#Ugh plucks moony am i right?

[forthehpfanboys]

Soft Side

Pair: James Potter x Reader; he/him.

Summary: James doesn’t let his soft side show in fear of being teased and certainly doesn’t let it known that he’s been crushing on his best mates brother. But one day, it slips free, Sirius finds out and he gets to go stargazing- Not too bad.

Warnings: Cute? Lowkey trash?? I’m sorry- I tried-

Notes: So.. I had no idea what to put for the gif- so here’s this. I’ll edit this tomorrow. Pick your house!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

If there was one thing James Potter wanted to keep secret, it was his love for all things soft. Soft stuffies, soft people, soft blankets, soft sweaters- everything soft. He knew he’d be absolutely dominated by teases and jokes if his bestest of friends were to ever find out so he never let it show. That is until he met you. You managed to take his soft side and rip it from the deep confides of his soul and layer it above his loud, prankster personality. He loved and hated it. When he was with you, he just wanted to make you flower crowns or read to you during a thunderstorm by candle light.

The hardest part of all of this was you weren’t his. Not yet, anyway. You weren’t really dating anyone and chose to focus on your very important studies. While you weren’t necessarily the best friends with the group self proclaimed as the Marauders, you were blood related to Sirius, more specifically his younger brother. So that was just another kink in the chain of James’ feelings. 

I mean- who could actually fall for his best friend’s brother? Bloody James Potter. He thought sourly as he gazed at you across the dining table. Sirius had his arm wrapped around your shoulder, whispering gossip to you, probably about Snivellus or maybe Remus, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was how you covered your mouth and laughed into your hand. The raven haired student could genuinely hear you laugh, have that laugh be the only noise he hears until he dies, and he’d be content, hell, even happy about it.

“So, Potter? What’s the plan for today?” Sirius spoke up, returning said males thoughts to the blank paper laid across the table. At some point, your eyes had flickered to his, and he would swear to the heavens he could see the stars sparkling in your irises- even if that’s cheesy. 

“Well, I-” He closed his textbook quickly and slid it away from him. He didn’t really think this far ahead so he didn’t know. He ran his finger tips along the tan parchment that the Marauders desperately wished would show Hogwarts in its entirety to them. “I didn’t plan anything yet.” 

“Boo!” Sirius called out, smirking and winking at some Ravenclaw bird that passed by the table. “Ah, come on. I thought we’d go pick on Sniv-” He let out a groan, pulling his arm away from you to wrap them around his stomach, where you’d elbowed him.

“Stop calling him that, Sirius. He’s not a bad guy, in fact, he’s just like you, greasy hair and all.”  You snickered, watching your brother curl in on himself. That was another thing he really liked about you. You managed to reel Sirius back when he was going too far and control him, somehow. You were the only man Sirius ever listened too and it amazed James to such a degree. What magic did you hold that allowed you to stop this curly haired idiot and how does he get some? 

“Why not, Chortle?” James smirked, trying to shove the love-sick grin that was desperate to spread across his lips down into non existence. He let out his own laugh when you kicked his shin lightly. 

“Well, James, if you must know, bullying the kid for no reason is a major jerk move! Slytherin’s aren’t that bad!” You ignored James’ and Siruis’ gasp of shock. “Besides, you guys have got to stop giving everyone terrible nicknames!” You grinned at him, causing his cheeks to tint a soft pink. “All of your nicknames suck royal hippogriff!” 

“That is not true and you know it!” James flicked his dry quill at you, his eyes wide in fake shock. “I am the Nickname King at this table, (Y/n)! If you don’t like it, you won’t be a part of the Marauders anymore.” He genuinely thought it was a cute nickname- your animagus was a hyena, after all. He thought it fit.

“First of all, I came up with the group name, you git! Second of all- no! Do not interrupt me! Second of all, I also came up with Moony AND Padfoot! You came up with Prongs! What the hell is a prong?” You joking yelled out, standing up and leaning on the table to poke his nose. James felt his blush double and was really praying no one noticed, but judging by the way Sirius was smirking at him, he knew. James’ eyes jumped between your brothers smirk and your dizzying smile.

