#when they come to the uk will the do shows in the middle of the night or adjust it for our timezone!?

[siilvan]

i am once again disappointed but not surprised at the COD fandom only caring about “sensitivity” when it’s convenient for them

[anxious-millenial-cowboy]

I've never wanted to stay up all night to watch Dynamite more. The hype for the build up to Full Gear is so real because I'm just not sure how it's all gonna go down

[dduane]

Last used: 2007.

...Ah well. Might as well give this a wash and a tumble. Needs must when AMPTP* drives... :/

Tl:dr; We asked for 2¢ on the streaming dollar. ...They said "Nope, can't afford it." ...As we say in New York: "...Yeah, no."

Time to take a stand. Not just for ourselves, but also for the writers who'll come after us... and who, unless we draw a line in the sand here, will never make enough to establish even middle-income careers.

*The people who, when we proposed that we should have a guarantee of a paid second-draft rewrite on scripts instead of the too-routine demand for multiple "free tweaks", refused to even consider it—but suggested they were willing to do a meeting to educate execs on why screenwriters don't want to work for free. (...DUH.)

For more details about what we asked for, and the producers' (non-)responses, see below.

(ETA—noted with grim pleasure:)

[charliemwrites]

Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:

Part 1 here

No Content Warnings

Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.

“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”

He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.

He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.

“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”

Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.

“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”

He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).

“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.

He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.

“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”

You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”

He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.

“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”

“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”

He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.

“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”

“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.

You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.

—

Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.

Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.

That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.

Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).

There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.

And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.

He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.

Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.

All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.

(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.

“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.

You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”

“Cheers, luv.”)

There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.

Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.

You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.

“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”

“MacTavish,” Price snaps.

That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.

“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”

“Thought I told you?” Price says.

“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”

He blinks. “Scheduling app.”

You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”

You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Neil talking about the responses to Good Omens Season 2 - from the Neil Gaiman interview with Brian Levine for The Gould Standard (x,x)

BL: The audience that you have built is a very passionately engaged audience. They, frankly, they love you. And one of the reasons they love you is that you fit into what I think of as one of two great divisions in art. There's, or in writing, um, there is: I'm entertained, I'm amused. I may be even enchanted; and then there's this hits me at a visceral level. You understand me as no one else does. You have touched something very central to my experience. And it seems to me that Much of your writing, maybe all of your writing, actually reaches your audience at that latter level. You know. I would say in the former category, sort of my quintessential and beloved example would be P. G. Woodhouse. He amuses me, but I don't feel like he's revealed my inner self at a very deep level. Um, were you aware that you were going to be able to achieve that? Um, that this is something... was it a startling thing when people began coming up to you, who'd read your work and said, this means so much to me?

Neil: Yeah. It was huge. And it wasn't expected. I... if I had a mountaintop I was heading towards, it was gonna be P. G. Woodhouse. Um, I wanted to be a proficient entertainer with a clear prose style who could tell stories. Um, it probably wasn't until Sandman that I found... I started to realize that in order for a story to work, I had to show too much. In order for a story to resonate, in order for a story to matter, I had to let it matter too much. And, and I remember the first people who would start coming up to me and saying, um, you, you know, your, your Sandman comics got me through the death of a loved one. Your death character got me through my child's death, through my parent's death, through my partner's death, through my friend's death. Um, and that left me kind of amazed. I'm like, well, I didn't write it to do that. I wrote it to feed my children. I wrote it to satisfy myself. I wrote it because nobody else had ever written it. And if I didn't write it, it wouldn't be written, but I don't think I wrote it to give you what you've taken from it. And I spent really about 20, 25 years feeling awkward about that. And then my father died, in March 2009, and never got to cry about it. Never... I, you know, I've, I've got on a plane and I went to the UK and dealt with the funeral stuff and organized all of that stuff and came back and go toff the plane and went and did Stephen Colbert's Colbert Report and wearing the funeral suit because and that was all I had with me and carried on. And then, somewhere in the middle of summer, I was reading a friend's script. They'd sent me a script and said, can you look this over? And I'm reading it, and on page 20, the lead character meets somebody, and on page 26 maybe, she's dead, and I burst into tears. And I'm bawling. I am sobbing. It is coming out of me in giant racking waves. And I realized that it's everything that I'd been, hadn't let myself feel, or hadn't been able, hadn't stopped enough to let myself feel, was suddenly being given permission to feel by the death of a fictional person who I'd met six pages earlier, ia script. And I thought that... and it was huge for me, and I thought, okay, that's that thing that people are talking about sometimes, when they come tome and they say, you, you did this. So right now, I'm in this weird, wonderful place where I think a lot of people in Good Omens Season 2 thought they were signing up for the P.G. Woodhouse, and didn't know that, no, no, no, you've, you've signed up for the whole thing. You've signed up for the feelings. You've signed up for the emotions. I... it is my job to make you care and to make you feel and to feel things you haven't felt before. And which meant that the first week or so after Good Omens came out, I was getting angry, furious, deeply upset messages on every possible social medium telling me that I had betrayed people, and it was awful, and they couldn't stop crying, and why would I do that to them, and did I hate them? And they hated me. And then a weird sort of phenomenon happened as people would watch the show again. And again. And now they started to know, okay, this is where it's gonna go, this is what's gonna happen, this is how it works. And they started realizing that they were actually feeling things, and that was good. And that they were caring about two people who don't exist. You know, I made them up, and then and Terry Pratchett made them up, and then, um, David Tennant and Michael Sheen gave them life, and then they get to walk around on a screen and you know they don't exist, but you can cry for them, you can love them, they can make you laugh, they can make you exult, and most important of all, they can make you care. And the number of people who are now writing to me, saying, 'This was so important to me. This has changed my life. This makes me feel like I belong. This makes me feel like I can cope. And it's let me sort of find myself. P. S. I hope you get to do Season Three.' is, is huge.

[berzahoes]

my love is mine all mine | tom blyth

summary: in which tom was the supprt y/n monroe needed

an: i normally don’t have a faceclaim for any of my works but i wanted to make samara weaving the faceclaim for this fic because i love her and she just fits the role 🤍 ofc you can always imagine someone else!! ALSO i know there’s already a film called my week with marilyn lets just pretend it doesn’t exist 😍

INSTAGRAM

liked by rachelzegler, zendaya and 6,367,380 others

y/nmonroe back in production 🤍

rachelzegler PROUD OF YOUUU❤️

monroearchive thank you for this!!

tomblyth i love you

y/nmonroe love you more 💋

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liked by tomblyth, y/nmonroe and 3,477,177 others

marilymonroeproductions our lovely president getting ready for our big announcement!

oldhollywoodglam ANNOUNCEMENT?!?? ALREADY

iconicmonroe i hope they sue netflix for making blonde

y/nmonroe 💋❤️

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MY WEEK WITH MARILYN LA SCREENING

y/n and tom were attending a screening of my week with marilyn in secret. she really wanted to see the reactions of a certain part of the film. she was told by the staff that the theater was full which made her nervous and happy.

from the side, she and tom watched as the audience payed close attention to the last few minutes. a picture of marilyn faded out as lana del rey’s say yes to heaven played.

a clip of y/n in holding a newborn baby was shown then it showed tom carrying the baby. “during summer last year, i became a mom. that’s when i got the idea for this film. i want my daughter to know what an amazing woman marilyn was.”

y/n could hear several gasps and even some sobs coming from the audience.

“i named her daisy lorelai blyth.” some people clapped, others gasped when they realized where the name lorelai came from.

y/n turned her attention to tom and kissed him. “thank you for being with me and daisy.”

“you’re my girls.”

liked by sofiacoppola, honeymoon and 2,377,280 others

y/nmonroe thank you to everyone who has seen my week with marilyn! it warms my heart to see how many of you loved our film. daisy also wanted to thank you all for loving her movie debut 🤍and a big thank you to tomblyth for helping me make this film. daisy and i love you forever!!!🫶🏼

rachelzegler I MISS DAISY CAN I COME VISIT??

y/nmonroe OF COURSE SHE MISSES HER AUNT RACHEL

monroearchive it was such a beautiful film!

directedbycoppola it’s not out yet in the uk 😭

maximoffxromanoff what is it about?

directedbycoppola so basically when y/n was a child, she was given a camera and for her middle school project she tried to make a documentary about marilyn but she never finished it because she changed schools so this is her finishing it. the trailer looks great and i read articles that it has interviews with jane russell before she passed with a young y/n.

tomblyth i’m so incredibly proud of you! thanks for giving me the greatest gift of being a dad to our daisy ❤️

blythupdates OUR DAISY 😭 DO YOU HEAR ME CRYING??

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[cheriladycl01]

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 2

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Credit to yrsonpurpose for the GIF

"Ghost, Radio Check Please" you engineer says as you pull from the pits.

You hadn't got a win yet, of course you'd had many podiums. Some even last year when you were with Alpine, more this year with Red Bull.

You wanted the win, even though it meant showing who you were and that came with a price, you felt ready. You just needed a reason to come forward with it.

However, even with Oscar's assuring words earlier in the day your P15 start because of the way qually went for you didn't feel like a win was applicable.

"Check" you say before driving out of the pits and into P15 behind Sargent and in front of Tsunoda. You really though that today might be the day and it would have been iconic it being your home Grand Prix and all. But it just didn't look possible when you weren't even in the middle sector of the grid.

You released a big breath as the red lights went out, you dived forward taking over Sargent gaining one place. Esteban who was ahead of him, seeing your Red Bull immediately forgot about Stroll ahead of him and starting defending against you.

For the first 14 laps, in your sector there weren't many changes in positions. Up ahead you had no idea what the grid looked like. But nothing much had changed behind you.

It wasn't until you could feel your tires both getting warn out and starting to struggle with the typical UK drizzle that was upon the race.

"Need to pit soon, cars getting harder to manage with the rain" you admit, knowing that the pit crew already probably have the intermediate tires ready for you.

"Pit on the next lap. Max will pit after you" he advises. However as your coming into the pits, you can see that Vertsappens Red Bull is currently there having its tires changed.

"What the fuck is going on?" you ask pulling up behind Max just as he leaves making you pull forward.

"Copy" is all you get and you let out a frustrated sound that was between a yell and a grunt.

Red Bull made up for it with an exceptionally quick stop for you and you got out on the track again. Luckily, others had pitted as well due to the weather conditions, so you came back out in P15.

"Look, I'm sorry about the incident Christian and the strategists are looking into it but there something I got to ask you, because clearly these methods are no longer working!" you hear you engineer say, you ignore him for a split second taking the corner before you throw back your moody reply.

"What?"

"Who runs the world?" he asks and a smirks comes onto your face. Lewis may have hammer time, but boy oh boy...

"Girls, John, Girls run this mother fucker" you shout into the radio before breaking late and overtaking Lance who was the unfortunate soul currently trying to defend from your driving.

You gain further up, Ocon ahead of you.

"Gap to Ocon?" you ask.

"0.3" you hear, you drive up so your behind him, you swerve the tiniest bit right, he does the same making for a accelerated swerve from you to the left and a clean move up to P12. And just like that you started combing through the grid, Hulkenberg, Gasly, Alonso, Albon, Russell, Sainz and Leclerc all got combed through until you were sitting sweetly in P5, Max, Lando, Lewis and Piastri just ahead.

"Lewis and Piastri are ahead. Fighting for P3, if you catch them both by surprise thats a podium. Gap is 1.2 seconds. Increase on Sector 2"

"Copy that" you say, both the McLaren and Mercedes drivers once you get closer to them are dancing around each other slipping in and out of P3.

"Like two ostriches doing a tango up ahead John" you laugh into the radio.

Just as you manage to overtake the two distracted drivers down the small straight John comes back onto the radio.

"Max has damage to his car. He had to come pit and he's currently P9. You can win this, go prove Beyonce right" he says, this was all you needed. You were currently P2, Lando the only driver ahead of you and thanks to the straight a significant gap had been created between you and Lewis and Oscar.

"Distance to Lando"

"2.4 seconds, speed up that Sector 3 now and you've got him. He's on the newer tires but you can get him. Bring it home" he tells you and you go very serious. No thoughts just the track, you catch up to Lando within a lap, fighting with him for P1.

"Max has climbed back, he's P5 and Oscars trying to defend" you engineer says, you didn't currently care about how close Max was to you, just getting that stream on Lando that would get you the overtake.

