lonely mountain and smaug on his left upper arm and the semi colon on his neck, but I want him to have more!)

[starker-sorbet]

Novice tattoo artist Peter choosing to take his apprenticeship with his crush in order to spend time with and hopefully impress the older man

[aftgmostly]

List of fics to read Andreil edition (5+1)

Tales from a Quirky Small Town by @gluupor (Gilmore girls AU)

i only need the working of my hands by @littlespoonevan (Andrew gets amnesia a year after canon)

growing pains by Ominous, nightquills (Stuart is Neil's guardian, High School AU)

hold on to let go by moonix, djhedy, fuzzballsheltiepants (they reunite post-college)

A Me For Every You by sambutwithbooks (5+1 thing, soulmates AU with different universes. this one is AMAZING)

i shall not live in vain by redskiesandsailboats (Soulmate AU, flowers bloom on your body when they get hurt)

I Hate Him by DeeLeBee (Soulmate AU, your soulmate feels pain when you lie to them)

BONUS

Jerejean fic: This Ink Is Still Drying by sourpastels (Tattoo artist Jean)

[baflegacy]

thinking of writing an amangela flower shop/tattoo parlor au real hard rn

i agree i support 100% i will be cheering u on the entire time and i NEED it!!!

[eggiari]

Suoh stuff

[ryuzatodraws-archive]

Pina colada song but make it copiiia

they both hate each other but one night Terzo found an add online about interest that he fancy

he writes back of course, anonymously.

Copia receives the anon reply the next day.

and the two begin back and forth chatting with each other. Without them knowing about it.

Terzo one night suggested they meet up finally, outside at a familiar cafe.

Lo and behold they meet up. embarrassed at first, turns to laughter, turns to a date

[jmrothwell]

For the AU combos: I got tattoo parlor and ballet and all I can think about is the line from the Avril Lavigne song now so--do with that what you will lol

(OMG! Sk8er Boi is a song I”ve actually considered turning into a fic before. The problem was I couldn’t decide which ending I liked best because I came up with three of them. And the longer I think about it the more varieties I think up for this idea)

Anyway! So sticking closer to the generated Tattoo parlor and ballet AU, we’ll use some of the beats of the song but not stick too closely to it. 

Reggie works at a tattoo parlor while he and his friends try to get their band to a point where it can be their primary income. Carrie meanwhile helps out at the dance studio that is near the tattoo parlor where Reggie works. It’s a way for her to network and also help pay for her schooling. 

Reggie and Carrie bump into each other during a serendipitous moment where their breaks lined up. Reggie does his usual friendly flirting thing, but backs off a little when it becomes obvious Carrie  is not interested, i.e. Carrie tells him she is focusing on school and work and does not have time for a relationship. Also still in a bit of denial/recovering from admitting her on again off again NIck situation is officially off for good.

Reggie continues to try and hang out with Carrie. Not in a relationship way, but in a ‘it’s always nice to have another friend’ way. Keeps trying to get her to come to one of their shows, which she keeps making excuses or has legitimate scheduling conflicts. 

Eventually she agrees to go to one of Reggie shows but on the caveat he attends one of her recitals the next prior, which he readily agrees to. Just as she’s ready to admit that maybe she has feelings for Reggie, he doesn’t show up to the recital. Which she just angrily takes to mean that she should just focus on school and work. Even starts work at a different studio.

A few months later after she’s calmed down slightly and letting her curiosity get the best of her she looks up his band and learns that they’ve disbanded, for reasons not mentioned in the article. Although doing some further digging unveils it was a series of misfortunes, some drama with their rhythm guitarist, and missing what could have been their big break due to serious case of food poisoning(the same weekend of the missed recital).

She goes to see if she can find him at the tattoo parlour but learns he also quit and no one there knows where he went. 

Jump cut to a year to a few years later, and Carries students are all talking about this new up and coming band Julie and the Phantoms. One of her students shows her a video and Carrie nearly accidentally steals their phone after recognizing Reggie. 

Her coworker Kayla confronts her about her weirdness and then further insists that they should go to a show. Because serendipitous moment number two the band happens to be performing relatively close by. 

