#james's prediction comes true

[lulublack90]

Prompt 28 - Ardent

@wolfstarmicrofic February 28, word count 672

“What do you mean Remus is on a date?!” Sirius said, mouth hanging open in shock. 

“I mean, he and Marlene are currently out by the Black Lake having a date,” James explained calmly. Sirius couldn’t understand how they could all be so calm. REMUS WAS ON A DATE!!!

“I think it’s sweet, Marlene’s had a crush on Remus for forever,” Mary told the group gathered together in the common room. “She was so excited when he asked her. We spent hours getting her ready,” Lily nodded. 

“I’ve never seen her look so happy. She was blushing when they left,” Sirius grimaced at the dreamy looks on the girl's faces. He just couldn’t see Remus and Marlene together. They didn’t fit. Remus belonged with… He cut himself off there, unwilling to think any further about who he thought Remus should be with. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Peter asked as he set up the cards for a game of exploding snap. Yes, Peter, Sirius thought. That was a good question. As far as he was aware, Remus and Marlene had very little in common. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lily’s voice had taken on an airy air. “He’s probably telling her how ardent his feelings are for her, and she’s blushing in the sunset,” Sirius was horrified. Mary snorted. 

“You been reading Austen again Lils?” 

“Shut up, it’s romantic!” Lily huffed, her own cheeks turning pink. 

“He’s probably tripping over his words and Marlene’s probably tripping over her feet. Give it an hour, and they’ll both be back up having had a perfectly pleasant time and Marls will be soaked through because she tried to stroke the giant squid again,” James told them as he slammed down a card on top of Peter’s. “Snap!” He shouted loudly. An hour. Sirius could wait an hour. 

That hour was the longest of Sirius’s life. Every time someone came through the portrait hole, he sat up straighter. He lost abysmally at exploding snap, though Peter was the one who got a face full of smoke. Finally, Remus and Marlene returned and Sirius felt a rush of relief as Remus immediately walked over to him, leaving a dripping Marlene by the entrance. 

“Giant squid?” James asked. Marlene nodded, and a few Galleons got passed to James. 

“How’d it go?” Sirius asked Remus quietly. Remus leant over and whispered in Sirius’s ear. 

“It was nice,” The little hairs on the back of Sirius’s neck stood up, and he felt a ripple of something shoot down his spine as Remus’s breath tickled his ear. 

“Come on, let's go get you cleaned up,” Mary told Marlene, leading her up to the girl's dormitories. 

“I’m gonna go change as well; the squid squirted me a bit as well when I dragged Marlene out of the water,” Remus told them, heading up the boy’s staircase. 

“You should just tell him how you feel,” Lily said to him quietly, so no one else heard. 

“I have no idea what you’re on about,” Sirius said, confused. They were best friends, always had been. But then the images from the dreams he sometimes had floated into his mind, and the world stopped. His eyes darted up to meet Lily’s all-knowing ones, and he blinked dumbly at her as he figured out what she’d clearly known for a while. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Does everybody know?” He asked her, his eyes darting around the room. 

“Mary might, but everyone else, including Remus, is totally oblivious. Your secret’s safe,” she winked. 

“What do I do, Lils?” His heart was thumping so loudly he wondered that she couldn’t hear it. 

“You tell him, and then it’s his to decide what to do. Though you didn’t hear it from me, as I’ll deny it until I die, but Remus has been in love with you since the day you met,” Sirius’s heart stopped. He looked towards the spiral staircase and, without a moments thought, he was racing across the common room and up to Remus. 

Next part

[idkhowtomakethis]

As for my previous Sofia the First take,

When I say James should have a romantic subplot (if the new show has any) I mean he's the best choice but no one is ready to have that conversation

Legitimately, Sofia is too busy for romance, and so is Amber if she's going to be learning to be queen.

James isnt a great character just cause he's pretty underdeveloped but he's a good base to work with.

Being a chivalric knight comes with a certain degree of romance anyway since it wasn't uncommon to imagine a big reason a knight could be so dedicated to his country was out of love to his queen (all eyes turned to Lancelot), and with James being established as a future knight it adds that romantic inclination to his character.

Not to mention it'd be fun to see him with any of the princesses if they used one of them, my top pick is Vivian.

In regards to the upcoming show,

If they put in a romantic subplot it will likely be Amber or Sofia who gets a boyfriend (because it can't be gay oh no just don't look too hard at Hildi- *gets shot*)

There's nothing wrong with a romantic subplot, I like that stf didn't have one, it opens the door for fans to make their own interpretations which is 10x better imo

But it also proves that people can just be friends

I think giving Sofia a love interest in canon could do more harm than good to her character if it isn't done right tbh

I'm not saying it should be Hugo, but it would feel off if it wasn't. That's a really good base relationship to work with, and as good as it is to have female/male friendships like theirs it's undeniable that they have good chemistry (the ice skating episode??? Are you kidding me????)

However, if a romance for Sofia blooms, I assume they will introduce a new character (likely a sorcerer since this new show seems to be about her learning magic) and it will probably be a mutual pining will they won't they situation

They will not get together until the last episode, and it will be hell

He's either going to be eerily similar to James in personality, or he's going to be the up-tight studious type

If Amber gets a love interest I'm inclined to believe he will be a carbon copy of Hildigard, rarijack in equestria girls style.

Or it'll be Desmond. Idk why Desmond, but mark my words if they reuse any character for romantic subplots it will be Vivian and Desmond. Whether they're with one of the siblings or with each other is up in the air.

[kjhbsies]

Multo

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James Potter x reader

synopsis: After weeks of silence and emotional distance, Y/N is forced to confront the feelings she’s tried so hard to bury— feelings for her best friend, James Potter. But when James shows up drunk at her doorstep, broken and desperate for answers, the truth finally comes to light.

wordcount: 2, 876

note: Part II of Cool About It. Angst to fluff.

Y/n had been avoiding James for three weeks now. At first, it wasn't obvious. The kind of thing that barely scratches the surface and could be brushed off as coincidence. Too subtle to raise alarms.

Like how she'd swiftly turn the opposite way the moment she caught a glimpse of his messy dark curls in the distance, or how she suddenly always had something to do— like an essay to finish, a meeting to attend— whenever James was near her. Her once-predictable presence at group hangouts had become a rarity, and somehow, every time James showed up, she just happened to be unavailable.

And maybe James didn't notice it at first. Maybe he was too caught up with Lily— her sudden shift of attitude towards him was too hard to ignore. He was in bliss— floating in a dream he had been chasing for years, too up high to see the way Y/n had started falling from his orbit.

But everyone in his friend group did. Remus, Sirius, and even Peter, who never picked up on these things, had made an offhand comment. "Have you lot seen Y/n lately?"

Still, James didn't piece it together. Or maybe he didn't want to. Maybe he was scared of what it could mean if he did.

Because once you notice someone pulling away from you, it's impossible not to wonder why.

The library was quiet during the late hours. It was almost empty, dim, and, somehow, Y/n found this place comfortable. This area has given her a small amount of peace, offering her some sort of sanity as she can busy herself with the books stacked in there, not really reading it— but just... hiding.

It had become a routine lately. Ducking into corners, finding solitude, telling herself she wasn't avoiding James. She was just... protecting herself. But, of course, the universe won't let her have her peace.

"Y/n!" James called her from behind, panting slightly as if he had run— because he had. His tie was slightly askew, his hair more of a mess than usual, and his eyes were blown wide with something she couldn't really place. Worry? Relief?

She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

"I've been trying to catch you for weeks." James tried to laugh it off, stepping forward like he didn't know how to stop. "You— you've been ghosting me."

"I've just been busy," She answered, too quickly. Too quietly.

James gave a short, breathy laugh. "Right. Of course. Busiest girl in the whole world. Too busy for after-school meetups, for Hogsmeade strolls, for movie nights, for me."

Y/n's heart stung, but she didn't let it show.

"I was just about to head out," She insisted, gripping the strap of her bag tightly. "Long night."

"I'll drive you home," James said quickly. Already walking towards the exit like the decision has been made. "It's late."

"James, it's fine—"

"I insist." James smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You seriously think I'd let you go home alone, especially at this hour?"

And she knew, even though her heart was screaming for her to just keep the distance she had so carefully built, arguing would make things worse. So she just nodded and followed him to his car.

The car ride was quiet— at least on her end. James, true to his form, filled the space between them with his usual charm.

"So, what are you even working in there?" He asked, glancing at her. "Don't tell me you've been burying your face in Calculus. That's just sick."

Y/n just chuckled. "No, no. It's a different subject."

James smiled. "Of course. Classic."

And then he went on to tell the latest happenings that had happened when she wasn't around. Sirius had managed to get in trouble again for the third time this month. Remus has been tutoring a freshman who mistook him for a professor. And Lily— Lily made a cheesecake, and James had declared her a goddess.

Y/n nodded and hummed, casually commenting a few sentences from time to time. Her face was polite, yet it felt robotic. And James noticed it.

From time to time, he subtly glanced at her through the rearview mirror. He wasn't the most emotionally intuitive guy, but he could tell something was wrong. Her laughter didn't come as easily. Her eyes didn't linger on him like before.

She wasn't really there— not in a way she used to be.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning pale. His words kept coming, but his mind was somewhere else. Because no matter how hard he tried to act normal, no matter how casual he played it— this wasn't normal.

Y/n was slipping away. And he doesn't know why.

When they pulled up in front of Y/n's house, the car slowed to a soft halt. The engine hummed between them, the only real sound in the heavy silence. James tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, his nerves betraying him.

"Thanks for the ride," She murmured.

James bit the insides of his cheek, then turned to look at her with a forced smile. "Hey— are you free tomorrow? Thought we could grab a coffee or something. Just us."

Y/n hesitated. "I got a study date with Remus."

His smile faltered for a second. "Remus?"

She nodded, pulling her bag over her shoulder. "Yeah. He was supposed to help me with my essay."

James scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "Since when do you study with Remus and not me?"

Y/n blinked at him, slightly thrown. "I— I don't know. It just... happened."

A pause stretched between them. James looked away, his jaw clenching slightly. "Right. Cool. I guess he's your go-to now."

There was something laced in his voice, something uncharacteristically sharp. Possessiveness wasn't a shade James often wore— he didn't need to. He had it all. The money, the talent, the looks. People gravitated towards him. That's just how it always been.

He didn't do jealousy. Especially with Remus.

"James..." Y/n said softly, not wanting to stir this into a fight.

"Well, tell Moony not to melt your brain too much. He goes on full professor when he's serious."

Y/n's gaze lingered on him for a bit, weighing him. But she didn't say anything else. She just smiled politely and slipped from the car.

And James watched her walk up to the front door, a small ache in his chest growing heavier with each step he took away from him.

The next day, the diner was buzzing with warmth and chatter; the golden afternoon sun was streaming through the windows and casting a perfect light across the table Lily and James shared.

She looked beautiful— like she always did— effortless in the way she talked, sit, and laughed. Everything he had ever wanted.

But he wasn't really looking at her. He was looking past her— toward the back booth, where Y/n and Remus were seated. And she was laughing. Like, really laughing.

The kind of laugh he hadn't seen from her in the past month. The kind that lit up her face, tipped her head back, made her eyes crinkle at the corners. She slapped her thigh as Remus finished his story like he was the most hilarious person in the world.

James scowled. He didn't even register what Lily was saying. Didn't even pay attention to the food in front of him. His eyes were just trained on them.

The way she leaned in when Remus talked, the way she rested her chin on her hand and looked at him like he was the most interesting person. Like she used to look at him.

And now— now he was noticing everything. The way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. The softness in her voice. He saw it. All of it.

"You okay?" Lily asked, suddenly pulling him out of his thoughts.

James blinked at her. "What?"

"You've been zoning out."

He gave a weak laugh. "Yeah. Sorry, just tired."

Lily raised a brow but let it go.

James looked back at the booth, his heart thudding uncomfortably. Y/n was laughing again, and Remus was now awfully sitting close beside her.

James wasn't used to doing this. The second guessing. The silence. The way his jokes no longer earned a laugh, how his texts were left on read, or worse— replied to nothing, but a cold, distant, courtesy.

It was his fifth attempt this week.

"Hey, there's a new art exhibit in town," He said casually, acting as if his heart wasn't pounding against his chest. "Thought you'd like the surrealist stuff. You know, the one with melting clocks and faceless people? I figured we could check it out together."

"I wish I could, but I got this paper due... and my cat's appointment with the vet later. I'm sorry, James." She smiled apologetically.

She always said sorry. Always with that small, polite smile. The kind of smile you give to a stranger.

And James felt he was slowly becoming one.

The truth was, it was never the art exhibit, or the cafe he invited her over to the day before that, or the time he showed up at her house with her favorite bubble tea and that novel she mentioned in passing months ago. He just missed her.