SKYSPORTS LIVE: David Croft- Can i just say Martin todays race has been one of the best of the season, for some reason we haven't been allowed to aire the radio between Ghost and his engineer but whatever was said... he's had an amazing drive today, going from P15 all the way to P2 and potentially P1 depending how Norris actually ends up defending against him. Its just been tremendous Martin Bundle- Yes its been amazing from Ghost's comeback to, Lewis a 7 time world champ struggling to overtake and defend the current rookie on the grid, to Max Verstappen reporting car issues, to the lack of DNF's we've had here today at Silverstone David Coft- Oh my lord whats this? He's going for the overtake

Lando goes too wide, his wheel clipping against the track edging making you be able to accelerate past as he struggles to re-gain control.

You manage to get a good gap ahead around corners that prove difficult for the McLaren now behind you.

"One lap Ghost, hold" John advizes and you keep driving, the last lap feeling like a cool down, the sweat drenching all around you due to the panic and sheer oomph of the driving conducted today.

SKYSPORTS LIVE: David Croft- AND WITH THAT FOLKS, WE HAVE THE FIRST WIN FROM GHOST WINNER OF THE SILVERSTONE 2023 GRAND PRIX, LANDO NORRIS BEHIND HIM AND OH MY GOSH A LAST MINUTE OVERTAKE FROM HAMILTON MEANING A TRIPLE PODIUM HERE FOR BRITAIN! Martin Bundle- What a day here at Silverstone, and now three brits are on the podium at their home race

You took yourself out the car, handing the wheel to a Red Bull member before pulling yourself with the halo to stand on the front of the car. John and a few other members pull you down to celebrate with them, before you are ushered off to be weighed.

The cool down room was awkward as you could never speak to the people in there, so you would shake hands before excusing yourself. You took the balaclava off, before tucking your hair in and placing your helmet back over your head.

Now it was time for the podium! Your first winning trophy and you couldn't be more excited, nothing could bring down you mood!

Or so you thought.

You went onto the stage, knowing this was the reveal. You and Christian had spoken about it, knowing your first win was inevitable.

"Today has been a historic day at Silverstone. Not only do we have three Brits standing proud on their home podium, we've had one of the biggest comeback of the year today, despite the mistimed pitstops and the weather, he has pulled his first win out of the bag!" an announcer says coming onto the stage.

"Before we go any further Christian Horner would like to say a few words" an announcer admits, Lewis and Lando turn to you excited to finally see the person behind the helmet. Lando had this running joke that you must be obscenely ugly which is why the helmet is kept on because 'Ghost' is intimidated by him and all the other attractive faces present on the grid.

"Hello everyone. Today doesn't just mark historic reasons for the ones just said. Ghost joined us at the end of the 2022 season when we brought them out of their 2 year contract with Alpine, there was ability and promise there that the team didn't want to both miss out on or go to an enemy team and become a menace on the grid. However, Alpine let a few of us at Red Bull in on Ghost's little secret and to say we were excited was an understatement. This year they have proved their worth and i cant wait for their future at Red Bull. That being said, i think its about time i introduce you to Ghost" he says gesturing towards you.

"This is Y/N Y/L/N" he shouts as you take of the helmet displaying your face to the world. Not only could gasps be heard from the drivers right next to you but from the whole crowd not expecting this outcome.

Lando was in a state of shock, he didn't know what would unveil from that helmet but Oscars longtime crush Y/N Y/L/N the sweet Social Media Manager for Ghost was not one of them.

He was confused at how she had managed to pull of this double life, but ultimately was so happy. This was an important day for her, being the first female to ever win a F1 race.

His eyes flicked down to Oscar in the McLaren section as he'd promised to come watch his best friends win, even if he wasn't up there with him. Lando's gaze met his and there were too many emotions upon the usually chill and placid male that he couldn't dechiper what he was feeling.

There was anger, sadness, frustration, betrayal. And he could have sworn, there were a couple of tears brimming the edges. Lewis had you pulled into a hug right now, congratulating you for everything you've achieved up until now, as all of your achievements were bigger and meant more.

As you went to turn to Lando to pull him into a hug, seeing as you guys were friends as yourself, but seeing his gaze fixed on Oscar a feeling of hurt formed in your chest. His gaze locked onto you and the force of his anger and betrayal could have knocked you back.

He ran off into the crowd back towards the paddock, you wanted to go follow but Lando shook his head. As much as this had hurt Oscar, you deserved to enjoy this moment.

But knowing you'd hurt Oscar, you didn't enjoy a single moment.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover

[theabigailthorn]

Hey I’ve been a fan for a little while now, and I just wanted to say that you’ve been an inspiration for me, a younger transfemme. But I do wanna also ask: what’s it like being a trans woman with her life together? I’m 19 (as of sending), been on hrt for almost 5 months, and have been trans for a year and change. But I’m scared. So, I guess, I wanted to ask: does being trans ever become the norm, my baseline? What’s it like after 2-3 years? And does it get any less confusing or scary?

I think there are a few things going on here.

I don't have my life together as much as it might seem; I just don't show you all the ways it's not. I don't talk publicly about the auditions I don't get, or the things I try and fail at, or the insecurities in my own head that hold me back sometimes, or the handful of decisions I've made that were bad calls and which still keep me up occasionally. I've talked about trauma and mental illness in the past, but I only ever discuss stuff I'm comfortably over - when I'm overwhelmed or in the middle of a crisis I don't post about it. I don't set out to deceive you by presenting myself that way, I just keep my most private stuff private. Everybody has failures and regrets and insecurities: "it's a sign of having lived," as my friend Phoebe told me today. But you see a curated version of me that appears not only more together than the real person, but more together than any real person.

Also, if you're 19 a lot of your life hasn't been in your control until pretty recently and a lot of it still might not be. I'd say it's okay to not feel like you have it all together. You just transitioned, which I think is one of the hardest things a human being can do: you can give yourself credit for that even if you feel like you're not settled into it yet. Congratulations!

As for it becoming the baseline, I mean yeah? Kinda? At least for me. Sometimes I forget. I had a moment today in the gym where I saw a man and I was like "Oh yeah, I used to be one of them, sortof? Weird!" The first year is the hardest, or so they say. I wouldn't say I get less confused or scared now, just scared and confused in different ways. I worry less about getting attacked in the street than I did in my first year, for example. (I'm lucky and privileged in that regard.) But I worry a lot more about other people. I struggle a lot with survivor's guilt, which is something only people who survive get! Anyone who's had a drink with me in the last six months has heard me beat myself up because the night of The Prince premiere in New York was the night of Brianna Taylor's vigil in the UK. That wasn't a deliberate decision - the premiere was booked and paid for months before she was even killed - but I've become a lot more sensitive to those sorts of feelings precisely because I spend less time worrying about myself. I'm more aware now of what my transness means for other people. Like, I made an ironic joke when I came out that I'd become The Transgender Princess of TERF Island, and it's kindof haunted me since - I didn't set out to become "a famous trans person" but it's happened a little bit and it's going to happen a lot more next year. That comes with serious responsibilities and a few mild drawbacks, as well as perks, obviously. So I guess that's a longwinded way of saying I might be a weird person to ask this question because, at least for right now, my transness, my whole self, doesn't just belong to me.

Oh also, some great advice I got from my friends: Paris: "Only change the things that bother you on your good days," and Mattie: "Don't believe anything you think about your life after 9pm."

[queerly-autistic]

I've seen some concern about the fact that the BBC has double-billed the last four episodes of Our Flag Means Death and bumped it up later in the schedule - concerns that this means it's not doing well for the BBC - and so I'd just like to allay some of those fears, if possible? To start with, it's important to recognise that the BBC does this all the time. I was in EastEnders fandom for many years, and nonsense schedule changes were a regular annoyance. When I shared OFMD's schedule change with my little group of friends from that fandom, everyone rolled their eyes and went 'oh yeah, typical BBC shenanigans'. As an example: the BBC was really pushing EastEnders last year, they'd been hard-marketing towards the big iconic Christmas episode since February, and then, around comes Christmas, and the BBC inexplicably sticks it on at 10pm (when it's usually broadcast at 7.30pm).

So this isn't unusual. This is extremely common. There's often very little rhyme or reason to the BBC live broadcast scheduling. To try and accurately read between the lines of this is like trying to analyse the written output of a cat walking across a keyboard.

But another big thing to remember is that Our Flag Means Death is a streaming show. The BBC dropped all of the episodes in one go because they know that it's the streaming audience where the show is successful. It's the same with What We Do In The Shadows - we know that the show does well for them, because they keep renewing their contract to show it, but because it does well specifically with a streaming audience the live episode broadcasts are perpetually bumped to a weird time (sometimes one in the morning!!).

The BBC is under contract to do a live broadcast of these shows, but that's not where the audience is. And that's why the episodes get shuffled around or bumped to a late timeslot or double-billed together. Them not necessarily getting spectacular overnight live broadcast ratings is not a big barrier to potential pick-up - streaming numbers is the important metric. And, just yesterday, the BBC dropped a card for the show over the credits of House of Games, a very popular (and mainstream!) afternoon gameshow, asking people to go stream it on iPlayer. if you haven't seen it, I managed to screen-record and post it on Twitter here (subtitles included): https://x.com/QueerlyAutistic/status/1762913455051325888?s=20. This is a really, really good ad to get - a very mainstream slot that potentially brings attention to the show from new audience demographics. The fact that they put an ad-read for the show in this particular slot is more indicative to me of the fact that the show is doing well for the BBC than any predictable shenanigans around live broadcast times. They advertised the 'niche' queer pirate comedy to a very mainstream middle-of-the-day audience! That's not nothing! And the fact that they were specifically advertising it as being on iPlayer - not the live broadcast - indicates to me that that's where it's doing well: that's where they know their audience is, and they don't care about the live broadcast, because the streams are where it's at. The live broadcast is probably just a contractual obligation at this point.

Our Flag Means Death is still regularly listed under 'trending' on the iPlayer website, and the Parrot Analytics for the show in the UK are excellent. And that's what we want. That's what we need to convince streamers. Remember: the YouGov survey about the show specifically asked questions about it in the context of streaming services. Overnight figures are lovely to have, too (so keep tuning in!) but this is a show made to stream. It was all dropped on iPlayer first for a reason; they're specifically pushing it on iPlayer for a reason. And, at the end of the day, it's streamers we're currently trying to convince to pick up the show, not broadcast television networks.

So, don't read too much into it. We're still doing good, UK crew!

[talkdutchtome]

Charles Lecrerc

Childhood friends to lovers

I've Loved You Since Before I Knew What Love Was

Pairings- Charles Leclerc x Childhoodbestfriend!Reader

Warnings- Mentions of cheating, Angst with a happy ending, not proof-read

Notes- This is pretty short but let me know if you would like a part 2. This is also my first one-shot so i do apologise is if it isn't very good- my writing is a work in progress!

Masterlist Requests

“Charles can I come over?”  

 It was two am and you just had a huge argument with your on-and-off again boyfriend. He had come home drunk again with lipstick marks on his shirt and scratches all over his back; casing a screaming match between the two of you that eventually ended up with you leaving your shared apartment telling him that you were over and that he’d never see you again. You’d be back tomorrow of course, you knew that, he knew that, and Charles knew that too. Which is why, when he woke up in the middle of the night to the ringtone he set specially for you, he didn’t need to ask why you were calling or why you needed to come over. This situation had happened a thousand times over; you have an argument with your boyfriend, so you phone him up begging him to let you stay at his apartment, he lets you come over and cry on his shoulder, sleep in his bed all the while hiding the feelings he’s had for you for as long as he can remember.  

Charles had been your best friend since you were both 9 years old. He remembers the day he met you like it was yesterday, he thinks about it almost every day. You were sat all alone on the school playground, having just moved to Monaco from the UK. Due to your lack of knowledge of the French language most of the children had ignored you all day, apart from one. A young Charles Leclerc approached you, sat on the bench next to you and started a conversation in albeit broken English. Despite the language barrier, something clicked that day between the two of you and you had been best friends ever since. From that day on you were both completely inseparable, to the point that everyone who knew you thought you were together. Even though everytime somebody asked what was between the two of you, you just laughed it off stating that you were best friends but nothing more, Charles couldn’t help but think that you would eventually end up together; how could you not he used to think to himself, this is how the story is supposed to end. That was until your boyfriend came into the picture and Charles had to give himself a reality check, had to constantly remind himself that it was you and somebody else now, that he would never get a chance to show you how good he could love you.  