“Well, I came up with Chortle.” James chewed on the inside of his lip, trying to ignore how his heart was speeding up in his chest. Please stop being cute- James let out a silent sigh of relief when you finally sat down and hoped your brother was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. The odds were not in James’ favor. 

“Yeah, and it’s Gods awful, Prongs.” Sirius spoke up, leaning over the table some. “Maybe something like ‘love’ is more fitting for him, hmm?”

“Watch it, Padfoot.” James spat out, his hands curling into fists under the table. This was what he didn’t want. He didn’t want Sirius knowing or Remus knowing and definitely didn’t want you know he was absolutely smitten over you. You’d probably laugh at him, or hate him, or never speak to him again and he couldn’t handle that.

“What? I’m just trying to help my best mate notice the obvious cru-” Sirius shut up the exact moment James slammed his hands down on the wooden table.

“Shut it, Sirius.” He spat out again before throwing one leg over the bench, followed by the other and storming out of the dining hall, shoving his way right past Remus, who had just walked close to the table. He ignored the soft brunette's call after him and the echoing ‘what did you do?” made by the same voice. He ran his hands through his hair as he walked out of the school. “Bullocks- that- Ugh- mangy dog-” He grumbled to himself as he strutted across the courtyard, ignoring the swooning birds on the sidelines and heading straight down the stone steps to the Black Lake. 

The young male in specks made a beeline straight toward the weeping willow, successfully ducking to avoid a branch before poking the knot on the bark to help it relax. He leaned against the harsh bark, his gaze casted over the reflective water. He let out a sigh, finding the harsh rays of sun far to warm for his liking. He took off his Gryffindor robe, throwing it onto one of the lower hanging branches before pulling his sweater over his head, forcing his glasses to become askew. 

Once they were fixed, he set the setter next to the robe and allowed gravy to pull him to the ground. He crossed his legs into a knot as he rolled up his sleeves, still trying to actively avoid the unforgiving warmth. The male was just happy the tree was providing a nice spot of shade for him to relax under. He pushed his glasses up again, a sigh leaving his lips while he pressed his back against the bark.

“Hey.” 

James whipped his head around, seeing you kind of popping out from beside the tree with a smile that had his heart stopping. 

“Hey! Wha- um- What are you doing down here? Shouldn’t you be reading or studying or doing some academic even though you get the best marks of our year?” As he spoke, his head slowly lifted and his back straightened up away from the wood; he didn’t want you thinking he was a slob. His brown eyes jumped around behind the lenses, before they settled on your absolutely captivating (e/c) ones. His eyes followed yours as you sat down next to him, shedding your house robe to relieve the warmth you were also feeling. He found himself staring at your cute lips and even cuter pink cheeks. Oh, Merlin, he had it bad. Under the shady tree, it felt hotter the closer you got to his side.

“Oh, well, I felt bad for Siri being an absolute twat and decided to apologize for him. So, I’m sorry on his behalf.” You spoke up, plucking a rock free from the dirt and casually throwing it to the water, enjoying the ripple it created. While your gaze was on the lake, his was glued to his cheeks. He took in a stuttering breath before boldly wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you to his side.

“You didn’t have too, Chortle! I’m all set!” He casted a smirk in your direction, praying to Merlin his heart wasn’t audible from his ribcage. His eyes widened when the blush across your face increased ten fold. “You ok?”

“Huh?” You turned toward him, your eyes mimicking a doe’s in pure innocence. “Oh! Yeah, I’m good, just um- Warm!” You couldn’t stop looking at his eyes. God, they reminded you of the forest, not that you’d admit it to his face. He was struggling to turn away from your gaze as well. He felt his lungs physically stop moving when your eyes glanced down at his semi parted lips before popping back up to his, all of it happened so fast. 