He missed the way she used to greet him with a smile that warmed his heart. The way she'd bump shoulders with him as he walked her to her class, the little inside jokes they used to whisper under their breaths, the sound of her laugh— God, her laugh.

He missed being her person.

And with each failed attempt, with every gentle excuse, his confidence chipped away. The great James Potter— charmer, golden boy, team captain— was suddenly unsure. Awkward. Tongue tied.

Because he realized that he was losing something he didn't even realize he had been holding on so tightly. Maybe it had always been her.

So right now, he was slouched in one of the couches in a loud club. The lights were too bright, everyone was chaotic, and the air was thick with sweat, perfume, and alcohol. But he didn't care.

His third drink sat in front of him, and he was already slowly getting drunk. Sirius lounged beside him, watching him with a silent concern as he did not see his best friend spiral like this— not even from Lily.

"You alright, mate?" Peter asked.

James didn't answer at first. He kept staring ahead, eyes unfocused, mouth pressed into a thin line. Then, finally, answered a bitter, "Peachy."

Peter frowned, but Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder and subtly shook his head— don't push it.

Remus, however, didn't bite his tongue.

"Is this about Y/n?"

The second her name left his mouth, James immediately glared at him, eyes bloodshot and glassy.

"What, d'you know something I don't?" James snapped, voice rising above the music. "Since you're always with her now?"

"She's my friend, James."

"Oh, friend, right. You two study together, hang out alone, laugh like idiots— hell, you even know everything about her, don't you?" James slammed his glass down, the drink sloshing to his sleeve. "She doesn't look at me the way she used to. Doesn't see me. She makes excuses to avoid me. Says she's busy. Tired. Got plans. But then I see her with you."

"Prongs—" Sirius interjected, but James wasn't finished.

He laughed, but it was hollow. Broken. "What did I even do, huh? Why the hell won't she just talk to me?"

"Alright, Prongs. Let's take a breath, yeah?" Sirius place a firm hand on James's shoulder.

But James shrugged it off. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't get it. She was my best friend. Mine." His shoulders slumped as the tears came rolling in. "I just— I just want her back. I miss her."

He sank into the couch, wiping his face the back off his hand like a child. "Call her." He whispered. Then louder, more desperate. "Please. Just call her. Ask her to come. I don't care if she's mad at me or if she hates me. I need to talk to her. Please. Please, please, please." He begged.

Sirius exchanged a look with Remus.

"Alright, I'll call her."

"Hello?" Y/n answered from the other line. The background was filled with a mix of loud music, clinking glasses, and chaos— but none of it made her go still. James. He wasn't speaking coherently. Just broken words, cries, and soft pitiful pleas. "Is that—"

Remus sighed softly. "Yeah. He's... not doing well."

She could hear James's voice in the background— his voice was wrecked and cracking as he said her name over and over.

"What's going on?"

"He's begging for you, actually."

Y/n's heart clenched. "Tell him... I'm glad he's surrounded by people who care about him tonight. But I— I can't come."

Remus didn't respond immediately. "Y/n, he's not himself." He said softly, not to pressure her— never that— but to simply let her know the truth.

"I know," She whispered. "But I can't do it, Remus. For the sake of my sanity, I can't. It's not that I don't care about him. God, I do. But if I go there, I'm scared it'll hurt us even more."

Remus exhaled softly on the other end of the line. "Okay, I understand."

"Please just... make sure he gets home safe?"

"We will. You did the right thing."

Y/n ended the call, and she couldn't help but sit as her legs buckled. The night was dead silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner at the corner of Y/n's room.

She had been staring at nowhere. Thinking. Pondering. She wondered if she even made the right decision of ignoring James. Of falling in love with him.

She hadn't noticed the clock had already struck midnight. Hadn't noticed that it had been an hour since she declined James's request. The guilt was eating her alive, and she couldn't do anything about it.

But then, the doorbell rang.

She didn't move for a moment. Praying it was just the neighbor or maybe a delivery to the wrong address. But somehow, deep down, she knew. Her stomach twisted painfully as she stood up, making her way through the door.

And when she swung the door open, her breath caught in her throat. James stood there. His hair was a damp mess, with sweat clinging on his forehead, and his chest rising and falling as if he had run all the way to here. His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, and his eyes— oh, his eyes— were bloodshot and glassy, rimmed with tears that hadn't yet fallen.

"James," She whispered softly.

"You didn't care about me at all, did you?" He asked, voice hoarse and quiet. "You just let me spiral."

"What? No! James, I—"

"You ignored me." He stepped inside the house without waiting for her permission. His eyes never left hers. "You stopped talking to me. Pretend I didn't exist. You— you just cut me off like I'm nothing."

"That's not true." She stepped forward, reaching at his hand, but he stepped back, shaking his head.

"I waited. Every day, I waited for you to call back. And you didn't. You just... let me go."

Y/n's throat burned, her hands trembling by her sides.

"I had to." She choked. "James, I had to—"

"Why?" He asked, stepping closer now. His anger melted into confusion and pain. "What did I do so wrong, Y/n?"

"Because I like you." She said, barely a whisper. "I liked you so much it hurts, James. And I couldn't take it anymore. Watching you love someone else while I stand in the corner, pretending it doesn't rip me apart."

James stared at her. Stunned and silent.

She laughed bitterly through the tears. "I was doing it for me. I had to distance myself."

James opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"I didn't mean to fall for you. It just happened. And by the time I realized it, it was too late." She wiped at her face and stepped back, motioning at the door. "You should go. Please. Just go."

She turned around, ready to walk away, when James grabbed her wrist gently. And before she could react, his lips were on hers in a deep, desperate, and passionate kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.

When they finally pulled away, breathless, James cupped her face with trembling hands.

"I was stubborn," He whispered, forehead pressing against hers. "I kept telling myself I didn't feel anything for you. That Lily was all I wanted. And God, I was so wrong."

"James..."

"I love you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to see it. For being blind. But please— let me start over. Let me fix things between us." He kissed her again, almost reverent. "Don't give up on me yet."

"Just don't break me again, James."

And in the silence that followed, he held her like a promise he never planned to let go of.

©kjhbsies

taglist: @lotsostrawberrybear @sweetstrawberrianne

[moonstruckme]

what about blanket fort : “here, you can sleep in my shirt”, a rainy night and Remus? With some fluffy comfort? 🫶🫶🫶

Ty <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 902 words

Remus knows he ought to be letting you dry yourself off. Ordinarily he would, but in bringing you the towel he somehow found himself winding it around your shoulders, and once he starts doing it for you it becomes nearly impossible to resist. 

“Why would you come out in this?” he mutters, half to you and half to whatever ingenious, deranged divinity made you this way. 

“I thought you liked my banana bread.” You seem mostly amenable to his coddling, though you gave Remus a strange look when he first bypassed your hands to squeeze the ends of your hair out himself. You tilt your cheek into his hand as he rubs the towel over your neck. 

“I do like your banana bread. I don’t like you giving yourself hypothermia to bring it to me.” 

“You’re so dramatic.” This is a characteristic you’ve assigned to him. You haven’t been seeing each other long enough to have met Remus’ friends, but he knows when you do meet them (on that inevitable date when he can no longer manage to keep you squirrelled away for himself) they are going to laugh and laugh at this. “It’s just a bit of rain,” you say. “The bread’s never as good as on the first day.” 

This is true. Remus really is embarrassingly excited to have a piece—he’s already fantasizing about the softness of it, the way the chocolate chips you add in melt in his mouth and stick to his palate—but he does wish you at least grabbed an umbrella in your mad dash to deliver it to him. 

Your head and shoulders are thoroughly dried now, and with no more excuse of touching you anywhere unscandalous Remus hands the towel off to you. “I can't have you walking back in this,” he says. 

You scoff. “Oh, it’s not that bad.” 

A flash of lightning precurses a powerful cracking sound, loud enough to rattle the windows. Remus levels you with a look. 

You wince. “I didn’t bring anything for the night, though.” 

His stern look dissolves under a smile. “That’s alright, love. Come on.” 

You’re familiar with Remus’ home. You haven’t stayed over before, but you know your way around, where he keeps his linens, his clothes. You watch with interest, his towel wrapped around you, as he goes to a drawer you’ve not seen before. 

Your laughter is loud and bright when you see what comes out. “Is that yours?” 

“It was a gift,” he qualifies. The shirt he’s holding up has two arrows. One, pointing up, indicates The Man, while the one pointing down alludes to The Legend. James thought it would be a fun gift to have Remus open in front of the Potters at Christmas. “I don’t think he thought I’d actually wear it.” 

You’re biting your lip to contain your smile. The sight makes Remus’ stomach riot. “No,” you agree, “it doesn’t seem like something you’d wear.” 

“Here.” He tosses the shirt to you. “You can sleep in this.” 

As he predicted, your amusement at this proposal makes you forget any notions you had about trying to get home. “I get to be the legend?” you ask eagerly. 

Well, really, you get to have the legend, but Remus doesn’t feel like correcting you. “Sure.” He goes to leave, but you don’t move, only looking at him delightedly until he takes you by the shoulders and you understand that he’s trying to move past you. You really are adorable. “Do you need anything?” 

“Oh, I think I’ve got everything I need right here.” You grin, brandishing the shirt. “Just a minute.” 

He waits outside his bedroom door while you change. Or, that’s what he plans to do, but the first wet sounds of your clothes hitting the floor are enough to ignite Remus’ blush and they drive him into the kitchen to make tea instead. He unwraps your banana bread, cutting off a slice for each of you and setting them on plates. By the time he’s succeeded in forgetting that you’re undressing in his bedroom you’re back, and that’s another shock. 

Aside from knowing you’d find it funny, he picked this shirt because it was big. Remus doesn’t have an abundance of t-shirts, but he didn’t want you to feel like he was trying to make you traipse around in nearly nothing for his entertainment. What he didn’t consider was that seeing something this big on you might be just as problematic. You’re darling. The shoulder seams hang halfway down your biceps, your skin is still shining prettily with rainwater, and worst of all you’re smiling like the cat that got the cream with an arrow that says The Man pointing up at you. 

“You totally wear this,” you say, grinning. “It smells like you.” 

And oh, god—if that isn’t enough to send his heart into a tizzy. “Does it?” 

“Mhm.” 

“And what do I smell like?” 

You shrug, as if Remus can’t see the flicker of bashfulness in your gaze. “Like you,” you hedge. “The point is that you wear it.” 

“It’s soft,” he admits. 

Your grin widens. “Am I wearing your favorite pajama shirt?” 

He sighs, but some of the reluctance is for show. Remus only loves to see you excited. “Yes, you are.” 

“I love it,” you say, pushing up onto your toes to kiss his cheek. “I love being the legend.” 

Remus snorts, and you laugh. “What?” 

[dismalflo]

hi lovely <3 I was wondering if you’d be interested in writing a coworkers! james x reader fic? maybe one where james and reader work in the same building and sort of have tiny office crushes on each other but it was purely superficial, they never really had an opportunity to talk until they get moved into the same area and suddenly they’re running into each other all the time and their feeling start to grow? it’s just an idea but if it strikes your inspiration i’d love to hear your thoughts!

Thank you for the request!! I looove an office au and this idea! <3

James Potter x Reader who are each others office crushes ✩ 1k words

cw: fluff, so much pining, James the sweetheart

Work is just work. A routine. An endless loop of predictable tasks.

James clocks in at nine, ticks things off his list, grabs a coffee, shares a smile with that person from accounting—the very pretty one—then dives back in.

Lunch rolls around. Another polite smile. Back to it.

Out of the office by five.

Repeat.

It’s easy. Mindless, even.

Even when the news spreads—something about the accounting department merging with his team to save space—James barely registers it. He nods along with the chatter but doesn’t give it much thought. Why would he?

That is, until you appear, setting your things down gently on the empty desk beside his.

James feels it immediately—his heart kicking into gear like it's just remembered how to beat.

And when you turn and meet his eyes, something in your expression shifts—recognition, maybe. Relief washes over him. So the shy smiles weren’t just in his head.

“Hello,” he says, his voice steady, warm. “Nice to meet you properly. I’m James.”

You offer him your name in return and James finds himself repeating it over and over in his head.

The rest of the day is mostly filled with logistical chaos—desks being shuffled, IT scrambling to get everyone logged in, and a lot of awkward introductions over the hum of printers and clicking keyboards. But James keeps glancing sideways. Not in a creepy way, he tells himself. Just... curious.

You’re calm in the chaos, focused but not distant, polite without being stiff. And when he makes a dumb little joke about the printer being a sentient, malevolent force, you laugh. Not just a polite chuckle—a real one. He doesn't even mind that it comes with a tiny snort.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

By the end of the first week, there’s a new routine. You bring your own tea bags. James learns how you take it, and by Monday of the second week, he’s refilling the kettle before you even stand up.