Not only did Charles have to accept that you and him were now never going to happen, but he also had to accept that now you had a boyfriend, you didn’t have the same time that you used to have for him. The races you attended became few and far between, you would cancel plans with him, telling him that you were busy with work but then he would open Instagram and see that you were out with your boyfriend. The worst thing about it all for Charles was knowing that your boyfriend didn’t care about you, he didn’t appreciate you. Charles had heard from your own mouth all of the horrible things he had done to you. No matter what Charles did, no matter how well he had treated you for 16 years; he still came second to somebody who disrespected you, who cheated on you endlessly. There was nothing Charles could ever do to be enough for you, nothing he could do to make you love him like he loved you. 

That’s why, when he got your call, when he heard you rambling about all the horrible things your boyfriend had done this time, he wanted to tell you not to come, to tell you to go and find a different shoulder to cry on. But of course, he didn’t do that, because before you were the girl who he loved hopelessly, you were his best friend; and he knew that no matter what he would always be there when his best friend needed him.  So, he let you know that the key to his apartment was under the door mat like usual and he was already pouring two glasses of your favorite wine (the same wine he always kept a stash of despite not particularly enjoying it himself). 

“I just don’t know why he keeps doing this. He tells me all the time that he loves me and that I’m the only one he wants, but then he comes home smelling like someone else” the same words you had spoken so many times tumbling from your mouth as you sat on Charles’ couch. He listens to every word you say, although he doesn’t need to, having heard them so many times he could give the advice he gave to you in his sleep. The advice he gives you is genuine; he tells you that you deserve more than somebody who treats you like that. This conversation is like muscle memory to him at this point, until you say something you havent said in any of the other conversations before- “But who else would want me? Have you ever thought that I go back to him because this is all I can get, all I deserve” Charles is stunned, he immediately wants to tell you that he’s right here and he’s loved you since before he knew what love was; but he doesn’t. He doesn’t tell you that because your friendship, even in this completely dysfunctional state, means too much to him to lose. Instead, he tells you that he knows that there's someone out there for you, you just have to find them. “You're such a good friend” you tell him and despite the fact that he knows that’s all he is and all he’ll ever be, the words hit him like a ton of bricks.  

The next morning Charles wakes up on the couch and even though he already knows that he’ll find when he walks into his bedroom, he still goes to check. Just like every other time this has happened, you had left whilst he was still sleeping, leaving behind only a note that thanked him for his friendship. There is no doubt in his mind that your boyfriend had phoned you early hours of the morning to apologize and beg for your forgiveness, there is also no doubt in his mind that you had accepted his apologies and had gone home to kiss and make up with him and even though he had been through this situation more times that he can count, each time he can feel his heartbreaking a little more. 

The next time he sees you is a month later, in a circumstance so similar to the one before that it would be humorous if it wasn’t so infuriating. The one difference was the patience that Charles had for the situation; he had a bad week at work, first you said you were going to come to the race and then just didn’t turn up, then a Ferrari strategy error fucked up his race so badly he ended up finishing P14. But in spite of all that, he still sat up talking with you until almost four in the morning. He was tired, angry and just plain sick of hurting so when your phone rang and the screen lit up with a nauseating picture of you and your boyfriend kissing, indicating who was phoning you, Charles simply took your phone and declined the call. “Charles what the fuck?” you asked him half angry half confused.  

“Okay you need to listen to me. You can go and call that prick in a minute if you really want to but first you need to listen to me. I don’t even know who you are anymore. We have been best friends since we were children and yet the only time, I see you now is when you need me to comfort you. I get phone calls from your mum asking if you're okay because you go months at a time without even sending her so much as a text message. You are constantly disrespecting yourself by going back to the same person no matter what he does, and I have loved you too hard and for too long to be able to sit and watch it for any longer. I just can’t do it any-” his rant trails off once he catches sight of your shocked face and it dawns on him what he’s just said, “You love me?” you ask him with a trembling voice. He looks at you, looking up at him with your doe eyes wide, holding back tears. He stumbles over his words, trying to find some way to back track, to find a way to back to before he told you how he felt and ruined your friendship forever. Now is the time, you realize, now is the time to tell him everything you had never told him. The time to tell him that you had been pining over him since you met each other and that for so long you truly thought you would both be together, but when he made it into Formula 1 and you saw the endless models who you knew he could have at the drop of a hat, you realized you never stood a chance and forced yourself to move on. Now is the time to tell him how you constantly went back to your boyfriend no matter how he treated you, because you were trying to force yourself not to love Charles. Now was the time to tell him that you had loved Charles since before you knew what love was. But when you opened your mouth, nothing came out, years after years of suppressing those feelings had made it, so you were physically unable to voice them, so you did the next best thing. You leant over and connected your lips with his, letting the fireworks that erupted when your mouth touched his do the talking.  

[lassieposting]

Okay but. For anyone who's unfamiliar with the UK. Pop-up street funfairs are kind of a Thing here - they show up for carnivals and village fetes and shit and when you grow up in the middle of buttfuck nowhere like I did they might be the only entertainment you'll get all year, so you really come to love the atmosphere and the strobing lights and the pounding music and the nostalgia of better, easier, safer times.

And every year, in London, they have the Hyde Park Winter Festival, which is hands down the biggest pop-up funfair I've ever seen.

Anyway hc that the year Lucy runs away to London, Lockwood and George take her to the festival. It's George's idea - she is from the Barbarous Wastes Oop North, Lockwood, she's probably never seen a funfair before, and she does gasp and go all wide-eyed every time their taxi drives past it - and Lockwood pays, because his house might be mortgaged to the hilt, he might be practically a serf, but he's the boss and he's pretty sure he still owes George a tenner anyway for those beers, so, whatever -

And it's just a whole thing for Lucy because she's never really been treated before. Everything she's needed since she was thirteen came out of her Jacobs' wages. Her mum never spent a penny on her that wasn't absolutely necessary, and begrudged her even that. So she's always had to be a penny-pincher, always had to deny herself fun things because her wages were being spent on essentials or frittered away on pints of Fosters, and being able to do whatever she likes purely for her own pleasure is utterly foreign to her.

And he doesn't make her feel bad for it. For wanting to have fun for once. Neither of them do. George spouts useless facts about when rides were invented and the origins of ice skates, and sometimes puts his fingers in his ears with a grimace, but when she grins at him, he grins back. Lockwood plays the yes-man for her all evening, eyes twinkling when she hangs off his arm or pulls him over to see something by the wrist. He stumps up for candyfloss, for sweetie cones, for fresh donuts and hook-a-duck and the shooting gallery, because "You were looking at it like you wanted it." She has three goes on a claw machine trying to get a particular stuffed dog, and then Lockwood has a go, before George finally wins it for her. And she loves them so much, these boys who put her first more than her own family ever did.

She falls asleep on Lockwood's shoulder in the taxi on the way home. Mostly. She dozes, at least. She's still vaguely cognizant of what's going on around her - the low hum of the radio, the pulse of the taxi's engine, George's voice when he leans around her and says, "I didn't realise you noticed that thing she does."

She's been faintly aware of Lockwood's arm around her shoulders since he put it there, when she started listing drowsily into his side, but she hadn't noticed his thumb idly petting back and forth until it stills. "Thing? What thing?"

"The thing," says George helpfully. "Where she looks at things like she wants them but she knows she can't have them."

Lockwood snorts. It's a small, derisive sound, probably accompanied by an eye roll. "I'd make a pretty piss-poor agent if I hadn't. She does it at lots of things."

"Oh." George seems to muse on that for a second. Then, "Just you never seem to notice when she does it at you."

Lockwood goes very still, for a second. Clears his throat, just quietly. His arm jostles her a bit; she thinks he's fussing with his cufflinks, which he seems to do a lot ever since he started wearing them in the first place. His voice is warm, though. "Shut up, George."

"Yes, boss." Irreverent. Grinning, probably.

With her face tucked into his shoulder, Lucy smiles, and lets herself drift.

[fourmoony]

Friends or What?

James Potter x F!Reader

A coming of age story in which Potter's Corner Shop has a funny way of bringing people together. Falling in love is daunting when everyone is watching.

Ao3 Link (chapters will be uploaded here the day before Tumblr).

CW: For Chapter One, the content warnings include: Use of the word 'fag', but in context to a cigarette (UK slang) Foul language A minor using the word 'shagging' Smoking/Drinking alcohol A comment about hoping someone chokes Threat of caving someone's head in with a baseball bat (it's lighthearted, I swear) Implied internalised homophobia Mentions of fighting

Please be aware that this fic will contain multiple hard to read scenes, and I completely understand, if because of this, you choose not to read :) it's a coming of age fic, while there'll be lots of fluff and happy moments, there'll also be lots of hard, uncomfortable moments, too. Please, please, do not make yourself uncomfortable.

CHAPTER ONE (7k) -

Sirius is stocking the fag drawers, behind the counter, when you come in through the shop door. The little bell above the wooden frame dings to announce your arrival. Sirius doesn’t turn upon hearing the bell, nor does he acknowledge there’s even anyone in the shop. You follow his lead, heading up the sweetie aisle, wiggling your fingers as you go, lips puckered in anticipation as you search of the cherry lollies you know were delivered this morning. Whether or not Sirius has bothered to unload the pallet yet is a strong factor in whether you’ll find them sitting where they’re supposed to be. Your eyes scan the shelves, there are no cherry lollies to be found. No worries, you think, picking up a fashion magazine as you pass the stand.

You walk the loop of the shop, hear the bell ding in the distance signal someone else has come in. It smells like newspapers and the inside of the fridges that line the back wall of the shop; the radio crackles through tinny speakers, playing the UK Top 40 and you just know Sirius is hating every minute of it. When you approach the till, Sirius still has his head in the fag drawer, whistling along to his own song, radio be damned.

“You didn’t put the cherry lollies out, lazy arse,” you say.

Sirius jumps, turns as though you might be standing there with a balaclava and machete, ready to demand he open and empty the till. He rolls his eyes when his brain catches up with the situation, head bobbing to the left where the storeroom door sits, a pale blue, creaky thing that drives everyone insane on stock days with its constant whine every time it opens and closes, “Help yourself.”

The storeroom is cold and dark, but spacious, with piles of overflow stock lined up against the walls, organised into specific sections. It’s almost scary how neat it is. There’s a pallet in the middle of it all, wrapped in black plastic that’s been ripped at the top; likely Sirius taking the fags out. You scan the pile with a frown, knowing it’ll be an annoying game of Jenga trying to find the lollies without pulling everything else down with them. It takes a while, and a bit of rearranging, but you find the tub and return to Sirius with a triumphant smile. The customer that followed you in is filing out the door, so you allow Sirius to scan your items and give him the money.

“You should be about halfway through that pallet by now, it’s gone one in the afternoon, you know.” You chastise Sirius playfully.

He scowls when you sit on the counter beside the till one leg curled up and tucked underneath you, the other swinging back and forth, kicking and wobbling the specials display underneath the till. He knows he’s not getting rid of you any time soon when you flip open your magazine, unwrap your lolly, and stick it in your mouth.

“It showed up late. Problem with a road closure, or something.” Sirius replies, turning back to the drawer.

He rips open a packet of Sterling Duals and starts stuffing them into the drawer. You hum, amused, “That what you’re going to tell Effie?”

Sirius scoffs, an air of arrogance to him when he looks over his shoulder, long, black hair flicking with the movement, “It’s the truth. Plus, Effie never shouts at me. You know this.”

“Perks of being the boss’s son.”

Sirius seems to preen at your jab over his nepotism. He’s always very happy to be known as Euphemia and Fleamont Potter’s son. You don’t know much about his situation, just that the Potter’s took Sirius in when he was sixteen and none of them ever looked back. He’s happy and he’s cared for, and he seems to love being their son. So, you don’t ask. It’s none of your business, anyway.

The bell dings again and you and Sirius both look over out of habit. You have to lean past the roll stand to your left to fully see who’s came in, but when you catch sight of James, your grin grows wider. James Potter is Euphemia and Fleamont’s son. Biological son. Granted, that doesn’t matter with the way Effie fawns over Sirius like he was the biological one. She claims to love them the same. You secretly think Sirius is the favourite, though you have no idea why. He’s an insufferable shit, most of the time. James is nice. He’s bright and always happy, a proper ray of sunshine which, on the bad days, can be a little annoying.