“Caaann I help?” James found himself leaning in more, a genuine smile coming up to his lips. He subconsciously tightened his arm around your shoulder, his own eyes flicking down to your lips like it was some kind of signal that he prayed would mean something.

“I think you might be able too, yeah.” You whispered, leaning up ever so slightly. At this point, James’ noose was almost touching yours and he was wondering if you could see your reflection in his glasses, because he could see his own in your eyes. He wanted to say he moved in closer and connected your lips, but he couldn’t say for sure. Judging by how poorly you both actually aimed, you both surged forward. Despite James being desperate for the feeling of your lips against his, the kiss remained softer than silk. His hand cupped your cheek, gently sliding your lips to press against his more effectively 

James pulled away, his grin from before growing wider. His thumb ran across your red cheek. He reached for your hand with his spare one and grasped it as if it was an injured butterfly.

“How long?” His voice was quiet, but sounded almost too loud compared to the gentle silence surrounding the two of you. “When?” He had so many questions, but wanted to focus on the most important ones. 

“2 years now; since you and Sirius turned that one Slytherin statue red and gold.” You let out a soft giggle and leaned into the touch. James realized at this moment you were the softest member of your house and it only had him swooning harder for you. 

“Godric, I love you, (Y/n).” He let out a snort when your eyes widened. “What?” He let go of your cheek and opted for pulling you into his side, effectively starting a snuggle session. 

“Nothing! Just thought you forgot my name. I’m glad you didn’t!” You played with the males fingers. The seeker could never have forgotten your name. It echoed in his dreams, he saw it written in stars, and he heard it everywhere he turned. He literally couldn’t escape it. 

“I’d never forget the name of my love.” Forever the smooth talker. He smiled wider when you let out another bunch of giggles. He would never get tired of that sound. The two of you jumped when someone coughed. You both turned to see Remus and Sirius standing just off to the side, right outside of your peripheral vision.

“Hey! What happened to Marauders before my baby brother?” Sirius put his hands on his waist, a knowing smile spread across his lips. James groaned. He’d rather deal with a Devil's Snare. 

“I’m not your baby brother!” You cried out, your face turning redder than ever. You threw a small rock at your brother, watching it bounce pathetically off his chest. “Merlin.” You grumbled, curling into James’ side.

“Siri, be happy for them!” Remus hit the males chest with a book. “At least it’s out and they can stop swooning in secret.” The werewolf turned back to the new couple. “Besides, they’re cute together.” He stated before walking off, dragging Sirius away by his sleeve. 

“Wait, no, I’m not done teasing my little brother!” 

“Yes, you are. Did you know James had a soft side though?” 

The pair of voices faded as they walked back up the stone steps, allowing the couple to watch the lake reflect the beautiful scenery around it and just chat. The couple didn’t move until the stars replaced the sun and every constellation had been pointed out in the night sky. Sure, it was past curfew, but neither cared. They had each other.

[remedial-wit]

05/06/18

Wolfstar(aka puppy love aka remus/sirius)

Mercia and Tiger’s June Prompt fill #2 First Kiss

____

It happens almost too quickly for Remus to even register it's happened.

But it's nice. Warm and soft and tastes sweet with a little bit of spice from the chocolate and all the firewhiskey they've smuggled from Hogmeade. Remus feels fingertips under his shirt and lets himself get tugged closer. God, maybe he's had too much already, because he practically melts into it. It feels so… overwhelming.

Around them, the party, heavy punk muggle music from Sirius's collection, the drunken singing of his fellow housemates and a few others, pulses on. Loud and vivid, even with the low lighting, much to crowded for the common room. And it's all a blur, and too much but it's also not enough at the same time. Remus feels so nice. So happy.

Surrounded by friends and everyone he loves and whoever these lips belong to.

And then, just like that, they let go.

There's a lingering scent of smoke and rain, and firewhiskey, and a trail of glitter. And whoever it was, is gone.

Oh well.

For a moment, Remus just stands there, feeling a little stunned. And then he laughs.