“You’re dangerously close to becoming my favorite person,” you say, cradling the mug he hands you.

He grins, ducking his head slightly. “Dangerously close? Guess I’ll have to keep trying.”

And he does.

Every morning he makes sure your desk is cleared of the stray reports someone always dumps there. He waits a little longer at the elevator so you can catch it too. At lunch, if you’re buried in work, he comes back with an extra sandwich, just in case.

He doesn’t say anything. Not yet. But the office starts to notice. The way his eyes light up when you walk in. The way his jokes are suddenly 20% funnier when you’re around. Even the guy from HR gives James a knowing look one afternoon, followed by a dramatic wink. James pretends to ignore it.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

By week three, it’s not just coffee and shared eye-rolls at meetings. There’s talking. Real talking.

You tell him about your cat who thinks she’s a dog. He tells you about the time he tried to build a desk himself and had to call Sirius to rescue him from under it.

He says, “I’ve never actually looked forward to Mondays before.”

You smile and nudge his shoulder with yours. “That’s either very sweet or very sad.”

“Both can be true,” he replies, smiling.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

One Tuesday morning, he stands up, stretches, and grabs his empty mug. “Refill?” he asks, raising his eyebrows toward you.

You beam—soft, a little surprised, like it still catches you off guard that he remembers. “Yes, please. You’re spoiling me.”

James shrugs, trying to play it cool, but his face flushes. “Just doing my part for interdepartmental relations.”

You laugh, warm and effortless, and he wonders if anyone else’s laugh makes the air feel that much lighter.

As he walks off to the kitchen, he hears one of the designers whisper behind him, “Oh yeah, he’s gone.”

And honestly? He’s not even embarrassed.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

By Thursday, James has developed a sixth sense for when you’re about to speak. It’s in the way you tilt your head slightly before turning toward him, the way your fingers hover over your keyboard when a thought distracts you. And today, you’ve done that three times in the last hour. Like you’re turning something over in your mind.

He waits.

You finally shift in your seat, twisting slightly to face him, one elbow resting on the edge of your desk.

“I was thinking…” you say casually, your voice light, “you should take my phone number. You know. Just in case.”

James blinks, caught mid-email. He turns to you slowly, trying not to let the stupidly wide grin spread too fast across his face.

“Just in case?” he echoes, a teasing lift in his voice. “In case of... office emergencies?”

“That or…” you say, stretching the syllables. “For you to call me and ask me on a date.” you shrug, feigning nonchalance. 

James stares for half a second too long. His brain short-circuits somewhere between Did that just happen? And what the fuck?. But then the grin wins. It takes over his whole face, slow and bright. 

“In that case,” he says, voice soft but sure, “I’d better take it. Could be urgent.”

You chuckle, and he watches as you grab a sticky note and scribble down the digits, sliding it across the space between your desks like it’s a secret note in class. His fingers brush yours as he picks it up, and the touch lingers longer than it needs to—but not long enough to feel like too much.

When five rolls around, James finds himself packing up with nervous energy buzzing under his skin. He glances your way as you sling your bag over your shoulder. Your eyes meet, and you give him a look—half excitement, half dare.

The text comes at 5:27 p.m.

Hey. I have a situation. Might be urgent. Symptoms include: heart racing, inability to focus, and the sudden, overwhelming desire to see you outside of office hours. Any advice?

Your reply is immediate.

Sounds serious. You should probably take a night off. Pick me up at seven?

He stares at your message, grinning like a complete idiot.

masterlist <3

[thinkinonsense]

Bewitched: The Rake and The Risk

˖⋆࿐໋ james logan howlett ✦ bridgerton au series

bewitched masterlist

chapter two

cw: flirting (mix of 1800s and modern day), jealousy, old time thoughts of women and marriage, james is a slut

pairing: viscount!logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: sorry this is later than intended! i try to aim for a new chapter every friday but college is kicking my ass right now. next chapter will be longer!! also!! if you want to be tagged for the bewitched series please comment on the original bewitched masterlist post linked above this<3 there are so many of you lovely readers who want to be tagged and i need a more organized way to find everyone to add. sorry for the minor inconvenience. i appreciate every one of you!!

main masterlist

in all the twenty-nine years of knowing james howlett, lady chamberlain never would have pictured him coming to her home to ask about the eligible bachelorettes of the ton.

"what do you want to know, my dear?" lady chamberlain asked, sipping a cup of tea as the two of them sat in the living room.

"i am coming to you because as you know, my mother is expecting me to wed sooner rather than later and i was wondering whom might be the best women to seek out this season." james said, lying through his teeth.

if james really wanted to know who the best women this season were, he would've just opened the latest issue of lady cavanaugh. both of them knew this but it was more fun for lady chamberlain to tease the viscount.

"hm.." she smiles. "anyone in particular?"

"no."

the lie falls with ease. too much ease but lady chamberlain sees right through him.

"well, i did take note last night that the only lady you danced with was lady worthington's niece." she remarks slyly.

"the french girl?" he asks, playing coy. "i think i remember her."

lady chamberlain wasn't going to play games with the boy in front of her.

"i would hope so, you seemed quite fawned of her."

"i don't know if i would say that much."

"hm, so you don't want to know who she's planning to attended the mask ball with?" lady chamberlain smirks, knowing she's got him hooked.

everyone in the ton looked forward to the queens mask ball each season. it was the perfect way to help break the usual ice of finding 'the one'. that's where most couples tend to meet for the first time.

"let me guess..." james rolls his eyes. "prince harrison?"

lady chamberlain shrugs, placing her tea cup back on the dish. "the two of them talked quite a bit after you stormed off. she seems quite smitten with him."

"it's the first ball of the season. she has plenty of time to look for a better husband." he scoffs.

"well, dear... there are people who search their whole lives for something that's been right in front of them the entire time."

the elderly woman's words rang true in the room but james was far too in denial to notice them. instead, his ego was eating him alive. why would you not jump at the opportunity to be with the viscount?

˖⋆࿐໋

this afternoon was the queen's annual tea party. all the ton's debutantes gather to make friends and share their predictions for this season. anxiously, you paced the cobblestones outside, waiting for the carriage to pick you up.

"dear, it's not lady-like to pace back and forth." your aunt calls out from the doorway.

"my apologies," you reply, not stopping your feet.

"you're snagging the hem of your gown!"

thank heavens that the carriage was approaching. she waves you off, wishing you luck on your first adventure alone in the ton, wishing desperately she could join you.

your goal today is to make at least one friend. you'll even settle for an allied.

once you arrive at the queen's castle, you step inside. covered in soft pastels, flowers, and butterflies; you immediately feel calm. everyone is chatting and sipping tea at the tables. you sit down in the first available seat.

"you're the diamond, correct?" someone whispered next to you asks.

you turn your head to see a blonde girl to the right. she's wearing a soft yellow dress that doesn't quite fit her right.

"correct." you nod, offering the girl a smile to which she returns.

"shouldn't you be sat with the queen?" she asks, nodding to one of the beautiful girls surrounding the queen.

"probably but this was the first seat i saw." you joke, sipping on your tea.

the girl laughs with a small nod and introduces herself. her name is bridget and her father is a jewelry maker for the queen.

"i saw you dancing with the viscount last night at the ball." she smiles. "do you fancy him?"

almost choking on your tea, you shake your head.

"no, no, no. i don't fancy the viscount." you state.

bridget hesitates, watching your body language closely. the pressure gets you to speak up again.

"why do you ask?"

"because the viscount is a major rake."

the word rake rolls off her tongue with pure disgust. you'd never heard someone with such respect as a viscount be called something so dishonorable. rakes were known for their ability to seduce and lead on women with no promise of marriage.

"but he talks of his desire for a wife?" you question, more to yourself than to bridget but alas, she answers anyway.

"only because his mama is practically begging for a viscountess." bridget whispers.

you suppose this made sense due to the fact that most rakes never even intend to wed and after your conversation with james last night, he made it clear that marriage was not something he craved.

"trust me, you aren't the first lady to attempt to tie down the viscount. well, at least you have a shot since you're the diamond this season and all." the blonde girl rambles.

"oh, heavens no!" you repeat.

"hm, that's sad..." she sighs. "he is quite handsome."

"most definitely but i intend to wed for pure reasons."

"if that's truly the case, stay as far away from the viscount as possible."

˖⋆࿐໋

for the rest of the afternoon, bridget's words stuck to the front of your brain. if james wasn't so intolerable, perhaps he would make a good husband to someone.

once everyone finished with their tea, you decided to go sketch in wisteria park. the weather was beautiful outside and gave you the perfect inspiration needed to work on a new piece. normally, you would only draw on the sides of the letters written to your father back home. no one was more supportive of you than your parents. in a world where women mean nothing more than their wombs to society, it was rare to have parents who let their daughters have dreams.

sat on a patch of grass near the small pond, you set up your quill, small tray of paints, and paper. in the area where you decided to sit, across from you stood a beautiful cherry tree. as you work on the outline, you can hear footsteps approaching.

"i should've known i would find you here." a familiar voice says.

you don't even glacé up at the person near you, paying no mind to the man who seeks your attention most.

"do you want something, my lord?" you ask, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

james' head spun every time those last two words fell from your lips, sounding to pretty the way that they roll of your tongue.

"you may call me, logan." he says. "if you so wish."

"logan?" you cock a brow, finally looking up at him.

"it's my middle name." he replies awkwardly.

"hm..." you pretend to ponder for a moment. "that's far too personal for me."

" 'too personal'? how might that be?"

james stands arms crossed against the cherry tree, glaring in your direction. you don't rush to answer his question instead you continue adding details to the branches and trees. he huffs under his breath, clearly irritated your lack of interest in him.

"well, we have no intentions to be together this season and we aren't friends so, there's no need for nicknames and such." you reply nonchalantly.

"you don't know my intentions"

a sweet giggle escapes you. james brushes off the warmth flooding his chest, rather focusing on topic at hand.

"oh, i bet i do."

suddenly, you drop your quill and give him your undivided attention.

"why are you even here, james?" you sigh.

"i was visiting an old friend this morning and wanted a stroll through the park."

"an old friend?"

the words left your lips before you could stop yourself. james was quick to notice the tone shift. he smirks, walking over to you and sitting on the grass to your right.

"mhm..." he hums.

"is she viscountess material?" you scoff, returning to your scribbles.

"and why would you care?"

why did you care? it's not like the two of you really know each other; yet, something about james made your blood boil. perhaps it was how he has a near perfect life and somehow still complains. he has no issues in finding a partner because everyone wants him. if he didn't have his head up his own ass, he would realize that.

"i don't."

"sounds like you do."

james liked watching your face scrunch up at little with dislike for him. how your pressure on the quill increases. how you avoid his gaze. how you pretend he doesn't exist next to you.

"i don't." you repeat. "i just cannot believe that someone like you is complaining about having to take a wife when all the women of the ton are smitten with you."

"someone like me?" james pretends to be offended but he was too busy enjoying this riled up version of you.

"someone who never gone with unmet needs, never struggled financially, never been under minded or overlooked." your words come out sharp but james doesn't let them cut deep.

"look, sweetheart..." he squints those hazel eyes, glaring deep into your soul and leaning in closer than he should've. "you know nothing of my families struggles."

"and you know nothing of mine."

james was so close to you. your noses almost touching before you pull away. being within his close proximity made you feel a foreign warm tingle deep in your stomach.

thank heavens that the park was empty, minus the two of you. the last thing you needed was for someone to see the two of you this close and label you as one of the viscounts mistresses.

"i-i must get going." you stutter, collecting your belongings.

"where are you off to?" he asks.

"i'm supposed to be accompanying lady chamberlain and prince harrison to dinner this evening."

his face scrunches with distaste at the mention of the prince. also, why would lady chamberlain hide this piece of information from him?

"isn't it quite early to prepare for dinner?"

"i must look perfect for the prince." you smile.

but not at james. you're smiling for that no good excuse of a prince who couldn't see that you already were perfect.

"you look fine to me." he huffs.

"it's vocabulary like that, that keeps you from finding a wife."

"and to think it was my insufferable personality that kept the ladies of the ton away."

it's difficult to hide the laugh you want to let out. instead you bite down on your cheek, not giving him the satisfaction of your laughter.

"ha ha ha." you mock dryly.

"do you always have a stick up your ass?"

james question makes your jaw drop. never in your life have you heard a man speak so vulgarly.

"that's no way for a viscount to speak to a lady." you scold. he can't help but roll his eyes at your comment.

"i'm sure that a man has spoken even more colorfully to you."

"what are you insinuating, my lord?"

"that i highly doubt a lady such as yourself still has her virtue." he shrugs.

never has your head spun so fast at a single sentence. you couldn't fathom that a rake like him has the nerve to question anyone's virtue.

"excuse me, viscount howlett but my virtue is none of your business." you rage. "and you have quite the nerve to question it."