Carrie’s not sure what she’s expecting to happen. Not like Reggie will really be able to see her from up on stage. She doubts he’d recognize her. Most of all she keeps admonishing herself for even entertaining this idea and getting her hopes up. 

Hopes which nearly shatter into oblivion when she sees how Reggie and their lead singer Julie are interacting with each other in all of the interviews and concert videos she can find. She can’t find any personal social media, at least none that she recognizes as them, and the two refuse to make any sort of official relationship statement despite all the rumors circulating around them.

Kayla ends up surprising Carrie with ether a meet and greet or backstage passe…maybe both? Anyway, Carrie tries to act like it’s not a big deal, because it shouldn’t be, she and Reggie were never a thing. 

Reggie doesn’t immediately recognize Carrie but he does clearly find her familiar with how he keeps glancing at her in line. The lightbulb goes off after Carrie mentions her name and is very apologetic but overall excited to see her again and introduce her to the rest of the band. 

This is where we can either go full on happy Sweet Tarts ending, semi-tragic bittersweet Rulie ending, or my personal fav the Regal Jewelry ending.

[thetragicallynerdy]

Alright, I'm back for one more for the wip folder game: jim ed modern flower shop tattoo parlour biker au ☺️

Ooooh yes yes!!!! I think I've rambled about this one elsewhere, but I can't find it, so here you go! This one is a long sad t4t Jim/Ed modern au where the gist is:

Ed, recently divorced from Stede, gets in a bar fight with a homophobe. Jim saves his ass and takes him home because he's too drunk to remember his new address

They become friends, and eventually lovers. Very much a vibe of Ed coaxing feral cat Jim into a relationship with love and good food.

Jim in this one has multiple warrants out for their arrest, and is a little stuck in "I need to kill the remaining few siete gallos, but fuck, I'm so tired of it." They work under the table at a bar, have basically no connections besides Ed, and are just scraping by.

Ed is also trying to rebuild after divorce, making a new home etc.

There are a lot of mental health and trauma vibes with both of them.

Eventually Jim gets stabbed, saved by Ed, loses their shitty bar job, and gets offered a job in Stede's flower shop (Stede is still good friends with Ed, or at least, they're rebuilding the friendship). Ed, meanwhile, is a tattoo artist with a shop nearby. So, the tattoo parlour/flower shop aspect is VERY loose.

This one also features Jim who hasn't had an actual relationship or friendship like, ever, and is terrified of commitment and always ready to run, and pretends Ed is just their FWB until they can't anymore. Very "yeah we're fucking but I won't say I love you or call you my partner for 75 thousand words" vibe

It's my baby. This is absolutely my most self indulgent h/c fanfic. No idea when it'll be finished but I adore it so much have I said I love it so much??

Anyway here's a snippet XD

--

Jim struggles to sit up on their shitty mattress on the floor, and it makes Edward doubly glad that they let him make a copy of their key. They look like shit still, hollow cheeks and skin that still hasn't regained all its colour.

"You're here early." Their voice is a slur, and he frowns, not sure if it's because they just woke up or if something is wrong.

"Last appointment of the day got cancelled, thought I'd come over. Sit the fuck back down, don't get up, I can come to you."

They slump back down with an audible sigh, waiting until he makes his way over and sits on the bed beside them. When he kisses them they relax into it, hand curling around his thigh in a way that feels lovely. Like maybe they're starting to feel comfortable with casual touch that's doesn't lead to something more. Like maybe they're starting to feel comfortable with him, with them, together.

"How're you feeling?" he asks softly when he pulls away.

They yawn, blinking when their jaw clicks together again. "Okay. Fucking tired, man." The hand on his thigh edges higher. "I don't think I can do a ton, but you can ride my mouth, if you want. Or my hand."

He stares at them. "What?"

"That's why you're here, right?" They yawn again, barely bothering to cover it with an elbow. "So we can have sex."

It hurts far, far more than it should. He forces a laugh, picking their hand off his thigh and dropping it back to the bed. "I was there when the doctor spoke to you, Jimbo, six weeks until you can do strenuous activity." When they open their mouth to argue he taps them on the nose. "Which means you've still got five fucking weeks to go."

