#CAL PRAT

[ernestdescalsartwok]

CAL PRAT-COLONIA-ART-PINTURA-PAISATGES-PANORAMICA-COLONIES TEXTILS-LLOBREGAT-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS por Ernest Descals Por Flickr: CAL PRAT-COLONIA-ART-PINTURA-PAISATGES-PANORAMICA-COLONIES TEXTILS-LLOBREGAT-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS- Paisaje de panorámica de la Colonia Textil de CAL PRAT, Puig-Reig, el conjunto de la fábricas, la iglesia y las viviendas se funden con los árboles y la vegetación que rodean la antigua Colonia, logrando una gran profundidad con la naturaleza que emana del agua del río Llobregat en la comarca del Berguedá en la provincia de Barcelona, Catalunya interior. Pintura del artista pintor Ernest Descals sobre papel de 50 x 70 centímetros. Colección de Arte sobre los infinitos aspectos que me ofrecen las antiguas Colonias Textiles.

[kheta]

Toxic Severus x Lily x James i cbf writing a wider story to go with this scenario/scenes so... have it as is bc I actually like it. And yess, delulu and oblivious James in amongst a toxic snily codependency is *kiss* tw: child-abuse, somewhat graphic depictions

‘You said it was getting better Sev,’ Evans’ voice was filled with a slow burning anger that James was attuned to. It was a bit shocking, really, everyone knew that Evans had the biggest soft spot for the slimy snake, sticking up for him at every turn. As if the Slytherin had any right to her kindness, filled to the brim with dark magic as he was.

Snivellus sighed, turning an equally as unexpected glare on the Gryffindor. James felt his anger whirling away, a tornado inside of his stomach. 

He knew the prat was every bit the bastard that James had pegged him for! Of course he’d save the way he treated Evan’s for their private moments. Too scared of the retribution from Gryffindor if they knew what he did to Evans.

The grins and laughter the two shared were obviously faked, Evans just wasn’t accustomed to how awful Slytherin students were, probably got all infatuated by the first pureblood that gave her a second glance, as if James himself couldn’t treat her better, couldn’t protect her more than the git standing before them.

‘He is Lils, why do you think he asked Cal to hire me? He wants to do better, honest,’ the nickname comes out of nowhere, as does the gentle tone. If he didn’t know Snivellus better, he’d think the soft admonishment was true, that the snake actually cared for a Muggleborn. But Slytherin’s are good actors, all that cunning had to go somewhere, right? James had been watching the snake for five years now and none of this git’s manufactured kindness had ever been on display before. 

‘He just– gets a bit scared sending me back to Hogwarts. You know how ma was treated, he doesn’t like the reminder.’

Evans sends out a short, aggrieved huff, dragging the snake to sit beside her as if he hadn’t thrown a cutting curse at James just last term. As if the Christmas holidays had somehow made the Snivellus a better person.

‘Sev, he’s– What he does isn’t right, he never should have to work to be a better Da, that’s fucking bonkers.’

No, what was truly bonkers is that Lily Evans had learnt how to swear over the Christmas holidays. 

Again Snivellus’ mask begins to crack, he pulls to the corner and sends a withering glare at Evans, of the sort he would never do in front of the rest of Gryffindor. James glared at him harder, grip over his wand tightening, a vindication settling over his standing form. Evans was too good for the snake, didn’t realise that his playing nice in front of other students was just a front to manipulate her, but James and Sirius knew better. Had been searching for the cracks in the fake friendship they’d had for years now.

‘Lils just drop it! It’s not like I’m an amazing son,’ he spits the words acidically, levering Evans with a smouldering, noxious glare he usually reserves for James, ‘And he’s a fair lot better than any other Da in Ends, he drove me here, didn’t he? Got me a job. Says sorry when he gets a bit into his cups. Let me keep going to Hogwarts even after Ma carked it, he’s no Harrison Evans but he fucking tries!’

Instead of backing down at the anger, walking away and ignoring Snivellus like she ignores James, Evans comes alive at the anger. Whipped over to face him, face flushing as she growls out, harrowing her own angry, captivating, green-tinged stare at Snape and lifting a finger to his chest.

‘My Da’s not perfect Sev, but he doesn’t fucking beat me blue!’

What?

‘It wasn’t even a beating, so what my arm’s a mess–’

‘No, no don’t you dare act like it’s all bloody okay! If my Da did anything like that you’d want me to te–’

‘If you fucking tell anyone I will–’

‘So what, I just let you go home and hope he doesn’t kill you this ti–’

‘Da would never!’

‘He would Sev! He’s been hitting you for as long as I’ve known you, why can’t you just accept–’

‘There’s nothing to accept Lils,’ Snape cries out, holding his hands up to cup her pointed fingers, ‘I’m telling you it’s not like that, Da loves me. He does, so just shut it!’

James wanted nothing more than to actually disappear. Disapparate? End up in another compartment, for sure. One that didn’t have Snape looking at Evans with the sort of pleading he had never once given to the Marauders. Needed to get away from the soft droop of his piercing raven-black eyes, to not notice how Snape’s lips went from dry and chapped to moist as he bit down, truly looking at Evans. Not through or past or over her like he did James. 

Snape wasn’t supposed to beg, wasn’t supposed to look at Evans with reverence, as if their weird, awful, wrong, fake-friendship meant anything to the slimy snake. Snape was a tome of dark magic and acidic words and gut-punching spells that masqueraded in a students body. He wasn’t– He wasn’t like Siri, stuck in an awful house, because Snape’s family had to love him, right? Snape made sense, a dark-arts loving snake in a family of dark-arts loving snakes, Snape proved that in their very first meeting. Siri was a Gryffindor stuck in a snake family, Snape– He had to be telling the truth. Evans just cared too much about the snake to know what normal discipline was like, Muggles were probably less strict with their kids. Maybe– maybe his dad never hit him and neither did Remy’s, but their parents were soft, Snape probably just had parents like Pete, who could get a little rou–

Godric, he felt sick. This was all wrong, he wanted to prank them, not watch enviously as the sleazy, greasy snake he hated held hands with the most beautiful witch in their year.

Instead of disappearing, James sits before the odd Slytherin-Gryffindor duo he had hated and he watched. This didn't make sense. That’s the only reason he was watching, he wanted it to make sense. Wanted Snape to show his true colours and Evans to learn the errors of her ways, picking a no-name Pureblood family like Snape to attach to, instead of an established family like Potter.

Nothing made sense anymore, because Evans moved to take Snape's tattered robe from his shoulders and James was going to have to watch them shag, wasn’t he? That was an awful thought, stirring inside of his stomach even as his eyes stayed spelled to the scene. 

He was going to watch the girl he had been asking out for the past year shag his mortal enemy. James didn’t want to believe the rumours going around, because even as a Muggleborn Evan’s was the prettiest, smartest witch he knew, but there was no other reason for a proper young lady to be unbuttoning another young man's shirt and it made sense really. Of course sex was why the Slytherin kept Evans around, what use did a no good pureblood like him have in a fragile, naive Muggleborn like Evans?

Except– Except today any form of sense kept unravelling because Snape’s school shirt was unbuttoned, falling to his long, floppy elbows and Evans was crying. Rolling his eyes, James paid no mind to the stab of disappointment aching somewhere near his waist, only grinning at the reaction. So they probably hadn’t ever shagged and looking at Snape’s greasy, lanky body had made her realise she could do better, there was no way a greasy bat like…

Snape had abs?

No. No! How dare he?

Snape was stupidly tall with an ugly mug and greasy hair and pasty skin. 

And yet. Abs. Now he didn’t know why Evans would be crying, because Merlin was Snape a bit more sculpted than he had ever presumed. Still wiry, with a small waist, pasty skin and a trail of dark, thick hairs snaking from his belly button, down to his trousers, but there was a concave near his stomach and chiselled, defined lines from his pecs down. Merlin above even James could admit if you put a bag over his head, Snape wouldn’t be half bad looking and then–

Well, then James’ roaming gaze caught on to what exactly made Evans gasp, what caused her to tear up and run her fingers over Snape’s sickly pale skin.

Snape had said his arm was a mess, which it was, mottled a blue darker than even the night sky. The bruises crept up in his shoulder in odd bunches. Snape talked about this mess casually, the same way Petey talked about his parents giving him a growling. Like it was just normal for Snape to walk around with his dad’s shoe size imprinted like a sick temporary tattoo across his shoulder.

Evans wasn’t overreacting. Snape’s dad might actually kill him, he thinks nostrils flaring. Gaze wandering over to the stark, yellow-green hand marks lining his elongated neck and the large, almost scabbed maroon-ish bite mark at his chest.

‘Sev– did he…?’ Evans ran her fingers up Snape’s chest and to the bite mark, her fingers making delicate circles around the wound causing his stomach to whirl oddly, her voice cracking as she whispered.

He wanted to sick up at the thought, though he was still unnervingly enraptured by the scene before him. Shivering at the touch, Snivelly snapped his eyes to Evans at the last minute, a weak, harsh laugh leaving his throat.

‘No– Merlin, no Lils, I told you I was necking with Alex for the summer.’

Evans pulls back at the admittance, a cute blush consuming her face as she glanced away with pursed lips. Despite the visage she was and the slow building relief from not having to watch his crush shag someone else, James couldn’t help but feel underwhelmed at the admittance.

Snape managed to snag a bird, but James couldn’t? 

Though, he thought once more staring at the duo, he didn’t just want any old bird like Snivellus. He wanted a proper, gorgeous flower. Pale and tall and beautiful, with brains and bite to boot.

‘Right. Did Alex also…’ Here she trails her hands from the bite mark to the handprints, her own slighter fingers not able to mask the rough bruises left there.

Merlin, did Snape like it rough? Did he like it when James pushed him around? The thought flopped somewhere uncomfortable for him to hang onto, his warm, walnut coloured eyes dilating at the prospect. Was that why Snape always fought back against his betters? Even he had to know that the Noble and Valiant House of Potter ranked far above most normal purebloods. Did he have to pull back on the pranks if Snape did like it like that?

Empathetically no, is the decision Snivelly makes for him, looking to the side, his long raven hair ghosting over his shoulder as he shook his head, making a mesmerising curtain against his pale neck

If anything that made it worse, something which Evans agreed on if the tight pulling of her ginger brows meant anything.

Wizardingfolks didn’t leave bruises like that on anyone's skin, much less their own kids. Even Siri’s shitty parents wouldn’t knock him about with their own hands, it was unheard of in Wizarding society, children were to be treasured and disciplined, not treated like blimmin’ house-elves in Dark Families.

‘Sev, just– just think about moving in with us, please.’

Okay, even James had to admit that was a terrible offer. Lovely as Evans was to look at, she was still a Muggleborn. Who would give up living with their own family for living with Muggles?  Not even Siri would, right? 

Would he… If it meant not being with his parents?

Merlin, would Pete? Could he just; offer it to them like Evans had? Without restraint or boundaries?

‘I don’t need your charity Lily.’

‘It’s not charity, it’s the soddin’ right thing to do, Tuney’s started Uni and ma and da would be thril–’

‘Your parents hate me.’

‘My parents don’t hate you, they don’t even know you Sev, you don’t let them try.’

Unable to be swayed by the witches' argument, Snape pursed his lips and looked away, his own long fingers coming up to hastily pull and button up his school shirt.

This left James with the unwanted realisation that he was stuck under his cloak, in a closed train compartment with the only two students his year happy to hex the life out of him if they knew he was there. Thankfully enough, after an agonising two hours of listening to them talk about potions and charms and some oaf named Dursley, the two begin to nod off.

Snape is first, his answers becoming more slurred as he continues to lean on the window to his right. After his answers become painfully incoherent, Evans sits in silence, her own eyes tracking the space between the two of them. In an unexpected show of audacity, when Snape is very firmly asleep, Evans leans her head against his broad shoulder, feet tucked under her inexplicably short skirt, the smooth valley of skin from her knees to ankle bare for all to see and her usually bright, emerald eyes coming to a soft, gentle close. He waits for a few minutes, watching as their breathing somehow becomes more in sync and opens the compartment door. Neither move to hex him, or move at all, Evans happily groping at Snivelly’s robes and Snivellus holding his arms to his chest, as if a beautiful witch wasn’t lying against his arm for the taking.

James leaves the compartment more keyed up than ever, a difficult, clawing anger at his chest. The two losers don’t stir for a bit as he slides the door shut with a firm, sudden snap.

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There’s a million and one thoughts racing through his brain on a well-trimmed cleansweep, twisting and turning as they look for the golden snitch, the proper answer to these thoughts. The thoughts had in fact been racing through his brain for hours now. He trudges to where he had left his friends, sliding the door open and wrenching his cloak off immediately. 

Remy’s laughter dies down as he peers at James with a wide, amber-tinged curiosity. 

Not one to fully think through his decisions and having sat on this tantalising idea for far too long, James bunches his cloak to his school bag and pierces his still laughing friends with an inquisitive glance. The snitch was gleaming in his mind, Pete and Siri just had to move so James could grab it. Could hold onto the idea that Evans had unknowingly released to the aether. Neither Pete nor Siri notice him, too caught up in a game of exploding snap that had left Remy with some rather glaring soot marks and a messy bush of brown hair.

‘Move in with me,’ he states with more confidence than he feels.

Ocean blue and hazy grey eyes whip towards his direction, a sea of black curls and a soft trail of blonde hair both tilted to the side as they take in their missing friend. Neither spoke, their eyes darting around the room to look for whom exactly James was speaking to.

‘Both your parents are shite and I’ve had more money in Gringotts than I’ll ever need, move in with me.’ Both Pete and Siri don’t look inclined to say yes, their faces twisted to something almost Snape-like. He steamrolls ahead, voice steadily burning as he keeps talking. If a Muggleborn like Evans could make the offer, so could Heir Potter. ‘Mum and Dad would love to have other kids around the estate and I’m sick of seeing you two come back to Hogwarts worse for wear. We’ll be able to get it approved, a formal adoption and everything. You could be Peter and Sirius Potter and no one would bat an eye.’

Not particularly true, the Black’s could protest, but the status the Potter family held before their migration to Great Britain was greater than the Status the Black family held. Contentious for more current generations who mocked even the Malfoy’s for their migration from France in the 12th Century, but noble and with extreme merit considering the Potter Predecessors and all their achievements. Just because they were different continents, didn’t mean his family was powerless here, they didn’t need the stinkin’ Blacks to uphold their status. James could pull his friends into his family and make sure they never turned up like Snivellus, bruised to the days.

Neither Siri or Pete reply, both nervously clutching the cards in their grip. James was right to be worried, they had to know that. That’s why they were nervous. They knew they deserved better.

‘Jamie–’ starts Siri, voice dropping to a soft candour, his own face settling on a malcontent frown, ‘That’s… It’s a sweet offer mate, but my Uncle and I have a plan, you know that. I’ll get away from my family as soon as we graduate.’

Peter pipes up as well, ‘I know they might seem a bit, mean. But my parents genuinely care about me Jamie, I’m not gonna give up on them.’

James thinks of large, purple and green bruises lighting a pale, breathing canvas up and bristles at the words.

‘I don’t care,’ he spits, arms crossing over his chest as he plops down next to Remy, ‘Parents shouldn’t– Shouldn’t do that to their kids.’

‘They’re not doing anything Jamie, Siri’s parents like the Dark Arts and mine are strict, you really don’t need to make such a big offer.’

Petey’s wrong, because Evans made the offer and Snape has a helluva streak of bruises and Petey doesn’t even let himself eat to fullness, too worried about his mum’s apparent strictness.

‘It’s not normal.’ He cries, hands coming to slap against his thigh, seeing only a loop of healing bruises across otherwise unblemished skin. ‘You– You’re mum’s made you cry more than any snake at school and Siri’s mum made him cast an unforgivable, you– you can’t be happy there Petey.’

‘Mum might be a bit over-bear–’

‘You lost three stone this summer and she said that you were finally starting to look like a normal blok–’

‘Salazar’s bleeding hide Jamie! Why are you so strung about shite said in the pa–’

It’s hard, arguing against two people instead of one.

‘Don’t start Sirius! After everything your parents have said, after that howler in–’

‘So Mum was mad! It’s not a big deal!’

‘Mum’s aren’t supposed to call their son’s failures!’ He shouts in exasperation.

Peter snarls at him, his usually kind eyes seething, voice coming out of clenched teeth, ‘Not everyone has perfect parents James, you know this!’

‘They don’t need to be perfect, they just need to be ki–’

‘Oh, put a fucking sock in it Jamie! Why’re you trying to air our dirty laundry out for everyone to feck–’

‘It shouldn’t be dirty laundry, there shouldn’t be anything to air out, if your parents actually loved you–’

‘If you finish that sentence James Fleamont Potter I will hex you to pieces!’

Godric almighty he was so mad, couldn’t see beyond the crimson narrowing his vision. Peter and Sirius were wrong, were lying to him just like Snape was lying to Evans. That's the only reason Peter would pretend to be so mad at him. James would not let it go, wouldn’t let them think for a second that they were worth less than Severus fucking Snape, wouldn’t let them think that whatever weird, undisclosed behaviour their parents set on them was in any way right.

‘Why? Because I’m right? Because you know that normal parents don’t scream at you for eating dinner, Petey? Don’t lock their fridges and cupboards as punishment? Because parents who care aren’t supposed to make you use blood quills!?’

Sirius glares at the reminder.

‘Once! My parents used one blood quill, to teach me a lesson. Once, Jamie. Stop acting like this is a big, fecking deal!’

Sirius sounded so anguished as he screamed, his voice rising and quivering in the air, wet with his anger, the cards he had flying to the ground as he pulled James to his feet, grip unrelenting on his collar.

‘It is!’ He shouts, absolutely red with fury, channelling his inner Evans maybe, ‘It’s a big deal because I don’t know if the next time I see you after Summer Break is gonna be with the both of you shoved in a fucking coffin. It’s a big deal because parents are supposed to love you, supposed to care for you not– Not whatever the fuck your parents are doing now!’

Sirius doesn’t answer, his usually delightful features pulled into a withering glare, channelling as much Snape as James had been channelling Evan’s. Sirius chucks James with a frustrated snarl to the ground. Peter doesn’t answer the accusations either, chucking his cards down and moodily looking at the wall behind them.

They’re left with a sharp bang as Sirius leaves the compartment, all the quasi-confidence James had held crumbling as Peter stays silent and Remy just bumps their shoulders together, as if the contact could somehow pull James’ words from the air and lead the Marauders to the familiar, happy, camaraderie-based silence they had once held. He doesn’t know what to do now, so stuck in their regular routine to figure out where this had all fallen apart. Stupid fucking Snivellus and Evans, making James out to be the bad guy to his friends. Silently, James fumes, too lost in his anger to see why everything had fallen to pieces.

He was just being a Gryffindor, like Evans, why were his friends more mad than Snivelly at the inquisition?

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The anger does not abate come morning, left to stew as he and his friends had stormed away, uncaring of the feast before him. Left to stew the next day, when Sirius and Peter pointedly waited for James to sit in their usual spot at back of Charms and made their way to the very front, leaving him with Remy’s shy smile and quiet humour. Left to stew in Defense, when Remy had wordlessly clasped James’ wrist and dragged him to the side when they were asked to pick partners.