It’s rather hard to be angry at the world when James Potter is standing there with his stupidly pretty grin and his big brown eyes, spouting such optimism into the world that things just start to feel better because he says they will.

“Delivery came late, mate. Just got it half an hour ago.” Sirius doesn’t even greet his best friend with a ‘Hello’, just moves straight onto damage control over the fact he’s still restocking the fag counter at one o’clock in the afternoon.

“Don’t listen to him, Jamie,” You say, popping the cherry lolly out of your mouth to talk properly, “He’s a dirty liar. Lazy arse, too.”

James laughs, approaches where you’re perched on the counter and stands so close you can smell his aftershave. It’s a bit of a cliché, honestly; fancying your boss’s son. Well, really, he’s your friend before he’s Effie and Monty’s son. You’ve always been friends. Since before you started working at the shop. Since school, really. But still. The cliché sits a little clunky in your chest sometimes. Especially when he looks as handsome as he does, today. He’s wearing his rugby jumper and a pair of joggies. Really, it’s nothing special. But he looks so soft. So cosy. His hair is all mussed up from the wind and his glasses are a little squint.

You reach out a manicured finger to push them further up his nose and he smiles down at you. Yeah, you think, pathetic.

“Are you here to work or cause trouble?” James asks with a teasing smile whilst Sirius sputters at your accusations.

“I can multitask, you know,” is your reply, words sweet as honey, “But to answer your question, no, sadly I am not here to work.”

“And yet you’re still here, annoying me with your presence.” Sirius mumbles.

You roll your eyes, turn to James with pouted lips, “See the way he talks to me?”

In James’s defence, he plays the game. See how far you can push each other before the other gets flustered and has to walk away. Last week he gave you a taste of your own medicine so bad that you had to stand in the stock room like an idiot for five minutes counting tins of beans until your face returned to its normal colour. You’re good at putting up a front, acting like whatever the two of you are doing doesn’t effect you, that you’re cool, calm, and collected about the whole thing. But the tins of beans in the stock room would tell a different story, could they talk. You’re glad they can’t, as silly as that thought is.

James, bless him, humours you – much to Sirius’ dismay – and coos, brows furrowed in mock-sympathy, “Poor soul.”

“Okay, fine, if this was your plan to get me to do the pallet, I’ll go.” Sirius finally breaks, hands held up in surrender.

It wasn’t your plan, but you watch him leave with an amused smile.

“The road into the village was shut, I know the delivery was actually late.” James laughs to himself.

“Hm,” You hum, ditching your magazine to the side and swinging your legs over the counter until you’re standing behind it, “Me too.”

“Thought you weren’t working today.”

You shrug, picking up where Sirius left off with the fags, your back turned to James, “I’ll do these and then I’ll be off.”

“Thanks.” James rounds the counter the normal way, punching his clock in card on the machine beside the till.

You look up, find him leaning against the counter by his hip, a small smile on his face. He’s so charming, you think.

“Don’t thank me,” You warn, the ghost of a mischievous smirk dancing across your face, “I’m putting them all in backwards, so he has to redo them all.”

“You know how he gets about the fag drawers,” James groans, because he knows he has to spend the rest of the day listening to Sirius gripe about whatever it is you’re about to do. “They’re his… area.”

“Yeah, well,” You shrug, “He didn’t put the cherry lollies out.”

James doesn’t have an answer for that. He just huffs a laugh and reaches for a packet to open and starts to pass you them.

-----

‘The Saturday Girls’, or so they’re nicknamed, are nice. They’re so coined because they only work Saturdays to help with unloading the bulk of the delivery that comes that morning. It’s a weekend job, perfect for them because they’re still in school, and it offers them a bit of pocket money. It would’ve been a dream job for you at fifteen, but Shauna and Lisa sometimes seem like having to work a shift in Potter’s Corner Shop is the bane of their entire teenage existence. Like now, Shauna stands leaning up against the end of the third aisle, passing Lisa packages of toilet rolls off the trolley with a sardonic look on her face.

You can hear them talking about a girl in their form class, how she’s after Shauna’s boyfriend and it brings unwanted flash backs of being that age, that naïve, when the idea of someone stealing your boyfriend felt like the end of the world. Really, they should have a trolley each, working on separate aisles. But you don’t get paid enough to boss them around; and if Shauna’s insults to whatever girl is trying to steal her man are anything to go by, you don’t actually want to be on her bad side.

Sirius has taken a falling out with the fag drawers since your ruin of them, yesterday, and so you’ve spent the better part of the morning facing them all the correct way. There’s a box of clipper lighters on the floor at your feet to be unloaded, too.

“I’m too scared to tell them that putting toilet roll on the shelves isn’t a two-woman job,” James appears behind you following the nerve grating squeak from the storeroom door, leaning on the counter with a lopsided smile.

He’s placed the clipboard with all of today’s stock details on the counter, pen tucked neatly under the clip of it. You know he’s here for your signature, cutting the job in half for you by doing the inventory himself. He likes numbers, you hate them, he’s happy to do it so long as he doesn’t have to fix the mess you created in the fag drawers. Besides Sirius, you’re the only person to be trusted in Sirius’ sacred area. Ironically enough. You pick the pen up with a hum, scribbling your name to state you were here when the delivery arrived this morning, “Some poor girl in their form is getting it tight, today. Shauna thinks she’s after her man.”

James laughs airily, “So I shouldn’t go over there and intervene?”

“Best not. I’ll come up with something I need help with in five, ask her to help me. Just need to finish these, first.” You say, waving a packet of JPS Red around so James knows what you’re talking about.

“Thanks,” Is James’ reply, “For the signature and for saving me from getting called a daft bint, or something, behind my back.”

Your laugh is bubbly and comes out of your mouth so fast you don’t have time to be embarrassed about it. It makes James laugh, too, low, and throaty as he taps the pen against the clipboard. He shakes his head and makes his retreat to the office at the back of the storeroom, likely to file the inventory sheet for Monty to look over on Monday. It only takes you a few more minutes to fix the rest of the fags, all in their correct places, all facing the correct way. The clippers are unloaded haphazardly into the tub in the bottom drawer, and then you’re off, on the hunt for Shauna.

She and Lisa have made it to the baby wipes when you come down the aisle that they’re in. Shauna is leaning against the trolley now that she doesn’t have the wall at the end of the aisle to lean on, and she’s passing Lisa the packets one by one. Lisa has her head ducked into the shelf to reach all the way to the back, but Shauna straightens up when she sees you round the corner.

“Hey, you okay to help me build some stuff up in the storeroom to get it off the pallet?” You ask.

There’s an empty box on the trolley that you reach for, pulling it apart until it’s flat and you can stick it inside the bag on the back of the trolley. Shauna gives a longing glance to Lisa, as though being parted from her will bring her physical pain. It’s quite comical, really. A small part of you misses being so young and carefree. Shauna nods, following you to the storeroom.

James is holding the door open on your way past, “I’ll keep an eye on the till.”

You thank him and Shauna follows you through. There’s not much to be unloaded, really. You and James got the majority done this morning when it arrived, and so its overstock that’s left. Shauna follows your lead, knowing by now where everything goes. There’s cereal and biscuits, teabags and coffee jars, there’s alcohol and fizzy juice. Shauna doesn’t talk much while you work, which isn’t surprising. She’s rather quiet and subdued with the rest of the staff, most of the time. Without Lisa to bounce off of, Shauna doesn’t usually say much.

“How long have you and James been together?” Shauna asks out of nowhere.

It’s less surprising to hear her starting conversation than the question she’s actually asked, which is saying something. The box of ready salted crisps in your hands go toppling backwards from where you’d been reaching to put them on top of the pile as you twist to face her, eyebrows somewhere near your hairline. The girl looks nonplussed, lifting a crate of Red Stripe and placing it with the other alcohol against the wall closest to the door.

“Sorry?”

You can’t quite find the words, brain reeling at a mile a minute because have other people noticed whatever game you and James are playing and assumed you’re together? That’s incredibly embarrassing and unprofessional. Shauna doesn’t seem to notice your confusion as she barrels on, seemingly in her own world, “It’s just cause, me and this boy from school have been going out for, like, a month, yeah?”

She doesn’t actually wait for your response as she picks up another crate of beer and sticks it on top of the pile she’s created, “And this girl from my form keeps trying to text him. He’s told me he’s ignoring her, but I dunno if I believe him.”

“Right.” You say, a bit dazed, trying to keep up with what she’s saying whilst trying to put together what this would have to do with you and James.

“I guess I’m just wondering what you’d do if it was another girl trying to get with James. Like, would you go barmy?” Shauna asks, and you can tell there’s a hint of insecurity in there somewhere.

Picking up the crisps you’d dropped rather ungracefully, you tell her, “Well, James and I aren’t together. Like, at all. But if it was someone I really liked, I’d be a bit upset, I suppose. If he says he isn’t replying, I’d believe him until he gives you a reason not to.”

Shauna seems pleased with that answer, but feels the need to add, “Anyone would think you and James are together. Or, at the very least, shagging.”

There’s really nothing you can say to that, is there? It knocks the wind out of you, flusters you, and concerns you all at once. What do fifteen-year-olds know about shagging? Well, you suppose it’s all your friends wanted to talk about at fifteen, too. But. Well. No. Just, no.

“Right,” Shauna breaks your flustered silence by dusting her hands on the side of her trousers, “That it, then?”

Right enough, the pallet is empty. You open your mouth to talk but find nothing will come out, so you close it and nod. She files out of the storeroom after shooting you a weird glance but doesn’t feel the need to add anything more. You count tins of beans until your brain decides it can function again.

“The Saturday Girls have got to go.” You tell James when you slip behind the till ten minutes later.

He breaks his focus from the screen the security camera’s run on, eyebrows narrowed in concern, “She said something?”

You wave your hand, 'nothing too bad', it signals, “Asked how long we’ve been shagging.”

James promptly chokes on air, pounds his chest a few times with wide eyes. You wonder if you should be offended, or if he’s just genuinely surprised Shauna was so brass necked about the whole ordeal. You settle on a nod and a placating look, exactly, you think.

“She’s like, twelve.”

Huffing a laugh, you correct him, “Fifteen, actually. But still, I dropped a box of crisps, nearly toppled the whole tower I was so gobsmacked.”

“What,” James laughs after, “at the suggestion of shagging me, or her boldness?”

If there’s one thing James Potter knows how to do, it’s get under your skin. He’s wearing that signature knowing smirk, the one he wears when he’s thinking something mischievous, or he knows exactly what you’re thinking, feeling, like he can see right into your soul. He’s a prick, you decide. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

The thing is: this game is slowly spiralling into more than you can handle. It’d started as an easy way to irritate Sirius, then an even easier way to make the boring shifts go in quicker, then it was just fun. Watching the way his tongue pokes the side of his cheek when he’s considering a rebuttal, or trying to hide a smile, the way his jaw clenches when you come in on your days off wearing tight clothes, only to perch yourself on the edge of the counter and promptly tease him all day. It’s fun. But now it’s too much. James is too much. Because at the start, he’d get shy and flustered, brush you off in a polite manner. But now. Well, now he’s an evil shit who likes to make you weak and hot and bothered and all of the in-betweens every chance he gets.

“Jamie,” You smile, sweet as honey, eyes doe-like and offering him the challenge, “You couldn’t handle me.”

The minute James shakes his head, hair flopping to the side, tongue pushed into his cheek, you know you’ve won this round. He slinks off to find another job for Shauna to do, who you can see on the security cameras has gone back to passing Lisa things off of the trolley.

Twenty-six tins of beans. There are twenty-six tins of beans in the storeroom.

-----

The rota goes like this: Monday: Monty, open. You and James, close. Tuesday: Sirius and James, open. Remus, close. Wednesday: Effie, open. Monty, close. Thursday: Remus and James, open. You and Sirius, close. Friday: Sirius, open. Effie, close. Occasionally James, close. Saturday: You and James, open. Effie and Monty, close. Sunday: Monty, open. You and Remus, close.

The open shift runs from seven o’clock in the morning, until two in the afternoon, and the close shift runs from two o’clock in the afternoon, until ten o’clock at night. Potter’s is the only shop in the village open until ten, and it’s a busy shop because of this. Probably, also, because the Potters are well known, well liked, and well respected.