They look terribly lost, which hurts even more than the assumption. "... then why are you here? You only come over to hook up."

To hook up. As though they hadn't been practically dating for months, now. Fuck. Fuck.

He thinks bitterly about how he'd told Stede that Jim was his friend, and wonders when he got so good at underselling things. Does Jim even think that the two of them are that much?

Instead of asking he hefts the backpack still in his hands up. "Well, now I'm here for movies and dinner. Pick one while I get started on the soup."

Jim stares at him like he has two heads. "Soup?"

"Yes, dummy, soup. You know, delicious meal with broth and vegetables thats easy on the stomach? I'm making you enough to last the week. Brought you groceries too. Those muffins that you like."

They look down at the backpack in their hands, face twisting for one brief moment before settling into careful neutrality. “… you didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure I did.” He leans in, presses a kiss to their forehead before pushing himself to his feet and heading for the groceries left by the door. He doesn’t want to see whatever their face does next, isn’t sure he could take it. “That’s what friends do, mate. Take care of each other.”

He doesn’t see it, but he hears it.

“Oh,” Jim says, voice soft and small. “Okay.”

If anyone feels like dropping me an ask for the WIP folder game, my long list of WIP titles is here!

[anironwitch]

I am posting a short part of my fic: Some aftercare after Valentines day. In the attempts to finish this fic, this year. (OCPD and Dsygraphia make writing fics and my confidence a bitch.)

Here's a 270 word ficlet of a Florist and Tattoo Palour Ironwitch AU:

Valentine's Day is always a busy period for a flower shop.

This is THE peak holiday after the winter solstice and other holidays, with the shift from cuetlaxochitl, mistletoe, and holly to the invasion of roses soaking everything in the shop. Luckily, there were early commissions that kept the fridge. 

All filled to the brim and prepared to fend off anyone with a slight pollen allergy.

 Though some of the customers can be vexing, especially the walk-ins, it was always fun to see the regulars. 

The elementary school students clinging to their parents while buying flowers for their teachers, someone surprising their partner or friend with flowers, someone buying flowers for them themselves, and the plant parent collecting a new child.

Valentine's Day was busy in the tattoo parlor.

G O D S, there was a policy of no walk-ins her apprenticeship taught her that.. At the start of the month, there were appointments for the month, especially for Saints' Day. So she had a list of her work for the month set. In keeping with the holiday, it was usually a bombardment of roses, hearts, and "I love yous." There was the occasional inside joke and the cover-ups of an old lover's name.

As the month rolled on, both of them faded into the backstage crew to keep the holiday running as the influx of hearts and roses the question always came up.

"What are we doing for Valentine's Day?”

It was a natural question to ask, but honestly to avoid the nonstop reminder of work of someone who was in the thick of it,

 Until this year.

[flowergleamandgloww]

lately i’ve been so bored i started considering actually writing something

[baubeautyandthegeek]

I Knew You Were Trouble - Maggie Bell/Isobel Castille

A/N: Part 12! I have enjoyed this immensely. Here's the final fic for @yearoftheotpevent. I used all the possible prompts.

“I’m sorry…” Isobel speaks softly, curling around Maggie. She’s always been the sort to apologize for everything and nothing. Forgiveness came easy with Isobel, Maggie couldn’t help loving the shy, sweet, strong  florist. Seeing Isobel move in beside her, shuddering at the sight of Isobel arranging bright pink flowers outside her store. Her own place of work, a Tattoo Parlour that was black edged and a shiny gray, looked even darker with the flowers outside. “Sorry for what?” Maggie can’t help the question. They’ve always been quiet, happy to be moving in together turns to concern and she can see Isobel is tense. “Babe?” “I just…. I know we said we’d spend the holidays together, we’d move in together… I’m nervous.” “Oh….” Maggie’s smile is soft as she tucks soft strands of hair from Isobel’s eyes. “Babe, you know I’ll always protect you, right?” “Mmm, I do.” A small, shy smile. “That’s my favorite thing about you… well, and your tattoos.” Maggie laughs then, kissing her softly. “I love you, Isobel Castille, my little flowerchild.” Within a year they will go from a flower shop and tattoo parlour to a shared flower shop and tattoo parlour, the lease for both shops now in both their names.