"and why's that?"

james was playing with fire but he didn't mind getting scorched by your flames.

"i've heard the stories about you."

"like what?"

"like what you do with the promiscuous women of the night." your words leave a smirk plastered on his face as he watches you intensely.

"don't act so innocent either." james hums. "i'm sure you've had your fair share of promiscuous adventures in france."

a flush of red hits at your cheeks. the last person you wanted to talk about promiscuous acts with is james. mostly because your lack there of. only your own hands have touched you so intimately.

james studies your facial expression before it clicks for him. he shouldn't ask. he really shouldn't. but come on, he has to.

"have you never—" his words come to a halt when there's a ruffled noise inching closer.

"i'm under no obligation to answer you, viscount howlett." you scold, collecting your belongings.

"hm... seems like you've already answered my question." his cocky tone sends you over the edge of annoyance.

"shouldn't you be more concerned with finding a wife rather than my virtue? this season will be over before you know it and you will need to find one sooner rather than later."

james admired the way you spoke with such sharpness. you were shy and reserved but the weight of your words were heavy. there was grace in the way you spoke and he loathed it.

he loathed how perfect you were. how absolutely perfect you would fit into his life. how perfect you would be at being his little wife. only needing to plan parties and open your womb to his child. he would never stop you from your dream of painting either. all he wants is someone who can handle the duties that come with being his other half.

by the time james snaps out of his thoughts, you are long gone. off to get ready for your date with a man who's twice as rich as him and much more likable. the only thing he could do is hope that nothing good comes from this dinner.

──★

i'll tag everyone else who commented in the morning when i wake up <3

tag list: @v3rdee @squishyfruitloop @caswithdasas2021 @espressopatronum454 @brittdead @fake-bleach @blossoming-hotch @hotbisexualmess @imaginecrushes @wh0re4steelblue-eyes @b0nes-n-all @tvdelrey @prettyoatmeal @speedyvoidlove @lunavelha @merrul @bubblegumholland @divinesols @seasonofthenerd @adoredire @gl0wingsl0wtown @imithicwolf @charityjoy22 @sun7lowxr @melsunshine @internetitgirl17 @tsumukei @dolliestprncess @st4rrlighttt @crypticcowboys @mirrorballpalo @princessanglophile @planetxella @battieshroomz @tonyhawkstits @shinyshayminflower @babey-fruit-bat @oraclic @glnnnhaps @criminaly-supernatural @pxrwinkle @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @tighrenicotine @midnightvitality @loonalockley @notbaldy420 @squishyfruitloop @summer-343 @reidshearts @marii-ren @fictionalmen-dilflover @brisingamenwearer @pedrohoe04 @taextannie @jrihensjd @tumharisakhi @readerofallthingss @etmoisara @paladinshenanigan-blog @hauntedwombateggmug @i-am-not-a-morning-person-83 @zaggprincess2 @atjlovverr @fallingfromjupiter @cards-and-daggers @reidsworld @imsuperbored @golden-ebony @joyfulpeanutsalad @mysticalmarvelousmagpie @thighridinglogan @pieuui @fanficcrow @alsoprettyinpink @rooroen @barbecuetiddy @potato-painter @milfhunter69sstuff @bel20blog @hypermarvellove @modicum-ofnothing @gemofthenight @laureniswolverine @d3ad2you @goldphish @mxtokko @ovohanna24 @i-voluntears @cherrypieyourface @petrichor-incorporation @csigirl3137 @justannie18 @yxtkiwiyxt @maddielovesurmom321 @madscape @mesopotamism @multifandom-boss-bitch @tecolote2755 @ririkacchi @crownofdecit @snow30285 @lenoradarkstriderr @willybillyletsgetsilly @sleepilysworld @mynatureworld @biiolumii @phantombaby @natlovesu @tumharisakhi @lokiswify @saph-cyare @burntsaltsblog @shedobeclownin @itsjuwulia @hazelwebster @cake-and-umbrellas @aureliusbrutus @loving-barnes @valorant-v @annagraceevanss @opheliaas-stuff @louisymomo @midnightvitality @ricespy123 @livingonsillylovesongs

[sorormaior]

god i love thinking about nostramo. planet of all time.

things we know about nostramo:

- crust rich in adamantium

- five cities make up the population

- has a dying sun

- is covered in such a thick layer of clouds and industrial smog that no light comes through

- everyone there has “evolved” black eyes to see in the dark (THATS NOT HOW EVOLUTION WORKS JAMES WORKSHOP)

- cyberpunk hellscape?

- barely a political system mostly gangs and nobles and nobles who were gangs.

- has an ocean

- has lions?

- LET A SERIAL MURDERER BECOME KING OF THE WORLD

- presumably named after nostradamus the guy who predicted things OR the Nostromo the ship from Alien?????

follow for more true nostramo factes

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic June 10 - prompt 10: Myth [word count 400]

"Okay, lightening round lads!" Remus smiled.

Three groans answered him from the heap the others formed in front of the fireplace in the long-deserted Common Room.

"Come on, after this we can go to bed, we still have three days to finish studying," Remus said, flipping through the History and Myth of Magical Creatures book he had in his lap. "Alright then: Vampires are afraid of garlic, history or myth?"

"Myth," James sighed. "They don't care about garlic and actually some of them like it so you'd be a gourmet meal instead of saving your ass."

"Are you afraid of garlic, Remus?" Peter yawned. "Because I might just eat a ton to stop this torture."

"The Fae," Remus went on, ignoring Peter. "Once you step into their circle you're bound to their rules."

"History," James and Sirius chorused.

"My great-greatuncle stepped into a Fae Circle," Sirius said. "Unfortunately for the Fae he was a Black so they gave him right back."

"Merpeople," Remus went on. "They love seducing sailors."

"Myth," Peter said. "Half-myth actually, they do lure sailors from the boats but it's to eat them, not to fuck them."

"Well, eating can be a form of-" James started, but Peter's elbow hit him in the stomach.

"Centaurs," Remus rolled his eyes as James elbowed Peter back. "They actually know the future."

"History," Sirius said. "It is believed they have predicted what will happen for centuries, but the little shits won't tell us because they think we can't handle it."

"They're probably right, society barely can handle having people who are half horse around," Remus muttered. "Alright, Werewolves. The approaching of the full moon doesn't affect their human behaviour."

"Myth," his three friends chorused, smiling.

"They get a lot hungrier," Peter said.

"And way more irritable," James added.

"And they fuck way harder."

They all turned to stare at Sirius, Remus feeling his cheeks go up in flame.

"What?" Sirius grinned, winking at him. "It's true."

"And that's our cue to leave!" James exclaimed, hauling Peter up by the shoulder.

"Why did you have to say that?" Remus groaned.

"Because, my dear Moony," Sirius smirked as he crawled closer, "one day we'll forget our Muffliato and our dear friends will rip open our bed curtains because I won't be able to stop screaming."

Remus shook his head as his boyfriend pulled him in a kiss. After all, he was right.

[withthecolorizedkennedys]

Plaese make a jfk x reader smut

A Night At The Opera

synopsis: jack kennedy invited you to the opera for a night of high culture. but between the velvet seats and heavy curtains, his idea of refinement turned out to be far more hands-on.

word count: 1.8k

pairing: john f. kennedy x reader

rating: 18+; includes depictions of fingering and handjobs

author's note: sorry this took a little longer! i couldn't think of a good scenario that was not done already or a bit generic...

The theatre’s gilded dome shimmered above, a relic of old-world splendor that stirred something familiar—a memory of Vienna, not in likeness, but in feeling. You’d walked halls like this before, heard music rise beneath glittering chandeliers. But London's Royal Opera House had a weight all its own. The chandeliers hung lower here, the velvet seats felt deeper, heavier. And beside you, Jack Kennedy sat beside you with his program folded into precise quarters, his attention already wandering before the curtain had risen.

You'd known Jack for nearly a year now, ever since his father's appointment as Ambassador to the Court of St. James's. At twenty-one, Jack was restless energy personified, his lean frame never quite at ease in formal settings. Tonight was no exception. La Traviata had been his suggestion—a surprise, given his usual indifference to music that wasn't played in dance halls.

"My father says I should cultivate an appreciation for the finer things," he'd explained when he invited you. "And I can't think of anything finer than spending an evening with you."

Now, as Violetta's aria filled the theater, Jack's knee bounced with barely contained energy. His fingers drummed silently against the program in his lap. You placed your hand over his to still them, and he turned to you with that smile that made something in your chest flutter.

"Is it terribly boring?" you whispered.

"Not boring," he whispered back, leaning close enough that his breath warmed your ear. "Just... predictable. She'll die tragically. They always do in these things."

You suppressed a laugh. "That's rather the point of tragedy, Jack."

His hand turned beneath yours, his fingers intertwining with your own. "I prefer comedies," he said. "Or at least stories where people get what they want before the curtain falls."

The way he looked at you then made heat rise to your cheeks. You'd been careful with Jack Kennedy—the Ambassador's son wasn't someone to trifle with, and despite his casual charm, you knew his family had expectations. But there was something in his gaze tonight that made your careful boundaries seem suddenly arbitrary.

The box seats had been his father's idea—or so Jack claimed. "Dad insists we maintain a certain appearance," he'd said with an eye roll as he helped you up the private staircase. Now, with the theater lights dimmed and the box's heavy curtains partially drawn, you understood the true advantage of such privacy.

Jack's hand slipped from yours, coming to rest lightly on your knee. The touch was innocent enough, but the intent in his eyes was anything but. You gave him a warning look, which he answered with feigned innocence.

"Jack," you whispered, "behave yourself."

"I'm being perfectly well-behaved," he replied, his fingers making small circles on your knee through the silk of your dress. "I'm appreciating the finer things, just as I promised."

His hand inched higher, and you caught it with your own. "We're in public."

"We're in a box seat," he corrected, his voice a low murmur that somehow cut through Violetta's soaring notes. "No one can see us unless they're in the opposite box with opera glasses trained directly on us."

You glanced across the theater. The box opposite was occupied by an elderly couple, both seemingly entranced by the performance.

"Still," you insisted, though with less conviction.

Jack leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing your ear. "Still what? Still worried someone might notice how your breath catches when I touch you? How your cheeks flush?" His hand moved again, sliding just slightly higher. "How you press your thighs together when you want more?"

Your breath did catch then, and you hated how well he knew you. Three months of stolen kisses in gardens, of hands wandering during cinema matinees, of whispered promises in the back seats of chauffeur-driven cars—it wasn't nearly enough, but it was enough for him to learn your tells.

"Jack, please," you whispered, not entirely sure if you were asking him to stop or continue.

He seemed to interpret it as the latter. His hand slipped higher, fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh. On stage, Violetta was rejecting Alfredo's advances, citing the impossibility of their love. The irony wasn't lost on you.

"Tell me to stop," Jack said, his voice husky, "and I will."

You should have. You knew you should have. Instead, you found yourself shifting slightly, allowing his hand to move higher beneath the cover of your dress.

"No one will see," he promised again, his fingers finding the edge of your stockings, then the warm skin above. "Just keep watching the stage. Enjoy the music."

It was impossible to focus on anything but the sensation of his touch. His fingers traced the edge of your underwear, teasing but not yet crossing that final boundary. You bit your lip, your eyes fixed unseeing on the stage.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his lips now against your temple. "So ready for me."

When his fingers finally slipped beneath the silk of your underwear, you had to stifle a gasp. Jack's smile was triumphant against your skin.

"Jack," you said softly, "we shouldn't—"

"We absolutely should," he countered, his finger sliding through your wetness with practiced ease. "God, you're perfect."

The orchestra swelled as Alfredo declared his love, and Jack's finger pressed inside you in perfect time with the crescendo. Your hand gripped the armrest, knuckles white.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice barely audible over the music. "Just like that. No one knows. No one but me."

You turned your face toward him, seeking his mouth, needing something to silence the sounds threatening to escape your lips. He met you halfway, his kiss deep and consuming as his fingers worked steadily between your legs.

"You drive me mad, you know that?" he confessed against your mouth. "Every time. Every damn time. The way you look at me, the way you press against me when no one’s looking. Christ, I can’t sit beside you without wanting to touch you..."

His thumb found your most sensitive spot, circling with deliberate pressure as his finger curled inside you. Your hips shifted involuntarily, seeking more.

"Jack," you gasped, breaking the kiss. "I can't—not here—"

"Yes, here," he insisted, adding a second finger, stretching you deliciously. "Right here, while they sing about impossible love and tragic endings. Show me how it feels. Show me what I do to you."

The tension was building rapidly, your body responding to his skilled touch despite the public setting—or perhaps because of it. The risk, the impropriety of it all, only heightened every sensation.

"That's it," Jack encouraged, his forehead pressed to your temple, his breath hot against your cheek. "Let go. I've got you."