It all comes to head a few weeks later, when they’ve got a break between classes and instead of mucking about with him, Sirius and Peter are down at the Lake with the girls. Its taking all of James' admittedly weak self-control to not pull his wand out, cast the incarcerous spell and haul his friends back to the Potter Estate, where they will be safe from any harm. 

Remy, in true him fashion, hasn’t yet figured out how to deal with any of their anger and has instead decided to keep James away from Siri and Petey as if the distance could somehow fix whatever he broke between them that weird, awful first day back at Hogwarts.

Coming onto nearly fifteen days from then, James knows his temper is frayed more so than usual. He’s supposed to be the one with the ideas, the one to push the Marauders forward. Instead he’s standing under an archway watching his friends like a stranger, Remus going on about getting a head start on their studies.

Seeing Sirius flirt with Meadows, James can’t appreciate Remus’ kindness. His friends were wrong, were lying to him and were frankly, being stupid and ungrateful.

There was only one other family who had migrated to Great Britain pre-12th Century and could claim to have an equal amount of acclaim as the Potter family, as far as James knows though, that family is less than a decade away from extinction. Not even the Noble and Striking House of Malfoy or the Malevolent and Acrimonious House of Lestrange could contest if the Potter’s wished to adopt from the almost ruined House of Pettigrew. Siri’s parents could be dicks about the whole thing, but if they didn’t want to cause a scandal in Pureblood Society by revealing their treatment of their Heir Apparent, the Black’s would do well to hold their tongue.

James was giving them a chance at freedom, at kindness for the sake of kindness, not for some weird screwed up power play like the Pettigrew’s and Black’s. He knows he can be a bit short-sighted at times, but really he was doing this for them.

Glaring at his friends, he sees a curtain of red near Meadow’s own black curls and feels his anger pulse to the sky. 

This was all Evans' fault. If the know-it-all bookworm hadn’t planted this idea in his head, James could still have his friends sitting and laughing with him, not– Not sitting away from him, ignoring him and rejecting him just like Evans did and Snape did and huffing, his eyes flicker to the biggest source of his consternation.

Snivellus, sat away from all his friends like the freak he is, hiding the damning things his parents did to him, just like James hid what Siri and Petey’s parents did to them.

The thoughts keep tangling in his head and before he knows it, before he can think better of it, before he can remember that there are other students around, he’s stalking to the area where Snivellus is sitting alone, huddled over a dark tome, the shade of the trees casting shadows on his skin.

He knows Evans is near, had seen her. He doesn’t care. This is all their fault. If Evans hadn’t– If Snape hadn’t.

Godric, he does not know what to do with the well of anger inside of him, how to dispel the furious conglomerate of emotions and memories stirring within. Something whispers in his mind, a vindictive voice he rarely indulges in.

Go on then, it purrs, he deserves it.

He does. 

Remus is coming after him, his voice soft, biting in the ways only Remus knows how to bite; softly, without malice yet filled with fervour. 

‘Levicorpus!’ He shouts, dangling Snape in the air. Snape’s wand slips to the ground from his pocket. 

‘James, knock it off!’ 

Who bloody well cares Remus! It’s Snivellus, Snivellus who started this screwed up thing. And it’s him who would end it, thinks James. If- if Peter and Sirius understood what James was scared of, what could happen to them, then they’ll get it. They’ll get why he’s being so protective. 

They couldn’t end up like Snivelus. 

Some people come around to gawk, he can feel their stares. He hopes Siri’s in the group, hope Petey recognises that this shit isn’t normal

‘You think you’re so smart don’t you Snape. Lying and hiding behind your thick books. Being a complete prat to Evans. Well you’re not. You’re a lying, cheating, cowardly snake!’ James reckons he sounds a bit like a banshee, not that it matters because Snape just glares at him, his eyes smouldering with the same heat James can feel in the pit of his stomach.

Good.

‘You think you’re brave, Snivellus, think you’re the hero–’

‘Potter! Put him down right this–’

‘Oh fuck off Evans!’ The clearing is so quiet that a pin-drop, a drop of rain could disturb them. Everything is so red he can’t even be bothered to care. ‘Like you’re any better. You walk around here like you’re the sweetest thing since treacle tarts, well you’re not. You’re just as much a conniving, greedy snake as this bastard.’

Someone– Remus he thinks vaguely�� puts their hand on his shoulder, he shrugs it off, meeting Snape’s wide eyes.

Striding forward so he’s just under Snape’s floating figure, James thereafter drops Snape indelicately, catching his collar in his hand.

No one else dares to move around them, too shocked that James Potter himself had shouted insults at not just a Gryffindor, but at the Gryffindor, Lily Evans.

‘Think you’re so strong Potter, picking on someone without a wand.’ Snape’s growl is low, sending goosebumps running across his neck.

‘Think you’re so strong Snape,’ he mocks back, eyes rolling, bringing the older boy so close their faces just about touch, ‘Hiding your bruises.’

Snape pales at the implication, his previous bravado gone as he thrashes in James’ grip.

‘Get your hands off me you freak!’

Nothing, nothing matters anymore. Snivellus is a liar. Evans a coward. James the bad guy. None of it means anything anymore. Something blurry and tenuous whips around his brain.

‘What, scared of me, Snape? I thought you were used to being hurt. Isn’t that what this shit is!’

The thoughts aren’t connecting clearly, they're floating around somewhere and he’s ripping at Snape’s robes. Snape is trying to shove him off and there’s a high-pitched scream and scuffle going on behind them. Not that it matters– James is stronger than Snape, for all Snape packs a mean punch, James is the one on the Quidditch team.

He’s a bit unclear how it happens, but in seconds Snape’s robe has been unbuckled and unknotted, sitting against his shoulders and bearing all those horrible, ugly marks for everyone to see. James traces them with his bespectacled gaze like an artist looking at their muse

James doesn’t know what he wants to say, can feel a jumble of words twisting inside of him, but there’s a blur of ginger and he’s suddenly on the ground, six foot worth of ivory skin and bones straddling him and the girl of his dreams laying harsh, decidedly manly punches on him.

Godric, even for a coward Evans’ is enrapturing in her fury. He can’t think of anything else because unfortunately, she lays a quick, sudden fist to his face and he’s out quicker than a casted nox.

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i had originally planned to make a story from this where james has to grow tf up because peter can't condone what james did to severus and sirius is pissed that james made him empathise with severus and james still doesn't know why he's so obsessed with severus and lily, especially now that severus is the one icing him out and lily is hating him. and after like slow-burn revenge story levels of grovelling, he becomes friends with snily. this friendship is what brings the marauders back together because peter and remus can see how much james has grown and that his apologies are sincere and thoughtful and sirius is so jealous he can't keep being distant because like... he's james' best friend? not snape or evans? and then sirius chills a little because he can see the doechaser friendship rapidly develop into the catalyst that brings all of them into a relo...it's just like. the planning for that became too much. and i have no clue what amount of begging would actually make severus or lily look at james favourbly in this tbh.

[seekercallum]

The past two months had been a whirlwind. Cal had been hoping against hope for something to come of open quidditch tryouts, desperate to get out of school and into the league before Seb missed his window to go to Hogwarts like Mac and Ian already had. The offer from the Tornados still felt like a dream. As did the signing bonus, and the house Cal bought with it. The place was sparsely furnished with only what had already fit in the apartment Al had put them up in while Cal was at school, but it was theirs. A room for each of them, plus space for a couch and a dining table they could all sit around, and a backyard the kids were already in love with. He’d ignored Mac and Ian’s protests that it was still summer and arranged tutors for them already, and as soon as his next paycheck came in it’d be going towards Hogwarts supplies. A few more paychecks should cover the first school tuition payment. Things weren’t exactly safe and secure, but they were working their way there. So long as Cal didn’t fuck things up. 

Cal was used to being the youngest on his team. At Hogwarts he’d been the youngest and smallest on the Gryffindor team for a few years, thanks to starting as a first year. He hadn’t even been among the oldest players last year as Captain, still just a fifth year. But they’d all been kids. The first time he’d set foot in the Tornados locker room, Cal quickly became aware that his team was made up of grown men. He hadn’t really expected to get a spot, but he’d needed it, and it was the same drive that made him hop on Al’s stolen broomstick five years ago and made him claw his way onto the Gryffindor quidditch team his first year and that got him invited to open tryouts at all that landed him a position, not just as a reserve, but as a starting player. 

Cal knew that position came with high expectations. With a lot to prove. Already there were eyes on him. It was rare enough for people to leave Hogwarts to play before their Seventh Year, though it happened. Cal had heard of a few who left before Sixth Year to go play in a different European league, even. He’d been offered some tryouts for those teams, too, but he knew leaving the country wouldn’t have worked. But Cal was still a few weeks shy of his sixteenth birthday, and he was playing for the British League. Reporters had already sent owls, and he hadn’t been quick enough to stop Patricia from cashing in on a feature in some quidditch magazine about “the British League’s Youngest Player in Decades.” Humiliating, and Patty spent all the money going out someplace Cal didn’t even want to know about. At least Al had helped set things up so none of those owls could come to the house anymore. Another favor he owed Al for, but that one had been necessary. He’d been worried the whole team would see him as a prat, though if they did they were civil enough. 

But he could feel their eyes on him too at practices. Watching, wondering if he could possibly be so good as to merit being there when he couldn’t even legally do magic yet. For his part, Cal did his best to keep his head down and work, just like he’d always done. He was quiet, serious, only speaking when spoken to, his focus entirely on not screwing up. There was too much riding on this to get caught up with whether the beaters who were a decade older than him thought he was cool or interesting. He didn’t care if they thought he was cool, so long as they thought he could play. He had to show them he deserved to be here. That he could play as well as the scouts thought he could. That he was committed to the team, to the work, and that giving him a shot—and giving his family a shot—had been worth it. And he was slowly proving that, he hoped. It felt like practices were going well, though Cal still felt rather in over his head; the level of play was miles away from Hogwarts, and there was a learning curve to keeping up with such good players for such long hours of practicing. Not to mention coming home and dealing with Patty’s shit and then starting over the next day. But the season wasn’t starting for another few weeks. That would be when he’d really prove whether or not he deserved to be there. And Cal could feel the mounting pressure as the first match drew closer. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up. 

Today wasn’t the first match, but it was an important day all the same. A scrimmage, between the starters and the reserves. Not the first time they’d done something like that, but today mattered more. They’d play it like a real match; the full pitch, as long as it took, everyone going at full intensity. And the owners and executives would all be in the stands watching, assessing, deciding whether they needed to make any changes to the lineup before the season started. Cal was always early to practice, but today he’d planned to be doubly so. He’d never been late yet, but there’d been a few mornings where even with his cushion of trying to be there an hour early he ended up barely on time thanks to Patricia or the Knight Bus’s unreliable schedule. Cal had asked if the Tornados had any floo connection, to which the assistant coach he’d asked had given him a funny look and said he didn’t rightly know because everyone just disapparated. A second later he’d looked at Cal, realized how young he was, and asked if that was a problem, and Cal had quickly assured the bloke that he’d figure out transportation. It wasn’t the Tornado’s fault Cal couldn’t disapparate yet. Or legally do any kind of magic. Al had offered to come by the house and apparate him to the pitch, to which Cal had politely declined. Al had done enough; Cal could do this on his own. The first morning he’d taken Al’s helpful suggestion of calling a magical taxi to get him, but with all of Cal’s other expenses it was too much to do every day. So the Knight Bus it was. Which worked well enough if he got on it early enough and looked appropriately pathetic to the driver, who’d developed a soft spot for him, lucky for Cal. 

But he should have known that on such an important day as today, What he really should have known was that everything would fall apart even more spectacularly than his plan to leave two and a half hours early accounted for. Things went off course almost immediately. Cal had woken up to the sound of Ian trying to have a quiet argument with Patricia in the hallway, who had apparently decided to get up all the kids to ‘wish him well’ or some shit, as if the kids hadn’t wished him luck last night at an appropriate hour. Despite Ian’s best attempts to cut her off—sometimes Cal wondered if that kid ever slept or if he just sat in his room with an ear against the door—Patricia’s loud arguing with him had her desired effect of waking all the kids up anyways, who were tired and cranky. 

Then Patricia ruined breakfast and had the audacity to tell Cal right before he could leave that she’d canceled the nanny because she was there to take care of her kids. Cal was more angry at himself, really, for not seeing that move coming. And for how he reacted, losing his cool and snapping at Patty. Ruby started crying, Seb and Sadie started trying to say it was their fault, and Mac and Ian both argued with him that he should just leave and let them handle things, that it would just be one missed day of tutoring, but Cal had just hired those tutors and who knew how long he’d last on the Tornadoes to actually be able to afford them? Mac and Ian needed all the tutoring they could get. Plus, Cal had promised them that their new house he’d bought with his signing bonus was a new start for them. They would get to be kids now, as much as they could be. It was bad enough they’d have to sort of help the tutors keep an eye on Seb and Sadie, though they were at least old enough they just needed a bit of supervision. He wasn’t going to leave them all with a baby to watch. Or with the house in a meltdown. 

It took way too long to calm things down, even with Mac and Ian helping. Mostly because Patricia kept making things worse, alternating between yelling at them and then playing the victim. Once they finally got her to storm out of the house, notably without the baby she’d taken it upon herself to watch for the day, Cal realized it was far later than he’d planned to leave. Maybe the smart choice at this point would have been to go to Al’s—maybe this exact situation was why Al had insisted on connecting their new house to his by floo when they’d moved—and ask him to take Ruby, and to take Cal to practice, but they owed Al too much already. Cal wasn’t going to show up to ask for a favor barely into the start of the career that Al was basically responsible for Cal having at all. Plus, he had one more option, though it wasn’t ideal either. He’d filed away the knowledge that the Tornadoes had some sort of daycare in the offices—used by the office workers more than any of the players, from what he’d gathered by how it had been brushed over in his tour of the place. It hadn’t even really been part of his tour, just a passing comment as they walked by a cute room with a bunch of tiny tables and chairs. Cal hadn’t wanted to ask at that point, wanting to seem as normal as possible, but he’d planned to find out a bit more in case of emergency. He was kicking himself for forgetting to check in on that, but practices were long and getting their early and staying late and going home to Patricia and the kids every day was taking a toll. He’d dropped the ball, so now he’d just have to hope for the best. It had to be better than leaving Ruby with the kids after he’d promised them all normalcy. 

So instead of showing up to his most important day of practice so far early and focused, he was frazzled, barely on time, with a squirming three-year-old in his arms as he stumbled down the last step of the Knight Bus and realized he actually didn’t know how to get to the offices from the public entrance—he’d always just gone straight around to the player’s entrance. There was definitely a shorter route to the offices, but Cal didn’t have time to get lost. He barely had time to go the long way. Now he’d be lucky if he was on the pitch geared up and ready to go on time. “Shh, Ruby, it’s okay,” he murmured to his little sister, who was squirming for him to put her down only she walked so slow if he did that he’d definitely be late for everything. “Just a few more minutes, alright, and we’ll find you somewhere to play.” He hoped. Maybe he was late enough all the other players were on the pitch and wouldn’t notice him jogging through the tunnels past the locker room with a kid in his arms.

[maraa755]

Ch. 18, Prat

'My Marauders' Masterlist General Masterlist Read On Wattpad - Here!

Pairings: J.P., R.L., S.B. x OC Warnings: Suggestive Word Count: 4k

Over several minutes, James made multiple attempts to turn his head and shoot Remus dirty looks discreetly. His efforts at subtlety, however, were completely unnecessary. Just as Remus had predicted, Calliope was thoroughly engrossed in the book, oblivious to the silent exchange. She didn’t notice James’s narrowed eyes or the sneer on his face, nor did she catch Remus’s equally narrowed gaze, accompanied by his unwavering smirk.

Sirius, meanwhile, finally peeled his chest and face off the desk, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched lazily.

Similarly to James, though without the frustrated glare, Sirius glanced over his shoulder at Remus and Calliope. His expression was more curious than irritated, eyes flicking between them as they shared the book. He raised an eyebrow, but instead of reacting, he simply observed. 

Sirius opened his mouth to say something to Calliope, but before he could get a word out, he was met with a sharp glare from Remus. Remus subtly shook his head, warning him off. Sirius quirked a brow. 

Sirius didn’t bother wondering if Remus was challenging him—he just assumed. A smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned forward, breaking the silence. “Cal, what’re you reading there?”

Calliope didn’t even glance up from the page, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Shh!” She held her index finger to her lips, silencing Sirius without a second thought.

Remus grinned, shrugging his shoulders, casting a quick look at Sirius, who rolled his eyes.

Sirius turned around back to his original position facing next to James. The boy in glasses turned his head and leaned close to him, whispering something in his ear, to which Sirius vigorously nodded. 

Remus noticed the exchange, and with a swift motion, kicked the leg of James’s chair. James turned around, startled. Remus gave him a pointed look, furrowing his brows in silent inquiry.

All James mouthed was, “We have to talk later,” before turning his back on Remus. 

A few minutes later, the door swung open and Professor Weasley strode in with purpose, her dress swaying with each determined step. Calliope reluctantly pulled her attention away from the book, her gaze shifting to the professor. She noted with concern that Professor Weasley’s normally neat braid was now disheveled, her face flushed, and a sheen of sweat glistened at her hairline. Something had been amiss.

Her eyes widened, and before anyone could react, Sirius spun back around to face Remus and Calliope, his jaw dropping in shock, obviously believing his theory was right. 

“I am so sorry, dears!” Professor Weasley exclaimed, her voice tinged with a mix of relief and exhaustion. “There was an awful swarm of dugbogs terribly close to the school! Albus—Professor Dumbledore—needed all hands on deck.” She gestured animatedly, trying to convey the chaos of the situation. “They nearly sank their teeth into the third-year Care of Magical Creatures students!”

Sirius leaned toward Remus and whispered, “’Dugbog’ better not be a euphemism for our Headmaster’s cock.”

“Anyhow, lovelies,” Professor Weasley continued, trying to regain her composure, “I do believe our time is nearly up.” Several students groaned at the prospect of the class ending, clearly reluctant to leave. “I apologize for the unexpected interruption. Next class, we’ll pick up where we left off and continue our review of the fundamentals.”

And on cue, the clock struck, signaling the end of class.

Calliope closed the book Remus had lent her, sliding it back toward him. Remus frowned slightly and pushed the book back. “Go on, keep it,” he said.

“What?” Calliope asked, her fingers hovering over the book. “You didn’t check this out from the library?”

“I did not,” Remus replied, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

“But you said Pandora recommended it to you?” Calliope’s expression turned into a puzzled smile.

“She did,” Remus confirmed, carefully packing his things into his bag. “I just happened to have already read it before she recommended it.”

Calliope nodded, “I’ll return it to you as soon as I’m finished.”

“No need,” Remus replied, his tone gentle. “Keep it. I left some notes in the margins.”