[minteayoongimakesmewoozi]

u know the funniest part of a tanyame flower shop and tattoo parlour au?

ayame as the flower shop owner and tanjirou as a tattoo artist.

wait, wait, wait! look, i know! i know tanjirou can't draw, but maybe he isn't the one who draws the designs! that's zenitsu, but zenitsu Doesn't Like Needles. he does, however, love to draw.

and tanjirou! he has such a calming aura. he can't draw, but he can follow stencils easily enough and he isn't half bad at inking and shading. he's careful and precise, so he's the best person to help put zenitsu's designs permanently on someone's skin.

just - tattoo artist!tanjirou and florist!ayame. that is all.

[shgark]

I swear I never finish fics bc I get caught up in the world building and specific details that are barely plot relevant and then I lose the motivation to Actually start writing

[kjhmyg]

blooming

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader trope: sunshine oc x grumpy jk au: florist!oc x tattoo artist!jk wc: 1k

a drabble request from anon for sunshine protector jk. honestly was doubting the capability of writing jk as a grump but anon, i hope i did it justice and i hope you like it! <3

the tiny bells attached to the entrance chimes as you enter the shop, the smell of fresh flowers greeting you so kindly in the morning. the hour leading up to opening is one of your favourite parts of the day. your flowers are your babies; you sing to them, you change their water, place them gently back into their little spaces, assemble new bouquets to put up for sale, then choose which ones go up front on the daily display.

upstairs, you hear the clinking and clanking of your neighbours. the tattoo parlour above starts a little later than your flower shop, usually seeing their first customer around noon. an unlikely combination, one which leaves most of their clients confused as they step inside, till you point out the steps to the right of your shop which leads up to the parlour. 

but you don’t complain. it brings a nice mix to your client pool. besides, your other favourite part of the day is getting to see your favourite tattoo artist. 

“ahem⎼”

you turn on your heel, snapping out of your thoughts. putting on your best service voice, you were ready to greet a customer, only to find the next best thing. “oh,” your face softens, “good morning jungkook.” 

“morning.” he leans against your counter and nods to the spread of flowers laid out on the long table behind you. “are those flowers that interesting? didn’t even hear me come through the doors, did you?”

“sorry,” you smile brightly, and he can’t help but to mirror it. “i was looking through this customer’s request. it’s a little odd.” 

“why?” 

“because see,” you bring the request ticket over from the table and lean over the counter so he can see it, “these flowers don’t go well together at all. and i know, i know, it’s a custom order. but as a florist, i should be able to tell them if i think it’s not a good combination right? i mean the colours are all over the place. look, you can’t have too many bold colours together, it’ll take away the beauty from each flower. plus it'll look so messy. but at the same time it’s their choice and they are paying for it so i don’t know.” 

jungkook looks at you with a blank expression. his arms are crossed on the counter, and his freshly washed hair rests nicely on his shoulders, curved at the ends. 

“what?” you ask him, shrugging like you didn’t just spit out an entire rant contemplating someone’s custom order.

“is it really that deep?” 

you give him an exasperated look. of course he wouldn’t get it.

he raises a brow, then smirks at your silence. you’re never quiet. not for long anyways. for a moment he wonders if he's hurt your feelings. he tends to do that sometimes. “i’m sure you’ll figure it out. besides, bold colours can look good together.” 

“but not always.” you drum your fingers on the counter, pursing your lips in thought. 

jungkook keeps staring. till your eyes flutter back to him, and you lock eyes for far too long and your heart starts racing. he blinks away first. dropping his bag and leaving his helmet on your counter, he walks across your shop and takes a look around before plucking out four flowers. two yellow flowers and two black ones. 

“hey!” you protest, “those are expensive!” 

jungkook ignores your nagging. he places them on the counter top and pairs them up, one yellow daisy with one black hellebore. then he starts intertwining their stems, creating a tiny knot at the bottom for each pair. the yellow and black flowers sit nicely next to the other. “see? they look good together, don’t they?” 

he reaches over and places one of them into the front pocket of your apron. the other, he slides across the counter in front of you. 

“or maybe not,” he shrugs, “you’re the florist here.” 