But the main thing to note about the rota is that Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are never scheduled to work a shift together. Ever. The simple reason is because they don’t get on. Like, despise each other for a reason that is unbeknownst to you, and even James, who is Sirius’ best friend in the entire world, his brother. Personally, you think their beef is pointless. But the delivery driver who dropped off the Saturday pallet five months ago and ended up having to break up a petty argument between the two would likely disagree. Apparently, some harsh words had been said between the two, and after the Potter’s decided Sirius was just as much an instigator as Remus was easy to snap, and that both of them were irreplaceable as workers, the new rota was made, stapled to the office wall, never to be changed, and with their names never beside each other.

It’s strange, to you, because Sirius and Remus are both lovely. You enjoy working with both of them. Separately, of course. They seem to know that in the situation of their hatred of each other, you and James are both Switzerland. You’ll listen to them rant about each other, sympathise with their feelings, but ultimately add nothing of note to the conversation. Sometimes you think that bothers them more. Unfortunately, there’s no avoiding their hatred of each other every Saturday in the pub, but they’ve become increasingly better at tolerating each other’s presence. It no longer ends in one or the other storming out of the pub or offering to meet each other outside for a scrap. Small wins. You’ve no idea where they get the energy to put so much effort into their animosity towards each other. A small part of you actually thinks they enjoy getting each other riled up to the point of snapping, the same way you and James do, just with more insults and less innuendos. Each to their own, you suppose.

Remus has his foot kicked up against the wall with a fag in his hand when you near the shop door. He’s staring across the road at the small play park, looking rather lost. There’s a group of kids on the swings, laughing and chatting away. They’re young looking. Ten, maybe eleven. When he notices you, Remus seems to snap out of whatever daydream he’s in, eyes softening and his lips turning upward into a smile. It pulls at the scar slicing across his cupids bow, taught, but paling out at the stretch. There’s a number of scars that litter Remus’ skin, the product of a nasty car crash he was in as a child. You don’t notice them as much, now, as when he first started working at Potter’s. They’re just part of who he is, and they make him no less handsome.

“Here even on your day off,” Remus tsks, passes you the cigarette.

You have a draw, blowing out the smoke with the ghost of a teasing smile on your lips, “Someone’s got to mind the till on your eighteen fag breaks.”

Remus laughs, accepting of the jab, “Monty’s in today. Shops not totally unmanned.”

“Ah,” You hum, passing him the fag back, “Unusual for him. He usually runs off the minute his shift finishes.”

He nods, sandy hair flopping in a mess of curls on top of his head. “Something about having to find a new supplier, the drivers for Zonko’s are complaining about having to drive into the village.” Remus speaks through an exhale, the wind carrying the smoke along the street.

He flicks the fag to the ground and follows you inside, finding his place behind the till whilst you meander down the aisles, still content in having the conversation, “That’s ridiculous. It’s only fifteen minutes off the motor way.”

Remus makes a noise of agreement but doesn’t say anything else until you return to the till with a cherry lolly and a magazine. He looks at your purchases with an enhanced non-surprised glance, eyes flicking up to ask with a simple look if you could be any more predictable. You shrug, hand him a fiver, and he passes you your change.

“Think they’re just annoyed because the only road into the bloody place is always closed because that daft Mr. Filch keeps forgetting to shut his gate and the cows always escape.” Remus comments, closing the till.

You take up your usual space, to the left of the till, leg tucked under you, subconsciously kicking the specials stand with your free foot. The customers are never surprised to find you sitting here. Most of them often comment that you’re like the store’s very own cat. Always lurking, happy to sit, and watch the people go about their days. Really, you just like to annoy whoever is working. Unless it’s Effie or Monty. They usually put you to work if you hang around for too long.

“They should really just bolt that bloody fence shut. He’s always losing his cows.”

“He does it on purpose. I don’t know why, yet, but he does.” Remus theorises, his brows furrowed as though it’s some great mystery as to why old Argus Filch is always letting his cows run free, as though he has some ulterior motive.

Perhaps he does. You’ve never given it much thought.

“They should switch to Ollivander’s, anyway. I’ve been telling them for months that they’re better priced. Plus, they’re closer, the delivery charge wouldn’t be as much.” You say, eyes scanning the pages of your magazine.

The cherry lollypop rattles off your back teeth, something you know drives Remus insane. You don’t stop.

“They don’t stock Pettigrew’s butcher meat, though.” Remus counters.

Pettigrew’s Butchers is the most sought-after Butcher meat in the village, and Potter’s is the only place that stock it. It’s what drives in most of the customers, you’d argue. It’s good meat. You’ll give them that. It’s why Effie and Monty have been hesitant to drop Zonko’s as their distributor because they’ll lose their access to Pettigrew’s. Truly a conundrum in the eyes of the village. You flick to the next page, shrugging, “It’s only a forty-minute drive out of the village. Wouldn’t Pettigrew deliver it himself?”

“What, every morning?”

You sigh, long and suffering. This conversation is, truly, boring. You love Remus. You do. Really. But you miss Sirius. Or James. Remus seems off, today. He’s less humorous, less sarcastic. You won’t push. You know he doesn’t like that. But you shouldn’t have to suffer the world’s most boring conversation because of it. Perhaps that’s selfish of you.

“Zonko’s doesn’t even deliver to us, every morning. Just have Pettigrew's tie in with the days we get from Ollivander’s.” You suggest, though, you know there’s nothing Remus can do about it.

It’s a conversation best had with Monty or Effie. Even James. But they’re smart. They’ll likely figure it out on their own. You hop off the counter, pulling the lolly from your mouth as you go, “Either way, it’s going to be a shit few weeks if we don’t have a distributor. I need to go, meeting Sirius for a cuppa at the Leaky.”

You wince as soon as the words come out of your mouth, watching as Remus’ expression falls.

“Hope he chokes on his cuppa.” Remus mutters, though a saccharine smile comes across his lips.

You roll your eyes, pointer finger already aimed at him, “Behave!”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, though you know behaving is the last thing Remus Lupin will ever do when it comes to Sirius Black. It’s ridiculous.

“Give Monty my love.” You say in ways of a goodbye and Remus waves you off.

You pretend not to hear when he tells you to give Sirius the middle finger for him.

-----

“You’re a genius, you know.” Sirius says, sitting your drink down in front of you.

The pub is, strangely, quite quiet. There’s a family of four in the far corner, eating a meal in stoic silence – awkward – and a group of older women by the bar, a bottle of champagne in an ice cooler on the table and bubbling glasses in each of their hands. Of course, you and Sirius were the last to arrive, meeting the rest of your friends at the only large table the Three Broomstick’s own, which lead to him shooing you off to get a seat and buying your drink for you. You won’t complain. Your regular table is already a mess of empty pint glasses from James, Remus, and Frank, and two empty wine bottles from Lily, Mary, and Marlene. Alice is on nightshift at the police station, a lucky feat for everyone because it means there’ll be no tequila shots tonight. Fine by you.

It’s a long table that you all occupy, with two benches running along either side, and no matter how busy the pub is, people always seem to know not to sit there. None of you would mind if they did, really. But it’s just something people don’t do. Your group has been coming to the Three Broomsticks since you were seventeen (not that Rosmerta, the owner, knows that), minus Remus, who moved to town seven months ago, wandered in for a pint one night, and unfortunately for him, got stuck with you lot.

“Mm,” You hum, cheeks puffing out in your pleased smile, “I know. Do feel free to tell me why, though.”

Sirius guffaws, rolling his eyes at your theatrics – as though he isn’t the carbon copy of you, just in male form – “For the Ollivander’s idea. Well, tying it in with Pettigrew’s, at least.”

“What?”

You hadn’t told anyone about that idea. Anyone other than Remus, at least, who looks incredibly sheepish when your eyes flick to him further along the table, conveniently out of arms reach of Sirius. James, who swallows a gulp of his pint before he speaks, looks incredibly cheerful when he says, “Yeah! Dad loved that idea. He didn’t even consider asking Pettigrew’s for a private contract. He didn’t think they’d be up for driving into the village, but turns out the son, Peter, delivers to the next town over twice a week, anyway.”

“Right.” You nod, taking a sip of your drink to wash the awkward feeling that’s settled over you away.

Really, you hadn’t meant to form some type of master plan.

“Sorry.” Remus winces.

“Why’s he sorry?” Sirius is quick to question, ever the one to start an argument, “What’s he done now?”

Remus scoffs, “Funny you think I’ve done something.”

“Well, you were the one apologising.”

“He’s not done anything, Sirius. Give it a rest, both of you.”

That shuts them up.

“I told Monty about her idea after she left on Tuesday.” Remus admits, looking rather sheepish.

Sirius seems placated enough with his answer, so he shrugs and enters into a conversation with Frank and James, who lost interest the minute Remus and Sirius started bickering. You assure Remus that it’s okay, waving him off before nudging your head further down the table, inviting him into the conversation with Lily, Mary, and Marlene.

Lily is complaining about her job in the council office. She’s pretty high up, though, you couldn’t for the life of you tell someone what it is she actually does, had they asked. Something to do with the local MP. There’s a shit tonne of paperwork and multiple people who Lily thinks are, in her words, so far up their own arse, they forget they’re civil servants and not, in fact, the be all and end all of the world. Her job is highly stressful, as is obvious by the empty bottle of wine in front of her, even though it’s not long gone five o’clock. Lily Evans worked incredibly hard to be where she is, though, the fireball of a human that she is, and she’ll be damned to ever give up, now. You admire her, really. She grew up in the village, like all of you except Remus, noticing the prejudice it held, the unfair situations people lived in, the real issues the place held, rather than what every other member of the council saw as ‘issues’, and she went to University, got her degree, came right back, and got to fucking work. She hasn’t solved world hunger yet, but you’re sure she’s well on her way to it. If there’s anyone who can do it, it’ll be Lily Evans.

Mary and Marlene are listening intently, especially Mary, who’s been begging the council to fund the one primary school the village has, Hogwarts, more substantially than it has in previous years. She’s a teacher there, and she loves it with every bit of her being, but the school is incredibly underfunded, so she and Lily have been working on a campaign to bring it to the Council’s attention. They’re making progress. But not as quick as Mary would like. That much is obvious in the way she rants about Lucius Malfoy and his pretentious, pompous, personality. He is a bit of a prick, honestly. He’s the head of the school board committee for the village, and he’s the main reason the school hasn’t received the funding it’s needed in almost ten years. He’s a toad.

Marlene, even though she couldn’t give less of a shit if she tried, is listening, anyway. She’s a good friend, Marlene, but past her friends, her family, and music, there isn’t much Marlene McKinnon really gives a toss about. You commend her for it really, her no-fucks-given attitude towards the world, the way she’s so carefree, and lives her life how she wants, no matter what. She’s laid back and honestly, doing better than the rest of your friends in adulthood. She’s the only one out of the lot of you who hasn’t had a full-scale meltdown, so far, this year. Or ever actually. You don’t remember the last time you saw Marlene truly upset about something.

“Honestly, Mary, you’d think he’d give more of a shit about funding things like the school’s library, considering his wife’s due any day now and his kid will likely attend Hogwarts.” Lily seems truly frustrated, her shoulder slumped, her index finger circling the rim of her wine glass.

“He’ll probably send his little demon spawn to some posh boarding school, knowing him. More money than bloody sense.” Comes Mary’s equally frustrated response.

She necks the rest of her glass in one gulp, shivers, and then sends Marlene off to procure another bottle. She goes without complaint, so you assume it’s her round.

“Surely it’s not legal to withhold funding from a school in such dire need of it.” Remus comments, ever the pessimist.

He thinks the worst of everyone. Especially Mr. Filch and his disappearing cows. He thinks he has an ulterior motive and he’ll die on that hill.

“Apparently there is no funding. And he won’t even push for any, either. It’s like he doesn’t give a shit that the school under his jurisdiction is struggling, majorly.” Lily replies, rolling her bright green eyes at the mere idea of Lucius Malfoy.

“There’s something not right about that.” You add, frowning.

Surely, he’d want his school to thrive. Apparently not.

“You’re telling me.” Mary pipes up.

“Anyway, enough work talk,” Lily says around a gulp of wine, waving her hand like it’ll banish all of the negative vibes Lucius has caused by simply existing, “How’d your date go with the handsome paper boy, Rem?”

Remus grimaces, “Don’t call him a paper boy, it makes him sound twelve years old.”