The climax hit you with unexpected force. You turned your face into Jack's shoulder, muffling your cry against the fine wool of his jacket. His fingers worked you through it, drawing out every tremor until you were boneless beside him.

When you finally lifted your head, the stage was transitioning to a new scene. You'd missed Violetta's decision entirely.

"Welcome back," Jack murmured, pressing a kiss to your flushed cheek. His hand withdrew slowly, and you watched, mesmerized, as he discreetly wiped his fingers on his handkerchief.

"You're awful," you whispered, though there was no heat in the accusation.

"Awfully in need," he corrected, taking your hand and guiding it to his lap. The hard ridge beneath his trousers was unmistakable. "See what you do to me?"

You hesitated only briefly before your fingers traced his length through the fabric. His sharp intake of breath was deeply satisfying.

"Now who's being awful?" he whispered, his voice strained.

"I learned from the best." You squeezed gently, and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

With newfound boldness, you worked at his trouser fastenings, your movements hidden by the dim lighting and the angle of your bodies. When your fingers finally wrapped around his length, Jack's head fell back against the seat.

"Christ," he sighed. "Your hands are so soft."

You stroked him slowly, reveling in the way his composure fractured. Jack Kennedy, with his Harvard education and his social pedigree, reduced to silent gasps and aborted thrusts by your touch.

"Is this what you wanted?" you whispered, your confidence growing with each stroke. "To sit here in your father's box, with half of London society below us, while I make you come?"

His laugh was strained. "I didn't plan quite this far ahead, but God, yes."

You increased your pace, your thumb circling the sensitive tip just as he had done to you minutes before. His hand covered yours, guiding your movements, showing you exactly how he liked to be touched.

"Like this?" you asked, twisting your wrist slightly on the upstroke.

"Exactly like that," he groaned, too loudly. An elderly woman in the next box glanced in your direction, and Jack immediately straightened, adopting an expression of intense interest in the opera. You continued your ministrations beneath the cover of darkness, biting back a smile at his struggle to maintain composure.

When the woman's attention returned to the stage, Jack sagged in relief. "You'll be the death of me," he whispered.

"A tragedy worthy of Verdi," you replied, squeezing him firmly.

His breathing grew more ragged, his hips shifting restlessly against the seat. You knew he was close. With your free hand, you reached for his discarded handkerchief, anticipating the mess.

"Look at me," you commanded softly, and his eyes—dark with desire—met yours. "I want to see your face."

That seemed to push him over the edge. His expression contorted in pleasure, his mouth opening in a silent cry as he spilled over your hand. You caught most of it with the handkerchief, your strokes gentling as he shuddered through his release.

When it was over, Jack slumped against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder. "Jesus," he breathed. "That was..."

"Worth sitting through the opera?" you suggested, carefully cleaning your hand and helping him tuck himself away.

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your neck before straightening. "Worth sitting through a thousand operas."

On stage, Violetta was singing of sacrifice and societal expectations. Jack's hand found yours again, his thumb tracing circles on your palm.

"We should do this again," he said, his tone casual but his eyes serious. "The opera, I mean."

You smiled, knowing he meant much more than that. "I'd like that."

"Next time," he added, his voice dropping to that register that made your stomach flip, "we could skip the performance entirely. My father's residence has plenty of private rooms."

The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through you. "Ambassador Kennedy might notice our absence."

Jack's smile turned wicked. "Let him. I'm cultivating an appreciation for the finer things, just as he wanted."

[lilyflowerstories]

A Veil Of White

Pairings: Sirius x Remus, Sirius x Reader, Wolfstar x Reader

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Warnings for the series: light violence, angst, light smut

Word Count: 3.6k

Synopsis: 15 years ago you fell through the veil. A little less than 15 years later, Sirius followed. He expected death. No one returned from the veil so that was the only logical conclusion. What he didn't expect was to meet you again.

This story was inspired by @ellecdc and her anon who had this absolutely stellar headcanon that you should read right here. I kind of ignored like half the idea in regards to pairing but it's a fresh spin, that's what we do around here babes.

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Remus thought it could never happen again. But magic was a strange thing. His memories seemed to flash by him in slow motion, starting with the day he graduated Hogwarts.

You weren’t posing for pictures with everyone else and your parents weren’t taking them for once. Instead, the three of you were far away from the marauders and the rest of your friends as you signed a contract. Remus — and the others, although they were trying to act like they weren’t — watched you finally sigh in relief. 

“Is it done?” Sirius asked. 

You nodded, holding up your version of the contract that freed Frank from all responsibilities regarding your very unplanned baby. He didn’t even have to pay any child support. Your family could more than afford it. What you and Frank wanted was a clean break away from each other. With the support of your friends, you were more confident about your decision. Still nervous, but confident. 

You clapped your brother on the shoulder. “Jamie, do me a favor and go elope or have a baby or something. Anything to make you the family disappointment again.” 

Everyone else smiled as James protested about ever being the family disappointment, only for Fleamont and Euphemia to inform him that he wasn’t a disappointment but he wasn’t the favorite child either. James crossed his arms. 

“How are we still counting Regulus? He ran away. That makes me at least the third favorite child… Is it running away if you go back to your original parents?” 

Fleamont shrugged. “He’ll be back. Let’s not make you upset by dropping the ranking when he does. Best to keep it as is.” 

Sirius, not caring that he wasn’t the first or second favorite on account of sneaking Moony in after curfew on multiple occasions, howled in laughter. He did it again when only two years later he was staring at another baby in a crib. This time James’ son. Sirius picked Harry up, propping him up on a single hip, and bringing him to the kitchen where everyone else was. 

“Moons, promise me that we aren’t adopting or getting anyone pregnant until we’re thirty.” 

“I’d love to make that promise, Pads, but clearly you Potters are cursed. Count your days before we end up with our own.” 

It was a joke. That was all it was ever meant to be. No one in the kitchen at Potter Manor ever predicted it coming true. Only a few weeks after that hangout, everyone abandoned the manor when the war suddenly ramped up. James, Lily, and Harry went into hiding. Regulus did come back, spending lots of nights painfully fighting with his brother about both of their regrets in how he left. He proved himself useful as a spy. Remus moved back in with his dad, towing Peter along, while his mum and Peter’s parents hid themselves in the muggle world. Your parents took your baby girl while you spent most of your days at Hogwarts as a teaching assistant, pretending to know nothing of your brother or the Order. 

You weren’t stupid though. James and Lily couldn’t bear you not being the Secret Keeper but they needed another one because of how obvious you were. You chose Peter. Sirius was too obvious, Remus wasn’t the best occlumency, and the girls were in the field too often to take the risk. Peter was unassuming. No one but your friend group noticed him. Death eaters would be the same way. 

None of you realized you had underestimated him. Honestly, no one really knows what happened. One minute, you were calling Remus for help as you tried to hold off Voldemort long enough for James and Lily to take Harry and run. The next minute all of them arrived just as you grabbed Harry while James grabbed Lily. You were more skilled in apparating. It was safer if you took Harry and met your brother and sister-in-law at your parents’ house. But you had to get a bit farther before you risked the death eaters being able to hold onto you.

They heard and saw the killing curse fired. They saw you turn to shield your nephew just as the curse hit you in the back. And they saw Harry drop from your arms as you fell into some veil at the same time the curse touched you. What they weren’t sure they saw was Voldemort suddenly disappearing or exploding or vanishing. No one really knew even to this day. 

Harry was fine. Maybe he didn’t drop but you set him down? Although, would you have time to when a killing curse was pretty instant? Your body was never recovered. It disappeared through the veil in Godric’s Hollow. The stone archway disappeared a few days later. They buried an empty casket at your funeral. 

Remus and Sirius took in your daughter, Lorelei, because the war was still going on even after Voldemort’s disappearance. Once it finally ended a few months later, no one had the heart to take her away from them. James and Lily gladly gave them custody. It wasn’t like Harry wouldn’t see his cousin nearly everyday anyway. They were all content and slowly healing for eleven calm years. 

And then Voldemort returned. Something they always anticipated after Regulus informed them of horcruxes but only got one and had yet to figure out how to destroy it. But while they had anticipated it back in the day, they started to forget over the years. And no matter what, they never expected the children to be directly involved. The children shouldn’t have to be involved. 

That’s what Remus thought as he stormed through the Department of Mysteries with the rest of the Order. He nearly froze in his place when he saw the veil. Of all places for it to end up, it had to be here right now. He didn’t understand it but magic was a strange thing. And when Sirius began to fall through the smoky white filling the archway, Remus could do nothing but stare as he held his daughter back from following her father and never returning. 

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Sirius felt the pain of the curse Bellatrix lobbed at him. But as quickly as the blinding pain happened, it went away. It was nice to know death was painless. And he was still conscious so maybe there was an afterlife after all. Sirius wasn’t sure but he couldn’t do anything at the moment. He couldn’t move his body at all. But he was moving somehow. Feeling slowly started to return to Sirius’ body and he realized he was starting to get soaked through with what he hoped was water. 

He stared up at the sky, waiting for more feeling to return, as he continued to float down the river. It was a beautiful day. Time must have worked the same in the afterlife because it was daytime when he entered the Department of Mysteries. He heard a gasp. Sirius closed his eyes as two hands struggled to lug him out of the water. His legs were still jelly that he couldn’t even help the figure take him all the way to wherever he was going. Maybe he should have been more concerned but he was already dead so what’s the worst that could happen. He was taken all the way inside a house. Or at least he thought it was a house. Eyes still closed, Sirius let himself be hauled up onto what definitely felt like couch cushions beneath him. 

“I haven’t had a guest in so long. I’ll go make some soup.” 

His eyes popped open at the sound. He recognized that voice. But that was impossible. The moment he regained feeling, Sirius sat up and practically ran to the kitchen where he heard humming. His hands reached out without thinking, turning you by the shoulders. 

“Y/N?” 

“Who? I call myself Gardenia.” You pointed out the window. “After the gardenias outside.” 

“No. You’re Y/N P— Y/N P… I’m Sirius Bl— Sirius Bl… Why can’t I remember my last name?” 

“It happens. You’re lucky I’m here. No one was around for me and when I passed out, I forgot everything except leaving the river. Almost forgot I could do magic until I just found this wand.” 

“When I pass out?” 

You nodded. “Should be happening soon. Don’t worry, I’ll remember your name.” 

“No, wait. You’re Y/N P— that’s not important. You’re Y/N… fuck, last name isn’t important. Okay and you disappeared on Halloween in…” 

Your eyes flitted down as the man in front of you passed out just like you said. At least you could remember two things for him. His name was Sirius. Yours was apparently Y/N. You liked that. It sounded nice. Setting a timer, you floated the man back to the couch now that you had your wand on you and returned to the soup. He lasted a while before fainting so he’d probably be out longer than you and most of your guests were.

A second timer went off just as you added the final ingredients to the soup. Your bread was finally finished proofing. Just in time for your new dinner guest. The real question was how long would Sirius be staying. The longest guest you had was a child who stayed with you for a few good years before you helped them get into Ilvermorny for their final two years of schooling. 

Something smelling like a warm hug woke Sirius up from his slumber. He slowly sat up, looking around at his unfamiliar surroundings. The very definition of cottage, complete with a fluffy cat in his lap and looking perturbed that he got up. Running a hand through his hair, he took a deep breath. 

“This is not what I thought the afterlife would look like.” 

A soft laugh caught his attention. 

You set down the perfectly crusted bread on a serving plate. “You’re not dead, Sirius.” 

“You know my name? I don’t even know my name.” 

“You told me before you fainted.” 

“What else did I tell you?” 

Sirius’ shoulders slumped when you told him that he was only able to mention his name. Groaning, he finally got to his feet. You pointed to a dresser with various sizes and styles of clothing for guests to choose from. Sirius tried his hardest to remember what would suit him but couldn’t for the life of him. He was sure that he didn’t dress like this smarmy aristocrat everyday and must’ve been in the middle of a dinner party when he died. That didn’t give him much style ideas to go off of. In the end, he chose a pair of corduroy trousers, a plain white t-shirt, and a sweater vest. 

He looked himself over in the mirror. The look didn’t fit him at all but it brought on an odd sort of comfort. Not wanting to mull it over much longer, he made his way to the dining table that separated the living room and kitchen. 

“So, how are you sure I’m not dead?” he asked as he began buttering the slice of bread he cut. 

You grabbed your wand and flicked on the radio. Sirius listened intently as the news played. You flicked on the tv in the living room to show a different news program. He still wasn’t convinced but agreed that if the news said tomorrow’s date in the morning then he would believe it. You led him to one of the guest bedrooms, telling him where everything was and that he should treat the place as his own while he’s here. 

Sirius went through all the rooms, except yours, picking clothes in each of the wardrobes and drawers that he thought would be nice for him. He returned to see a nice basket with new underwear and toiletries. They were generic so all guests could use them but Sirius appreciated the gesture nonetheless. You gently called his name. Turning, he saw you leaning against the doorway. 