“execution could be better,” you giggle, admiring the flowers in your palm, “but it’s cute. maybe you should rethink your career. come and work with me instead!” 

jungkook lingers just to watch the way your eyes twinkle as you twirl the flowers between your fingers. all he did was tie two flowers together, yet you act like a kid with a new toy. and when you look up at him again and give him the widest grin, he decides it’s time to go (else he’d spend the entire day down here). 

he starts collecting his belongings, swinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his headgear. “oh,” he says, remembering, “this is for you.” 

he’d placed the cup carrier aside earlier while talking to you. jungkook checks the order plastered on the side of the cup before placing it in front of you. 

“wait but,” you start, “i don’t drink cof⎼”

“it’s earl grey.” 

your smile drops momentarily out of surprise. you had mentioned a while ago how you couldn’t stand the taste of coffee. 

“later, flower girl.” jungkook makes a turn for the steps. 

after the first few steps, he pauses when he feels something tugging on his arm. he turns to find you standing there, with the flower he’d made earlier in your hand. getting on your tiptoes, you tuck his hair back and gently place the daisy and hellbore combination behind his ear. 

“aw, you look pretty!” his brows furrow and you know he’s probably going to remove it as soon as he makes it up the steps but you don’t care. you wrap around him briefly before letting go. “thank you.” 

before he can say anything else, the bell chimes and you welcome your first customer of the day. jungkook walks up the steps with a roll of his eyes, listening to how excited you get as you go through your collection of flowers. how you could be so chirpy at this hour, he’ll never understand.

upstairs, he drops his stuff in his corner and brings suga his cup of coffee while sipping on his own. the older friend, sanitising his tools for the day, stops mid-clean. “what the hell is that?”

he refers to the flower behind jungkook’s ear. “oh. nothing.” 

“ah…” suga smiles, accepting his drink. “you and flower girl have been getting along well.” 

“she’s nice to talk to.” jungkook says, not thinking much of it. suga scoffs, knowing his friend too well. 

jungkook walks back to his corner, removing the flowers. his hand hovers over the trash can, flowers in his palm. he looks at it again, then smiles. instead, he places them on his desk, right next to the pressed flower coaster you had given him months back. he chuckles, looking at the contrast of these items to the rest of his workspace. 

sighing, he starts his day, with a flower blooming in his heart.

[toydreamer]

Charmes Tattoo Parlour AU

Piece is done for a 2021 Big Bang collab with Scrumpy's fic

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PART 5

05 : DRUNK AND CIGARETTE SMOKE

SUM : It’s been a few weeks and James makes a reappearance in your life, Remus too — they’ve fallen into bad habits. 

G. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james potter ; piercer remus lupin ; remus smokes ; drunk james ; reader is sad ; this is a little sad chapter ; fergus is an amazing, lovable manager ; i’m horrible at writing the scottish accent! ; james is an adorable drunk ; james’ car is sexy and red ; remiss has eye bags and smells of cigarette smoke ; uh oh ; it’ll get better soon! 

LENGTH : 2.8k

← PREV. : 04 | DISAPPEAR

You stare in disbelief at the notice that stares back at you mockingly from behind the glass door of the ‘Marauders Tattoo Parlour’. 

‘NOTICE’ it said in bold red sharpie, right above a handwritten message that you recognise as Remus’ neat penmanship, ‘due to personal reasons, Prongs, Padfoot and I (Moony) will be keeping the parlour closed until further notice. We kindly ask that you remain patient as private matters are being sorted through and resolved. We are still open for online and phone consultations to discuss designs and potential future appointments. Kindest Regards, The Marauders’. Beneath the polite and brief explanation of current circumstances was a business email address and phone number as well as working times for phone calls. 

The weeks following your discovery of the boys’ true relationship, you rarely ever passed their parlour. A little over three weeks has passed now and you’ve finally been able to walk past their studio doors close enough to read the notice. You’re frozen in place as dread and worry cultivates shards of sharpened ice to grow within you. Freezing up your senses, freezing up your mind and freezing up limbs. Yet, your heart is racing like never before, your blood pounding against your ears like a drummer gone mad. 