The story goes: Remus thought that someone was trying to break into his house, last month. Upon inspecting the situation with a baseball bat that everyone knows for a fact Remus does not know how to use, he met a rather startled, rather handsome paper boy named Christopher. Of course, Remus only learned this after he tried to cave the poor bloke’s head in with said baseball bat, only to find out that it was Christopher’s first day on the job and he had delivered the paper to the wrong house. After copious amounts of apologies, Remus had claimed he was fine with never seeing Christopher again. Until he realised that the paper’s he was delivering came directly from Potter’s. A travesty, really. Sirius howled with laughter, much to Remus’ dismay, and Effie had slipped an extra fiver into Christopher’s wages in ways of an apology. Turns out, no apology was needed, because Christopher, for whatever reason, took a liking to Remus and asked him out for coffee.

“Okay, your date with Christopher, then.” Lily corrects with a smirk.

“Wasn’t a date,” Remus singsongs, because he’s insecure and adamant that no one could ever fancy him. Even though you’ve already promised him that if he wasn’t painfully gay, you’d shag him. Lily had then felt the need to add in that if she wasn’t painfully gay, as well, she’d shag him, too. Still, he lives in denial. Idiot.

“Was too.” Marlene says, rather bluntly, returning with the wine which she passes to Mary.

She’s brought a glass for you, too, bless her. You finish the dregs of the drink Sirius bought you and accept the glass of wine Mary passes you with a ‘thank you’.

“You don’t even know what we’re talking about.” Remus argues.

“Christopher. The hot paper boy whose skull you nearly caved in with a bat. Keep up, Remus.” Marlene winks at Remus, who simply huffs in defeat, taking a long swig of his pint.

“So?” Mary follows up, never one to let Remus catch a break. She’s almost as bad as Sirius, except she does it in a much more loving, much less spiteful way.

“It went well. We chatted about books.” Remus bobs his head, swallowing thickly.

Sirius is eyeing him from the other end of the table, lips twisted into a mean looking frown. It doesn’t last long before Frank is asking him something to do with motorbikes, and Remus is long forgotten. No one else catches it, so you ignore it.

“Books?” Marlene asks in disgust.

“You spoke about books.” Lily repeats, clearly trying to find some hidden meaning she’s not going to find. You know Remus well enough to know he likely did spend the entire date-that-wasn’t-a-date nattering on about books. He’s a bookworm at his core.

“Yes,” Remus confirms, slightly agitated, “We spoke about books.”

“Right,” Marlene sounds a little deflated, always one for the seedy stories, “Lovely.”

“It was, actually.”

“I’ll bet.”

Remus huffs a laugh and excuses himself under the premise of a cigarette. No one bats an eye, and you watch him leave. It takes Sirius approximately two minutes to excuse himself from his conversation with James and Frank and follow Remus straight out the door to the smoking area. James and Frank continue on, too engrossed to realise the shit show that’s likely to unfold any minute. Lily, Mary, and Marlene fall into a conversation about whatever show the three of them are watching and you stand up, walking around the table until you’re sitting next to James.

He smiles warmly when you sit down, shuffling a little so he can face both you, and Frank who’s across the table.

“Alright,” Frank greets, head tipping forwards.

“Hiya, Frank. How’s Alice?”

Alice is Frank’s wife. They grew up together but didn’t ever get together until they both attended Tulliallan when training to become police officers. They’re sickly in love, it’s actually kind of nauseating at times, but sweet, nonetheless. They’d been daft for each other since they were thirteen.

“She’s good. On nightshift, tonight.”

You hum, sympathising with her. Nightshift is no joke, especially in a village as quiet as yours.

“Uhm,” You turn to James, “Sirius and Remus are in the smoking area. Together. Alone.”

James sighs, takes a swig of his pint, and is up like a shot to stop whatever fight is likely happening in the Three Broomsticks beer garden. He squeezes your shoulder in thanks before he goes, offering you a smile he only ever seems to give you. You can’t read it. But it’s soft. Not the teasing smile he has when you’re flirting merciless with him, or him, you. It’s just. A nice smile. For you. You watch him go; head turned, the ghost of a smile on your own lips. He pushes open the wooden door and it swings shut behind him.

“How longs that been going on then?” Frank asks, nodding his head towards the door James just went through.

“Pretty much since they met, I suppose.”

Frank laughs, which causes you to frown, and then he shakes his head.

“No. You and Potter.”

“There’s nothing going on.” You say, though your face heats up all the same.

“I can keep a secret, you know.”

“Why does everyone think I’m shagging James?” You ask, rather loud for how empty the pub is.

Your face is flames when Lily, Mary, and Marlene fall silent and look over at you, biting back laughs and whatever comments it is that are sparkling behind their eyes. You groan, embarrassed, and turn to follow James out of the door. For a moment, you think he’s allowing a full-on fight between Sirius and Remus occur. He’s standing not far from the door, sheltered by the wooden terrace that leads out to the concrete of the smoking area. It’s dimly lit in comparison to the rest of the beer garden. You frown on approach, confused as to why he’s just standing there.

It takes all of two seconds for you to see what he’s seeing. Remus has Sirius crowded against the wall, caged in like some sort of animal, and he’s kissing him so violently, so aggressively, that they actually could be fighting. In some sick, twisted way.

“Holy shit.”

James’ eyes snap to yours, moving into action to pull you back inside before Sirius and Remus realise they’ve been foiled. His hand burns like fire against your arm, his eyes steely and sharp as he looks down at you, “You cannot tell anyone what you just saw.”

“You knew?”

James shakes his head, tongue darting out to lick his lips. He has you pushed up against the wall, much like Remus did Sirius, and your cheeks heat at the thought. Jesus, they’re more messed up than you thought.

“I suspected.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“It’s not my place. Look, Sirius is – he’s complicated, okay? I don’t know if he even knows he’s – just don’t say anything, okay?” James is flustered, panicked.

You get it. Sirius has never mentioned being gay, so it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that perhaps, being gay isn’t something that was on Sirius’ radar until Remus popped up out of nowhere and sent his perception of himself tumbling. Okay. Fine. You get that. You can relate. Not entirely. The situation is different. James Potter is a boy you never paid any interest to, growing up. Not romantically, at least. Until he went away to Rugby camp one summer and came back looking like sin incarnate. Well, then you’d noticed, and everything you thought you knew about him came tumbling down. So, not exactly the same, but you get it.

“I won’t, James. I won’t say anything.”

“Not even to Sirius. Or Remus.” James looks panicked, like one wrong move in handling this situation will blow it up royally.

“Promise.”

James nods, seems to realise that he’s still got an iron grip on your arm, and drops it like you’d been the one scalding him. The door opens, washing you both with cool air, and Sirius storms back inside, halting when he sees the way James has you pushed up against the wall.

“You two shagging then?” He asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone you can only assume was brought about by whatever the fuck just happened between him and Remus.

“Jamie wishes,” You plaster a sickly-sweet smile on your face, “He couldn’t handle me.”

With that, you leave them to it, returning to the table and finishing your entire wine in one gulp. The girls are kind enough not to say anything, but Lily gives you a sympathetic glance and refills the glass for you. Frank laughs to himself, you flip him off.

Remus returns a moment later, dodging Sirius and James who are still huddled where you and James just were. He takes a seat, finishes his pint, and calls it a night without another word.

You don’t miss the way James has to grab onto Sirius’ wrist to stop him from following.

--

Ahhhh! The first chapter is out!

I sincerely hope ya'll enjoyed :) Let me know your thoughts.

[pennyluna]

Misunderstandings Part 1

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (18+) Wordcount: around 1.5k

Genre: New to working together au. Cold playboy au. Future something au.

WARNING: This story contains some bad words/strong language! Contains also spicy scenes, so please be aware before reading it.

It has been a week since my team started working with Yoongi, the week had been filled with meetings about coordination between the teams, some of the meetings were one on one basically so I could get a sense of what he expected from me during this 5 weeks, it was fairly easy to agree on the way we could handle things, starting from the fact that I would have to be available 24/7 just in case I was needed! I had been going home around 8pm every day and always kept my phone on me with the ringer.

Yoongi was going to be in the studio all day tomorrow, which meant I didn't have to go into the office so I decided to relax tonight, took a long shower, moisturized and did my relaxing ritual, put on a grey tank top, no bra and some shorts, wrapped my long wavy dark hair in a towel and walked to the kitchen.

I make sure the bottle of Sauvignon blank that I bought on my way home was cold and put out two wine glasses, one for me and one for my girl best friend Josie, she is on her way over so we can gossip and watch reality shows. Josie has been my best friend since middle school, fun fact her fiancé is also my best friend. Even bigger fun fact, I had been on a date with Zion when we were in college but we quickly agreed that a friendship was the thing for us, I introduced them during one of Josie's visits on campus and now 4 years later they are just a few months away from getting married.

I hear her emergency key to my apartment in the lock and start preparing the popcorn.

"Zion is driving me crazy!!" she says with an exasperated tone while closing the front door.

I laugh at her facial expression, she is going for annoyed but it looks cute on her.

"Hello to you too... what did he do now?"

"He keeps changing our funny dance for the wedding!"

"you mean your first dance?" I say with a confused face while pouring the wine and handing her a glass.

she takes a big sip "Nono, 'Cant help falling in love' is still our song but he saw online that people like doing some funny dance trend after and You know I'm not good at dancing."

Josie comes from a rich conservative family, she is very classy and polished, never late and never a hair out of place, so I was surprised when she told me she was in love with Zion, his style very much the opposite of her but both with a heart of gold.

I laugh at the thought of Josie dancing some TikTok challenge.

"Oh josie...you are a great dancer, just not with the new stuff!" i try to comfort her and we walk to the couch.

We are under the fluffy blankets watching our third episode of love island UK season 10, we had finished the USA one a couple of weeks ago. Suddenly my phone starts ringing, the word OFFICE written in the screen, I look at the time "11:34 pm". Josie and I look at each other with confusion in our faces, she pauses the show and I shake my head trying to shake the 2 glasses of wine off my system and then proceed to answer the call.

"Hello (Y/N), this is the security from the building, sorry for calling you so late, Mr. Min is here at the office trying to access the studio but he had left his keys inside and the other copy isㅡ"

"is in my bag!" I say simultaneously facepalming my face. "I will be there in 15 minutes" luckily I don't live far away from it.

Hanging up I rush to the room, put a pair of skinny jeans on, my classic vans and put my hair on a messy ponytail. The taxi Josie had called for me was here already so I rushed out of the door telling her I would be back soon.

7 minutes later I was in front of my building, greeted the security and proceeded to the 19th floor, were the studio is. Yoongi is waiting right in front of the elevator doors when they open and I get surprised to see him in his very relaxed outfit. Hair covering his gorgeous forehead, his phone in one hand and the other one in his pocket, his eyes rise up to meet mine and I smile at him. We start walking to the elevator, he is behind me and I don't know if its his presence or the wine but I feel my cheeks heating up and warmth running through me. I open the door for him and try to hand the keys to him.

"do you want to come in for a while?" he asks with a blank expression.

"mmm sure." dammit, I am supposed to be just dropping the keys off.

I walk past him and he closes the door behind us. Its a normal studio, with little touches of him, a couple of basketball gadgets and some posters, a couch with some pretty purple cushions and a blanket, he had made it his own.

"would you like some more wine?" his question takes my attention out of looking around his studio.

"mmm sure. thank you. Waitㅡ 'more'?" my face expressing my confusion.

He has a small smile on his face while pouring me a glass "yeah, more! I noticed you have a slight scent of wine on you, so you must have been drinking some before coming here".

aww, he was smelling meㅡ Stop. waitㅡ oh my god did that mean I smell of alcohol?. oh God, that's not very professional.

"hey, its not a problem you know. I like wine, so you know... you smell good" his words snapping me out of my small mental freak out. "plus, you weren't even supposed to be coming here so don't worry about it." he hands me the glass of wine.

We've been seated on his couch and talking casually about the things we like and our passions for a couple of hours now, I feel really comfortable around him and he seems comfortable around me! He said something funny and I pushed his leg in a jokingly manner but when I tried to retrieve my hand he grabbed it pulling me closer to him, we stopped laughing suddenly and stared into each others eyes, he bit his bottom lip and shacked his head no subtly, like if he was shaking away a thought. His eyes started roaming my frame and My heartbeat accelerated once I noticed where his gaze had stopped.