Everyone is still dancing and talking (or shouting over the music because it's so damn loud), and drinking and doing all the usual teenager party things. And Remus laughs because he's just had his first kiss and it was amazing and he has not the bloodiest clue who the fucking heck it was.

Maybe he needs another drink.

Wading his way through the jumping masses, he makes his way towards the table with all the butterbeer, firewhiskey, and giggle water (because Mary's cousin from America got it for her and Mary is very generous) staring at his options with perhaps a bit too much seriousness. Why have one when you can have all? Says a little voice in his mind, which Remus decides to listen to, because yes, that sounds like a genius idea. Good job, mind. He plucks a random party cup from the table, inspects it for anything dubious with a sniff, shrugs, and then sets about to pouring a little bit of each.

An arm comes around his shoulders from nowhere, and Remus startles before turning to his friends, his fellow Marauders.

"All right, Moony?" grins James sneaking a look into his cup. "What've you got there?"

"A mix," Remus replies proud of his genius. "A little bit of each."

James gasps dramatically and peers closer into the cup. "That's fucking brilliant mate," he says.

"I know."

"Don't you think it's a bit risky?" frowns Peter, who looks wayyyy too sober to be making any rational decisions.

Remus rolls his eyes and pushes his cup towards Peter, "You need more," he declares loudly. "And besides, I'll be fine! I'm a --" and he drops his voice quickly, looking around them, because this is a secret, "-- I'm a werewolf," he whispers extremely subtly. Because that's what Remus is. Subtle. Subtle as a snake (and definitely not a wolf.) He giggles.

Sirius's hand closes around the cup and chucks it into the bin, before he gives Remus an assessing, narrow-eyed look. "Yeah, no. You've definitely had too much. What's the occasion, anyways?"

Remus pouts. What a waste! And it was such a great idea too! Still, he can always make another, he decides resolutely. "I," he begins nonetheless, puffing out his chest a little, "have just had my first kiss."

Peter grins and claps him on the back, and James gasps again (he does that a lot when he's drunk, actually) and hollers excitedly.

"Who was it?" Peter asks, eyes wide.

And he shrugs, reaching for a random half empty drink on the table. Butterbeer. Across the table, he sees Sirius watching him carefully. He grins back.

"C'mon mate," urges James, whining now, "tell us."

"I dunno," he replies, chucking back another random drink.

"What?" says Sirius, eyebrows furrowing.

"I don't know who it was," he says again. Honestly, how many times does he have to say it?

He's not really sure what happens the next few minutes after, because one second he's standing next to the drinks table with his friends and the portrait of that weird dancing fox above them, and the next he's sitting on the cushy red sofas and Peter is handing him a glass of water.

"What," he mumbles, leaning into Sirius's side. Because he's sooooo comfy and smells, hmm, really nice. "I'm fine."

James rolls his eyes, "Mate, if you can't remember who kissed you you're doing it wrong."

"Whaddaya mean?" he slurs, frowning.

"Come on," sighs Sirius, tugging him up. "Let's get you to bed."

He lets his friends haul him up to their room, even though the party is still going on, and Remus doesn't know this song but he loves it, and also the colour of the neon lights are very bright but Remus thinks he likes them now, and also Padfoot smells good. Padfoot snorts at that. The stairs are suddenly much too difficult to climb, and Remus blames the dark and all the people and definitely not Mary's cousin's giggle water. Or the firewhiskey for that matter, and his friends sigh and get him up the stairs, and they only trip a few times.

"I'm not even that drunk," he insists uselessly, "I can walk in a straight line, see?" and he walks his way very gracefully and elegantly (elegant as an elephant… or… an elk. Yeah, that probably works better.)

"Sure," says James, tucking in the covers as Peter places the water on the table and Sirius pushes him gently into bed.

"I am!" he repeats, though he is actually very tired now, and his bed is soft and comfortable and, yeah, maybe his friends are right. He likes his bed.