“Oh,” Calliope said, a touch of surprise in her voice. “Thank you, Remus.” She felt slightly bad about taking his book, but she knew he would keep denying to take it back otherwise.

The remaining boys, already packed, gathered around Remus, impatiently urging him to hurry. "I’m starving, Moony. Can we please get a move on? You too, Cal," Sirius whined dramatically, throwing his head back for emphasis, his Adam's apple bobbing with exaggerated frustration.

Calliope shoved the book into her bag and slung it over her shoulder, while Remus did the same. With everything packed, the group made their way out of the classroom, heading for dinner, Sirius leading the charge as usual, grumbling about how long it had taken.

James walked beside Calliope, stealing glances at her every now and then, his thoughts still lingering on their earlier conversation. Remus trailed just behind, occasionally shooting pointed looks at James

Sirius, oblivious to the silent exchanges, was already a few steps ahead, leading the group with a loud, exaggerated yawn. "Honestly, if I don’t eat soon, I might just collapse," he groaned dramatically.

“Sirius, quiet.” Calliope rolled her eyes. 

James chuckled softly at Calliope’s eye roll, but his attention quickly flicked back to her, his thoughts still tangled up in everything unsaid. He wanted to bring up their conversation again but couldn't find the right moment– especially as they were surrounded by their friends.

Remus, noticing the way James kept looking at Calliope, sighed under his breath. “The pact, Prongs,” he muttered, though not loud enough for Sirius or Calliope to hear.

“Fuck the pact.” James crossed his arms, a frown tugging on his face. 

Sirius, however, was far too wrapped up in his own theatrics. “I mean it, Cal! I could drop dead any second.” He clutched his stomach dramatically as if the mere thought of hunger was unbearable.

“You're impossible,” Calliope retorted, shaking her head with a faint smile. “But fine, let’s hurry before you make this any worse.��

The group finally made their way into the Great Hall, the buzz of chatter and clinking silverware greeting them as they entered. The long Gryffindor table was already crowded with students, but there was just enough space for the four of them to squeeze in.

"Am I safe to take my usual seat?" Calliope asked with a raised eyebrow. Though her tone was joking, both she and the boys knew she was entirely serious.

"Please," Remus said, gesturing for her to sit.

Sirius immediately plopped down, grabbing a plate and piling it high with various types of food. James took his usual seat across from her, casting a glance her way as he slowly began filling his plate.

The group’s casual conversation was interrupted by the sound of polished shoes tapping against the stone floor. Bianca’s short figure came bouncing over to the table, her usual energy apparent in every step. “Calliope!” she called out, drawing the attention of her fellow Ravenclaw.

Calliope blinked, momentarily pulled from her thoughts as she met Bianca’s bright eyes. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to sit with Cassandra and her Quidditch friends, alright?” Bianca said, her voice filled with excitement. “They say I’ve got potential!”

Calliope raised her brows, surprised by the sudden announcement. “You are?”

Bianca nodded enthusiastically, her brown hair swaying with the motion.

“Oh… well, okay. Just be careful.” Calliope said, her tone uncertain.

Bianca shot her a confused glance as if wondering what kind of danger could possibly come from sitting with Cassandra’s Quidditch crew. With a shrug, she turned on her heel and headed over to where Cassandra and her friends were seated, clearly eager to join in.

“‘Be careful?’” Sirius echoed, raising an eyebrow and glancing over at Calliope with a teasing smirk. “Merlin, what does the poor girl have to be careful about? It’s just Quidditch, not a dragon-taming lesson.”

“She’s too bright of a witch to get caught up in Quidditch,” Calliope sighed, absentmindedly pushing her broccoli around her plate with her fork. “She doesn’t need to mess up her head with one of those nasty falls.”

Sirius and James exchanged incredulous looks.

“Excuse me, Calliope, but never—not once—have you expressed any concern for Sirius or me playing Quidditch,” James said, his mouth hanging open in exaggerated disbelief.

“Yeah, well…” Calliope glanced at them with an innocent smile playing on her face. “Like I said, Bianca’s a bright witch.”

“Oi, you calling us d–”

"—Calliope!" A familiar voice called from farther down the table. Calliope's attention snapped toward the source, and she immediately locked eyes with Gideon Prewett’s bright blue gaze.

Gideon flashed her a welcoming grin and gestured for her to join him and his friends, “Settle a bet for us?” 

Sirius’s eyes narrowed slightly as he turned to Gideon. “She’s sitting with us, mate,” he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone as he shifted from playful to stern.

Gideon coughed out a laugh, a smirk tugging at his lips as he responded, “Right, I see. Calliope?”

“Oh—uhm, yes—yes, I can settle a bet, sure,” Calliope replied, a bit awkwardly as she glanced between Gideon and her current table.

Gideon’s face lit up with enthusiasm as he clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! Come ‘ere,” he said, motioning for her to join him with a warm smile.

“Calliope?” James’s voice carried a note of confusion, his eyes following her as she stood up to join the Prewett twins.

“I’ll be back, guys,” Calliope said with a smile. She picked up her plate and took a seat next to Gideon, trying to shake off the awkwardness of the moment. As she settled in, she glanced back at her original table, giving a small wave before focusing on her new company.

"What just happened?" James asked, glancing between Sirius and Remus, confusion written on his face.

Peter, who had just arrived at the Great Hall, slid onto the bench and took Calliope’s now vacant seat. With a grin, he remarked, “Looks like you fools got your girl taken.”

“Peter, I’m not sure I like this new confidence,” Sirius said, jabbing a finger in Peter’s direction. “...Wait, where have you been?”

Remus and James briefly tore their attention away from Calliope, scrutinizing Peter. Despite Peter's usual lack of punctuality, it was hard for them to come up with a reasonable explanation for his tardiness.

“Peeves get you again, Wormtail?” James asked, his hands clasped together as he leaned forward.

“Nope,” Peter said, popping the ‘p’ as he piled food onto his plate. “Just met with a friend, that’s all.”

James and Sirius exchanged skeptical glances. “A friend?” Sirius echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Since when did you start making friends outside of this table?”

“Sirius!” Remus scolded. 

Peter shrugged, seemingly unfazed by their scrutiny. “Well, things change. Anyway, let’s just eat.”

“Ah, ah, ah… not so fast,” Sirius said, his tone teasing yet insistent. “Who’s this friend?”

Peter looked up from his plate, an evasive smile playing on his lips. “Just someone I know from another House. No big deal.”

The three boys exchanged knowing glances, each of them coming to the same unspoken conclusion. Ever since Sirius had accidentally discovered what he had initially thought were Astronomy notes, but had turned out to be Peter’s diary, there had been speculation amongst the group.

“Say, Wormtail,” James began, rubbing his hands together with a grin, “I’ll bet you fifteen quid that I can guess who this mysterious friend of yours is in just three tries.”

A scoff rises from Peter’s throat, “You’re on.” 

James leaned back with a confident smirk, his eyes narrowing as he considered his first guess, “Evan Rosier?” 

“You’re kidding?” Peter rolled his eyes, “Wasted one of your guesses, James.” 

“Oh, trust me that’s fine,” James clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “Let’s see, Xenophilius?” 

Peter shook his head. 

“Final guess…” James hesitated for dramatic effect. “Oh, what is her name… Mabel Scott, yes, I believe that’s it.”

“You cheat!” Peter exclaimed, his face flushing with frustration. “You must have used the map!”

“Afraid not, Pete,” Remus laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Pads found your diary a while back.”

“Excuse me, ‘diary’? That’s a journal!” Peter sputtered. “And why would you read it?”

Sirius smirked and shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly looking for it. It was more of a happy accident.”

Peter’s face turned a shade redder. “You had no right—”

“Oh, come on,” James interrupted, chuckling. “It was all in good fun. Plus, it’s not like we didn’t already know you were into Mabel.”

“That is a total invasion of privacy!” Peter groaned. 

“Apologize to Peter, Sirius, and James, you tell Peter you won’t be taking his quid,” Remus instructed firmly but with a hint of amusement.

Sirius sighed dramatically, though a smirk lingered on his lips. “Alright, alright. My apologies, Pete.”

James added with a reassuring grin, “Don’t worry ‘bout the quid mate. I’ll get it another way.”

Ignoring James’s threat, Peter huffed, still clearly flustered, “Fine. But you lot better not go snooping through my stuff again.”

Remus chuckled and gave Peter a pat on the back. “So, what was the big conversation you and the Hufflepuff were having?”

Peter shrugged and attempted to act nonchalant, shoving a piece of sausage into his mouth. “She wants me to help her study,” he mumbled, his words a bit garbled, “Herbology.”

James raised an eyebrow and adjusted his glasses with the knuckle of his index finger. “Didn’t you accidentally set fire to all of Sprout’s dittany?”

Peter’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he swallowed hard. “Yeah, well, that was a… minor mishap,” he said defensively, his voice muffled. “But I’ve got a handle on it now.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You’re sure about that? Last time we checked, you couldn’t tell a gillyweed from a nettle.”

Peter nodded earnestly, though the heat in his cheeks suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced of himself. “Yeah, really. I’ve been practicing. I promise I won’t set anything on fire this time.”

“Better not,” Remus laughed, cutting into his turkey. “I don’t think McGonagall or Sprout would forgive you another time around.”

“Are you sure you’re not the one being taught?” James asked, smirking, “Maybe Sprout set you up to learn.” 

Peter shook his head, a look of frustration on his face. “Don’t say that,” he groaned. “She’s under the impression that I’m good at Herbology, and who am I to correct her? I’m certainly better than that Weasley git who’s got his hands all over Cal.”

“What?” the three boys exclaimed in unison, their heads whipping around to take in the sight before them. Peter was right—Gideon Prewett had an arm slung around Calliope, casually tossing a coin and brandishing it in front of Fabian’s face.

Sirius’s jaw tightened, “You are absolutely bloody kidding.” 

“Ca–”

“Shut up!” Remus yelled at James, cutting him off.

“What the fuck are you on about, Moons?! He’s got his slimy arm on her!” James argued, his glasses slipping low on his nose in his agitation.

Remus took in the scene again, his lips pressed together as his nose flared ever so slightly. His usually calm demeanor was slipping. 

“I’m going to say something to that ogreish bloke,” Sirius rumbled, beginning to rise from his seat. But before he could move, Remus’s hand shot out from across the table, pulling him back down.

“You will do nothing of the sort!” Remus chided firmly.

“What do you mean?!” Sirius snapped, trying to yank his hand free from Remus’s grip.

Peter, still chewing on a piece of bread, mumbled, “You and James are quite dense.”

“Ex–” Sirius started, but Remus cut him off.

“He’s right. Don’t you remember what Calliope said mere hours ago? We mustn't interfere,” Remus nodded, his voice quieter as he dropped his gaze to his plate.

James huffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t care what she said. We can’t just let that git put his hands all over her.”

“You can and you will,” Remus said firmly, shaking his head as his eyes remained fixed on his plate. He pushed his food around absently, his usually composed demeanor strained by the situation.

Sirius and James shared a look of confusion.

James scoffed, leaning back with a smirk. “You know, Moony, I’m quite surprised you aren’t more… bothered by the situation. It was only last night you were wanking off behind the curtains of your bed to her, yeah?”

Peter choked on his food, coughing violently as his eyes widened in shock. Sirius let out a heavy, deep gasp, his eyes darting to Remus in disbelief.

Remus froze, his fork hovering mid-air. A faint flush crept up his neck, as he shot James a sharp look. “What?”

“Seems someone forgot the silencing spell?” James taunted.

“I wasn’t—that’s not what I was doing!” Remus blurted out, his voice louder and more defensive than he intended.

James raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Oh, really? So, what exactly were you doing then, mate?”

Sirius crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat with a skeptical expression. “Yeah, Moony, do enlighten us.”

“Lads, he doesn't need to explain…” Peter tried to explain, dropping his fork. 

“No, I would like an explanation for why I had to hear him moaning something along the lines of ‘Fuck, please don’t stop, Calliope. Please,’” James said, crossing his arms across his chest with a challenging look.

Remus’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he glanced around, desperately searching for a way out of the uncomfortable situation, “Reading. I was reading, James.” 

James raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Reading? Come on, Remus. I heard what I heard.”

Sirius smirked from his side of the table, his tone teasing but attempting to be reassuring. “No need to get embarrassed, Remus. I’ve caught James—hell, even myself—doing the same thing a million times. Sirius shrugged, trying to smooth things over. “It’s only natural, mate. We all get it. I mean, we have the pact for a reason, right?”

“This is truly enough!” Remus huffed, bringing his hand to cover his mouth. 

Peter shook his head with a wry smile, picking up his fork again. “You lot have broken Moony,” he said, “And it looks like there’s no need to keep arguing because look who’s walking over—the one and only, Remus’s late-night wank.”

James, Sirius, and Remus turned their attention to see who Peter was referring to. Remus’s face turned a shade redder as he glanced over, trying to hide his reaction.

“Bloody hell! Don’t call her that!” He whisper-yelled into the sleeve of his robes. 

Calliope approached the table with a spring in her step, her excitement evident in her cheerful stride. Peter excused himself and slid back to his original seat on the opposite side of Remus, giving Calliope space.

“Evening, Calliope,” Peter waved politely. 

“Oh, hello Pete!” Calliope said as she settled into her seat, carefully placing her porcelain plate on the wooden surface. “What were you all talking about just now? It seemed—uh—exciting.”

“Remus’s wanking habits,” Sirius said with a smirk, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Wha– Remus’s wanking habits?” Calliope’s eyes widened as she turned to Remus, whose majority of his face was covered by the black material of his robe. “Oh! I… Uhm, is that so?”

Remus coughed awkwardly, his face flaming as he fumbled with his food. “Sirius is just being a prat,” he said, trying to sound casual despite his obvious embarrassment. “Don’t mind him.”

Calliope looked between Sirius’s smirking face and Remus’s flushed expression, clearly unsure whether to laugh or be mortified. “Right… Well, I suppose I have no business in that conversation.” 

“Oh, but you do—” James’s sentence was cut off by a sharp kick to the shin from Remus.

James winced and glared at Remus, who gave him a warning look. 

Peter, eager to change the subject, quickly chimed in, “So, you and Gideon, huh?”

“There is no ‘her and Gideon,’” Sirius interjected with an eye roll, his fork stabbing into his chicken with a bit more force than necessary.

Calliope glanced at Sirius, her eyebrows raised in mild surprise. “It’s not like that,” she said, her voice calm but with a hint of defensiveness. “He just wanted me to settle a bet for him and his brother.”

“Oh, sure,” Sirius muttered, not lifting his gaze from his plate. He stabbed his fork into his chicken with exaggerated force again, taking a bite before finally looking up at Calliope. “And I suppose that bet required him to drape his filthy arm around you?” His voice was laced with sarcasm as he chewed, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“He was just being friendly,” Calliope replied, her brows knitting together in genuine confusion.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied her. “Friendly?” he echoed, his tone incredulous. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Calliope sighed, her patience fraying. “Yes, friendly. You know, the way normal people interact without implying anything more. It seems you wouldn’t know the definition considering you sleep with every girl who crosses your path.”

The table fell silent, everyone’s eyes darting between Sirius and Calliope, but Calliope, unbothered, kept eating, her focus on her plate. The soft clink of her fork against the plate was the only sound, each bite calm and steady, a stark contrast to the tension around her.

Sirius, still recovering from her words, clenched his jaw, trying to read her expression. After a moment, his gaze moved from Calliope to the boys around her. In truth, Sirius wasn’t angry; he was amused. He wondered if her sharp comment was pure anger or if there was a hint of jealousy beneath it.

“Are you jealous, Calliope?” Sirius asked, his tone smooth as he turned his attention back to her. James and Remus exchanged surprised glances, their eyes darting between the two of them. Peter, however, seemed less taken aback by Sirius’s bluntness—his gaze drifted to the canary yellow table nearby.

“What do you mean?” Calliope asked, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

Sirius's lips curled into a half-smile. “You know exactly what I mean,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But I will gladly reiterate it for you.”

“Go on…” She dared. 

“Are you, Calliope, jealous that you aren’t the girl in my bed late at night? Are you jealous that you’re not like Violet Sweeting, Emmeline Vance, Bella Froth, Flora Orozco–” 

“–Pads,” James warned. 

Sirius’s smirk faltered slightly, and he met James’s gaze with a hint of defiance. “What? I’d simply like to know.”

The public embarrassment from earlier that morning was still raw, and this only added to her frustration. She felt exposed and vulnerable, her irritation intensifying with each passing moment. But she tucked those feelings away and decided to respond in a way that would leave the boys around her puzzled.

“You know, Sirius, I’m not jealous,” she said calmly, her gaze steady as she watched their confusion grow. It seemed her response had the desired effect—the boys were indeed puzzled. James and Remus had expected her to be overwhelmed and flee, as she had done in the past, but this time she stood her ground, defying their expectations.

Sirius’s smirk reappeared, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Calliope confirmed, her tone steady.

And that was the end of the conversation. Sirius shot Calliope hard looks, but she couldn’t quite decipher what his eyes were conveying. As for the rest of the boys, despite the awkwardness, they managed to resume their conversation, making a mental note to address Sirius later.

Finally, dinner came to an end, and Calliope practically leaped out of her seat, slinging her bag over her shoulder with a mix of relief and urgency. She wasn’t thrilled about her upcoming detention, especially since it was with Filch, but it was a welcome escape from the lingering tension with Sirius.

Prev

[eurotriptour]

Manresa Municipality Tour Guide, Distance, Attractions & Weather Destination

About Manresa Municipality destination: Manresa is a Municipality / town which is placed in Spain country, Europe. Manresa Municipality nearest major city is Barcelona city which is also the second largest populated and economy hub of the Spain country. Manresa Municipality is a nice place to explore local Spain people culture, daily life and social activities.

Distance from Manresa Municipality: Manresa Municipality is very good connected to other Spain regional places via train and road transport.

Manresa Municipality is just 56.5 KM distance from Barcelona city.

Manresa Municipality is just 80.1 KM distance from Mataro city.

Manresa Municipality is just 121.7 KM distance from Girona city.

Manresa Municipality is just 50.9 KM distance from Vic city.

Manresa Municipality is just 259.7 KM distance from Zaragoza city.

Manresa Municipality is just 114.3 KM distance from Lleida city.

Manresa Municipality is just 109.2 KM distance from Tarragona city.

Manresa Municipality is just 575.6 KM distance from Madrid city.

Spain Tour: It is a very well idea to Spain country tour which situated in south western of the Europe region. Spain is a developed country which some major cities are Madrid capital city, Barcelona city, Seville city and Valencia city. Spain neighbour countries are Portugal country in western, France country in northern, Morocco country in southern and Andorra country in northern.

Lots of people come to Spain to explore its local people daily life. Summer and winter both seasons are well to spend time in Spain which the most famous cities are Madrid city and Barcelona city where come largest number foreign countries tourist. Madrid is the central capital city and Barcelona is a port city and commercial city. Spain country is all over world famous to its unique cultures activities such as tomato festivals and bull fighting. Europe holiday trip booking, Japan holiday trip and Switzerland holiday trip booking.