My nipples were hard and he could see their outline through my tank top. Shit!!! I didn't put on bra. I should say goodnight and walk away but why aren't my legs moving?! I feel warmth spreading through my thighs.

"It's late!" He suddenly gets up and it startles me. "Maybe you should go home!"

"huh? maybe you should go home!" I say with defiance, -why cant i just shut up-.

"(Y/N)!" -my name sounds so good in his voice- "You are drunk and I'm afraid you will regret any decision we take after this point!"

He is making sense, he has a point, plus we are working together, we need to maintain a professional relationship so I get up and start walking past him and towards the door, I say goodbye and walk to the elevator. Pressing the button to call the elevator I realize that my keycard to leave the building is in my bag with my phone and my house keys -damm it- I walk back to the studio where Yoongi hadn't closed the door yet for some reason and when his eyes reached mine, I swear there was a little hope in them. I walked past him again and grabbed my bag then turned around to wave goodbye.

He stayed still for a while, like contemplating what to do, he raised his hand to wave back but he seemed hesitant. I started to walk to the door when suddenly he grabbed my wrist. I stopped breathing for a second and my heart started beating faster.

"Maybe you should stay!" he says softly. while pulling me towards him until my chest is flat against his. I can feel his breath on my face. A hint of whiskey on it.

"Maybe you should stay too!"

He smiles at my statement and that seemed to be all the permission he needed because his hand started to travel from my waist to my breast while the other one held my chin up while he watched me and the kisses me.

It was gentle at first and then became passionate, one of those kisses that take your breath away and make you dizzy. He kissed like I belonged to him, like no one had kissed me before and I was loving it.

His hand move to the front of my jeans and start undoing the buttons, his mouth now trailing my neck. my jeans come off and we move around, he leans my ass against his desk and starts trailing wet kisses from my neck down. He sucks my nipples through the tank top and starts rubbing my core.

"so wet for me already huh?" I moan and put my hands on the desk to balance myself a bit. His mouth trails down my body until I can feel his warm breath on top of my core, his fingers slowly move my panties to the side and the he assaults my clit with his mouth. -so much talent in that mouth-.

Yoongi's tongue is all over my clit and I feel my orgasm building. I cant control my moans and thank god this place is soundproof. He starts alternating between tongue fucking me and playing with my clit and I am almost at my high. The minute his hand grabs my hips to keep me still I cant control myself any longer and come. "Good girl! You taste amazing". he smirks.

"My turn!!" I smile at him and fall to my knees, looking up at him and holding the eye contact I start lowering his sweatpants. I was surprised to notice he wasn't wearing any underwear and his erection almost smacked my face when it came out of his pants!

I start holding his dick and licking the tip of it, he exhales a shaky breath and I slowly introduce his erection in my mouth. Starting to suck in and out of my mouth at first slowly and then increasing my pace, I cup his balls in my hand and then continue to suck him off at a fast pace! he is moaning and throwing his head back and I can feel it wont take him long before reaching his orgasm! I slow down my pace to tease him a little and we make eye contact again, he seems hungry for me, he wants me.

"Get up!" after taking the rest of his clothes off, he helps me get up and he takes my tank top and underwear then stares at my body for a second, I can see hunger in those eyes, hunger for me. I can see he cant decide on what to play with first. "Bend over my desk!" he commands -I guess he decided where to start- my boobs are now pressed flat against his desk, it is cold and I feel my nipples hardening.

His hands start caressing my ass and touching my clit "You are a sight. I've been wanting to bend you over my desk ever since the first day when you gave us that building tour" he says and I instantly moaned out of neediness, I need him inside of me now!.

"YOONGIㅡ"

"My god I love how you say my name... keep saying it princess!" -fuuck I want to come again so bad- he continues touching me and then I fill his hand get to the back of my neck pinning me to the desk and his other hand rubbing his dick around my folds.

"Yoongi, I needㅡ" he shut me up with his dick entering me hard, I moaned loudly and he waited a second to let me adjust then started pumping into me hard and at a fast pace. I became a moaning mess and my orgasm started building again, he used his free had to spank my ass and I moaned again, my eyes got teary but I was enjoying this. I was enjoying being fucked senseless. I enjoyed the pain mixed with pleasure that he was giving me. I needed it. After all, it had been almost two years since the last time I had sex.

I notice his pace getting faster and faster "Come for me princess! I want you to come!" he says with a commanding voice. Our orgasms hit us couple of seconds later, his seed all over my lower back!

We are both panting. He takes a second to clean me up, then opens a drawer grabbing a t-shirt from it and giving it to me. We sit on the couch to rest for a bit he kisses my forehead and suddenly the exhaustion and the wine get to me and I fall asleep in his arms!

I wake up the day after with a strong headache, I feel around for my phone that should be on my bedside table but then open my eyes to realize I'm still on the couch in the studio. Yoongi isn't in the couch anymore so I look around and see him working at his desk on the computer. I breathe a sight of relief. I reach for my jeans put them on and then walk towards him.

"Your bag and keys are by the piano" eyes fixed to the screen and monotone voice.

"Thanks!" I say hesitant about what to do next. "Would youㅡ" he cuts me off.

"I will see you at the meeting this afternoon." This time his voice sounds annoyed and dismissive. A bad feeling downs on me.

I grab my things and once I'm at the door I look back, expecting him to at least look at me before I go but nothing. -He regrets it-  that thought hurt, more than my headache!

While waiting for my taxi I realized that its 6am, that I had left Josie at home waiting for me and that I had royally fucked up by sleeping with the VIP, that he seemed to regret it to the point of not being able to look at me and that the meeting where I will have to see him in a few hours will be hard.

A.N: This is part 1 of this story, Hope you can enjoy it. Please if you want, read the prologue of this story too. I am not clear on how many parts it will have but hopefully many more, I have already mapped out how the story will continue but publishing it depends on the readers request.

A.N 2: any feedback would be appreciated! Likes and conditions are appreciated too! Please do not copy my work and give credit if reshared!

[footballerimaginess]

Fluff Alphabet | Trent Alexander Arnold

Here is my fluff alphabet, give it some love and feedback please. This takes me a long time to make, so will really appreciate the love on this fic. Let me know what players you want more fluff alphabets on. Word Count: 1,334 ANNIVERSARY - "Happy Anniversary" you smiled as you read the text and sighed also, knowing that you weren't with him today as he was in Europe. You were so upset but when a bunch of flowers arrived at your door, they instantly made your day even better.

BABIES - Whenever you saw a baby, you were so broody. You and Trent had always spoken about babies and how you would love children in the future. You knew he would be the most perfect father whenever you decided to have babies. When the time was ready of course. COFFEE - "We haven't had a coffee date in ages, come on" you smiled as you suggested to Trent as your eagle eye saw a starbucks in the distance and you knew you needed an iced coffee. "You are the worst, anytime we drive past one you need one" you smirked. "Alright, guess you aren't getting one" you laughed as Trent's brow furrowed. "Well we are here now, so I suppose" he teased. DATE NIGHT - Date nights were rare when you dated a footballer, but Trent always had the best ideas for what you did on date night. It was always so special because he put so much effort into your dates it meant so much to you. EXPLORE - One of your favourite things to do was exploring new places, it had been one thing you loved to do. There was so much on this list that you'd both wanted to explore and made sure it was your mission to do so. FLOWERS - One of Trent's ways of showing love was buying you flowers, not really having a reason behind why he got them. But they were always so beautiful whenever he bought them back or got them delivered whenever he wasn't here due to football. He always knew how to brighten up your day even when he wasn't here. GAMES - You loved going to games, whether it was England or Liverpool, you love going to away games on your own and being in the middle of the crowd. It just felt so special supporting your man. HOLIDAY - Holidays were one and the only time seeing Trent in the summer, he always made sure that you would do a lot to try and make up for how much time you missed when the season was happening. You were so excited to spend time with him and having ICKS - The one thing you hated about Trent and was one of your few icks in the relationship. "If you slurp that drink one more time, that straw may be leading somewhere fucking else" you gritted your teeth as he coughed, your comments taking him by surprise. "Woah okay okay" he holds his hands up before gently pushing the glass away from him. JUMPER - "Have you stolen one of my jumpers again? I can't find it anywhere" you turned around as you spoke to him as you had the jumper on. "Oh so you do have it, good job I love you because this is taking the piss now. I love that jumper" he asked you sternly with a straight face. "Well you're not having it back now" you shrugged. KITTEN - You had told Trent that you had wanted a pet, desperately. So when Trent came home with a huge box, you were confused as he placed it in front of you. "Open it" you smiled as you opened the box to reveal the cutest black and white kitten. "Oh my gosh, she is so cute" you whispered as you placed your cat on your chest. LIVERPOOL - You were the biggest football fan before you started dating Trent, so when you would go to games you were just so excited anyway to watch him at Anfield and travelling around the UK and Europe watching the team play. MEETING - You and Trent met at a bar as you walked straight into him, say it was love at first sight. In your mind obviously, not Trent's. But you were too shy to say anything when you bumped into him. But you gradually worked your way over to talk to him more and more. NAME - "So when are you going to be y/n alexander arnold?" the boys asked as you blushed. "I dunno, one day i hope" you shrugged as you watched Trent's facial expression. "Guess you'll just have to wait, gotta keep you on your toes" you laughed as the boys all smirked. "So much love from you there Trent" he laughed. OCEAN - "Come swim with me" you shouted to Trent who was laying on the beach whilst you were standing in the ocean which was looking so beautiful. "You go, it looks so pretty" Trent smiled, shouting away as the beach was so quiet as it was still pretty early.

PAMPER NIGHT - You and Trent were having a pamper night, phones were off (not even allowed to do a sneaky photo for social media because Trent would kill you within seconds that was uploaded). Face masks were always your favourite especially when you had a full collection of them on hand. QUESTION - When Trent popped the question, you thought he was joking when you were on a beach on holiday one summer. You were so shocked when he opened the ring box, taking you completely by surprise. Saying yes of course as you jumped straight onto him as you looked at the ring and grabbed him as tightly as you could. RAIN - Of course the British weather being as awful as it is as always, you stupidly decide to go out for a walk which meant the heavens opened as it usually would. You were absolutely soaked as you ran as fast as you could in the rain. SUNSHINE - You were laying in the sunshine as it hit down onto your chest as hot as he could be. "I could get used to this heat, it feels so glorious. It is a shame that we don't get this weather in England. But it seems lovely" he mumbled as he barely raised a look up as he was enjoying the sunshine.

TRENT - Life with Trent was amazing, working your job was something special you loved working on your photography and getting to do it within football was amazing also. You knew you were so happy with Trent and couldn't wait to experience more life with him. UNDER THE STARS - You and Trent were laying under the stars in your garden, watching the night sky. "I love this, with you" you smiled as you rolled over to talk to him closely. "Me too" Trent whispered gently as he stroked your hair. VICE CAPTAIN - You were so proud of him when he told you that he was becoming vice captain. This was huge for him, especially as he has been at the club for so long. When Trent posted it on his instagram, you were so proud of him and all the fans were too which especially warmed your heart. WEDDING - The wedding wasn't for a while. but you were planning it all and had been for months. It had been a crazy few months, Trent was convinced that you were slowly turning into bridezilla. "We've had so many deliveries, how many things have you got. We are only having one day" you laughed as he was right. But you wanted it to be special. X - The kisses he left you whenever he texted you were always adorable, he was just so cute. YELLOW - "That dress is so beautiful on you, yellow is your colour. Ready" he smiled as he laced your hand in his hand as you headed to the car. You were going to the award ceremony Zzzz - You and Trent were having a lazy day on the sofa after Trent had been having a busy week of training and a midweek European game. All he wanted to do was have a chilled day, laying on the sofa snoozing in and out of sleep.

[cheriladycl01]

I'm not scared! Colby Brock x MotoGPDriver! Reader Part 2

Plot: You made a tweet about Sam and Colby and were in a podcast and they brought up Sam and Colby where you talked about the paranormal and how it doesn't really scare you because you drive motorcycles at over 200mph.

"Sam?" you ask seeing the blonde man behind you.

"Hey!" he exclaims coming forward and pulling you into a hug. You stood there in shock that you were actually meeting these boys and that they were coming to watch you race.

"Hey!" Another voice says from behind Sam, he was taller with dark hair and you knew it was Colby.

"Hey, Colby?" you ask looking over him and he nods.

"Can we post some pictures off us all together?" Sam asks seeing as you guys were all at the airport.