The feeling that settled in your stomach wasn’t a pleasant one, especially when you felt completely responsible for the boys’ sudden hiatus in business. They had often talked to you about how much the parlour meant to them, how it was their best investment and remains their biggest source of opportunity — an opportunity to help people express themselves. It’s a form of freedom that many have been deprived of (themselves included) and they were honoured to now be able to provide that same freedom to others. For them to completely close up shop like this was completely bizarre. 

How long have they been closed for?

You bite your lip and will yourself to move your feet, the ice in your limbs breaking uncomfortably, shattering into a million knives of ice, shooting pins and needles up your arms and legs as if your blood had been frozen up too. As you walk away, you slip your phone back into your pocket, where your hands also remain. 

While contemplating what could have happened to your favourite tattooists and piercer, you made sure to save a picture of their business phone number onto your photos. 

You were never able to call their business number. And you had many excuses lined up to absolve your cowardly behaviour. The main one being that it was their business number, it wasn’t meant to be used for a conversation between friends. Were you even still friends at this point? The thought made you shiver and stole the appetite right from your stomach. It was a greedy little thing cowardice, regret too. They’ve stolen many things from you, your appetite was their favourite thing to purloin, motivation another, happiness as well. Nasty, selfish and greedy thieves. But you weren’t brave enough to confront them and make them stop. And that, alone, makes you their willing accomplice — so who’s really to blame? 

It didn’t help that through this entire ordeal, you’ve realised that none of the boys have exchanged phone numbers with you. To say that you were bitter was an understatement. If they never gave you their number, why would they want you ringing them in the first place? 

…maybe they didn’t have a reason to? You couldn’t remember a single time after the day you first brought them that homemade ‘thank you’ lunch where you hadn’t seen them on a regular basis. And now that you were used to seeing them almost daily, your life has since been bleeding of colour and vibrance. Days are dull and monotonous, it’s hard to motivate yourself to do pretty much anything, let alone your job.

“Yer’ve been sighin’ so much these days, I’m startin’ to see wrinkles forming’ on yer cute lil’ face lass,” Furgus comments, nudging your hip with his own as he passes by you behind the counter. 

Flustered, you scramble to get back to work with a quick apology, evidence of your embarrassment heating up your cheeks as you do so, “I’m so sorry Gus,”

With hearty laugh, the burly Scottish man pats you on the back and whispers some reassuring words, “Yer’ve got nothin’ ta worry about lass, I jus’ wan’ed ta see if you were al’ight is all,”

“I’m okay,” you smile grateful for his care only to be met with suspicious eyes and a deep, bearded frown. 

“Don’t grow a habit o’ lyin’ ta me lass, it won’t do ya any good,” his words make more heat rise to your cheeks but you reassure him as best as you can in between taking orders and serving drinks. It was no use however, Fergus saw you as his own daughter, he knew you like the back of his hand and you know that he had his suspicions of your odd behaviour lately — all derived from a sadness he didn’t like you wearing. Thankfully, he decided to leave you alone with your sorrow and regret and focused back on managing the pub. Tonight was pretty average, you saw the regulars and greeted them with a friendly smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes; if any of them noticed, they never said a thing about it to you. Thank god. 

It seemed like it would be another regular night until you caught sight of a familiar figure in the corner of your eye. You had just gotten back from your break when you spot James at a far table, nursing a pint and buried under a sheet of suffocating misery all on his lonesome. 

“James?” you breathed in disbelief with a wide-eyed stare directed right at him. 

“You know that guy?” Bonnie, your coworker, asks in a whisper into your ear and you had no choice but to nod your head in confirmation — you’ve already outed yourself, there was no point in lying, “well he’s been drinkin’ himself to death for the past hour or so, what’s gotten into him? D’ya know?”

“No…” you’re a liar. 

“Well ya be’er find out or else imma have ta kick the poor bastard outta ‘ere,” Fergus comments, his arms folded over his large chest and his brows knitted together in disapproval. 

“May I—…?” you begin to ask softly, sending a curious look towards Fergus who meets your eyes with a small smile and a wink. 

“Consider yerself off fer da night,” with a smile, you thank him and take a breath before making your way over to the miserable tattooist. 