How can come to Manresa Municipality: The city is very good connected to other Spain domestic places and European countries via water, air, train and road transport. Other countries people can come to city via air transport which nearest international airport and seaport is located in Barcelona city.

Air Transport: Sabadell Airport is a regional airport where people can get air transport to other domestic places of the Spain country. Sabadell Airport is just 42.2 Km distance from Municipality of Manresa.

Josep Tarradellas Barcelona-El Prat Airport (BCN) is the nearest main international airport where passengers can get air flights to foreign countries and regional places also. Barcelona airport is just 62.3 KM distance from Municipality of Manresa.

Road Transport: Spain is a developed country where has excellent road transport network to joint villages, cities and towns.

Train Transport: Manresa Municipality local train transport where passengers can get trains to other regional places of the country.

Manresa Municipality tourists attractions: Near of the Manresa Municipality has many famous places which some are Parc Natural de la Muntanya de Montserrat - National park, Parc Natural de Sant Llorenc del Munt i l'Obac - Nature preserve, Serra de Castelltallat - National park, Tina del camí del Flequer II - Historical landmark, Sant Sebastia de Montmajor - Historical landmark, Ermita de Sant Sadurní de Gallifa - Historical landmark, Monestir Sant Benet de Bages - Monastery, Saltamos Village - Skydiving center etc.

Manresa Municipality famous Restaurants & accommodations: Manresa Municipality has some luxury and budget types of hotels to stay days and nights.  The Municipality some popular restaurants are Restaurant Las Vegas, El Golut - Tapas bar, LAIDA - Restaurant, Porta Ferro - Restaurant, El Golut - Tapas bar, Vermuteria Santa Rita - Restaurant, La Santa Brasa - Restaurant, ATIQ - Restaurant, Cal Moline - Bakery and Cake Shop, Bar Pardal - Tapas bar, Espai Niwaka - Japanese restaurant etc.

[lescroniques]

Nova proposta equilibrada per l'aeroport de Barcelona

coscaron. iStock / Getty Images Plus Arriba una nova proposta sobre l’aeroport del Prat. Oikia, el think tank de propostes verdes, en aquest cas de desenvolupament, ens diu que cal obrir el focus i no centrar-nos únicament en la prolongació de la pista del costat mar de l’aeroport, del fals dilema que s’ha creat sobre biodiversitat, ciutadania o economia, perquè aquest no és el veritable…

[trabucairesandreuencs]

Una altra de trabucaires.

A hores d'ara, els que ens aneu seguint a les xarxes socials, ja sabeu que dels gairebé 700 trabucaires repartits en 56 colles que hi ha a Tota Catalunya, 160 trabucaires són Dones. Totes elles armades.

El món trabucaire ha canviat molt en els darrers 40 anys i hem passat de colles on no hi cabia cap possibilitat que una Dona pogués ser trabucaire, a actualment ser el gènere majoritari en algunes de les colles de Trabucaires.

Sabeu que els Trabucaires de Sant Andreu, l'any 1982, quan es va crear la Germandat, ja hi havia més del 10% de trabucaires Dones sòcies i en actiu?

Podríem dir que els trabucaires de sant andreu vam ser els primers a ser un grup mixt i reivindicatiu.

Avui dia, a la ciutat de Barcelona, ​​totes les 6 colles existents, tenen dones a les seves files:

Trabucaires de Gràcia, Sant Martí, La Trinitat, Guinardó, Sant Antoni i Sant Andreu

Per celebrar-ho i reivindicar-ho, cada any, des de fa 14 anys, se celebra una trobada general, dedicada a les nostres Fèmines les Dones Trabucaires.on elles i només elles són el motiu principal d'aquesta gran i esperada festa. La darrera trobada, el 2022, es va organitzar al Prat del Llobregat (la foto de portada) i aquest any, si no hi ha cap canvi, el proper dia 5 de Març de 2023, a la ciutat de Vila-seca a la comarca del Tarragonès, celebrarem l'esdeveniment amb un recorregut públic per tota la vila gallejant i cremant pólvora, fent-nos sentir tal com es feia fa més de 400 anys allà per l'època del segle XVII per celebrar els actes més assenyalats i importants.

No cal dir que aquest acte és públic i que esteu totes i tots convidats a mostrar a la xarxa i mitjançant els vostres missatges, tot el vostre suport per a aquest acte i mostra d'igualtat de gènere.

I els que desitgeu assistir com a públic i veure'ns en directe, recordeu-vos que heu d'usar protectors acústics per a les vostres orelles, així com vetllar també per la salut auditiva dels vostres menors i mascotes.

Salut i pólvora per a totes i tots

#trabucairesdesantandreu

#somcomsom som #Trabucaires de #santandreudepalomar amb la #igualtatdegenere

#donatrabucaire

#trabuc #armilla #barretina #faixa i #espardenyes

[negreabsolut]

Alzinera de Cal Penjat, la Baronia de Rialb, Segre Mitjà, Principat de Catalunya.

[useless-catalanfacts]

En saps alguns moviments en contra de la repressió i opressió francesa i espanyola que van passar a Catalunya i Catalunya Nord? (Coses com la Caputxinada, fets del Palau de la Música, etc) O saps on podría buscar-ne??

Contra l'ocupació espanyola abans del Tractat dels Pirineus (és a dir, abans que la Catalunya Nord passés a formar part de França):

Guerra dels Segadors (1640-1652, començant amb el Corpus de Sang)

República catalana de Pau Claris (1641-1652)

Catalunya Nord contra l'annexió francesa:

Revolta dels Angelets de la Terra (revolta dels pagesos nord-catalans als anys 1667-1675)

Conspiració de Vilafranca (complot de la noblesa i la burgesia nord-catalana amb l'intenció d'alliberar la Catalunya Nord amb la lluita armada, 1674)

Pel que fa a l'activisme i la lluita política recent, la feina que va fer el Comitè Rossellonès d'Estudis i Animació (fundat el 1970) que a partir del 1972 passa a ser l'Esquerra Catalana dels Treballadors fins al 1981.

Actualment (des dels anys 1970s), la tasca cultural que duen a terme les escoles La Bressola i Arrels, i la Ràdio Arrels.

Catalunya (Sud):

Revolta dels Barretines i la creació de l'Exèrcit de la Terra per part d'ells (1687-1689)

òbviament la Guerra de Successió (1701-1714)

hauria de mencionar els inicis del catalanisme polític, la declaració de l'Estat català dins la Federació Espanyola (1873) i sobretot els documents i assemblees com les Bases de Manresa (1892), el Memorial de greuges (1895), el Missatge a la Reina Regent (1888) etc però en general tots aquests van més aviat en la direcció d'aconseguir autonomia i autogovern dins d'Espanya, tot i que en aquesta època ja hi ha una cert moviment independentista que començarà a tenir molta força a partir de 1920.

la Setmana Tràgica (1909), aquí s'hi uneixen moltes causes però destaca el sentiment contra l'imperi espanyol

Fets de Prats de Molló (1926)

Proclamació de la República Catalana amb Francesc Macià (1931)

Fets del Sis d'Octubre, amb Lluís Companys (1934)

Fets del Paranimf (1957)

Fets del Palau de la Música (1960)

Òmnium Cultural (fundat el 1961) també va fer molta feina per ensenyar català i promocionar la llengua i la cultura durant l'època de repressió.

La Caputxinada (1966)

No és un únic esdeveniment però vull remarcar en general tota la tasca del PSAN (Partit Socialista d'Alliberament Nacional), fundat el 1968. És a partir d'aquí que s'articula el moviment independentista com l'entenem avui en dia, es pot considerar la "fundació" de l'Esquerra Independentista.

Tancada d'intel·lectuals a Montserrat (1970)

l'Assemblea de Catalunya (1971-1977), un dels grans òrgans de lluita antifranquista i en defensa de l'autodeterminació

Marxa de la Llibertat (1976), promoguda entre d'altres per Lluís Maria Xirinacs

MDT (Moviment de Defensa de la Terra) fundat el 1984.

cal mencionar EPOCA (Exèrcit Popular Català, 1976-1980) i Terra Lliure (1978-1991) tot i que allò no va anar gaire enlloc, va ser important al seu moment.

relacionat amb aquest últim punt, sí que ha deixat més llegat els Comitès de Solidaritat amb els Patriotes Catalans (fundat el 1979, l'òrgan antirepressiu que es va crear per donar suport als presoners i repressaliats independentistes, bàsicament l'antecessor del que ara és Alerta Solidària).

La Crida a la Solidaritat en Defensa de la Llengua, la Cultura i la Nació Catalanes (1981-1993). Normalment anomenat només "la crida".

considero important remarcar la Operación Garzón de repressió de l'independentisme just abans de les Olimpiades a Barcelona (1992). Fa poc en vaig fer un post: aquest.

Les consultes populars sobre la independència que van començar a partir de la d'Arenys de Munt (2009)

A partir d'aquí ja ho sabem prou bé: ANC, 9N (2014), 1-O (2017), CDRs, etc.

Per més informació, la Fundació Reeixida (una fundació que es dedica a fer recerca i divulgació sobre la història del catalanisme i l'independentisme) té un apartat dedicat a la història de l'independentisme.

[calpalirwin]

Come Back

Summary: It was a standard routine mission gone wrong in all the worst ways possible, or so the world, and most of the Avengers, was led to believe. 

A/N: When my 5sos writing addiction crosses paths with my superhero addiction. Beta-read by @jessalyn-jpeg​ thank you!!!!

Word Count: 10.8k

And away, and away we go!

__

“Hostage situation,” Ashton said, slapping the folder down in the middle of the table. 

Y/N’s fingers grazed the manila folder emblazoned with a giant “MISSION” stamp in the middle of it. Fuckin’ subtle, she thought with an eye roll. 

“Am I boring you already?” Ashton all but snapped at the woman, his arms crossing over his chest.

She raised her gaze to meet his, holding it steadily. Aside from Calum and Michael, Y/N and Ashton were the closest in age, with Y/N having the advantage over the man, a fact she knew he despised even though she graciously allowed him to take the lead at every opportunity. Leading had never been her cup of tea, but it was definitely Ashton’s, the arrogant little bastard. “Not at all,” she said sweetly, flashing him a smile. “Captain,” Y/N added as an afterthought. 

Ashton pinched the bridge of his nose, shifting his stare over to Calum, seeing if he’d help tame the woman’s snark, so that Ashton could get on with the team meeting, preferably without a headache. Calum just gave his sister a small shove, which she gladly took as a way to knock into Michael on her other side, the blonde’s arm going to rest along the back of his girlfriend’s chair.

When Ashton cleared his throat, Y/N rolled her eyes again. “Oh, just get on with it, you prat. Hostage situation. And ready? 3, 2, 1, action!”

“Yes,” Ashton said, his tone taking on the edge that was aptly referred to Ashton’s leader voice. “We, that is SHIELD, infiltrated a Hydra base about a month back in an attempt to get a spy on the inside. Problem is, that SHIELD agent was working with Hydra, and led our men straight into a trap.”

“And women,” Y/N added.

“Yes, and our women agents as well, thank you, audience participation.”

“So our task is to do what exactly? Search and rescue?” Luke asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Great…” the blue eyes rolled.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly glamorous, but it’s well within our authorization to carry out ourselves.” Ashton puffed out his chest a little, like he was proud to be trusted with such a high class mission. 

“Blow up New York a few times saving the world and everyone’s a critic…” Y/N joked half-heartedly. “Face it, Ash, we’re an over glorified search and rescue team. Just tell us when we’re headed out.”

“Jet leaves in a half hour. Folder contains more details regarding our individual parts and a map of the compound.”

Luke’s face lit up at the potential that individual assignments might have a little bit more glory to them, eagerly snatching the folder and passing out the packets inside to each team member before tearing into his. “Aw! C’mon!” he groaned, tossing the papers back on the table. “We never get anything cool anymore…”

Y/N kept her quip about how Luke should speak for himself to herself, as she glanced at her own personal assignment. Fuckin’ hell…

“You alright, babe?” Michael asked, his fingers rubbing at her neck as he started to pull his arm back across her chair.

She crumpled her assignment in her fist. “Hmm? I’m fine,” she grinned, kissing his nose.

Michael blew out his air in a huff, “Yeah, I know the mission’s kinda bullshit action wise. But when we get back we can play with these new arrows I’ve been working on. These ones have tracking technology, so even if I was to miss, I wouldn’t.”

“Aw, but you never miss a shot.”

Michael smirked, “I know. But now you guys can use them too. Doesn’t hurt to pick up an extra skill.”

“Sounds like a date,” she said, this time pressing a kiss to his lips, savoring the moment. In a couple of months to a year, she added in her head, because what Michael didn’t know, and what she couldn’t tell him, was that these were going to be their last moments with each other for a while.

~~~

Exactly a half hour after Ashton had dismissed his team, the group of five sat strapped in the jet, the engines rumbling as it took off, headed for the Hydra base. “Everyone has their assignment?” Ashton asked, eyes darting across everyone.

“Yes, Dad,” they all mock-saluted.

The hazel eyes rolled, and his jaw ticked in annoyance. “If someone else wants to be leader, be my guest.”

“So then I could be the prat everyone hates?” Luke scoffed. “No, thanks.”

“Aw, Luke. We’d hate you regardless if you're the leader or not,” Michael joked, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

“Hehehe,” Luke laughed in a high-pitched, mocking manner.

“Nobody has a problem with you being leader, Ash. You know this,” Y/N said. “Plus we all know that you’re just the one relaying orders from the higher ups. You’re just better at it than the rest of us. I mouth off too much, and these three are babies. Face it, you’re the perfect soldier.”

Ashton’s expression softened a bit at her words, the closest thing to a compliment she’s ever given him. “Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot.”

“Oh, save it. It doesn’t make you less annoying.”

“Babies? Who are you calling babies?” Michael asked, poking a finger in his girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Yeah!” Calum huffed. “No babies here!”

Y/N laughed, reaching out to pinch Calum’s cheek. “You will always be a baby to me, baby brother.” Then she turned her attention to Michael, “And you? You’re just my babe,” she grinned, kissing his nose.

“And me?” Luke asked, perking up his seat.

“A literal infant,” she grinned wider while everyone else nodded, including Ashton.

The rest of the jet ride was spent doing last minute training (Ashton), reviewing personal assignments (Y/N), tinkering with new technology (Calum and Michael), or sleeping (Luke) until Ashton called everyone back for a quick meeting.

“We’re approaching our drop off point.”

“Drop off point or…?” Luke whistled before slamming his hand down on the table. “Jumping point?”

Ashton held up 2 fingers, and Luke grinned, pumping his fist in small victory. “We can’t risk the jet getting anywhere near their radar, so we’re landing roughly here,” Ashton continued, pointing at the map. “Hydra base is here,” he moved his finger to where there was a giant red circle. “And safe to assume it’s heavily guarded on the outside.”

Y/N studied the distance between where Ashton said the landing spot was versus where the base was. “So we’re landing about a mile out, and we’re just gonna knock on the front door, hoping they let us in?”

Ashton snorted. “God no. Well, kinda. Luke’s breaking in to shut down their security protocols. From there, Cal should be able to hack and override their system. Mike keeps our path clear from the outside. Making our job,” he waved a finger between Y/N and himself, and Y/N gulped wondering how much he knew about everyone’s personal assignments, “easier for helping Luke get the hostages out.”

She breathed in relief. Good. Ashton was under the usual impression of personal assignments from previous missions, and not the other, slightly more complicated bit to the otherwise usual mission. Luke, with his ability to shrink and grow with the push of a button, courtesy of Calum and Michael’s technology, was the thief. The one with the power to get small enough to squeeze in anywhere unnoticed. Which set him up perfectly to gain security access for Calum, who could then override any system remotely, alongside piloting his drone for extra security coverage/fighting power. Michael usually hung back with Calum to keep Calum company, while being both an extra set of eyes, and an extra fighter with his hundred percent success rate as an archer. Which left super soldier Ashton, and non-super soldier, but highly trained martial artist Y/N to provide the bulk of fending off enemies. A ragtag team of not exactly super, but definitely better than your average SHIELD agent, SHIELD had dubbed the Avengers. “Sounds like we should get ready to jump then.”

While jumping was Luke’s favorite part of the mission, the rest of the team paled a little standing in the doorway of the jet, air rushing all around. But when Ashton yelled “Go!” they all jumped, Luke first with a whoop of “Showtime!” Y/N sucked in a breath, following Luke out and grabbing Michael’s hand to pull him after her, the ground hurtling upwards at her. 

“Pull!” Ashton’s voice directed in everyone’s ears, and five parachutes deployed in unison, Y/N jerking wildly with the pullback.

“Whoa, easy there,” Michael’s voice was both in her earpiece and shouting above the wind, his hand squeezing hers. “You’re good, babe.”

“Ugh, I fuckin’ hate that part,” she groaned, her stomach churning.

“And I hate this part,” Calum groaned along with his sister, before all anyone heard was his feet hitting the ground and his string of curses as his body rolled with his landing.

“You gotta learn to land better,” Y/N and Ashton both scolded, as Y/N’s own feet touched down, and she ran a little with the momentum so she didn’t roll like her brother.

“You gotta learn to land better,” Calum mimicked as he picked himself up off the ground, shooting Luke a glare, “What are you so fuckin’ happy about?”

“That shit is the fuckin’ best!” Luke whooped in a whisper. “Fuck yeah! I’m pumped!”

“Good,” Ashton chuckled. “How do you feel about more flying?”

“Aw sick! Is Michael gonna shoot me?!”

“Not the way I’d like to,” Michael grinned sarcastically, reaching behind him for his bow and arrow. “Shrink down, giant man.”

While Luke shrunk down to the size of a tic-tac, Ashton started instructing Michael on where to shoot, but Michael brushed him off. “Yeah, yeah. Close enough to get him inside, but not anywhere that’ll draw attention. Cal, you got eyes yet?”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna be able to get the drone in there until Luke gets in so I can hack the system.”

“That’s fine, I got it,” Luke said in the ear piece. “Cal, I’m on your right shoe. Lift up?”

Calum bent down to pluck up Luke, placing him carefully on Michael’s nocked arrow. “Just tell me where I’m aiming, Cal,” Michael said, breathing steadily as he pulled back his bow.

“Quarter inch to the right,” Calum directed. “If you aim low, Luke can run in from the ground, or if you aim high, there’s a branch that he can access the second floor from. Shooter’s choice.”

“Security’s on the second floor,” Luke and Michael both said, and with that, Michael inhaled, and on the exhale, sent Luke and the arrow flying towards Hydra, undetectable.

“And now we wait,” Ashton commented, stretching his arms up over his head. “Y/N, we-”

“Won’t have much time between Cal hacking the system and Hydra finding out. And Cal and Mike can only provide so much coverage while staying out of sight. So we’re on a time clock of maybe 5 minutes if we’re lucky. I know, Ash. I go left, you go right?”

He nodded. “Get ready to run.”

Y/N glanced at Calum. “How much time before Luke gets into the system for you?”

“Thirty seconds. Make it quick.”

She turned to Michael, tears brimming up in her eyes. “Aw, babe. It’ll be fine,” he chuckled lightly, kissing her.

“I know,” she answered in a shaky breath, resting her forehead against his, committing everything to memory from the sharpness of his green eyes, to the pink tint of his lips. To his calloused fingertips as they cupped her face, and the scratch of his beard under her own hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he chuckled again. “Now go kick some ass.”

“Luke’s in. 15 seconds,” Calum told Y/N and Ashton, so Y/N kissed Michael as deeply and fiercely as she could, clinging to every bit of those last 15 seconds. “2… I’m in. System’s down.” But Y/N wasn't ready to let go yet.

“Y/N!” Ashton growled harshly, dragging her by the back of her shirt and then shoving her forward. “Fuckin’ move!”

She swallowed her storm of feelings, shutting that part of herself off, and switched fully into Mission Mode, ignoring Calum's chuckle of “Damn, what kind of good luck kiss was that?” and Michael’s shy but proud, “I dunno, but I ain’t complaining.”

With the security breach came the storm of chaos that allowed Y/N and Ashton to enter the compound without raising any serious flags. With Ashton headed to the right flank, Y/N went left, and the first chance she had, she took it.

The Hydra soldier looked to be about her size, their attention not zeroing in on her until Y/N already grabbed them in a chokehold. “Sorry about this,” she whispered as she snapped their neck in a swift motion, then dragged them into a nearby supply closet. “Ash, Y/N, I located the hostages. Where are you?” Luke asked in the earpiece.

“Coming up on your right, Luke,” Ashton confirmed.

“Got in a small tangle, be there soon,” Y/N grunted as she started switching clothes with the body.

“God damn it, Hood…”

“Which one?” both her and Calum asked with an amused glint, their favorite little bit to annoy their captain.

“You know which one,” Ashton hissed. “Cal, time estimate. Mike, coverage report. Y/N, get a move on, seriously!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Y/N muttered before taking out her earpiece and stomping on it, leaving it with the dead Hydra soldier along with her tracker just outside the doorway of the supply closet. “Just not the way you think,” she then muttered quietly to herself before hurrying after the other Hydra soldiers, running for the back of the compound. “What the hell is going on?” she snapped at one of them, putting as much authority in her voice as she could.

“It’s the Avengers. Initiating protocol 78. Get in a vehicle and get out. 2 minutes until denotation.”

Denotation?! Son of a bitch… Ashton and Luke were still getting the hostages out. She had to warn them, but… SON OF A BITCH!

Y/N shook off the panic and kept moving, trusting that Ashton and Luke knew what they were doing, and that Calum and Michael could keep them safe and aware of the limited time before the whole base went up in a fiery explosion. Her priority wasn’t on the rescue mission anymore. It never had been. Hers was to carry out the original mission that had resulted in this mission in the first place. Get into Hydra. Learn what they had planned. Destroy them from the inside. But damn, it would be a lot easier if she didn’t have to hide it from the guys. Her guys. Her baby brother. Her boyfriend. I’m safe, she screamed in her head. I’m safe! Look after each other, please!

While she got herself onto a vehicle headed out, she caught a glimpse of Ashton and Luke herding people out through a side gate and into the neighboring woods.

“Hood, where the fuck are you?” Ashton hissed

“Which one?” only Calum responded, then, “Shit… Y/N?!”

“Cal, where is she?!” Ashton and Michael demanded at the same time.

“I- I don’t understand. Her tracker is still by the left side of the compound where she went in.” Calum started fiddling around with the drone, trying to find his sister with it. “Y/N? Y/N, do you copy?”

“Luke, take the hostages back to Cal and Mike,” Ashton instructed, his voice tight, but controlled under pressure. “Cal, where did you say she was last?”

“To your left. 50 yards. She should be right there, Ash, I don’t understand!” His voice was high with panic. 

“I don’t see her,” Ashton reported, and there was a loud bang as he smashed his fist against something. “I don’t fuckin’ see her!”

“Maybe she’s on her way back!” Michael said hopefully. “Maybe she was helping clear the way for you and Luke. You know she can’t turn down a fight.”

“Heh,” Ashton chuckled. “Yeah maybe. I mean, these trackers and earpieces only stay on so well when you’re kicking some serious ass, ya know?”

“Exactly,” Michael chuckled in relief. “It’s Y/N we’re talking about.”

“Well let’s hope that’s the case, and that Ash is the fuckin’ Flash because guys… this compound’s gonna blow,” Calum spoke up, his voice still holding a small wobble.

“How much time?” Ashton asked, already running for an exit.

“40 seconds give or take.”

“Alright, I’m ou- whoa, shit.”

“What?!” three voices demanded.

“It’s Y/N’s tracker and earpiece. Just lying here in the fuckin’ hallway… and guys… there’s a body…” Ashton gave a small grunt as he flipped the body over with his boot. “Oh, thank God!” he laughed. “It’s not her! Probably just a scuffle where some of her gear fell.”

“Okay, well 1.) thanks for the heart attack and 2.) if it’s not her, then get the fuck out!” Calum yelled.

“Okay, but if it’s not her body then she’s fuckin’ missing, so where is she?!” Michael asked.

“She’s not with me,” Luke told them. “I haven’t seen her this whole time.”

“I don’t have eyes on her either,” Ashton chimed in, running as fast and far as he could before the compound blew.

“Cal, anything?!” Michael asked, now growing frantic as he scanned around, hoping to find his girlfriend lounging against some tree behind him. Safe. Laughing at her boys for ever thinking she was in harm’s way.

“No…” Calum choked, tears starting to spill down his cheeks. “C’mon, c’mon…” he prayed. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

“C’mon, Y/N, where the hell are you?”

In the distance, Y/N heard the boom of the explosion, the vehicle shaking with the sound. She hoped her boys were safe and okay.  And they were safe. But they were far from okay. Because what she couldn’t hear was Calum’s broken sob and Michael’s heartbreaking scream of her name.