Before they leave, he catches Sirius's hand and pouts. "Stay?" he asks in a small voice and tugging him closer. And he sees Sirius's grey eyes flit towards the door, where James and Peter are waiting, and swallows.

"See you in the morning, Moony," he says, and lets go.

Remus falls asleep rather quickly after that, because his head feels a little woozy and drifty and yeah. And sleep is just so good, you know?

-----

When he wakes up, he wakes up far too early and he has (not to be dramatic) the worst hangover ever. Like seriously. It's far, far, far too fucking bright and the insides of his ears hurt like someone's stabbed them with a skewer. He groans (and even that is too loud), and pulls his covers over his head.

Why couldn’t he have just stayed asleep?

It feels like only a second later when someone is tugging back his covers and light is obtruding his eyesight again. Rude.

"Good morning, Moony?" he hears Padfoot whispering.

"Fuck off," he hears himself grumbling, squeezing his eyes shut. And, yep, still way too loud.

Sirius chuckles. "You had a pretty wild night, last night, Remy," he continues unperturbed.

And Remus pauses, trying to remember, the party and the giggle water, and the chocolate, and someone let the Hufflepuffs in and… oh yeah.

Oh yeah.

"Ugh," he says eloquently.

"Uh huh," says Sirius. "You all right, there?"

Remus groans again and turns way to face the wall. Shrugs. "I dunno," he mumbles, quiet now. Maybe he should stop overthinking this. It was just a kiss, after all. Even if it was his first one. And he didn’t know who it was. And James said… yeah, no. He should just stop thinking now.

"Wanna talk about it?" asks Sirius quietly, after a moment.

And actually, yeah, he kinda does. After all, they're Marauders and they can tell eachother everything. If they can know he's a fucking wolf, for fuck's sake, then Remus can talk about a fucking kiss.

"It's just about this kiss…" he says finally, sighing and turns back to face Sirius, "It's not a big deal, I know, but…"

"Still your first kiss, mate, you can feel how you want about it."

"I guess," and he sighs again. Because, ugh, emotions. "I guess I just want a re-do, or something."

"A re-do?" frowns Sirius, thinking hard.

"Forget about it," he says quickly, looking away. Hopefully he's not blushing but his cheeks feel too hot so it's not likely. "I'm being stupid."

Padfoot is silent for a while and, if Remus couldn't hear his breath or smell his scent, he'd almost think he's left. But he hasn't and Remus sneaks another glance at the boy, wispy curls of black hair falling out of his bun from having just woken up and the light bouncing off his skin and illuminating tiny flecks in his grey eyes.

"Sirius," he says before he can stop himself, "we're friends right? You do it."

Sirius's eyes widen and mouth drops open so quickly it looks almost comical. "W-what?" he splutters.

"My re-do. Be my first kiss. It can be like the five second rule or something, and it doesn't count if it's within the first twenty-four hours," and he's rambling now because he sounds so stupid and, oh merlin, he is just regretting everything right now.

"Okay," says Sirius.

And, oh. There's a flush of pink on Sirius's cheeks and Remus's breath catches, and then Sirius's hand meets his and Remus's chest flutters.

Sirius tastes sweet and a little spicy like chocolate and the firewhiskey from last night, which should maybe be gross since neither of them have brushed their teeth yet, but he's warm and soft and smells like smoke and rain and all the nice, lovely,  Sirius Black things.

Huh.

"Sorry about last night," whispers Sirius, cheeks even redder now. "I didn't realise you were that drunk and--"

"It's okay," Remus replies, because actually, it's kinda ironic, really. "It was still an amazing kiss, and besides. I liked this better."

"Yeah? Me too."

Remus laughs and kisses him again.

-----

sorry idk how to put a cut off thing so yall had to scroll to skip this :/

[ofwolvesandshatteredshields]

A Pirate’s Life

Hello! I got a prompt for comfy and casual trans nudity at the beach so here is a fic about Fenris where he is trans. Also feat. a lil bit of the fenhawkes and Isabela in a starring role. Largely SFW.