“I have to go to the farmers market tomorrow, you’re welcome to tag along if you want.” 

He snorted. “There are farmers markets in the afterlife? Sure.” 

“Not the afterlife.” 

“I’ll believe it when I hear it.” 

“Goodnight, Sirius.” 

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It might have been petty but, when morning came, you turned the radio to its loudest volume. Humming to yourself, you began to pack up for the market. This wasn’t always your home after washing up the river. The river outside wasn’t even the same one. You had washed up some river in France. Unfortunately, the person that found you and had a similar set up as yours was out of town when you passed through the veil. If you had washed up two days later then maybe you would have had a chance to tell someone your name or any information. It was too late though. 

By the time Delacoeur found you passed out in her lavender bushes, you could only remember that you were a witch. It could have been worse. Delacoeur was an amazing mentor. She had been through the veil herself about twenty years ago. The old woman wasn’t the first to own what she loving called the hotel for forgetful and lost souls. By the time you were well enough to rest, you had renamed yourself several times, remembered you were British, and found yourself staying in a nice wizarding village just outside of Liverpool. 

Sirius stumbled out of bed, making his way into the kitchen. He quirked an eyebrow at your fluttering about. You motioned to the radio and he just sighed. 

“Fine, I’m not dead.” 

“Glad we’ve established that. Do you want to come to market with me?” 

“I thought you’d be buying,” he said as he began packing up the rest of your stuff. 

“I make money this way.” 

“Enough to afford all of this?” 

You nodded. “People love fresh produce and baked goods. Muggles, especially. They can’t get enough. Finish washing up, while I load these into the cart. Oh and if you need a refresher, I have loads of spell books on that shelf over there. Not everyone remembers everything they learned.” 

Sirius hadn’t really thought about magic. He grabbed a couple books and some inconspicuous dust jackets to put over them when he came back downstairs. You were already outside, loading up the last of the goods. It took everything in him not to laugh. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t a stand on wheels attached to the back of a multi person bicycle. 

“Usually it’s just me but the extra manpower is so helpful that I bought this bike awhile ago so I wouldn’t have to keep switching them in and out. You ready?” 

The ride to the market was peaceful, if not a bit silly to Sirius. But he enjoyed it somehow. You finally reached your destination well before any customers arrived. Sirius sat awkwardly on the stool you gave him while you set up. You were mingling with the other vendors, dancing to the music someone set up, and making sure your stand was perfect. It was pretty clear that you had some sort of well-established life. Hopefully, he could get to that point as well. 

“How many people have stayed with you before?” Sirius asked suddenly, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you handed a customer a box of croissants. 

“Hmm, depends on how you count it.” 

“Depends?” 

“There’s this old woman in France who has done this for years. She and her family have a hotel for people like us. Usually after I’ve made sure anyone I find is okay, I’ll give them her address.” 

“Well then, how many guests stay after they’ve been wellness-checked?” 

“Sixty.” 

“Sixty?” he nearly choked on his water. 

“I’ve been here for about fifteen years, you know. That’s only four guests a year.” 

Sirius nodded in satisfaction at that answer. It really wasn’t that many once you broke down the math. He asked many other questions throughout the day. If you were annoyed by any of them, you didn’t let it show. Everything was answered to the best of your ability and with a smile. The questions didn’t stop as you two packed up and cycled home. 

“I noticed a picture in the hallway. Do young kids come through the veil pretty often?” 

You shook your head. “I’ve only had a handful of them. Those break my heart the most, they’re always so scared at first. Everyone else chooses to live their new life. But Delacoeur and I try to help the kids get back if we can.” 

“Were you successful with the boy in the hallway?” 

“Sort of. Malcolm freaked out too much to even give me his name before fainting. We figured out that he was on vacation when he came through the veil which was why he ended up so far away from America. He was only twelve.” 

Sirius took the cash register inside for you. “Only twelve? That’s awful.” 

“It was the worst. He knew he was scheduled to go to Ilvermorny. Apparently he was homeschooled for first year. But because we didn’t know his real name and he hadn’t taken his pictures for school yet, we were stuck again. Malcolm decided to just go when he turned fourteen. He was a good kid, helped me at the market for extra money. He still writes every now and then. I went to his graduation two years ago. He has an internship at the MACUSA and is trying to find his parents.” 

You felt your shoulder grabbed before you could step further into the kitchen. Despite the protesting, Sirius made you sit at the table. You worked hard cooking for the market and then selling all those goods. The least he could do was make lunch. Hopefully. Blushing, he admitted that he couldn’t remember if he was a good cook. 

“Cookbooks are over there.” 

Sirius reached up to the floating shelf and grabbed a book with a bowl of French onion soup on the cover. He flipped through the pages with scrutiny, finally stopping at a recipe for fondant potatoes. 

“Does fondant potatoes and, er… soupe au pistou sound good?” 

You nodded, summoning a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Sounds perfect. If we’re going to have a French night we need good wine and music.” 

Sirius laughed as he opened the door of the pantry and started bringing out the necessary ingredients. Even though he didn’t really remember most of his life, conversation and stories still flowed easily between the two of you. You would mention something you sort of remembered from your past life and he would have a somewhat similar story he would tell. Neither one of you was able to come up with a complete tale or a story with full details but you two were having a good time nonetheless. It was like you were old friends. 

“We probably knew each other at school. Where did you attend? I can’t remember where I went.” 

“I never figured it out,” you said, shrugging. “Maybe Hogwarts but I washed up in France so maybe Beauxbatons or one of their smaller schools. I showed up with only three galleons in my pocket so the amount of schools I could’ve attended in this area could have been all of them. Wasn’t worth it to check after the first three schools turned up with no results.” 

“If I remember then we can see if we were classmates.” 

“Sounds like a plan.”  

You changed the radio to a station that you knew played French music to really set the tone. As Sirius put the final cut of vegetables in the soup, you summoned a chess set and a miniatures build you started working on the morning Sirius had arrived. One of the kids showed you some sets when you were staying at the hotel and it became a pretty fun hobby. You had gotten really good at them but the simple kits were often more enjoyable.

Under your breath, you began to sing along with the radio as you spread out the pieces for a miniature wand shop. Whenever you had too many miniatures, you’d sell them at market or give them away for free at the end of the day. You looked up when Sirius began singing as well. It seemed like he finally registered what he was doing just as he took the potatoes out of the oven.  

“I speak French? Merlin’s Beard, I know French.” A large smirk spread over his face as he turned to look at you. “Tu sais la français est une langue de la romance.” 

You snorted. “I hate to break it to you but I spent a good year and half in France. And while your flirting skills are impeccable, men in sweater vests aren’t my type. Especially when they’re drowning in it.” 

“Hey! Don’t diss the sweater vest. I feel oddly attached to it.” 

You took a bite of potatoes. “Keep cooking like this and I’ll never diss the sweater vest again.” 

“Deal.” 

Sirius sat down at the table, cracking his knuckles before finally pulling out his wand. A simple levitation spell was a good place to start. He beamed as the wine bottle lifted with no problem and poured into his glass. You lowered the radio a little, moving the chess set to the center of the table as Sirius placed the dishes on the side. The afternoon was peaceful as you two ate lunch, played chess, and toasted to this new or maybe old friendship.

| part 2 here |

[issa-pheonyx]

Yandere!James Sunderland X GN!Reader [SH]🔪

𝗜'𝗺 𝘁𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗞𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗦𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗛𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝟮 𝗥𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗞𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝘆𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗿. 𝗔𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀, 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝗲𝗽𝘆, 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘄𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗝𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀 >:𝟯

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

-To make it easier you were one of Mary's close friends. You supported James when he was in aid and trying his best to make his wife happy until her last breathe. Your interactions with James was...not awkward it mainly, because of Mary. Though you can sense a tension coming off from him like avoiding eye contact from you, keeping his distance away from you when you are both alone and Mary was off doing something, etc. That kind of thing

-You assume he was just really shy around people Mary knows closely. So, you just keep conversations short and simple with him to not overwhelm him, but it seemed to work as he slowly builds up more communication between the two of you. However, Mary saw something else...she saw him to be more bright and happy when you came around to help her so that James can catch a break. That is when she became more snappy with James. He predicted that her snappiness was her sickness getting into her head, feeling useless and in chronic pain

-All of a sudden you received a phone call from James claiming he will be going to Silent Hill to visit for Mary's sanity. Stating she misses the town and has been calling to her for the weekend. You thought it was weird and decided to call right away. The phone picks up and it was Mary, questioning if it was true or not, and she said yes, enthusiastically. Some part of you still feel like something is going to happen, but you let it go and told her to stay safe

-The weekend has passed and they have not returned when you came over to talk about what went down in Silent Hill. Your heart rates increases with such anxiety that you decided to go to Silent Hill yourself to find James and Mary. When you did though it was rather eerie and ominous from the foggy town. You spotted James' car, but not no one inside. Investigating his car you saw nothing out of suspicion, so you're plan was to find James and Mary yourself

-Never did you think you would be dealing with monsters. There was these nurses and Pyramid Head figures every once in a while, but you managed to be sneaky and have them avoid you by throwing items to distract them. Slowly, you were getting clues from James and Mary's whereabouts. Yet, it seemed like it was intentional from finding a key to a hotel room #312. You heard crying on the other end and it sounded like James, so you quickly insert the key and turn the knob to get inside,"James!?" But, it was coming from the TV of James crying next to the bed where Mary was laying down, lifelessly, with a pillow on her face. That's when you realized James smothered her and did not return home due to his responsibility murdering his wife

-After that you were cautious with James if you find him or he finds you first. However, it seems like you end up running into each other. "James!?" His eyes were glum and dark, but changed to this twinge of hope and creepily happy to see you. He immediately holds you into a tight embrace that you couldn't escape. "You were looking for me. Thank god." His face was in the crook of your neck as his hot breathe warmed up your flesh

-You were nervous to ask him what happened with Mary. Thinking it could be just the haunted-weird town playing tricks on you. James was really REALLY protective and clingy with you. Following you like a damn lost puppy and would tell you to stand behind him when there are monsters, so he can beat/shoot them off. He would always ask you: "Did I do good?" "You think they're dead? I did it, right?" "You okay? I saw you were a little nervous."

-BEGS for praises (if the previous bullet doesn't say enough) like the way he questions you or gives you a look like ":D" just so you can tell him he did amazing and thanking him for saving your life. But, you attempt to imply anything in relations with Mary like saying: "You know I haven't found Mary yet...I hope she is okay." "I hope Mary finds us like we found each other." James would go back to his mopey-gloomy expression as he coldly replies to: "Yeah.." "She's fine on her own." "I'm sure she left the town before us."

-Eventually, you confronted James what you saw at the hotel room, because it has been eating you up worse and worse. James eyes widen, his mouth became dry, and throat hoarse as he tried to bring out words. Shit, just word vomit. "I-I...erm I didn't-" You showed him the room key #312 and his shoulders went slump as he confesses killing Mary. You were mad, disgusted, shocked, and sad-emotional turmoil all over. Yet, as much as you despised it the only way to get out of here is by sticking to his side since he knew his way around before. Plus, you don't want to end up being killed by him if he tried anything

-You can secretly plot your escape by tricking him that you won't be leaving him, but in the end of it all with James killing off Maria (that is for another time) he is heavily delusional and believes that you are leaving with him together from the town. Instead he wants to stay in Silent Hill with you. He doesn't mind the monsters he can kill them off. He can figure things out to maintain survival and necessities for you both (mainly you though). This is now your nightmare. You have to face your fears...which is escaping from James. Not from the town itself...

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

[hp-hcs]

Hmmm how about a poly oneshot with bully Draco and Lorenzo who hates the reader for being with the golden trio and mainly potter ?? They hate how touchy and blushy harry gets around their darling and vice-versa. They hate how everyone thinks you two are together and you don't do anything to clear up the rumor. They hate how you're always in his dorm and they hate seeing your lipgloss mark left on harry. But God do they love you and can't take it anymore 🤭🤭

oooh, interesting! love to see that you’re a hoe for drama (lovingly)

hate how this turned out but wtv

lipstick — yandere! enzo berkshire & yandere! draco malfoy x gn! gryffindor! reader

tws: toxic/possessive/obsessive behavior, slut shaming, implied sexual content? (question mark?)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Look at stupid Potter. With his stupid scar, and his stupid friends, and his stupid Y/N.”

“His?” Enzo laughs. “Y/N is not his.”

“Not if we can help it,” Draco mumbles.

The pair watches in silence as you throw a snowball at the ginger weasel, ducking behind Harry when the bloodtraitor tries to retaliate.

Harry scooped you up in his arms, like a valiant prince coming to save the day.