~~~

The jet ride back to headquarters was heavy with tension. To keep his mind occupied, Ashton set to work getting statements from the hostages. Calum and Michael sat in their seats, every muscle tightened, faces blank and frozen, tear tracks running down their cheeks. Luke was the only one who looked remotely comfortable, lounging against the wall of the jet, legs stretched out, his index finger tapping an unrelenting rhythm against his jaw as he hummed to himself.

“Would you knock it off?!” Calum tried to yell at Luke, but his throat was rubbed raw, so it came out as a hoarse whisper.

“What? I’m thinking!” Luke defended.

“Thinking isn’t supposed to be loud.”

“What are you thinking, Luke?” Ashton asked, his own voice clear, but weary as he ran a hand over his face and then through his hair.

“Y/N’s not an idiot,” he started.

“Yeah, no fuckin’ shit,” Calum spat.

Ashton held up a hand. “Let him talk, Cal. Go on, Luke.”

Luke straightened up, drawing his legs up, and resting his arms across his knees. “She’s not an idiot,” he repeated, studying his fingernails to keep his mind on track. “She always knew what she was doing. So she would have known that the mission felt off.”

“What do you mean, the mission felt off?” Ashton asked.

“Oh, c’mon, Ash. You couldn’t feel it, too? We got in and out without running into anyone trying to stop us. They didn’t care that we were getting out the hostages. They were evacuating. They had whatever they needed and were going to blow the place up whether we were there or not.”

“Okay. And what does that have to do with Y/N?” Ashton continued to prompt.

“I’m saying she knew. So she went in search of any plans she could get her hands on. Anything that might have gotten left behind in the scramble to evacuate sooner than they had originally planned.”

“So you’re suggesting that instead of helping us like she was supposed to, Y/N went off to try and get us more information?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Hmm…” Ashton thought, mulling over Luke’s theory. “That does sound exactly like the type of shit Y/N would pull…”

“BULLSHIT!” Michael screamed suddenly, jumping to his feet. “THAT’S FUCKIN’ BULLSHIT!”

“How is it bullshit?!” Luke yelled back, rising to stand toe-to-toe with Michael.

“BECAUSE IF IT WAS TRUE THEN WHERE IS SHE, LUKE?! HUH?! DO YOU SEE HER IN HERE?! CUZ I DON’T!”

“Obviously she’s not with us,” Luke scoffed. “But she got out, that I’m sure of. She’s somewhere.”

“Oh…” Michael nodded, his sudden drop in tone frightening. “So, what you’re saying is that WE left her behind! Our teammate! His sister! My girlfriend! And we just LEFT her?!”

“It’s better than the alternative of believing that she’s DEAD!”

“Oh, cuz that’s SO MUCH BETTER! What your theory suggests, Luke, is that WE either failed our teammate by leaving her behind, or she’s dead. Regardless of which of those options is the truth, WE FAILED HER! Whatever happened to her is OUR FAULT!” His hands clenched into fists at his sides and he raised them, whether to hit Luke or the wall behind him, no one was sure. Then, a sob was wracking through Michael’s body, his fists dropping back to his sides as his body crumpled. “Oh, God,” he cried quietly, curling up on the ground, his body shaking with the force of his cries. “Y/N, I’m so sorry… It’s all our fault… Fuck, I’m so sorry…”

~~~

Five months later found Y/N in a place within Hydra where she had enough access to send word out to SHIELD about Hydra’s plans: the creation of the an undefeatable army made up of highly skilled super soldiers injected with a recently perfected and modified serum that made Ashton’s super soldier skills look like child’s play.

The same five months found 4/5ths of the former team, smarter than they were before, but at the cost of diminished spirits as Ashton laid the all too familiar manila folder in the middle of the table, with its pitch-black “MISSION” stamp in the center.

Michael’s fingers went out to graze the stamp, his eyes meeting Calum’s as they shared a weak smile, both of them missing the way Y/N used to call the folder stupid for stating so clearly what it was. 

“We’ve received intel about Hydra's latest plans. It’s not good,” Ashton said, pausing for a sarcastic comment about how if Hydra was involved then of course it wasn’t good that never came. “They’ve not only modified the super soldier serum, they’ve also perfected it. A hundred percent success rate. Hostages don’t stay hostages for very long.” Again, he paused, waiting for a witty quip, but was only given nods of understanding. He let out a small sigh. “With the intel, we also got information of where their supply of the serum is, and where they’re making it. As far as our source knows, it’s just the one lab. Our mission is slightly different than what we’re used to as it’s a three-parter. The first part is pretty standard. Get in and release the hostages they have before they can be turned. The second part is also getting more information about the lab and the serum. We have to make sure that this is the only lab before we can go about initiating Part Three, which is destroying any and all labs we learn about. But today, our focus is on Part One and Two. Part Three will be carried out at a later date once SHIELD has time to go over everything and assess the situation.”

“After I get in to override security for Cal, I can start looking around for lab plans,” Luke decided. “If you can handle the hostages, Ash.”

Ashton nodded. “Yeah, I can handle that. Mike, I might need you closer to the action though, rather than staying back with Cal, and providing your backup there. If you’re up for it, that is.”

“I can get closer, it’s fine,” Michael replied numbly.

“Perfect. And how are those new trackers you and Cal have been working on?”

“Ready. And injectable. Once injected, Cal has access to turning them on or off, so we’ll never have to think about trackers again. Like potentially losing one…”

“And some of them can be fitted onto your arrows, yes? So maybe we can stick a lab worker or two with them?” Ashton followed up, ignoring the bitter edge in Michael’s tone.

“Yes.”

“Alright. We leave in a half hour.”

~~~

Y/N was patrolling around the upper deck of the Hydra base when both an alarm sounded and her earpiece crackled to life. “Security breach. Fuckin’ Avengers…”

“Secure the hostages and the lab,” came a different order.

“On it,” Y/N answered with several other voices, but she stayed rooted in her spot, knowing her old team’s moves by heart. Luke was somewhere in the compound, no doubt hiding in his shrunken version. Michael would have taken a closer position now for Ashton’s sake to help keep the path clear for Ashton to escort the hostages to safety. And Calum would be flying the drone, being everywhere the rest of the team couldn’t be, informing them of every move.

The familiar buzz of a drone a few seconds later came as no surprise, and she turned to the sound, grinning.

“Y/N?!” the drone’s speaker yelled in shock.

“Hi, baby brother,” she said, waggling her fingers in a wave. Then, her lips turned down in a mock-pout. “Sorry about this,” she told him, grabbing the wings of the drone.

“Yeah, me too,” Calum’s voice said, as he pushed a button that shot out an arrow as Y/N brought the drone down over her knee, cracking the device in half. She let out a slow hiss as the arrow passed straight through her shoulder, and then embedded itself in the wall behind her.

“Tell Mike to up your archery practice,” she told the broken drone as she dropped the two pieces, then took off.

“Y/N?!” Ashton, Luke, and Michael were yelling in Calum’s ear. “You found her?! I told you she was alive! Where is she, Cal?!”

“Bitch broke my drone!” was all Calum could come up with as a reply.

“Calum!” Ashton’s voice was sharp, Michael’s desperate.

“Give me a second, she broke my drone!” Calum grumbled, his relief about his sister being okay mixing with the rage only siblings could have for one another when one of them broke something of the other’s. “Okay, okay. Yes! Fuck yes! Whoohoo! Mikey-boy the tracker arrows work!”

“Of course they work,” Michael scoffed proudly.

“Well, I sort of shot through her, so I wasn’t sure if the tracker got in her, or the wall.”

“You shot my girlfriend?!”

“She BROKE MY DRONE!”

“You can build a new one,” Ashton told him with a sigh.

“You shot my girlfriend!” Michael continued to screech.

“I had to get the tracker on her!” Calum protested.

“Well, fuckin’ track her then, and get her out of there!”

“Cal, send me and Luke her location,” Ashton ordered. “Whoever’s closest tries to get her. But Luke, we gotta head out before they surround us. This isn’t like last time. They’re standing their ground.”

“She was on the upper deck on your side, Ash. She’s headed your way now, Luke. Towards the lab,” Calum reported, his eyes on Y/N’s tracker.

“Fuck, I gotta get out of here with these guys. Luke, get Y/N,” Ashton said, guiding a small group of hostages to safety.

“I’m in the lab, I got h- Oh, fuck me!” Luke’s words of hope died down as he glanced out the window of the lab. “I gotta shrink back down if I’m gonna get out of here. They’re fuckin’ swarming the lab. Ash, that’s good news for you because it means your path is clear.” He grabbed as many folders as he could gather in his arms, before hitting a button to shrink back down, just as Hydra soldiers muscled their way into the lab, looking around for anything out of place. “ ‘Scuse me. Pardon me. Just gonna squeeze past…” Luke talked aloud as he sprinted across the tops of boots headed for the exit. “You know, maybe I should get some of those trackers next time. Got plenty of feet to stab them into right now.”

“Duly noted,” Michael said, loosing a volley of arrows, sinking as many trackers into Hydra agents as he could. “Did you get Y/N?”

“No…” Luke replied in disappointment. “Ash?”

“No, I had to get out with whoever I could. Luke, you out?”

“Headed back now. I snagged some plans, if that’s any consolation.”

“That’s awesome, Luke. Thanks,” Ashton said, but there was a lingering note of dejection that they couldn’t get Y/N too. “She’s alive, and Cal got a tracker in her, which is more than we could have hoped for anyway.”

“I know. But still. Sorry, Mike.”

Michael shook his head, straightening his bow and quiver on his back before following after Ashton and Luke back to Calum. “It’s fine. Ash is right. We’ll work with what we got.”

“We’ll get her back. Don’t worry,” Ashton said, his words mostly directed at Calum and Michael, but also as a vow on his and Luke’s part. They’d get their girl back if it was the last thing the team ever did.

~~~

Y/N sat with her mouth set in a tight line as the nurse patched up her wound. “You super soldiers are all the same. The blank expressions. Immune to normal pain,” the nurse commented as they worked.

“Not a super soldier,” Y/N replied numbly, feeling the thread pull her skin back together. “Just a regular psycho.”

“Mmm,” the nurse chuckled. “And this was ‘just some light training,’ yes?” They gestured at the wound.

“Sibling rivalry gone too far, actually,” Y/N corrected.

“Mmm, well in my experience, few things come between siblings. You will be fine.”

“I hope so,” she muttered under her breath, but Y/N wasn’t so sure. How did she justify leaving her brother, her boyfriend, and the rest of her team in the dark about a mission they were all part of? How did she explain that she had to let them think that she had succumbed to the worst of fates? That she had to let them deal with the heartache of thinking she was dead, only to find out she was working for the enemy? SHIELD assignment or not, that wasn’t the kind of news she could just waltz back home with and offer up a simple “Hey, sorry I’ve been gone.” Y/N and Calum had suffered a lot between petty sibling issues, like when he first learned she was sleeping with his best friend, to much bigger issues regarding missions as part of the Avengers team. But this? Playing double agent while having to leave him completely in the dark? There was no coming back from this. And Michael… Oh, the betrayal he must be feeling. And mix that with the guilt and blind rage? If he was functioning at all, she bet that it was an ugly sight. A shell of the man she loved. Any ounce of humanity turned off to not drown under the pain.

Still, a part of her hoped that Michael or, perhaps even Calum, would turn against orders to try and stage a useless rescue of her, now that they knew part of the truth. And while she knew it would be a meeting that ended poorly on all sides, she could at the very least slip them a note. So back in the safety of her room, she quickly penned a note, then tucked it into her uniform.

~~~ 

Similar to last time, the ride back to headquarters was tense. Ashton kept busy by collecting statements from the hostages they managed to rescue. Then, he joined Luke in pouring over the statements and the documents Luke got his hands on in the lab.

Calum kept his eyes glued to the device that held the locations of all the trackers, watching the way Y/N’s blinked steadily.

Michael sat off on his own in sullen silence, his mind racing, hands clenching and unclenching into fists in a repetitive manner. He wanted to order the jet to turn around. To go back and get Y/N if he had to carry her over his shoulder himself. He was angry at his team, and himself for leaving her behind for a second time. Angry that he couldn’t stop failing her at every turn. But in the anger was a twinge of hope and relief. She was alive. Which meant that they could get her back. Luke had been right along. She knew what she was doing. But he still selfishly wanted her safe next to him. He wanted her laugh ringing out as she annoyed Ashton. He wanted to be able to smell her shampoo mixing with her sweat when she rested her head against his shoulder, complaining about how she couldn’t wait to get back and take a long hot shower. He wanted to be able to cover her cheeks in a blush as he whispered dirty words in her ear about the things he’d do when he joined her in said shower.

“Could you stop?” Calum asked, snapping Michael out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Michael hummed.

“The banging. Wanna stop?” It was less of a question and more of a command.

Michael looked down at his fists, noting the redness form along the outer edge of his palms and pinky fingers. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, placing his hands in his lap, not even aware he’d been banging his hands against the floor.

“I want her back too, Mike. Just as much as you do.”

Enough to break protocol and go rogue? Michael wanted to ask, but all he ended up saying was “I know.”