——

Isabela splays her legs on the sand and tips her head back, knocking it against the spindly trunk of the small tree under which they have all taken shelter. “If we’re going to be here for hours, the sea could at least cough up a bloody breeze.”

Fenris grunts in agreement. The tree is sparse and barely higher than Hawke’s head, and it provides minimal relief from the blazing sun. He’s beginning to wish the pirates would show up and steal Lord Ronfort’s shipment just so he could kill them and then go back to Kirkwall and lie unclothed on the stone floor of his shuttered house, which is at least slightly cooler than the surrounding air. But the sea stretching out in front of them is empty of ships.

Aveline dips her canteen back in the water barrel and chugs from it. “It’s only a couple of more hours until sunset, I think,” she says, wiping her mouth.

Fenris doesn’t know how she’s surviving in full plate armor. He’s in a breastplate, gauntlets, and leather and even that is extraordinarily uncomfortable. Hawke takes a drink as well. “Maybe we can just leave and hope no one shows up,” he mumbles.

“Oh, no. I am getting the other half of my fee,” Isabela says. “Ugh, Maker’s balls.” She shoves a hand up her shirt.

“Oh, for—do you have any decency?” Aveline grumbles.

“Give me a break, would you? There’s so much sweat under my tits I could swim in it.”

Fenris shifts slightly. His own problems are not quite so bountiful as hers, but they remain.

Another moment passes. Fenris squints up at the scrawny tree with its dozen green leaves, utterly still in the windless air. Then Isabela declares, “That’s it,” and rises, undoing the clasps on her shirt.

Aveline sighs. “And Isabela’s getting naked in front of everyone again. Must be Tuesday.”

“Excuse you, I work very hard to get naked around other people at least twice a week. Usually it’s in a different setting, though.” The shirt is off with the brassiere on its heels. “Ugh. All this thing was doing was getting sweaty, anyway.”

“Are you going swimming?” Fenris asks.

She shrugs. “It’s shallow here. Think I’ll just wade.”

“Hm.” Fenris starts unbuckling his gauntlets.

Hawke glances up the shore, uncertain. “But what if the pirates come?”

Isabela shrugs. “Stabbing someone while naked really isn’t any different from stabbing them when you’ve got clothes on.”

Fenris isn’t too worried. The greatsword tends to make enemies leery of getting anywhere near him. He places his gauntlets on a rock, followed by his breastplate. His shirt he hangs from the frail tree, beside Isabela’s boots and underclothes.

“Hey, Hawke, hand me the sun oil, would you?” Isabela asks.

Hawke digs it out from his pack and hands it over. That’s right. The sun is blazing, and Fenris would rather not burn. But Isabela’s using it first, and she pours a small pool of the clear liquid onto her hand and starts rubbing it into her neck and chest…

She’s doing it on purpose. It’s obvious from the first. Her motions are languid and casual in appearance but her sideways glances are not. Hawke is at least trying not to stare; Fenris tries as well, sort of, but Isabela has already offered to bed him at least a half-dozen times so she won’t mind, surely. He stands there, half-aware that one of his trouser legs is still on.

Aveline’s mouth is slightly open, her attention utterly captured. Isabela moves on to her stomach and hips, then picks up the bottle and shakes it a little. “Aveline, would you get my back?”

Aveline takes a stuttered step forward, then lifts her hands. “I’m wearing gauntlets,” she says, and while she attempts exasperation Fenris knows he hears a little bit of disappointment in there. He quashes a grin as he hangs his trousers and underclothes.

“Pity,” Isabela sighs. “Hawke, could you do it?”

“Right!”

She pours some onto Fenris’s cupped hands first. He applies it to his front with much less ceremony than she did. From his left he hears, “Ooh, your hands are so big.”

“D’you need help, Fenris?”

Fenris glances over. “Yes, please.”