They can both hear your clear laugh, even from the other side of the courtyard. It makes them both seethe with anger.

~~~

“C’monnnn,” you pleaded, tugging at Harry’s arm. “I have friends other than you. I wanna talk to Luna and Pansy and Blaise.”

Harry rolled his eyes, not putting up much of a fight as you dragged him into the Great Hall.

It was a new thing this season, to promote house unity, or whatever. The heads of houses had come up with the idea; tea, cocoa, and cookies in the Great Hall every Friday evening. Everyone welcome.

The Great Hall is dimmer than usual, not all of the floating candles lit. A few dozen student of all houses mingle and meander.

A group of kids sat on a blanket on the cool stone floor, almost as if it were a picnic.

Another group had thrown blankets and sheets over part of the ridiculously long tables, creating a blanket fort underneath.

You headed straight over to where Luna was painting Pansy’s nails. They greeted you with laughter as Luna’s unsteady hand got orange nail polish all over Pansy’s knuckle.

You gasp. “Harry! Let me paint your nails! Pleaseeee?”

He shrugged, looking over the myriad of colors laid out. He picked one up and held it out towards you.

“Snitch gold, for luck.”

You laugh, accepting the bottle and pointing for him to sit down.

“You don’t need luck, Harry. You’re you.”

Across the room, two Slytherins clocked Potter’s shy grin and bright blush.

~~~

You sat down with your friends, a wicked game of truth or dare already in full effect. As predicted, Gryffindor had won their game against Hufflepuff, resulting in a very large house party. You’d noticed a few Ravenclaws around and wondered how they got in, until you saw the Slytherins, the lions’ main suppliers of firewhiskey and good times.

“I dare you…” Ginny trailed off as she thought. A wicked grin spread across her face. “I dare you to wear that failed blue glitter lipstick that me and Cho made.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. That’s easy.”

“For the whole day tomorrow.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not afraid. Bring it on.”

~~~ “Draco!” Enzo hissed as he harshly elbowed his friend in the ribs.

“Ow. What?” He followed Enzo’s finger, pointing straight at the Gryffindor table. “What am I looking at?”

“Potter.”

Harry James Potter was furiously scrubbing at his skin with a napkin as you, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were all practically howling with laughter.

Sure enough, you were true to your word, wearing that ridiculously tacky lipstick that stood out like a beacon when surrounded by all of that garish red and gold.

Harry let out a visible sigh, tossing down the napkin and sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest in an obvious sulk.

Right there, smack dab in the middle of his cheek, was a perfect blue stain from a kiss.

Draco’s ears burned with rage.

“Nope. Come on, Enz. We’ve waited damn long enough.”

~~~ “It’s not coming off, guys,” Harry whined.

“Why do you think we called it failed?” Ginny laughs, the blue smudge on his cheek looking quite comical. “That’s what happened when we tried to wear it.”

You snicker. “You look good in blue, Harry,” you teased, enjoying the faint blush that settled over his cheeks.

You suddenly felt a heavy hand come down on your shoulder, tightening to the point where it was almost painful.

You whirled around, surprised to see two Slytherins you’d barely talked to.

Harry sneered at the sight of his long-time rival, Malfoy. “What do you gits want?”

They both ignored him, as if he wasn’t there at all.

“We need to talk to you,” Enzo snapped, his hand on your shoulder tightening even more as he all but dragged you out of your seat.

You stumbled after him as Draco propelled you forward with a firm hand on the small of your back.

The two boys dragged you out into the hall, away from prying eyes. Draco wasted no time before shoving you up against the wall in a secluded alcove.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, kissing Potter?”

“W-what?” You stammered, your brain not yet having caught up with the situation.

Enzo scoffed. “Whoring yourself out to anyone who blushes at you, huh?”

“What?”

“How long have you been sleeping with him, hm? How long?”

“Wh- Harry? We’re friends!”

“Friends, huh? Friends?” Enzo scoffed.

“Yes!” You snapped. “Who d’you think you are, questioning my- mmfph!”