“Angel!” James smiles happily at the sight of you, his drunken state adding an adorable dopiness to his already charming grin, “It’s you~” he coos and wraps his arms around your middle to bury his face into your stomach when you were close enough, “I missed you so much, angel~” he sighs, his voice muffled by your clothes as he refuses to detach himself from you, “even if this is just another dream…” you barely hear him and you almost curse yourself from being able to because his words make your heart drop to your stomach. 

“James,” you ask softly, “can you please get up?” 

“Why?” he shuffles to press his chin into your lower belly and stare up at you with those sweet hazel eyes of his. The sneaky bastard, he knows how weak at the knees you become from his simple stare. You’ve never told him so and often put in the effort to not show it but you know, he knows. 

“Because you need to go home,” he gives an incredulous look at your reasoning and he’s adorable doing so, even in his drunken state. 

“Why would I need to do that when you’re right here?” he slurs and hiccups, your heart pounding erratically at his words.  

“James please—”

“No!”

“James—”

“‘m not going home! I wanna stay here with you,” he presses his face into your stomach again and sobs into your clothes, “you’re gonna disappear again,” he sobs miserably, “I don’t want that…” 

“Please just let me call you a taxi James?” he doesn’t respond, pressing his face further into your stomach as you comb your fingers through his dark hair, you touch gentle and comforting, coaxing him into some compliance, “remind me of your address again and I’ll call you a taxi, okay?”

“NO!” 

You suppress a defeated sigh. 

It takes several minutes of coaxing until you’re finally able to take his phone from him. He refuses to let you call him a taxi and you weren’t going to force him to walk home alone in his drunken state so you’re going to have to do the one thing you can think of that’ll guarantee his safe return home. Not that you’ll enjoy it because it means confrontation. 

“Can you tell me your passcode, please, James?” you ask in a gentle whisper, only to him, “I need to do something very important on your phone,”

With a large smile he recites the digits, “22nd of the 6th, 17,” the way he says it makes your raise a brow. Sensing your curiosity, James answers your silent question, “is the day Moony, Pads and I became official,” he giggles adorably to himself as you smile somewhat sadly — another reminder that you should stay away. You don’t say anything to prompt him further and, instead, type in the code before looking through his contacts. It takes you a moment but you’re eventually pressing call and waiting patiently for Remus to pick up.

“…James?” Remus’ familiar, kind voice speaks tiredly through the phone and you don’t know whether to breath a sigh of relief or worry, “Hello?”

It takes you a moment but you finally will yourself to speak, “Hey, um, Remus?” 

“…Dove?” he’s in complete disbelief and it’s evident in his voice, “Is that really you?”

“uh…yeah,” you chirp sheepishly and Remus is all forms of elated but his excitement dwindles quickly when he realises how you’re able to call him. 

“Why do you have James’ phone?” you were right to call him, knowing that he was preceptive, reasonable and easy to talk to even with the tension in the air. Patiently, you explain the situation, never taking your fingers away from James’ hair as he practically purrs into your form, adoring the physical contact and muttering to himself happily. It’s especially loveable like this, considering that it’s him being dopey and giggly and not anyone else.

“Oh…” Remus sighs, clearly disappointed, “I’m so sorry, darling, I’ll get him right away,” 

“It’s no trouble, Rem,” it was hard not to cringe when the familiar nickname easily rolls off your tongue. As if nothing happened — oh how you wish for such a reality!

“Just tell me where you are and I’ll be right over,” you don’t know if you’re just imagining it but there’s a considerable shift in his voice, he sounds much softer after hearing his nickname easily fall from your lips. 

“We’re at the Boar and Elephant pub on Chapel Road,” 

“Alright, I’ll be there soon,” with a click, he was gone and you were left to keep James satisfied until he got there. It wasn’t an overly tough job; James seemed perfectly content nuzzling into your stomach with his arms hugging you in place as your fingers massage his scalp and gently groom his hair. He’s like a puppy, eager to receive affectionate cuddles and pets. If he had a tail, he’d be wagging it like crazy and you giggle to yourself at the mental image it conjures up. 

“I missed that…” James mutters, maybe to himself but it wasn’t clear.

“I’m sorry?”