When they got back to headquarters, Ashton and Luke continued their work of looking over every word on every scrap of paper. Calum wordlessly joined them, his attention still held captive by the location tracker with it’s slow, steady blinks. No one thought it to be out of the ordinary, when Michael opted to head straight to the armory. Just hand waving and mumbles of “Yeah, could you?”s.

So Michael lugged the bag of gear into the armory, setting to the task of putting things out, and taking stock. But instead of putting his own gear away as well, he prepped it, having no intention of sitting around waiting for orders to be handed down. Not now when he knew where Y/N was. Fuck the rules and regulations. He was done with letting her down, letting her wonder why her team still hadn’t come for her. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m coming. I promise,” he mumbled under his breath as he left the armory, dropping his bag in the doorway of his room, then going to find the rest of the team. “Hey, Cal?”

“Yeah?” the man asked, not lifting his head.

“You got a spare one of those?”

“One of these?” Calum questioned, holding up the device.

“Yeah. I, uh… Just wanna be able to see her, you know?” he half-lied, making his voice crack for extra sympathy points.

“Yeah, course,” Calum nodded, pushing his way to his feet. He walked a few feet to a docking station that held various other forms of tech. “Here,” Calum said, grabbing one and logging into it. He tapped a few buttons until the familiar map pulled up. “This is just hers, and this,” he swiped across the screen to pull up a menu. “You can click to see the location of any tracker. We’re 1-4,” he twirled a finger to signal he meant himself, Ashton, Luke, and Michael. “And Y/N is 5. And the others are various trackers we got in Hydra agents today, or just not in use yet.”

“Thanks, Cal,” Michael took the device in his hands, then titled his head slightly towards Ashton and Luke. “I think I’m just gonna shower, then call it a day.”

“We’ll holler if we find anything interesting. Feel better, Mike,” Ashton told him.

“Night,” Luke mumbled, even though it was barely noon.

“Night,” Michael repeated, heading back towards the rooms, swallowing the rise of guilt of lying to his team. But they’d understand that this was something he had to do. Or so he hoped.

In his own room, he turned on music, then pulled a knife from his bag. Taking a few quick rapid breaths, he cut into the skin of his arm, prying his tracker loose. Hissing through his teeth, he dropped the tracker on his bed before bandaging up his arm. “Fuck,” he shuddered. “Argh! Okay. Here we go.”

~~~

Not being able to risk taking out the jet, it took Michael until well after the sun went down before he came within sight of the Hydra base with its giant searchlights, both lighting up the place, and casting it in menacing shadows.

Michael ditched the motorcycle well before he needed to as a safety precaution, before creeping the rest of the way on foot. His breath came out in huffed little clouds as he headed straight for where Y/N was. If the tracker was as accurate as Michael wanted to believe, she was right where she was when she’d had her skirmish with Calum earlier. Upper level deck, left side.

It was only as Michael got closer, that he started to realize he had no plan for getting in. “Time for a distraction,” he whispered to himself, digging through his bag for a grenade. “Showtime, bitches.” He pulled the pin and sent the grenade flying. He crouched low, covering his ears, and waited.

There was a loud bang, and then a startled scrambling from inside the gate, as a couple guards rushed out to check what had happened. Michael snuck up behind one, covering their mouth with his hand and dragging them backwards. The guard kicked uselessly at the ground, thrashing about as they tried to get free from Michael’s hold until they finally went limp. Quickly, Michael took their earpiece, before swapping clothes with the unconscious guard he left slumped up against a tree.

“What was that?” a voice was barking in the earpiece.

“We don’t know sir. We don’t see anything,” a handful of voices answered.

“Well if you find anything, put a stop to it!” the voice barked again.

“Did you find anything?” a voice called out in the dark, a flashlight swinging in Michael’s direction.

“No,” he called back quickly, heart pounding in his ears as the flashlight stopped advancing. “All clear.”

“Stupid fuckin’ pranks…” the other voice grumbled, the flashlight retreating. “Headed back in,” the guard spoke into the earpiece. “All clear.”

“Copy that,” a different voice replied.

“Well?” the first voice demanded, the small beam of flashlight turning back to Michael. “Are you coming?!”

“Right! Yes!” Michael said, willing his feet to move, and controlling his breathing to not give away his excitement as he crossed into the Hydra base. He still had the problem of needing to get to Y/N and get them out without raising any alarms. Which started with first getting away from the group of three guards he walked in with without anyone stopping him. So, not thinking too much about it, Michael slowed his walk before stopping altogether. And when his guard counterparts paid no mind, he slipped his way between buildings, hiding in the shadows as he checked the tracker.

He walked purposefully towards the stairs that would lead him to the upper deck, hardening his gaze and sweeping it across the grounds, like he was just another guard doing nightly patrol duty. “I don’t know what Luke’s always bitching about. This shit’s easy and I’m full-sized,” Michael remarked under his breath as he climbed the stairs and rounded a corner.

At the end of the walkway stood a single guard, their hair obscured by the black cap on their head. But even then, it didn’t matter. He’d know her anywhere, in any disguise. It was the way she held herself, her chin slightly tilted towards the sky, her shoulders squared but relaxed, her right foot always slightly shifted more forward than her left foot. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but the words died on his tongue. Was he just supposed to say “Hi” like he hadn’t left her for dead for five months?

It turned out, he didn’t need to say anything, as he took a step in her direction, his boots echoing off the metal floor. She whirled around, her dark eyes zeroing in on him. At the very least he expected a grateful smile as her head tilted slightly to the side, and she blinked slowly, trying to determine if her mind was playing tricks on her. But instead, she just fixed him with a cold steely look that sent the wrong kind of shiver down his spine. He cursed himself as he faltered in his next step. He had never once entertained the idea that she could have been brainwashed in all this time. “Y/N,” he said slowly, holding up his hands. “C’mon. It’s me. Let me get you out of here.”

“You need to leave,” she spat.

“Not without you.”

“Michael, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Don’t make me do this…” she whispered, bowing her head ever so slightly.

“Do what? I’m here to take you home, babe. C’mon!”

She crouched, tilting her head so her eyes met his. “Final warning.”

Michael shifted a protective stance of his own, raising his fists. “So this is really how you wanna have this reunion, huh?”

“It’s the only way.”

Michael dodged as her fist came swinging at his jaw. “Fine. Have it your way, then,” he growled, throwing his own punch that landed on her body. When she huffed in annoyance and slight pain, an apology was ready to fly off his lips.

She used his pause to tackle him, the walkway rattling with the force of his body hitting the ground. “C’mon, I know you hit harder than that,” she taunted, connecting a rapid succession of blows against his upper torso.

He twisted underneath her, bringing up his arms to block her hits. “Just come with me!” he begged, as he threw his arms forward, sending her skiddering backwards off of him.

“I can’t!” she yelled, charging at him again.

He did his best to block her attacks, but some hits still found a place to land, small grunts leaving his mouth at each connection.

“Fight back!” she yelled again, aiming for his jaw.

“No!” He snatched her wrist, as her knuckles started to brush into the side of his face. “I’m not gonna fight you, Y/N! This is ridiculous! I’m not trying to hurt you! I’m trying to save you!” he tried to reason as he spun her body so her back was flush against his chest, holding her tightly to him. “Baby, it’s me,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s me. It’s Mike. C’mon, baby. Come back with me. Come back to me. Please.”

A growl ripped out her throat as she brought one of her feet down on one his with as much strength as she had. And when Michael doubled over in pain, hearing the crunch of bone, her other leg kicked backwards, nailing him squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards.

“Y/N?” a voice sounded in both of their earpieces. “What’s going on?”

Y/N’s chest heaved as she stared down at Michael, who stared back up at her, struggling to find his breath. “Nothing,” she told the voice, before turning her back on Michael.

“Y/N,” Michael croaked out uselessly, coughing. His mouth tasted of blood and every part of his body felt like it was on fire.

He had no recollection of how he got off the compound and back to his motorcycle. Just like he had no recollection of driving all night back to Avengers headquarters.

He was, however, somewhat aware of his teammates' gasps of surprise when he dragged himself into the foyer of the building, as his body slumped against the cool tile, and he finally blacked out.

~~~

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Ashton thundered, his hand coming down hard on the table.

Michael stared blankly past Ashton, not bothering to give a response. Ashton didn’t care about the answer anyway, and it didn’t change anything. And now he understood what Y/N was doing, and she was trusting him to keep what he knew to himself.

Upon his arrival, Michael had slept for close to two days before finally waking in the infirmary, his body still badly battered, but his pain at a manageable level. He had trudged his way down to his room, rummaging through his things when the note fluttered down. With shaking fingers, he opened it, reading the hastily scrawled words, “It’s the mission. I’m safe. I love you,” in Y/N’s handwriting. He barely had enough time to shove the note in his pocket before Ashton was knocking on his open door, looking more pissed off than Michael had ever seen. Wordlessly, Ashton had jerked his thumb in the direction of the conference room, and wordlessly, Michael had shuffled after him, ready to accept whatever fate awaited him.

“Well?!” Ashton’s voice cracked like a whip as Michael did nothing but blink at him.

“What was I thinking?” Michael asked, his voice soft. “Oh, nothing really.”

“Yeah, no fuckin’ shit, Mike!”

“Oh, lay off!” Calum snapped, coming to Michael’s defense. “Mike did exactly what we all wanted to do, but were too scared to do. He tried to get her back. If you wanna fault him for that, Ash, then you’re a bigger jackass than we all thought.”

Ashton sighed, sinking into his chair. “I’m not faulting him, Cal. But what he did was reckless. It could have jeopardized all the work we’ve been doing. I get that it’s Y/N, but we still have a job to do. No one person is bigger than the mission, even if she is your sister. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you,” Calum said with a sad shake of his head. “Fuck. You.”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, Ash,” Michael said, his voice still soft. “Can I go?”

Ashton rubbed at his face in agitation, letting out a small scream. “Yeah,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands. “Yeah. Go. Whatever. I don’t care.”

“So you’re just giving up?!” Calum asked, his angry and broken expression sweeping across his team. “Just like that? We’re done?”

“Until we get our new orders, yes,” Ashton told him.

“That’s BULLSHIT!” Calum exploded. “You!” He turned, jabbing a finger at Michael. “You’re just gonna walk away?! You go rogue to rescue her on your own, without me, and now you’re throwing in the towel too?!”

“You heard Ashton,” Michael shrugged.

“Oh, you’re so full of shit! All of you! Fuck SHIELD and fuck you lot! It’s Y/N! She needs us! She trusted us! How many times are we going to keep failing her?!” Tears fell hot and fast down Calum’s face. “Please!” he begged, his voice cracking. “We have to do something besides sit on our asses! Mike, please! You can’t give up on her! C’mon! I thought you were on my side! Mike! It’s Y/N… please…”

“No, it’s not,” Michael said bitterly. “It’s not, Y/N. This,” he gestured about his beat up body, “is not her.”

“Fuck you!” Calum cried into his hands, and let out a muffled scream of heartbreak and rage. “I fuckin’ hate you!” He raised his gaze to shoot Michael his best death glare. “I hate you, do you hear me?! I fuckin’ hate you! You’re giving up, you fuckin’ coward! You’re supposed to love her, you fuckin’ bastard!”

Michael tried to bite his tongue as Calum continued to hurl abuse his way, but the last few words of the attack cut deep, and he couldn’t keep his composure any longer. “I gave up?! Me?! I’m the only one who wanted to go back for her five months ago!” Michael went off. “I’m the only one who went back for her a few days ago! Not Ash! Not Luke! Not you, her fuckin’ brother! ME! I went back! So fuckin’ listen, and listen good when I tell you that everything that makes her Y/N is gone! It’s useless, okay?! She’s Hydra’s now. The quicker you learn that, the better.”

“I FUCKIN’ HATE YOU!”

“ONLY BECAUSE YOU HATE YOURSELF MORE AND YOU KNOW IT! We all have to live with what we did. You have to live that you didn’t have the guts to go save her yourself. I’m not gonna carry that guilt for you, Cal. I’m not carrying any of your guilt, or Ash’s, or Luke’s. Because bottom line is I fuckin’ manned up when she needed us, while you three sat on your asses. So go ahead and hate me. Say I jeopardized the mission, or that I failed her. I don’t give a fuck. Because at least I fuckin’ tried, which is better than the three of you can say.”

Michael could hear Calum’s scream echoing off the walls as he hobbled back to his bedroom. He could also hear, or rather feel, the slam of Calum’s own bedroom door a few moments later.

Michael eased his way on his bed, the sheets freshly changed after he had left his blood splattered tracker on it. He knew a new one had been injected in him at some point over his state of unconsciousness, and he briefly wondered if it was the same one he’d ripped out. No sense in wasting technology when it wasn’t broken, after all. Laying back into the pillows, Michael dug out the note, and the device that still had Y/N’s location, seeking comfort in her looped handwriting, and the steady blinking of the device.

~~~

It took another week before orders came down, and Ashton summoned them all into the conference room. Michael’s fingers brushed against the empty chair between him and Calum as he took his seat. It took more willpower than he cared to admit not to slug Calum when the other man growled lightly under his breath. He doesn’t know any better, Michael had to remind himself. If he did, he wouldn’t be acting this way.

Ashton set the manila folder in the center, and when no one moved, he dove right in. “Between the files Luke was able to get, all the statements we have, the information we’ve gained from the trackers, and the intel SHIELD has from their agent inside Hydra, we have all the information needed to bring this to an end, once and for all. This is an all hands on deck situation. SHIELD is officially running the whole operation. They’re taking care of the hacking and gaining control of Hydra’s operating system. They already have a unit assigned to deal specifically with destroying the lab. Our job is pretty simple. We’re just soldiers.”

“Actual action?” Luke asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Actual action,” Ashton said, smiling a bit. “Something I‘m sure we’ve all been itching to do for quite some time.”

Luke pumped his fist, “Fuck yeah!”

“And Y/N?” Calum asked.

Ashton sighed. “Based on personal experience, we can assume she’ll be fighting for Hydra. So yes, it’s a good chance she’ll be around. Ideally one of us comes across her before the rest of SHIELD so we can subdue her, and get her out safely. But she’s not our priority, and yes, before you start, I tried to convince SHIELD into letting us specifically deal only with finding Y/N and getting her back. But all I got in response was bureaucratic bullshit about how we were being employed to do a job, and how we aren’t exactly in a position to ask for any favors.”

“So play good little soldier, but if we see our chance, take it?” Michael guessed.

“Yes, exactly. And Mike-”

“I’m not fighting, I know,” Michael cut him off. “Do I at least get to come and hang out wherever we set up base camp? Help with security, and the like?”

“Yes, of course. You’re not being punished, Mike. You’re not fighting because you don’t have medical clearance. But you’re still coming along. All hands on deck.”

Michael nodded. “Cool. That’s… Cool. Thank you.” He was fully expecting to be benched, and expected to stay behind. A lesson from SHIELD about how even the Avengers had to follow their orders. But getting sidelined only because he was still injured? Well, that… Fuck, he could handle that no problem.

“Be cooler if we can finally get my sister back…” Calum muttered.

“We’re gonna try, Cal,” Ashton said.

“You said that last time, and look what happened.”

“So… half hour til take off, yeah?” Luke asked.

“Not quite,” Ashton chuckled. “We leave tonight to meet up with SHIELD at the base camp they’re setting up just outside of Hydra’s radar. Then we go in just before dawn. I’ll give a 30 minutes heads up before we head out though.”

~~~

After the worst night of sleep he ever remembered getting, Michael got up just as the sun was beginning to brighten the sky from a dark purple blotch sprinkled with stars to holding soft shades of pink around the edges.

He stumbled his way to the cafeteria tent, finding the rest of his team at a table, each clinging to their coffee cup like a lifeline. “How’d you sleep?” Ashton asked, as Michael took a seat.

“Like absolute shit,” Michael answered honestly. “You’d think for how high tech SHIELD is, the bastards would have found a way to make camping missions less miserable.”

“Gotta cut expenses somewhere,” Ashton chuckled darkly, taking a sip of his coffee. “Fuckin’ bastards…”

“Fuckin’ bastards,” the other three repeated in agreement as a group of higher ups appeared in the entrance of the tent.

“First wave rolls out in 10 minutes,” the one in the middle barked. “Report to your positions, and standby.”

Everyone in the tent gave half-awake salutes, and the group of higher ups continued on their way. Then slowly, between stifled yawns, people started getting up from tables, dumping their half eaten breakfasts, and half drunk coffees, before going to their places.

Luke drummed his hands on the tabletop, a grin breaking across his otherwise tired face. “It’s showtime, boys!” he whooped before pushing himself to his feet. “Let’s fuckin’ go!” He rested a hand on Michael’s shoulder, dropping his voice into a low whisper, “We got ourselves a girl to bring home.”

In spite of everything, Michael couldn’t help but laugh at Luke’s infectious enthusiasm. “Stay safe, guys,” Michael told them as his three friends joined the rest of the crowd dashing off to their assignments. 

Only after the last man had cleared out, did Michael finally get up himself. He made himself a tray of breakfast, before going off in search of one of the security tents. “Anything I can help with?” Michael offered the first person who looked in his direction. “Michael Clifford. Avenger.”

The SHIELD agent looked Michael over, with the boot on his foot, face still sporting a small bruise, and scoffed. “Here,” he said, shoving a clipboard in Michael’s hand that wasn’t clutching  his tray of food. “This is a list of everyone involved in the operation. Those of us staying to do security are already accounted for. But the rest have been given strict instructions to check back in when they return. Whenever that is. You can be in charge of checking them in by the triage tent.”

“Gee, thanks,” Michael muttered, tucking the clipboard under his arm. “Triage is…?”

The agent pointed to a tent with a giant hospital cross decorating the top.

“Cool. Thanks.” Michael forced a tight-lipped smile before making his way over to a long table set up just inside the coverage of the hospital tent.

“Back already?” another SHIELD agent asked, pulling a clipboard close to them. “Name?”

“Oh, no, I’m helping you guys with check-in.”

“Oh. Have a seat, then.”

“Hey, is Y/N Hood on this list by any chance?” Michael asked as he took a seat.

“Nobody by the name of Hood has been checked in yet.”

“No, yeah, I know. I meant… is she on the list at all? Like are we expecting her to be one of the people checking in.”

“You’d have to check the list. I dunno, sir.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Of course. Thanks anyway.”