The next thing he feels is Hawke’s hands on his back. They are big, and calloused with his years of farm work and training with daggers. Fenris ducks his head, certain he’s blushing. But there’s a smile on his face that just won’t go away. Hawke rubs the oil into him slowly but firmly, and Fenris finds himself squeezing his thighs together, bare toes digging into the sand. He blinks, a little alarmed. Now is certainly not the time to be thinking about such things.

“All done,” Hawke announces at last.

Fenris relaxes a little and glances over his shoulder. “Er—thank you.”

“Anytime.” Hawke gives him a soft smile.

Fenris decides he should probably be going to join Isabela, who’s already ankle-deep in the surf.

He jogs over the sand not because he’s in a hurry but because it’s hot and burns him. When the sand darkens with the wash of water he slows, picking his way over pebbles and pale grey snail-shells, strands of mop-like seaweed mushy under his feet. Isabela waves at him. “Watch where you’re stepping!”

Fenris sloshes into the water. It’s crystal-clear, shimmering over the sandy bottom. “What should I be looking for?”

Isabela crouches, frowning, and then plucks something out of the water to show him. “These little buggers. They’re sharp.”

It’s a shell, probably, long and rectangular and slightly curved. “A razor clam,” Isabela tells him. That makes sense—the shape reminds him of a straight razor. She heaves a sigh, flinging it behind her. “My first mate lost three of his toes to one of those once.”

Fenris lifts an eyebrow. “He did?”

“Maybe.” She gestures. “Come on, let’s go.”

Together they wade out. The water is cool but not cold, and Fenris welcomes it as it rises up his legs—tickling just a little, that and the floating bits of seaweed brushing by. The relief from the choking heat is not immediate but comes over him as slowly as the rising sea.

It is indeed shallow here, and by the time the water’s up to their thighs they’re already thirty yards from shore. Isabela stops, shading her eyes as she gazes out over the glittering water; she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Would you smell that fresh salt air?”

It certainly smells better than Kirkwall—better even than the beach, with the rotting seaweed sitting in the sun. Isabela takes a few more steps out, the water just barely reaching her lower back. “Oh, I miss the sea.”

“You’re standing in it,” Fenris remarks.

She shoots him a look over her shoulder. “You know what I mean. Being on the ocean in a ship of my own, nothing but water for miles and miles, and you with only your wits and a sturdy vessel and a crew who prefer drinking to following orders…”

Fenris comes forward as well, a wave gliding past him and brushing his navel. “It sounds dangerous.”

“Well, of course. What’s life without a little danger?”

“A little danger, perhaps. But I think I prefer solid ground.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” She fixes him with a thoughtful gaze. “Say, Fenris, when I get my own ship.”

“Yes?”

“How would you like to go raiding with me? Just for a month or two.”

Fenris snorts. “I do not think I would be able to contribute much. My sea-legs are poor.”

“All right, how about just a trip? I’ll take you to Antiva.”

Fenris cocks his head, considering. He has been to Antiva before, but he was hunted then. “I…maybe.”

“Excellent! I’ll hold you to that.”

“To what? I said—“

“Too late! We’re going.” She grins, smacking him in the arm. He cannot help but grin back.

They stand there quietly for a few moments. This far out there is a slight breeze, and Isabela opens her arms wide to accept it, closing her eyes. Fenris can’t think of another time when he’s seen her so relaxed—no arched eyebrow, no coy smile. “If I may,” he says.

She glances over. “Hm?”

“Why do you…do that?”

“Do what?”

“You…what you did on the beach. As an example.”

“Oh! Show off my tits?”

Fenris chuckles. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Everybody’s so repressed about all this sex business. It’s just more fun to be open about something you enjoy instead of stuffing it down all the time. And, well. Everybody loves making people’s jaws drop.”

“Not everybody,” Fenris mutters.

“Right.” Isabela nods, giving him a knowing look. “But I bet I can name one person whom you wouldn’t mind getting some stares from.”

Fenris flushes. “I—it’s complicated.”

“Be that as it may, you should have seen his face while he was massaging that oil into your back.”

“He was not massaging—“

“Totally smitten. Plain as day. There’s nothing to worry about on that end. Mind you, I was staring a bit as well. You are a very good-looking man.”