“I miss the sound of you giggling,” you don’t know what to say but he continues, going off on a tangent, “it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty. It’s like the sound of a cute little bell ringing…so pretty— pretty pretty pretty!” you can’t lie to yourself, he’s absolutely precious, “I miss you so much angel, why did you go away? I don’t want you away, I want you with me, and with Remus and with Sirius too…” he murmurs something into your stomach that you weren’t able to pick up but don’t press him further on the matter, fearing that your heart might just about burst if you do. You can’t afford to hope for such a fantasy with them when it could never become a reality. 

It just wasn’t possible…

“Not fair!”James whines, making grabby hands at you as Remus, with the force of a gentle giant, manoeuvres him into the back seat of a red Jaguar XJR. Dealing with a defiant baby was a struggle so dealing with a giant, beefy baby like James Potter was like trying to control a hurricane. But Remus had a magic touch and arguably had more of a silver tongue than Sirius did so he made it look like a walk in the park. It was astounding, “I wanna be with my angel!” James sobs as Remus closes the door on him, putting a stop to James’ needy cries. 

“She’s not yours, she’s no one’s,” was Remus’ response even though he had already closed the door, James unable to hear him and the hint of dismay coherent in his tired voice, “thank you for looking after him, Dove, you’re always too kind,”

“N-no, don’t worry about it,” he smiles down at you, silence filling up the space between your two lonely figures under the amber lamplight. He doesn’t seem to mind the hush in conversation but knowing that his eyes were fixed on you was unnerving, “so! Is that your car?” you ask, desperate for a change in conversation; your restless fiddling making your intentions obvious but Remus keeps to himself. 

“No, no, it’s not mine,” he answers with a short chuckle, “this is James’ car,”

“Oh…” you hum to yourself thoughtfully, eyes carefully examining the body and model of the car, “I see,” it looks like a car James would have, you think to yourself. There was more silence until Remus finally brings himself to commence your farewells. 

“Well I suppose I should head off, I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” your heart stutters, almost to a stop, at his words, even more so when you see him hesitate upon leaning down. A victim to your own habits, you find yourself closing your eyes and awaiting his gentle kiss goodbye against your temple.

…But it never comes.

“Goodbye then,” he calls over his shoulder, and rounds the car to get to the driver’s seat. 

“—Do you smoke?” you suddenly ask, in some part desperate to extend your interaction with each other and other parts curious of the lingering cigarette smoke you smell on his clothes, masking his usually comforting fragrance. It’s strong enough that you were able to catch it from your formal amount of distance with each other and it struck you as odd. You had never seen him smoke before. 

Remus laughs a brief and strained sound as he looks at you from over the hood of the car, did he always have such deep eye-bags? “Not usually,” he sends you a sheepish smile once you’re finally able to meet his eyes, “but I’ve recently taken to it again,“ he sees worry and grief fill your eyes and hurries to correct himself, ”—But don’t worry, Dove,” his features are gentle and kind, warm and… forgiving, “I’m okay,” 

The world slows as you watch him bend his head to sit in the drivers seat. It’s been too long. For you, at least. This can’t continue. It scares you to think about where this may go if you leave it to late. It’s only been three weeks! If this is the result…you dread to think about what would happen if things went on for longer than that. James is drinking himself to death. Remus is smoking cigarettes. What about Sirius? Your stomach twists uncomfortably, painfully, your heart too. 

“No! You’re not!” you shout, tears of anger welling up in your eyes as Remus stops and looks over at you once again, his breath hitching when he sees your eyes glistening with tears, “you’re not okay…” 

“Dove—”

“I’m coming by tomorrow,” you announce, “at lunch,” this was a commitment you’re making, a commitment to him, to them. Even if you’re heartbroken, that doesn’t give you the right to be a bad friend. You brave a watery smile, “I’ll make your favourites…so you better be there!”

→ NEXT : 06 | SELFISH DESIRES

A/N : i’m so sooo sorry for my depiction of the scottish accent, i really tried my best, please don’t hate me! if you have any ideas of how i could make it better, please say so, i’d really appreciate it. Also, i know that this isn’t completely fluff but we’re getting there, you’ll have to wait and see in the next chapter! 

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS MASTERLIST

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