“No problem.”

~~~

The sky had transitioned into a soft blue, the sun peeking out from behind the trees, suggesting that at best it’d only been an hour, maybe two since Michael took up residence at the triage tent. But it felt like a lot longer, and if something didn’t happen soon, he was going to lose it.

From his spot, he could hear the engagement of combat and gunfire, so he knew the mission was well underway. But, God, waiting for everyone to get back was so fuckin’ boring! And it wasn’t that he wasn’t used to being the one hanging back, because he was. But this wasn’t hanging back to provide back up. This was just waiting. Painfully boring waiting. His breakfast lay next to him, discarded and half picked over.

He was about three seconds from excusing himself to the bathroom just so he’d have a reason to get up and walk around, when a laugh rang out. A laugh he’d know anywhere. “Y/N?!” he shouted, scrambling from his chair.

The laugh paused, turning into a soft gasp. “Mike?!”

“Y/N!” Michael shouted again, rushing as fast as he could in the direction of her voice. “Y/N!” he called out for the third time, happily as he saw her pushing her way through a small group of SHIELD agents returning to camp.

“Mike!” she shrieked, before running full speed towards him.

He got his arms open just in time for her to crash into him. “Ow, ow, ow,” he winced as he hugged her tight.

“Oh, my God!” she said, holding him out at arm’s lengths. “Are you okay? What happened to you? Where’s the rest of the team?” the questions fell rapidly from her lips. “Oh, Mike!”

“I’m okay. Somebody beat me up pretty good, but I’m fine. The guys are off helping SHIELD play soldier. Oh, God, you’re back! And you’re you!”

“Did you get my note?” she asked, nuzzling her face into his neck.

“Yeah, I got your note.”

“So you forgive me?” Her brown eyes were wide and soft, and maybe even a little fearful as she peered up at him.

“Of course, I forgive you. You didn’t have to go so hard as to break my foot, but of course I forgive you, baby. Fuck, I’m just glad you’re finally here. For good. Safe.”

They could have stood there forever in their locked embrace. And they would have if someone wasn’t clearing their throat to get the couple’s attention. “Ma’am, we gotta check you in.”

“It’s fine,” Michael waved them off. “I got her checked in. It’s fine.”

The agent shrugged, and walked off.

“C’mon, let’s sit. We can catch up while we wait for the rest of the guys,” she directed softly.

~~~

“So Luke was the only one who believed I knew what I was doing?” she chuckled as Michael relayed the past five months of utter shit to her. “Remind me to thank him when he gets in.”

“Yeah, I probably owe him a proper apology for that still. Should probably apologize to Ash and Cal, too. A lot of things got said in anger that shouldn’t have.”

“At least you didn’t tell your best friend that you hated him,” Y/N pointed out, trying to calm Michael out of his remorse.

“Yeah, but still. We all sat around twiddling our thumbs until this last mission. I mean, we didn’t know what to do. We didn’t know where you were, or if you were okay. And when Cal told us you were okay like Luke had guessed, I dunno… I snapped. I thought I could rectify my mistakes by coming to get you myself. I never once thought that you were with Hydra on purpose. I hadn’t even thought you could have been potentially brainwashed by them. I just… I dunno. Went blind with rage and every other emotion I’d been swallowing since that first mission.”

She nodded understandingly. Then, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“How did you find me? When you came back on your own.”

Michael pulled the tracking device from his pocket, which he kept permanently in his pocket along with her note. “After the first mission, we upgraded our trackers. Well, we just used the technology we came up with for my tracker arrows, and injected them into ourselves. So that way it’s a little harder to dump,” he explained with a slight tease in his voice that made her giggle. “And we loaded some arrows with them too, obviously. I nicked a few Hydra agents with them. And Cal got you with the drone.”

“But when Cal shot me, the arrow went clean through me. He was too close. Entry and exit wound.”

“The trackers are set to eject at the first point of contact. Pretty nifty, huh?”

She hummed in proud approval. “Pretty fuckin’ nifty indeed. Fuck… I’ve missed you, Mike.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her hair, breathing her in. “So fuckin’ much.”

“And I’m telling you,” a familiar voice growled, “that I have the bloody tracking device right here! She’s not at the Hydra base! She’s right… in… tada!” Calum said, sweeping the tent open.

Ashton and Luke’s eyes went wide, their mouths working to sputter nonsense. Y/N got to her feet, offering them all a shy wave. “Hey, boys.”

The magic words broke the spell, a giant grin painting each man’s face, before they were all rushing towards her in a gleeful cry of “Y/N!”

“Y/N, what the actual fuck?!” Ashton tried to scold but he was laughing too hard. “Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

“Sorry, Ash. SHIELD orders,” she giggled, hugging the man tightly. “Missed ya too.”

“So it was you! You were the spy on the inside! Fuckin’ brilliant!” Luke marveled. “Go in to rescue the hostages after our first spy betrays us, and replace them with a trusted Avenger. Wow… That’s fuckin’ genius!”

“So I take that as I’m forgiven for worrying you guys, causing you guys to fight amongst yourselves, and having to break Cal’s drone and Mike’s foot?” Y/N asked with a hopeful smile.

“Absolutely,” everyone but Calum told her.

“Cal?” she asked, turning to the man. “Baby brother? Forgive me?”

Calum narrowed his eyes, but there was no hardness to the expression, suggesting he wasn’t actually angry. “You owe me a new drone, first.”

“Deal!” she said, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. “Fuck, I’ve missed you guys!”

“Glad to have you back with us,” Ashton smiled. “Guys, let’s go check in, so we can all go the fuck home, yeah?”

“Yes, Captain!” they all saluted with a laugh, heading towards triage to check in, and check out.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to get home and shower,” Y/N complained, her right arm thrown over Calum, and her left one thrown over Michael as she trudged happily between her boys once again.

“A good, long, hot shower sounds perfect,” Michael whispered against her ear. “And I think I can come up with a couple of other good, long, and hot activities for us after that shower,” he added, nipping at her playfully.

“Mmmm,” she giggled, leaning into him. “Think you got the strength for all that?”

“For you? Always. And we have a lot of making up to do. Might take days.”

She shivered against him, causing the other three to groan. “At least wait until after we get home before jumping all over each other, yeah?” Ashton asked.

“No promises,” they answered honestly.

Ashton groaned again. “C’mon, let’s give them a minute,” he said with an eye roll as he guided Calum and Luke forward to the line to check in.

Michael wasted no time in their friends’ quick departures to hook his fingers under Y/N’s chin, guiding her to meet him in a fierce kiss, fingers knotting in each other’s hair, breath rushing out of their lungs. “Promise me you’ll always come back to me,” he whispered when they had to break apart to gasp for air, resting his forehead gently against hers.

“I don’t think I can keep that promise, because I’m never leaving you again.”

“Good, because I’m never letting you go.”

__

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[madroxed]

get your feet wet with ben and callum i want to read bobbie words

drown in this state [EASTENDERS. ~3.5k. CALLUM/BEN.]

They break up again on a Tuesday morning, after dropping Lexi off at school and grabbing breakfast at the cafe.

It’s not monumental. No screaming, no crying, no accusations or stumbled upon lies. Just Ben passing the ketchup and saying “Cal—” in that way of his. The one that’s just for them and isn’t always happy.

“Yeah.” Callum says, because he knows. Because he gets it, even if he hates it, and because they’ve both dragged themselves to this point.

They finish their fry-ups, skipping a second coffee, and when Ben kisses his cheek it’s warm and solemn and inevitable.

~

The police isn’t what Callum thought it’d be.

Corrupt bosses aside, it’s still shit hours and shit people, and that’s not even including the criminals. Them he can deal with to a point, too many years around the ‘wrong sort’, as he’s reminded on a weekly basis. Daily, depending on which prat’s working the front desk.

When he’d signed on he’d really thought he’d be making a difference.

Then again, he’d thought the same about the army.

Maybe he just doesn’t understand what ‘making a difference’ really means.

Most of his time’s spent on paperwork or walking door to door, taking statements about missing bikes and prowlers. Sometimes they’re told to bring someone in, a dealer or thief, some kid with a record longer than their arm and little proof to pin them to anything except the brass’s bias. Callum’s started recognising faces and remembering tea orders.

The problem is, he’s stubborn. He’d been so sure this is what he wanted, and no part of him’s ready to admit that maybe it wasn’t his best idea.

So he flips through more folders, fetches more coffees, and keeps going.

~

They run into each other, obviously. Down the Vic. At the market. On one memorable occasion, in the alley outside the Albert whilst Callum’s working and Ben’s got his hand down the front of some bloke’s skinny jeans.

It’s awkward but not bad. Callum still hugs Lexi when she runs at him, still spends his off-time with Jay and/or Lola, still knows just enough of what’s going on to worry when Phil shows up with a broken arm or Ben’s sporting his second black eye in as many weeks.

It’s not his place to ask though, not anymore.

And even if he did, well—

He’d never really wanted the truth anyway, had he?

~

He’s just so tired.

Callum’s never been afraid of hard work, always happy to put in the extra effort, but it just feels like whatever he does, he’s never really awake.

When he’d first started working at the funeral parlour, he’d expected it to overwhelm him. To go home with peoples grief blanketed across his shoulders like a coat he couldn’t shift. It wasn’t though; mostly people were grateful, even in their sadness, and it really felt like they were giving them something. A nice goodbye. Closure. Something.

The station, though. The anger and the loss and the daily trauma, that’s the truly overwhelming part.

Maybe it’s why his colleagues are so cold.

He can’t blame them.

(He doesn’t want to be cold. He hasn’t worked this hard his whole life to stay warm to let it freeze him now.)

~

“Lexi’s in the school play,” Ben says, passing a folded flyer from his spot next to him at the bar. “The lead, obviously. She wanted me to ask if you’d come. Told her you were probably busy, but you know what she’s like…”

“Nah,” Callum says, taking the piece of paper and eyeing the additional glitter with a smile. “‘Course I’ll be there.”

Ben smiles, a fragile thing that too few people get to see, and Callum still wants to kiss the edges of it until it bleeds into something bright and real and lovely.

“We’ll save you a seat then, yeah?”

“Definitely,” Callum says, and misses the heat of Ben’s body the moment it’s gone.

~

Whit’s taken to sending him links of puppy videos or memes he knows she’s laughed at until her side hurts, and Callum carefully chooses everything he sends back, hoping it’ll just make her laugh harder. Even Tiff’s been on at him to get an Instagram account, and he’s not sure when she decided she liked him, but he’s not going to push to find out.

Lola tags him on Facebook whenever she puts up a post about Lexi, and Callum clicks the heart button each time.

He tries to be social. Goes out for drinks with the other officers when he’s invited, and feels a little awkward in the fancy bars they prefer, dim lights and floors that aren’t sticky with spilled beer. Smiles and chats about films and music and station gossip, and goes home to the Square wishing he’d just had a pint in the Vic instead.

Every night it feels like a relief to step back on home turf, wave at Tina and Sonia, help Linda with too many shopping bags or laugh with Mick over the bar about something Johnny said last time he called.

Every morning when he leaves, he can’t wait to come home again.

Still. That’s how everyone feels about work. He’s not special.

~

“The Mitchells are at it again,” someone says, and Callum can feel the eyes darting his way.

It’s been months, not that they care.

“Not here,” someone else says, and of course not. It’s not like Callum’s proved himself over and over until he isn’t sure where he starts and the job ends anymore.

“Where are you going?” his partner asks.

“Feeling sick.”

“Right,” she says, like she couldn’t care less. “Just don’t puke near me, yeah?”

He waves her off and heads for the men’s room.

Halfway there he changes his mind and heads for the front door instead.

~

Phil’s expressionless gaze is still enough to make Callum feel a bit wobbly, even now.

It’s okay, though. He’s only got eyes for Ben anyway.

“You need somethin’?” Ben asks, and Callum can see the way he’s trying to be casual, the tension in his shoulders where he can’t quite hide that he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Thought you should know,” Callum says. “There’s talk, down at the station. Dunno what about, but—”

Ben and Phil share a look.

“Cheers,” Ben says, and that’s that.

Callum buys some chips on his way home and doesn’t think about the choice he’s just made.

~

Jack’s eyeing him over the water cooler.

“Uh,” Callum says, “can I help you?”

“Why are you here, Halfway?” Jack asks, and Callum frowns, looks at the paper cup of water in his hand and the folders under his arm. Jack rolls his eyes. “Not what I meant.”

“Oh,” Callum says. “Because I wanna help people.”

It’s the same line he’s used a dozen times, and it’s still true at it’s core.

“Plenty of ways to do that,” Jack says, and Callum thinks he might be trying to be nice. He’s not done that since Phil Mitchell beat the crap out of him so it takes Callum a moment to adjust.

“I guess.”

“Look,” Jack says, and Callum gets why people respect him. Somehow he’s got the balance right. “I thought maybe you weren’t right for this job because of the Mitchells, yeah? But now…Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you.”

Callum straightens. “If you don’t think I’m doing a good job—”

Jack waves a hand. “Your work’s fine. Exemplary, even. Doesn’t mean you want to be here.”

And, well—

Yeah.

That.

~

“Would you hate me?” he asks, and Stuart laughs.

Doesn’t stop laughing for ten minutes straight.

“Would I hate ya if you weren’t a pig anymore?” he says, like it’s the stupidest thing Callum’s ever said.

To be fair, it probably is.

~

They didn’t break up because of Callum’s job.

Didn’t break up because of Ben’s, either.

Except they did.

Ben had been right, all those times he’d said it at the beginning. Because they’d tried to put each other first, tried not to lie, but how could they when their day to days were fundamental opposites?

Ben could have gone straight. He’d have still been a Mitchell, though, and that would have been enough no matter what Callum did.

Callum could have let it go. Accepted that he couldn’t know what Ben got up to and that it didn’t matter as long as they went to bed together every night. Except eventually that would have been a conflict, already was just through circumstance.

Either Callum became dirty or Ben stopped being a Mitchell.

No compromises along the way.

~

He doesn’t think the brass is surprised. Expects there’s a couple bets being cashed in, and it’s almost enough for his pride to keep him in place, but, nah.

He’s made up his mind.

The thing is, Callum’s always had a plan. Didn’t need to be a solid one, could be as flimsy as staying in one place for a bit, but there was always something.

Join the army, stay in Walford, marry Whitney, (choose Ben), be with Ben, join the police.

The only plan he has now is to go home.

He buys a pint in the Vic, and then another. Joins Jay in a game of darts when he takes a break from the parlour, and helps Tina lug some crates across to the Albert. He spends a couple hours wandering the market, catching up with people it feels like he hasn’t spoken to in years, and fills in for Kathy for ten minutes at the cafe when she has to run out for milk.

Stu cooks dinner, sausage and mash with watery gravy, and they watch a football game on tele even though neither of them care who’s playing.

Goes to bed early.

It’s a start.

~

The police are outside the car lot the next morning.

From the look on Ben’s face, they’ve been at it a while. Jay’s loitering in the background, black jacket over his arm like he was just leaving but ain’t now.

“Where were you last night, Mr Mitchell?” the officer asks. Callum recognises him a little. Thinks he might be one of the ones that tripped that kid outside Tesco then dragged him in for shoplifting.

“With me,” Callum says immediately, and four pairs of eyes turn to stare at him.

“What?” the officer says, taken off-guard, and Callum shrugs.

“He was with me. Quiet one, weren’t it babe? Watched some tele and got an early night.”

“Yeah,” Ben says, rolling with it the way a Mitchell always does. “Well, he says early…”

“What did you watch?” Officer Whats-his-face says, pushing, and Ben smirks.

“Couldn’t tell ya. Was a little…occupied.”

Callum’s cheeks flush, but he doesn’t deny it. “Anythin’ else?” he says instead, and the officers do the usual script of ‘if you remember anything—’ and glare at Callum as they drive off.

“Not that I ain’t grateful,” Ben says, and despite the snark Callum hears the truth in it. “But that’s not gonna win you any favours with your boys in blue.”

“Yeah, well,” Callum says, sticking his hands in his pockets and wondering at how light he feels. “Not mine anymore, are they?”

Ben blinks, and somewhere in the background Jay makes his excuses.

“Oh,” Ben says, shell-shocked. “Right.”

“See ya,” Callum says, and can’t stop smiling all day.

~

“It wasn’t anything…bad,” Ben says, sliding into the stool next to him at the Albert. Callum’s spent the evening casually flirting with a guy in pink eyeliner until his mates pulled him away. His wistful expression when he’d said bye had made Callum feel good at least.

“Okay,” Callum says, sipping his beer. “I figured.”

“Yeah, well,” Ben says, and it feels a bit like the early days when they were still able to wrong-foot each other.

Ben orders another round and they stay like that for a while.

“Were you serious, about the police?” Ben asks eventually, and Callum nods. “It weren’t…It wasn’t because of me was it?”

“Nah,” Callum says truthfully, because he’s thought about this so much by now. “It was because of me.”

“Cal,” Ben says, “you wanted this.”

“Yeah,” Callum says, because he did, once. He knows better now. “Want to be me more.”

“Well,” Ben says. “Thanks. For the alibi.”

“Anytime,” Callum says, and means it.

~

Turns out Ben takes him at his word.

“Just went for a drive,” he tells the policewoman who corners him in the market. “I made him this cheesy mixtape for his birthday, burnt in onto a CD and everything, you know? Except the only CD player either of us have is in my car. So we just drove around, got a McDonalds drive-thru.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he mentions to the detective who comes round his. “His little girl was up in bed so we just watched a movie. It was pretty terrible. Ben’s got the same taste in films as his daughter, so….”

“Played scrabble,” he says, the third time it happens in as many weeks. “Dirty scrabble.”

Callum’s pretty sure it’s a test.

Thinks about Sharon that day in the pub, what seems like a lifetime ago.

“Look,” he tells the fourth one. “Do you want all the details, ‘cause I don’t really wanna go down for public indecency.”

At least that one blushes.

~

“Seriously?” Ben says, cornering him in the Vic. The tips of his ears are red, which.

Ah.

Callum may have gone a bit far with the last one.

“In my defence,” he says, “we have done that before. Just not lately.”

“She looked impressed,” Ben says. “Impressed.”

“Well,” Callum says, “you are pretty impressive.”

Ben opens his mouth a couple of times, and honestly, Callum’s trying not to laugh. Feels light with it.

“I am very impressive, thank you,” Ben says eventually, tilting his nose up snobbishly, and Callum does lose it a bit then. “You don’t have to keep doing this,” he says eventually, when Callum’s calmed down, and Callum sighs.

“I know,” he says. “I’m not trying to prove anythin’.”

“I could tell you…” Ben says, lowering his voice, and Callum leans closer. “What you’ve been covering for, I mean. If you needed to know.”

Callum thinks about it. The curious part of him does want to know, the part that cares about Ben always wants to know, but—

“Nah, you’re alright,” he says instead. “Just tell me if you think it’s important, yeah? Or if you need a more specific cover. By the way, we play scrabble now.”

“Who even are you?” Ben asks.

Me, Callum thinks. Finally me.

~

The alibi visits cease, and Callum’s not sure if that’s because Ben’s stopped offering him up or if it’s because there’s not heat on the Mitchells right now.

It’s a little disappointing, if he’s honest. He had a whole lie ready about Ben planning a romantic picnic that would have driven Ben crazy.

Jay offers him his job at the funeral parlour back, and he seriously considers it before taking one behind the bar at the Albert instead. It doesn’t pay as well, but it’s familiar work. He’s not the bloke who broke more glasses than he served anymore, barely remembers who that guy is, but there’s something nice about how simple it all is.

It’s a relief not to have to care about anything more than peoples drunken hook ups or long days at work.

“Guess I can cross this place off my meeting spots then,” Ben says the first time he walks in to find Callum behind the bar. He shoves his phone in his pocket, and Callum wonders if he really has reverted to old habits or if this is something more sedate. Some guy he’s been chatting to for a while, could stick around for more than one night.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he says, because he wants Ben to be happy. Always has, always will.