Fenris looks down at himself. He’s never connected the word good-looking with his own body.

“Listen, I know you’re moony over Hawke too, but—“

“I am not moony over—“

“—if you want to let loose a little in the meantime, my door is always open. It doesn’t have to be anything deep and meaningful. Just, you know.” She shrugs and smiles a little. “Fun.”

He sighs. “I am flattered, Isabela. But…I do not think I will take you up on your offer.”

“Ah, well, it was worth a try. Especially after seeing you take your clothes off again.”

Then Fenris starts as Aveline appears to Isabela’s other side, stark naked, arms tucked around her chest. Her skin is still flushed with the heat. “Good afternoon, you two.”

Isabela gasps. “Aveline! I knew you’d do it! I could hug you right now!” And indeed she opens up her arms, and Aveline puts on a disgruntled frown but accepts the hug without complaint.

“Hawke’s staying.” Aveline jerks her head at the shore.

“Ooh, did he do your back too? Did those big, manly hands rub that oil all over—“

“For Andraste’s—Hawke is my friend! I don’t think of him like that!”

Isabela shrugs. “He’s my friend too and I think of him like that all the time.”

They don’t talk much, simply enjoying the cool water and the light sea breeze. Aveline remarks that she didn’t grow up on the sea and finds it a little frightening still, and that sets Isabela off on a string of stories that Fenris thinks are meant to reassure her but often end up affirming her fears instead. A flock of seagulls wings past, crying out cacophonously, and he smiles up at them, shading his eyes.

“—and then the boat tipped over sideways, so we had to climb up on it and I stood on the keel until it flipped back while the wind was trying to push me off—“

“You told me sailboats were safe!”

“They are, that’s what I’m telling you! We flipped it right back over and went on our way! We even found Norman, he lost his grip and floated off while I was standing on the keel.”

“You found—was he still alive?”

“Of course he was! After we got the water out of his lungs.”

“I am never going on a boat with you. Ever.”

“Oh, please, you’ll love it. Fenris said he would come. Didn’t you, Fenris?”

“I believe I said ‘maybe.’”

“Ugh, don’t either of you ever have any fun?”

“Yes, but I prefer to do so without risking life or limb, thank you very much.”

“That’s the exciting part, though.” Isabela sighs. “Oh, the pirates will probably be here in a few minutes, by the way.”

Fenris whips around and finds Aveline has done the same. She squawks out, “What?! There’s no ships!”

“The seagulls.” Isabela waves a hand. “They all took off from the north. There’s a nice little cove that way, good for landing. The pirates might have snuck around so we wouldn’t see them coming.”

“Oh, blast it,” Aveline mutters, and start making her way toward shore as fast as she can.

Fenris follows, struggling through the hip-deep water. Isabela huffs out a sigh and comes along behind them. “I told you, stabbing people naked really isn’t that hard.”

Fenris has enough time to clothe himself and get his breastplate on before Hawke’s whistle sounds. Aveline is clothed but no more; her armor is somewhat more complicated than his own. Isabela puts on her underclothes but only does up one of the clasps on her shirt in what Fenris suspects is a statement of sorts.

They fight off the pirates. Nobody gets hurt (except the pirates). As soon as everyone’s who’s supposed to be dead is dead, Isabela’s clothes start coming off. “Now I’m all sweaty again! Ugh.”

Aveline’s qualms seem to have disappeared completely, because Fenris turns to find her following suit. An excellent idea. He unbuckles his breastplate and places it on the rock again, then glances over his shoulder. “Hawke?”

Hawke is cleaning off his daggers but looks up. “Hm?”

“Would you care to join us?” he asks, and undoes the first button on his shirt.

He feels a bit of Isabela’s influence in the smile he gives Hawke, who only stares at him for a moment. Then—“Oh!” The daggers are quickly discarded. “Well. Why not?”

Fenris grins. Maybe there is something to what Isabela says about fun.