"Yeah sure! I'll drive you guys to the hotel then yeah?" you ask looking over them. You all take a selfie, you stood in the middle of the two of them with a big smile on your face. After taking some more photos you take a rucksack from what was at Sam's feet and he tried to protest but upon seeing how easily you picked up the heavy equipment filled back he let you help out.

"Are you guys doing any filming while you are here, or is this strictly vacationing?" you ask looking over at them while you all clamber into the lift.

"We haven't planned on doing any big filming, just TikTok's at the race and stuff! We want to come back here though as there's so many more places..." Colbly answers glancing over at you.

"Okay, well let's get you guys set up in the hotel and then my treat and I'll take you both out for food" you grin and they both nod eagerly.

You take them to the carpark and they look around trying to find out which car is yours.

As you start to walk all the way towards the back Colby starts to complain as to why you'd park so far away when there's so many available spaces towards the front.

When they walk up to your New Model Ferrari, your question is answered.

"Holy shit, that's a nice car!" Sam exclaims looking over it, not evening daring to touch it. You whip the key out your pocket opening the boot where you strategically place their bags. One of them would have to have a bag or two in the second back seat because of the sport aspect to the car.

"I really should have brought the Audi" you sigh, looking at the bags in the back before you slowly close the boot. Sam and Colby sharing a look with each other.

"I call Shot Gun!" Sam cries going to the front driver's side door.

"You aren't driving my car, Sam!" you giggle knowing he hasn't realized where he's stood.

"Right, yeah I forgot we're in the UK" Sam laughs but see's Colby getting in the passenger side door.

"Snooze you loose buddy!" he exclaims making you laugh.

The drive to the hotel wasn't too long, you guys spoke about anything that came up in conversation. It was all so natural as if you'd known them for years and you felt so comfortable in their presence.

You helped them into their hotel room, while Colby made a little video to put on his Instagram story.

"Hey guys, it's Colby. I'm of course here with Sam and we're here in England again" he shows the camera the outside of the hotel that was in the Hilton on the edge of the Silverstone Race Track. "But we have a very special guest that we are being shown round by today. Y/N Y/L/N!" he says panning the camera to you and showing them you.

"Hey!" you grin before Colby switches the camera back on him and Sam.

"We're going to go live here later, so go comment under my latest twitter post all the questions you guys want to ask and we'll answer any questions you guys have an discuss what is up and coming for the three of us!" he grins before ending it with a little peace out sign.

"That gives us time to discuss over dinner yeah?" Sam asks and you nod.

You guys all head on a train into London to get some food from the city rather than staying around Silverstone.

"So, have you guys thought of any locations you want to investigate?" you ask, knowing there was definitely some in the UK that they hadn't done here in the UK, but you travelled round so much that you were pretty much willing to go anywhere.

"We were thinking of going back to Australia, we did it at the start of the year and we got some really interesting footage while we were there" Sam offers.

"I don't think we've done enough in the UK either, there's some great places in Wales, and Scotland we haven't done too!" Colby suggests, he loved when they visit here, it always had some of the best energy whenever they came here.

"Yeah I feel like you guys don't want to rinse America of its haunted spots, so either of those would be cool! There's so many like haunted places worldwide, I guess it's just an issue of asking permission of whether or not you can get to view it like solo and be able to have the place to yourself!" you admit, understanding why they probably hadn't done the Paris Catacombs or Bangarth Fort in India or Proveglia Island in Italy.

"Well, it's up to you maybe we can ask what the fans think tonight. We have time, I cant imagine Y/N will be free for filming for a while anyway right?" Colby asks, again. He was fully aware of your driving schedule but he knew it was a lot of exhausting travel.

After lots of talking and getting to know them you all went back to the hotel, you set up Colby's phone in their room and started and insta live while you and Sam had the Tweet up that Colby posted earlier in the replies.

"Hey guys!" Colby smiles as he watches fans flood into the chat already starting to ask questions in the chat.

"Okay guys, we'll only be answering questions from the tweet we sent out on the shared account earlier okay?" Sam laughs seeing people asking who you were and what you were doing there.

You were laughing when you saw fans asking if you were Colby's new girlfriend. They were the ones that were obviously Sam and Colby fans and didn't venture into motorsport.

There was others in the live defending you, trying to explain who you were.

"Y/N you wanna introduce yourself?" Sam asks seeing the majority of comments be asking who you were and what you were doing with the boys.

"Okay, so for the Sam and Colby fans I'm a MotoGP driver, so I drive motorbikes around race tracks all over the world, really really quickly! I made a silly drunk tweet saying I wouldn't be scared to collab with these two and here we are!" you grin, as people start flooding the comments.

"Yes, guys she is very fast! We'll be cheering for her at Silverstone!" Sam says looking at the more comments flooding in.

"Okay guys, we are moving onto your twitter questions now. No more answering from here!"

"Okay the first one I found is, is Y/N good at what she does?" Sam says before raising and eyebrow.

"Well, Sam and Colby haven't watched me yet. But you can see all of my races of YouTube!" you smile politely.

"She's a better driver than the both of us, I'll give her that!" Colby exclaims looking at him phone seeing the emoji spam.

"Where are you thinking of investigating next and will it be with Y/N?" you read out, scrolling through the twitter thread trying to find good ones.

"Next one coming out wont be Y/N because we haven't even filmed with her yet, and I think we might be filming with one other person before her depending on schedules. so maybe Y/N can be a hell week guest if the timings right? But... again not sure if we'll want to do something with her before then, incase that's too much for her to ...yano handle!" Colby explains while smirking as you turn to hit him in shock.

"I would be fine on hell week! I'll smash anything, any challenge let me rephrase that you give me and I will do it!" you grin.

"Mmmmm, we'll see!" Sam teases.

"I mean, while we are here in the UK, would you have time to do something. We've got some contacts we could whip something up?" Colby asks reading the instagram chat seeing that everyone's wondering why you aren't doing anything soon as you don't have to be in Austria until August the 16th.

"I mean, I'm down..." you grin, wondering where they could possibly take you.

"Okay, guys you heard Y/N if we can get something sorted we may be filming in the next few days after the race!" Sam exclaims happier.

Once you'd sifted through most of the questions about who you were and why you were with the boys you got onto the more random questions that were just sort of get to know you.

"When do you prefer to work out, morning or evening?" Sam asks, looking from Colby to you.

"I'm definitely an evening guy, I tend to be more proactive around that time and I've never been one to wake up early with a lot of motivation for the day" Colby explains before Sam nods and agrees that he prefers the evening.

"As and athlete I have a set plan and that means I work out in both the morning and the evenings but I honestly prefer the morning because it feels to me like I've got it out the way!" you giggle and Colby looks over at you shocked.

"You work out twice a day?" he asks with a raised brow.

"Yeah, I have to have really good core strength for on the bike" you nod.

"What's your go-to comfort food?" you ask looking between them while they have a thoughtful expression.

"Mmmm probably like my mum's cooking something like her mashed potato or her lasagna" Colby offers when thinking about it for a little bit.

"Oh! I didn't even think of my parents cooking, I went for more of a guilty pleasure and went for Taco Bell Burrito!" Sam nods and then they turn to you.

"Well, comfort food for me has to be healthy so I actually learnt from good friend of mine and F1 driver Lando Norris about this chicken and pineapple wrap that he has and once i tried it ... just stuck in my head 24/7 on a loop" you laugh, before finding a picture of you and Lando eating them.

"Chicken and Pineapple?" Sam asks with a frown on his face and you just chuckle.

"Don't knock it until you try it!" you exclaim.

"Suppose you enjoy pineapple on pizza too!" Colby jokes.

"On cheat day i do yes!" you grin.

You guys answer a few more questions before you agree that you need to go to bed as it's media day tomorrow and you'll have to be up early.

Taglist:

@richardsamboramylove55

[ponyosmom35]

you and I

simon ghost riley x reader

Liability chapter twenty two

synopsis: after the betrayal, simon is scrambling to make things right. trying to push reader away for her own safety, but she's too stubborn to agree.

read the previous part first!

Liability masterlist:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

She paced back and forth, waiting for him to return. Her mind was in shambles. Never had she actually expected someone as wonderful as him to want her. She was in awe of their kiss. Unlike anything she’d ever felt before. The passion, the longing. She’d do anything to kiss him again, to never let him go. She wanted to show him how much she fucking loved him. She sits on her cot, braiding her freshly washed hair mindlessly to pass the time. Her body ached, begging for sleep, but her mind refused to let her close her eyes. She knew that Simon had responsibilities, but right now he was the only one who could comfort her. She needed him to tell her it was gonna be okay. 

It wasn’t for nearly another hour when Simon finally walked into the room. She instantly stands and moves over to him, wrapping her arms around his middle, burying her face in his best. He holds her and rubs her back. He takes his mask off and throws it to the side. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah” she nods

“So whats the word? What do we do now?”

“You’re going home” 

“You’re coming with me right?” 

“No”

“Hassan?” she asks 

“we've gotten intel on Hassan, we learned he's planning to take things nuclear. got a set up in Chicago, we're flying out in the morning” 

“Okay” she nods 

He looks down, refusing to meet her gaze “I've debriefed with Laswell and we're transporting you back to base in the UK immediately. From there you’ll take the first flight back to the states where you’ll be personally escorted home. Pack up we've got 20 minutes till your transportation arrives”

“And what about you?” she asks 

“I'll be joining the rest of the team for Chicago in the morning. just need to tie up a few... loose ends here”

“When will you be back?”

“it's up in the air at the moment, we'll try and get him fast but we can't be sure. could be a day, could be a week... or longer” 

“I should come with you then -”

Simon’s jaw tenses as he steps closer to her “its not safe for you, I’m trying to keep you out of harms way”

“I don’t wanna leave you, what if you get hurt -”

“This is for the best” he says coldly, she stares up at him and takes a step back, recognizing the cold tone. “This isn’t going to work out… between us”

“Why?” she asks as her heart stops, tears instantly fill her eyes “why would you say that to me?”

“I just... can't put you in danger like this anymore. I need to put the team first, we just got too invested and its a mess now. I'm sorry. I need to break things off before it gets too deep”

“If you’re saying this because of what happened, it was nothing! I’m fine! Don’t push me away again” she asks 

“I knew this would happen and I was too fucking stubborn to stop it! I tried so hard to keep you away, I destroyed us both for nothing. this is my life the people who get close to me die! I never should've let you in” he shakes his head, turning his back as he runs his hands through his messy hair. This was hurting him just as much as her, but he knew it was better this way. 

“Simon don't say that, I'm here, we're here! I'm gonna go back to base and you're gonna deal with Hassan and I'll still be here when you come back!”

“not this time love... this is it. I'm not letting you risk your safety again after what happened back there. this time. you're better off without me.”

“no I'm not! every second we're apart I feel like I can't breathe! I understand why you think we're a bad idea, but it's not a crime to let yourself be happy! what happened here with Graves was not your fault, you saved my life, you brought me home! you're a fucking hero Simon!” she pauses and take his hands 

“don't push me away again, you’re the only thing that makes sense to me” she admits 

“You have no idea how hard this is. You're everything I've ever wanted. How can I possibly face you again after this? how can I let you near me? the darkness in me will take us both”

“I won’t let that happen”

“you've seen my face! you know my name! now that we're associated you'll be used against me!”

“if that's the price I have to pay for you then so be it! I don't care!”

“But I do! I can’t fucking let you get hurt again don’t you understand?”

“If association is what you're worried about then I quit, I won't work on base anymore! Just tell me what you want from me and I’ll do it!”

“I don't know! I don't know anymore! everything's such a god damn mess and I'm sick of losing the people I love, okay?!” tears well up in his eyes as he finally breaks. 

“I know, but you’re not gonna lose me Si” she says gently as she walks over to him on the bed and pulls him into her. He leans his head on her chest as she wraps her arms around his shoulder. He holds her tightly as she runs a hand through his hair. 

“I'm sorry, I just can't let you go through this any-”

“I don't care! I want it all, give me the pain if you're my reward”

“Why can’t you ever make things easy for me?”

“Not in my nature”

He kisses the top of her head and caresses her cheek with one hand. his lips are soft and teasing as he pulls her in closer for a deep and intense kiss. he holds her tightly, not breaking the kiss until they’re both short of breath. 

“You win” he says “anything you want, I’ll do it love” 

“All I want is you”

Tag list:@vivi123abc