“Nah,” Ben says, vulnerability slipping over him, “I’d keep realising they weren’t as hot as you. Put a serious damper on things.”

“Well,” Callum says.

“Thanks,” Ben says. “For everything.”

He means the alibis, obviously, but Callum’s been able to read Ben Mitchell for a long time now and knows it’s bigger than that.

“You’re welcome,” he says, and means something bigger too.

~

Callum quit the police first and foremost for himself.

He did not quit the police for Ben Mitchell.

(He definitely quit the police for them.)

~

Phil nods at him in the market, signals for him to follow, and Callum does because he’s not an idiot.

“Job tonight,” Phil says, carefully. He doesn’t trust Callum, and Callum can’t blame him. Then again, Phil doesn’t trust anyone so he’s not special.

“Okay…?”

“Look, we need ya to cover for us. Sharon’s in, too, but they’ve been funny about taking her word lately. Just come over with too much takeaway, stay a couple hours, mess around on our phones with the location on, and when the coppers ask tell them we had a family night in, yeah?”

“Sure,” Callum says immediately, and Phil blinks at him. “What time?”

“Seven,” Phil says. “And not a word.”

“‘Course not,” Callum says.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think Phil looked a bit proud.

~

“You made your mind up, then?” Sharon says, when they’re working their way through too much Indian, half watching an old game show channel and pretending they’re not worried.

Callum’s alternating between phones, Googling answers to whatever show’s on and scrolling through Ben’s instagram feed, liking Lola’s picture of Lexi in a panda dressing gown.

“S’like you said, innit?” he answers eventually. “It’s worth giving up everything for.”

Sharon’s silent for a long moment, and when he looks at her she’s smiling.

“Good boy,” she says

There are worse things, he thinks, than learning to be as loyal as she is.

It’s worth it when your loyalties actually matter.

~

It’s long dark by the time Phil and Ben eventually slip through the back door. Sharon’s gone to bed, Callum promising to wake her if anything goes sideways, so Callum’s alone, listening to the radio just loud enough for it to be heard by anyone walking by, turning it off with the quiet click of the lock.

There’s no sirens following them, so he assumes it went well.

“Right,” Phil says, clapping Callum on the shoulder. “I need my kip. See you lads in the morning.”

“Cuppa?” Callum says, for anything better to do, and Ben nods and looks like he’s ready to fall asleep where he stands.

They wait for the kettle in silence, and it’s not uncomfortable but it does feel like it used to, a bit. In those early days when they were still learning what it meant to be in each other’s space.

“Job went well,” Ben says eventually, and Callum nods, not pushing. “Just a grab and dash, except the bloke’s well connected. And by well connected I mean loaded. And by loaded I mean an arsehole.”

Callum laughs softly and grabs the milk from the fridge.

“Why are you doing this, Callum?” Ben asks, and Callum finishes making the tea, blows softly on his before he answers.

“Should have been doing it all along,” he says, and Ben frowns. “No, don’t. It’s not…I’m still not gonna be the one out there doing B and Es, or making dodgy deals. That’s not the bloke I am. But it is the bloke you are. And I knew that. I’ve always known that. And it’s not just you, neither. It’s almost everyone you care about. Hell, it’s almost everyone I care about. With a brother like mine, with Mick and Linda, with Whit. Most of them are even really good people.

I had the best intentions when I joined up. But, well. You know what they say about good intentions. I thought I could have it both ways, and I couldn’t, not really. And that was on me.

‘Cause I made a choice, and it was the wrong one.”

“I didn’t wanna be the bloke that stopped you doing what you wanted,” Ben says, because he’s still stuck on that. Still thinks he’s the one breaking things. Doesn’t realise yet what Callum figured out a while back.

“I know,” Callum says. “Except I realised it doesn’t matter. I can come up with all the justifications I want, but at the end of the day it’s simple. I know you, Ben Mitchell, and I love you. And I will lie through my teeth every day of my life if it means keeping you here and safe and with me.”

“Cal—”

“My choice,” Callum says, taking Ben’s tea out his hands and putting it next to his on the counter. “Only ‘bout the second one in my life I’ll not regret making.”

“What’s the first?” Ben asks, eyelids slipping partway closed as he stares up at Callum, breath caught on the space between them.

“Kissing you,” Callum says, and doesn’t regret it this time, either.

~

“Morning, sir,” the officer says, not one he recognises.

“What can I do for ya?” Callum says, putting down his bar towel and making sure the empties are stacked neatly.

“Can you tell us where you were on Tuesday night?”

Callum smiles.

“Absolutely.”

[emotionsincascades]

Joseph Canteloube: Chants d’Auvergne: Baïlèro (Chant de bergers de Haute-Auvergne)

Pastrè dè délaï l’aïo, As gaïré dè buon tèms? Dio lou baïlèro lèrô, Lèrô lèrô lèrô lèrô baïlèro lô. Pastré lou prat faï flour, Li cal gorda toun troupel. Dio lou baïlèro lèrô, Lèrô lèrô lèrô lèrô baïlèro lô. Pastré couci foraï, En obal io lou bel riou! Dio lou baïlèro lèrô, Lèrô lèrô lèrô lèrô baïlèro lô.

[breaniebree]

Chapter 229 Sneak Peek

This is for all of those who are gave me much needed love today to soothe my poor writer’s ego.  You’re the best and the reason I share what I write with the world and not just keep it for myself.  

Specifically, this one is for: @weasleycousin @liesadventure @casually-ananarchist-tomato @notthatchhavi @pommewom @imwhite1086-blog @emergencybitch @queen-owlhead @lasagnelady @carpenl @james7594 @dreaming-thoughtless @mennataha02 @rainycollectorlight-universe @runningtwiceasfast @thisismegz @bluestwitch @siriusblack15 and many, many, many more.

I love you! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

You are amazing!

Thank you for taking the time out of your days to read my little story!

And remember, reviews are what us fanfiction authors are paid in :D

Chapter 229 Hinny Excerpt...

The afternoon sun had come in while she was daydreaming as she and Harry were adding more hay into the stalls.  It was hot and humid and her shorts and vest were sticking to her.  Colt had said it was close to ninety degrees and she could feel the heat of the sun, so thankful for the sun protection charm that she’d used on herself.  Ginny snuck a look over at Harry.  They were behind the stables, working with the hay bales, the forest at their back and for the first time in what seemed like all summer — she was completely alone with him.  It was rare for them to find a moment alone.  Someone was always around between Colt, the ranch hands Calvin and Tucker, Flo, Sorcha, Misha, Zee… it was nice and confining at the same time.  She and Harry were never alone enough and she missed him, missed touching him.  Merlin, she wanted her hands on him, she thought.

He had pulled his shirt off in the heat of the afternoon sun and she couldn’t help but take a moment to just look at him.  His broad shoulders and lean muscles made him look more man than boy.  The glimmer of sweat on his skin looked oddly appealing and she had a sudden desire to run her hands over him, to taste the salt of his skin.  The small white scars on his back from the horntail glimmered in the sunlight.  His black hair, as messy as ever, stood on end in a careless fashion that suited him so well that one would think he’d styled it that way.  He wasn’t traditionally handsome, she supposed, but there was something distinctive about him.  

The sharp jawline, the black stubble that peppered his chin and neck showed that he hadn’t shaved in probably about a week; his adorable ears (and who knew ears were adorable, but his were)…  His skin tanned a lovely gold from the summer sun (he didn’t need to worry about a sun protection charm), the pale white lines of skin where his jeans dipped low, made her lick her lips, eager to look and see just how pale he was beneath the denim.  As he turned, she let her eyes wander down to the dark happy trail that disappeared beneath the waistline of his jeans.  Her brown eyes hungrily eyed the soft v-lines on either side of him.  When he stretched those arms out, bending to pick up the fresh bale of hay and she tilted her head to look at his arse.  He definitely had a bum made for those jeans, she thought with a smile.  Then those green eyes met hers and just like always, they punched through her like a bolt of lightning.  They were impossibly green, like almond-shaped emeralds, and so incredibly beautiful behind his round glasses.

It had always been his eyes that drew her in first.  The long, gorgeous lashes that any woman would kill for, outlining those perfect almond-shaped orbs.  The bright vivid green that changed from dark to almost hazel-green, depending on his mood.  And when those lips curved into a knowing smile, she only grinned back at him.

“See something you like, Ginny?”

Ginny, knowing that she had been caught, only shrugged.  “I was just thinking that we should get more apples for the horses.”

Harry dropped the bale of hay to the ground and took a step towards her so quickly that she took an automatic step back.  “Oh, really?  That’s what you were thinking about?”  She swallowed when he stood in front of her, his hands resting on her waist.  “Apples?”

Ginny’s breath hitched when his head bent to kiss her and she let out a whimper when he stopped a breath away from her lips.  “Apples, yes.”

His grin was quick, those emeralds twinkling in amusement, and he pulled away.  “Sure, let’s go get some apples.”

He made to go; Ginny linked two fingers through the belt loops of his jeans and tugged him back towards her.  “Get back here and snog me, Harry Potter!”

Harry chuckled.  “Why? I thought that you weren’t checking me out?”

Ginny only stood on her toes and tugged his face to hers for a long deep kiss that made her moan against him.  “Prat.  You bloody well know I was checking you out.”

“I know no such thing,” he teased, kissing the tip of her nose.  “I’m a bit of a mess really, can’t imagine why you would be.”

Ginny ran her hands up his sweaty torso.  “A sexy mess.”

He chuckled and kissed her again.  Ginny melted into him, basking in the feel of his warm body pressed against hers.  Her fingers looped through his belt loops tighter, pulling him closer and his hands slid around her waist to grip her bum.  She stood on her toes and he lifted her, grinning against her mouth when she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“How is it that I have you all to myself this summer yet I can barely find a moment alone with you?”  he murmured, trailing his mouth over her jaw.

Ginny made an mmm sound as she pulled his lips back to hers.  She kissed him deeply before she kissed his cheeks, his nose, his chin.  “I love your grandparents.  They’re so much fun and so interesting and I love spending time with them — but — the lack of privacy around her is starting to feel the Burrow.”

Harry chuckled and kissed her again.  “You can say that again.  I want some time alone with you.  I miss our tower room.”

Ginny’s fingers let go of his belt loops as she slid down his body, back to her feet.  She trailed her fingers up his chest and then back down through his happy trail, across the brass button on his jeans, and then danced them down the zipper.  “Me too.”

[...]

“We should get some more apples for the horses though.  They like them,” Harry said.

He moved back to the door, bending to reach for his discarded tee shirt on the ground inside as a beautiful blonde stepped into the stables.  She had legs up to her ears and her blonde hair was shoulder length and framed her face in careless layers.  Ginny watched her eyes land on Harry’s arse, slowing moving up the length of his body, and all she could think was: Mine.  She made to step closer just as the blonde spoke.

“Should have known you’d get hotter.”

Harry grinned in surprise.  “Harley!”

The blonde laughed and launched herself into his arms, and the little squirm of jealousy in Ginny's gut surprised her.  She took another step closer again, eyes on how the blonde had plastered herself against Harry’s naked chest, and wondered if it would be going too far for her to grab her by the hair and pull her away from him.  

“God, you got tall too!  Cal and Tuck told me that you were back here and I just had to say hi!”

Harry grinned, his hands on her arms.  “You racing yet?”

“Next year,” she said with a grin.  “I have my own horse now.  His name is Davidson.  Get it?  Harley riding Davidson?”

Harry chuckled.  “That’s great!”  His eyes sought Ginny’s and he smiled at her.  “Harley, this is my girlfriend, Ginny.  Ginny, this is Harley Mills.”

Ginny stepped over to them, trying not to show that she was jealous.  The young woman before her was gorgeous: Long legs made for the denim she was in, slim build.  She could be a model.

“Hi,” she said, hoping her smile looked friendly.  She had a sudden desire to claim Harry as hers.

His arm came around her shoulders and she immediately put her hand on his flat stomach, her brown eyes on the blonde.

“Hi,” Harley said.  “It’s lovely to meet you.  Harry’s a great guy.  You’re lucky.”

“I know,” Ginny told her.

Harry linked his fingers with hers and warmth spread through her.  “It’s me that’s lucky.”

Harley smiled.  “Well, Tuck and I are actually dating now.  Been almost two months.  He’s a sweetie.  Maybe we can all go to Flo’s for a milkshake, catch up.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Harley nodded, smiling at Harry again.  “Awesome.  Tomorrow at four?”

“Uh, sure,” Harry told her.

She grinned widely and then kissed Harry’s cheek before she waved goodbye, heading out of the stables.

Ginny looked up at Harry to try to see the expression on his face, but his lips dipped to hers, softly and tenderly, and she melted into him.  Her lashes fluttered open as she looked up at him.  “What was that for?”

“Just being here.  Do you mind grabbing a milkshake with Harley and Tucker tomorrow?  We can always cancel.”

“Do you want to go?”  Ginny asked, not entirely sure if she wanted to know the answer.

He shrugged.  “It would be nice to see her again and I think that I’d like to know more about what she’s been up to.”

Ginny stared at him a moment, unsure how she felt about his words.  “Well, a Weasley never turns down food.  Even if it involves eating with her boyfriend’s ex.”

Harry bent his head and kissed her softly.  “Are you jealous?”

“Of that model gorgeous woman out there?”  Ginny asked, lips twitching.  “No, never!”

[irwinkitten]

6 with Ashton?

6. “Give me a minute, I’m going to tickle the shit out of you.”

-

It wasn’t often you got time off whilst Ashton was on tour. But when you had to take the time off, you decided that you were going to conspire to surprise him.

Knowing he could keep a secret, you’d texted Calum your idea, and he was immediately sold on it, helping you buy a ticket out to the next state they were going to be in. 

Better for you to be already there than trying to play catch up. 

It didn’t take long to get booked into the hotel they were staying at since this was going to be a three night stint of shows, Calum convincing their tour manager to add your name to the access since you’d be sharing with Ashton.

It wasn’t easy to sneak around, but you’d managed it. You already dropped your bags off in the room, making sure that you tucked the card safely into your wallet before heading to the venue. 

You’d warned Calum of your imminent and your pass was waiting for you when you arrived. So as you waltzed into the greenroom behind Andy, an amused grin on your lips as they were pratting about, Ashton calling from the other room.

“Whoever stole my sticks better fess up.” Calum came rushing through the door to see you grinning and he thrust Ashton’s drumsticks at you.

Before you could even shout at him, Ashton came through the door seconds later, searching the room before they widened as they took you in.

“Babe?”

“Surprise?” Your arms lifted into a shrug and his eyes zeroed in on the drumsticks in your hands.

“Give me a minute, I’m going to tickle the shit out of you and then kiss you. But first I’m gonna kill Cal.” Calum’s noise of protest was drowned out by your laughter as Ashton returned to chasing his best friend, only to kiss your cheek as he went tearing past you.

-

send me a number w/a boy or calia (cal n venetia)

[brookston]

Holidays 7.23

Holidays

Children’s Day (Indonesia)

Dessert First Day

Gorgeous Grandma Day

Hot Enough For Ya Day

International Yada, Yada, Yada Day

Mayan Sun Festival

Mayhem New Year

Mosquito Day

National Care for Your Coworker Day

National Mosquito Day

National Sprout Day

Private Eye Day

Remembrance Day (Papua New Guinea)

Renaissance Day (Oman)

Revolution Day (Egypt)

Soma No Umadi (Wild Horse Chasing; Japan)

Sprinkle Day

Sumarauki (Iceland)

World Sjögren's Day

Yada, Yada, Yada Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

National Spongecake Day

Peanut Butter and Chocolate Day

Session Beer Fest Day

Vanilla Ice Cream Day

Fourth Saturday in July

National Day of the American Cowboy [4th Saturday]

National Drowning Prevention Day [4th Saturday]

Tsushima Tennoo Matsuri (津島天王祭り; Shōjō Festival, Japan) [Begins 4th Saturday night]

Independence Days

Abkhazia (Declared from USSR, 1992) [partially recognized]

Feast Days

Apollinaris (Christian; Saint)

Birthday of Haile Selassie (Rastafarian)

Bridget of Sweden (Christian; Saint)

Feast of Sulis (Goddess of Mineral Springs)

Free Hugs Day (Pastafarian)

Groucho Marx Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Heiromartyr Phocas (Eastern Orthodox)

John Cassian (Western Christianity; Saint)

Leonardo Da Vinci (Positivist; Saint)

Liborius of Le Mans (Christian; Saint)

Margarita María (Christian; Saint)

Mercè Prat i Prat (Christian; Saint)

Neptunalia (Old Roman festival honoring Neptune)

Phocas the Gardener (Christian; Saint)

Rasyphus and Ravennus (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Shakku (赤口 Japan) [Bad luck all day, except at noon.]

Premieres

The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas (Film; 1982)

The Bourne Supremacy (Film; 2004)

Boneheads (Film; 1993)

Catwoman (Film 2004)

Cold As Ice, by Foreigner (Song; 1977)

Drop Dead Gorgeous (Film; 1999)

How Green Was My Valley, by Richard Llewellyn (Novel; 1939)

Ramona and Beezus (Film; 2010)

Salt (Film; 2010)

Tidal, by Fiona Apple (Album; 1996)

The World According to Garp (Film; 1982)

Today’s Name Days

Brigita (Austria)

Apolinar, Brigita, Ezekijel (Croatia)

Libor (Czech Republic)

Apollinaris (Denmark)

Saida, Seida, Senta, Siina (Estonia)

Oili, Olga (Finland)

Brigitte (France)

Birgitta (Germany)

Lenke (Hungary)

Apollinare, Brigida (Italy)

Ada, Madala, Magda, Magone (Latvia)

Apolinaras, Brigita, Gilmina, Tarvilas (Lithuania)

Brit, Brita, Britt (Norway)

Apolinary, Bogna, Żelisław (Poland)

Oľga (Slovakia)

Brígida (Spain)

Emma (Sweden)

Apollinary (Ukraine)

Bridget, Bridgett, Bridgette, Bridie, Brigette, Brigid, Brigitta, Brigitte, Romeo (Universal)

Roma, Roman, Romaine, Romana, Romelia, Romeo, Romina, Seymour (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 204 of 2022; 161 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 6 of week 29 of 2022

Celtic Tree Calendar: Tinne (Holly) [Day 15 of 28]

Chinese: Month 6 (Héyuè), Day 25 (Ding-Chou)

Chinese Year of the: Tiger (until January 22, 2023)

Hebrew: 24 Tammuz 5782

Islamic: 23 Ḏū al-Ḥijjah 1443

J Cal: 23 Lux; Twosday [23 of 30]

Julian: 10 July 2022

Moon: 22% Waning Crescent

Positivist: 8 Dante (8th Month) [Leonardo Da Vinci]

Runic Half Month: Ur (Primal Strength [Day 12 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 33 of 90)

Zodiac: Leo (Day 1 of 31)

Calendar Changes

Leo (The Lion) begins [Zodiac Sign 5; thru 8.22]