Draco surged forward and kissed you harshly.

~~~

Enzo Berkshire, Draco Malfoy, and Y/N L/N all stumbled into Defense Against the Dark Arts twenty minutes late, their clothes rumpled and their skin stained with blue lipstick.

[ultravioletbrit]

“taste” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 688 words

“holiday movies” - 25 Days of Jegumas - Day 9 - @noblehouseofgay

“I’m not saying they’re cinematic master pieces, I’m saying they can be annoyingly captivating.” James flops down on the couch.

“I think what you’re saying is that you have terrible taste in holiday movies.” Regulus sits down beside him.  

“It’s not like I purposefully watch them.” Regulus gives James a skeptical look. “Oh, come on. You’ve never been flicking through channels and stayed on one of those movies just a little too long?” James holds his hand up indicating ‘a little’ with his thumb and forefinger.   

“No…” Regulus bats his hand away but he’s also avoiding eye contact.

“See!” James calls him out. “There’s something about them that draws you in, just for a minute.”

“Maybe I stay on the channel just to see how ridiculous it is?” Regulus poorly defends himself.

“Sure…”  

“They’re always so over-the-top predictable.” Regulus rolls his eyes. “The jaded guy that hates Christmas happens to be the only one that can ‘save Christmas’. Spoiler alert, he saves Christmas.” Regulus mocks.    

James chuckles. “Or the over-worked city girl who comes back to her hometown and remembers the ‘true meaning of Christmas.’”

Regulus is quiet for a moment, then in a much softer voice he says, “Or the childhood best friends who realize they actually have feelings for each other.”  

James turns to look at Regulus and he’s looking down at his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. “Yeah, that one’s the worst.” He whispers and turns to fully face Regulus. “It’s so unrealistic. How could they not know?”

Regulus hums and he’s so quiet that James wouldn’t hear him if they weren’t sitting so close. “How could they know each other for so long and never see what’s right in front of them?” Regulus keeps looking down for a moment before his lifts his head and makes eye contact with James.  

James smiles softly and holds eye contact for a minute. “And there’s always that moment where they make eye contact, and everything clicks.” James slightly leans towards Regulus.  

Regulus nervously bites his bottom lip for an excruciatingly long moment but never breaks eye contact. “And they think… maybe this is what they’ve been missing all along.” He whispers weakly, hesitantly.   

James’ smile grows just a little but he’s also cautious as he lifts his hand. “Then one of them does something that might be a little too affectionate.” He tucks a curl behind Regulus’s ear and his hand lingers on his cheek. “Just to test the waters, nervous the other character might not feel the same way.” He lets his fingers settle on Regulus’ neck as he brushes his thumb over his cheekbone.  

Regulus leans into his hand and James can see so many different emotions flash in his eyes. He closes them and takes a deep breath and when he opens his eyes, they’re fierce and vulnerable at the same time. “And the moment gets really intense, because you know they feel the same, but they’re also sort of terrified. Because if they cross that line, everything could change.”   

James nods in understanding, but his smile is still growing, and he moves even closer to Regulus. “But what if they realize everything’s supposed to change.” He whispers and it’s barely a breath, a secret just for them. “What if everything starts to make sense and they realize… they realize they’ve actually been in love this whole time… or at least one of them has.”

Regulus’ finally lets his smile grow as he leans closer to James when he whispers. “I think they probably both have.”

James beams and Regulus bites his bottom lip trying to hide his own growing smile. They gaze into each other’s eyes for several moments, letting years of emotions pass between them.  

Eventually, James breathes the smallest chuckle. “Then they stare at each other for a really long time, and you want scream, ‘just kiss already’, because you know it’s going to happen.”  

“But it’s just so cliché.” Regulus rolls his eyes fondly as he leans in.

“Yeah, things like that never happen in real life.” James' lips brush against Regulus’

“Never.” Regulus closes the last sliver of space and finally presses his lips to James’.   

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Two: The Heart Wants What it Wants

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter One - Chapter Three ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: answers are few and far between, Sirius is in the trenches, and the Gryffindor quidditch team receives some good news

Word Count: 5.5k

You were never able to get much sleep, tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning. Just when you began to doze off, it seemed as though your mind forced you to remember the red and purple fish. Your half-sleeping imagination replayed the drop in your stomach when you finally discerned its meaning through the help of three separate books, and the confusion over the seemingly ambivalent fate which awaited you. While Lily did point out that Divination wasn’t a perfect science, you found that it always came true in one form or another. It would be possible to accept her suggestion if not for the aching feeling that had been building in your chest since midnight. 

As it started to grow light, you decided to give up on sleep. A pink and purple sunrise shown through your dormitory windows, the muntins breaking up the rays into little diamonds across the wooden floors. You dressed as quietly as you could, throwing on something halfway decent so you could go down to the Common Room and attempt to do something productive. You hauled with you your three Divination books, as well as your existing notes, setting them on one of the small tables. The fire was nearly out, only dimming embers remaining, so you threw on a few more logs. The howl of the wind blowing outside the tower whipped past the castle walls, skirting along the edges of the jagged stone. 

You opened up the large purple book, Crundlesmuck’s Lessons in Animal Divination , and flipped to the chapter on Ichthyomancy. Sifting through the pages, you tried to come across the passage you had read a thousand times over already, hoping that one more reading would provide further insight. You took a deep breath once you came upon it, preparing yourself for disappointment. 

“As the great Diviner Simon Bonk once professed, ‘...the lone fish may be like the wandering child in search of its mother, or, the snarling wolf in search of its next meal.’ Though Mr. Bonk is correct in his dual interpretation of the lone fish, one must not rely solely on numbers, but also colour, texture, smell, personality, aura, and accompaniment in order to truly make an accurate prediction. While the lone fish may very well represent the search for companionship, or the loss of it, if its colour is red or pink, the fortune could be of a romantic nature. However, if the lone red or pink fish was swimming south, the direction of the past, one may very well predict the subject of the future to run into a long lost sweetheart. Due north, however, may indicate the lone red fish's connections to a greater enemy, or the search for revenge which will soon be met. This would not be true if the fish were pink, of course, for such strong emotions are usually represented by the most saturated of colours. Further, if its scales reach the sunlight, reflecting into the viewer's eyes, this indicates a far more subdued outcome, or one which may come in the very near future. As you can see, a true diviner must combine all the necessary attributes in order to accurately use Ichthyomancy in their practice.”

“Merlin's beard,” you muttered to yourself, a hand coming to rub at your temples. It was all utterly nonsensical, at least to you. The chart on the side was no help, either. 

Red- Strong emotions such as love, hatred, anger, infatuation, resentment, etc., may include jealousy if paired with orange and blue. 

Pink- Lesser forms of love and other emotions, less influential than red.

Orange- Happiness and good fortune, strictly positive change.

Yellow- Confusion, frustration, a lack of knowledge.

Green- Jealousy, envy, greed, may indicate success in endeavors purposefully made or unintentional.  

Blue- Tranquility (though not necessarily without change), friendship, can indicate the natural world.

Purple- Power, tends to aid in the strength of other omens. 

Black- Death, change, dramatic shifts either positive or negative.

White- Purity, lack of change, consistency either positive, negative, or neutral, or its inverse in numbers of the double digits.

While you initially thought that the white fish had overridden the effects of the red and purple one, a whole school of them pointed more towards chaos than anything. No, you and Lily were correct; it was an awful omen indeed. Still, you closed Crundlesmuck’s Lessons in Animal Divination and opened another, hoping that someone could provide a more positive outlook on your situation. 

“White’s ability to have an opposite meaning should not be disregarded when analyzing omens, particularly when white appears nearby…” —The Unabridged Diary of the Late Seer Humphrey Holbert Sherbert Monty Jr., page 294

Surely, your third book could provide some answers. 

“...as Diviner Daisy Kettlebum professed one evening in her study in the spring of 1814, ‘red and purple may be one of the rarest pairings, yet the most powerful of them all’...We can see that the pairings of colours are most often more accurate indicators of fortune than the observation of a single colour.” —Colour Me Prophecy: A Witches and Wizards Guide to Colour in the Natural World, page 673

You wanted to rip your hair out, and you almost did until the portrait hole swung open. You checked the time, the clock on the wall reading five fifty-six. Students were not permitted outside the Common Room for another four minutes, although that seemed to not be an issue, for the portrait soon closed without a student emerging from it. Your eyes flashed towards your notes for a quick moment, catching your scribbled words: school of white + red and purple = bad! Your mind ran over a hundred scenarios of strange occurrences and awful happenings. Was the fruition of your omen about to ensue, a phantom which somehow got word of this week's password: Inepta Mustela?

You stood from your chair with a deep, shivering breath, walking around the table with careful steps. Nearing the portrait hole, hands slightly shaking, you craned your head around the corner. Without warning, James and Remus appeared suddenly from beneath the invisibility cloak, breaking out into a fit of unrestrained laughter. You gasped, clutching at your chest before catching up with the shock. You waited for them to stop their incessant giggling with your hands on your hips. 

“You gave me a heart attack!” you scolded, voice in a whisper. Neither took your same precautions, their volume rather loud for six in the morning. James wiped a tear from his eye as their laughter died down. Finally taking in their appearance, you saw that Remus was still wearing his pajama bottoms and a jumper, though James had the sense to at least throw on a pair of jeans. “What were you both doing out anyway? I thought you two were all buttoned up now, a Prefect and Head Boy.” You motioned to them, but Remus just rolled his eyes. 

“It was nothing too bad,” he said, dismissing your concerns. He threw himself down on the sofa, stretching his long legs out by the fire. You crossed your arms, staring at James with a disapproving press of your lips. He still had a smirk on his face and a blush across his cheeks from laughing. His expression practically forced you to smile. You shoved him as you walked back to your table. 

“What are you doing up?” James asked, taking a seat beside Remus. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” was all you said. 

James peered behind the couch at you, watching as you closed your books and piled up your work into a stack. “Is that for Divination?”

You glanced up, nearly smiling again at his head contorted in such a funny manner, tipped up and to the side. Remembering you hadn’t even looked in the mirror before you can down here, you hoped you didn’t appear too ghastly. You nodded at his question, taking the books into your arms and lugging them over to the area by the fireplace.  

“Yeah,” you finally answered, dropping them to the floor and sitting in one of the armchairs. “Figured I’d be productive rather than just tossing around till breakfast. I think I'm going to need more than three books, though.”

“We were productive as well,” James said with a grin.  

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”

"Mhm,” Remus answered, tight-lipped. “Got an early morning snack from the kitchens.”

“Breakfasts only in an hour and a half, you couldn’t wait?” You chuckled as Remus shook his head rather forcefully, playing with the sleeves of his jumper. 

“The heart wants what it wants.”

You left Remus and James to start getting ready for breakfast, knowing that Lily would be up by now. Thankfully, she never asked any questions when you came back into the dormitory carrying your stack of books, clearly having been up for quite some time. Dorcas was snoring from within the thin confines of her four-poster. Like most nights, she’d forgotten to cast a silencing charm. She’d blame it on simple forgetfulness, you on her sugar-high. 

You were still ill at ease when you walked down to breakfast with Lily, very much looking forward to a cup of tea. Paying attention in class would be a difficult task, your thoughts muddled with an anxiety well beyond repair. If Lily noticed your nerves, she didn’t comment on them, chatting with you about a healing potion she was learning about in Alchemy instead. 

In stark contrast to your own inner turmoil, there was a distinct air of excitement in the Great Hall despite the early hour. At the center of the long table at the head of the room, Dumbledore looked on as he did every morning, twinkling eyes darting beneath his half-moon glasses. A few minutes later, Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary came, the Marauders not far behind. Mary was in the year below you all, and Dorcas had taken a liking to her meek manner, seeming to make her sole purpose in life to get Mary out of her shell. 

James and Remus looked rather tired as they wandered over to their seats. You smiled to yourself as they sat down, James laying his head on the table for a brief moment before he picked it back up again. He noticed you staring and narrowed his eyes, pushing up his glasses by its bridge. You smiled, shaking your head before returning your attention back to Dorcas. 

“Fueling up already?” you said, watching her take a bite of an apple turnover. 

She nodded, washing it down with some tea and swallowing with a single, large gulp. “I’ve got to be on my game for tomorrow. Can’t be letting those Hufflepuffs think we’re slacking.”

Hufflepuff won the quidditch House Cup last year and the entire Gryffindor team was committed to not letting it happen again. James in particular was quite serious about the matter, grabbing up any time on the pitch that he could manage. Monsieur Button, the flying instructor and referee, was growing increasingly tired of James standing outside of his office first thing every Monday morning, when the weekly practice schedules were made up. 

“That's right, Meadows,” said James with the same eagerness. “All you better be thinking about from now until tomorrow morning is the Grumblesnad.”

“Don’t worry, Captain, it’s burned into my brain. I’ll be recalling your flight maneuvers on my deathbed.” 

James shook his head, stabbing his fork into his sausage rather violently. “No one respects their elders anymore.”

“You’re only a week older than me,” Dorcas said with her mouth half full. 

“You can build a lot of wisdom in a week,” Peter laughed. 

“And I’m older than all of you,” Sirius interjected. “So, by all rights, I should be your superior, James. Just going by your own logic.”

“Then we need better logic,” you added, Lily nodding in agreement. 

Through the large door, the daily influx of owls came sailing overhead and dropping off the post. Your owl swooped low, placing a copy of the Daily Prophet directly into your lap. You were undoing the ties when you heard Remus’s solemn voice from down the table. 

“Just wait till we get back from classes,” he said softly to Sirius, who was sitting beside him. 

Sirius’s eyes were cast down towards a letter in his hand. You saw the green wax seal and knew what lay inside. You lamented the fact his parents had to write him the day before a match. His once cheerful face had drooped, his color poor and drained. He let his long hair cover his face, not bothering to brush it back behind his ears. He slipped the letter into his bag and turned back to his friends, who were all motionless where they sat. You looked away as you saw James's expression of tribulation, sensing that watching any longer was an intrusion on a moment not meant for you to be privy to. 

You opened up the paper, reading the title of the front page article, inked in thick, dark letters: DARK MARK SEEN OVER STRING OF MUGGLE MURDERS. 

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

Sirius’s mood continued throughout Charms. You had a clear view of him across the aisle, his sullen, gray eyes half lidded and distant as they stared out into space. Once in a while, they lifted as something Professor Flitwick said grabbed his attention, though they often unfocused. Periodically, Remus would whisper something to him, or James would give him a gentle nudge with a smile. Sometimes Sirius would respond, though mostly he looked as if he were all alone, ghost-like and listless. 

You gazed out of the large window behind Flitwick, watching the Forbidden Forest sway softly in the breeze. A few evergreens colored the mass of brown boughs and hefty trunks, though most of the brush remained drab. It was a dreary day out, typical for this time of year, but no less disappointing. As your gaze followed the treeline, you wondered what that bloody fish was doing right now. 

You weren’t sure if you were thankful or loathsome for the mid-morning break between classes. Some studying could serve as ample distraction, or just bore you into thinking about Divination. At least you didn’t have that today, leaving all weekend to avoid the subject if you so wished. You walked out of class with Lily, though she had to leave to go to Ancient Runes with Remus and Marlene. The rest of the boys were nowhere to be found, James and Sirius likely off to the quidditch pitch to get some practice in before tomorrow morning. Alone, you weasled through the crowd of students, passing through an array of corridors towards the Astronomy Tower. Usually, it was only open for classes, but being in the Astronomy Club had its perks. You hoped no one would be up there, though it would be strange in February.  The chill would be particularly nipping from high up in the tower, making it a far less appealing choice to hide out in than in autumn or spring. The temperature made no difference to you, however. You just wanted to be alone, and maybe smoke a cigarette or two.  

You sat up against the wall, your red and gold scarf sitting just below your mouth. Your Transfiguration book was opened in your lap, a piece of parchment laying on one of the pages. A cigarette hung from your lips, burned all the way to the filter. You were taking notes on advanced forms of Transfiguration, cursing McGonagall for making you learn how to create an object from thin air by the end of term. Deep in concentration, you nearly missed a single crow fly by the tower a few times before landing on the railing. When it shifted its position, you caught the black blur in your peripheral, eyes coming up to meet it. Black and beady, they stared, unwavering and with an eerily human conviction. You continued to stare, transfixed by its commanding presence against the gray sky. After a few moments it made a single, harsh call before lifting up in flight, swooping down along the tower and out of sight. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You slammed your book shut, shoving everything in your bag and stomping out of the tower, feet hitting heavy against the steps. You were huffing to yourself, muttering curses at the crow as you continued down the hall. The idea that you were truly going mad crossed your mind as you noticed a few odd glances from other students loitering in the halls. You were well aware many would have already been calling you such if they knew you were putting even a single ounce of belief in Divination. However, it all was beginning to seem undeniable now. Something bad was bound to occur, a twisting pit growing in your stomach as you thought this fact over. You ran through every possibility: death, destruction, war, famine, but it all seemed equally plausible. 

You mindlessly paced, fogged with a thousand contradicting explanations, the web spinning into something far more complicated than you were prepared to handle. Lost in your rumination, you hadn’t noticed you were walking straight into someone until you stumbled backward, nearly falling before an arm caught yours just in time. You looked up to see Sirius standing above you, a small smile beginning to form on his face. 

“A little spacey this morning, I see,” he joked, pulling you back up to standing. You let out a short breath from your nose, straightening out your robes. 

“Yeah, you could say that.” You didn’t intend to sound so snappy, frowning a bit as you saw the look upon his face and remembering what had transpired over breakfast. You considered the fact that he wasn’t at the pitch with James. If anything could clear his head, it’d be a low stakes training session. “I’m sorry, Sirius. I’ve just had a bad day is all.”

“That makes two of us,” he said, glancing down at his shoes for a moment. 

“Yeah,” you began, not knowing if you should bring up what happened over breakfast. You reasoned that you had each known each other for long enough to not have to dance around the issue, at least not anymore. You knew enough about his family and his stay with the Potters to put the pieces together yourself; and you could be sure that he knew that you knew, making the whole mystery of it rather pointless. You licked your lips, unsure how to carry yourself as you spoke, “I saw that you got something from your parents.”

He nodded, eyes as distant as they were in Charms. He had not tensed up or retreated, demeanor very much unchanged. “I still haven’t opened it. I think I’m gonna wait till Sunday.”

“That's a good idea,” you said. “Why let them spoil the whole weekend.”

You wondered why he planned on opening it at all. If it were you, you’d throw it into the Common Room hearth and be done with it. However, you decided not to voice this opinion, feeling it quite out of your place. 

“Knowing them, they did it on purpose. Reg probably told ‘em we had a match or something.” He let out a breathy laugh with little humor behind it. “What’s got you so distracted?”

You sighed, not quite knowing what to say or how much to reveal. “Nothing, just Divination. I’ll get over it.”

“Find out anything more?”

You shook your head. You knew you ought to return the favor; vulnerability for vulnerability, but you didn't want to put it on him right now. Sirius wandered over to the wall, zigzagging around until he leaned against it. With his legs outstretched, his gray uniform pants rose up above his ankles, revealing two different colored socks, white and navy blue. You eyed them with a mild amusement, following him over and leaning against the wall a few paces away. You both stared out of the wavy window glass silently, each stewing in your own unfavorable situations. You found yourself looking towards him, studying his profile that you had seen a million times before. 

You wondered why you didn’t like Sirius but were so absurdly smitten with James. You thought it might be easier to like Sirius, who you knew would agitate you far too much to seriously date. It would be easy to put him on a shelf, to throw the hope away. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You rolled your eyes to hide your embarrassment, turning away. Now he was the one staring at you, his gaze dragging across your cheek. 

“I’m sorry, Sirius,” you said, voice quiet. You didn’t see his brows knit or his eyes grow soft, continuing on with your apology, “I know I’m not what you need right now. I feel silly moping about because of Divinations of all things.”

“It’s all right,” he began, kicking off the wall to face you. “If it’s any consolation, I think the whole things rubbish. Who cares what color the fish are?”

“It’s how many, too,” you said between a faint laugh.

He was standing a ways in front of you now, shifting his weight between his feet. “It’s all random. No need to worry yourself into a fit over it.”

Your face was blank, nodding without really believing him. He walked backwards a few steps, hands stuffed into the pockets of his robe. 

“I’ll see you later, hot stuff,” he said, spinning around to walk properly. “And don’t use that head of yours too much!” 

You watched him go, not saying anything in return. You felt awful for him right now, far more so than you did for yourself. While you disagreed with him on the legitimacy of Divination, he was right about one thing: it was silly to worry this much about a project for class. You were forgetting one of the biggest aspects of Divination, that the future can always change. A prophecy is one thing, but you were no Seer. Simply reading a fortune through any means wasn’t enough to solidify a specific outcome. You had time to change the direction of the future, the only problem being you didn’t have the slightest idea what to change. 

It wasn’t like when Professor Quattlebaum told you that you’d get soaking wet by the end of the day in fourth year. Then, you had just brought an umbrella with you. However, now that you got to thinking of it, your efforts then had been in vain. All day you had carried it with you, pleased when you and Lily were shielded from a surprise rain shower halfway through your walk about the grounds. Only, as you each headed back inside the castle, umbrella lowered, a duel between two seventh years broke out in the corridor. One had cast Aguamenti at his opponent, missing him entirely and soaking you to the bone. At least the arsehole got detention for it. You had trudged back to the Common Room, robes dripping and heavy, debating if you should go back to Quattlebaum’s office and give him a piece of your mind. 

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

You were walking to the Great Hall with Peter for lunch, each just having left from History of Magic. Like Divination, only you and he were still taking the class. Unfortunately, Peter was not as enthusiastic about the subject as you were. You and he were packed like sardines in the hallways, breaking through the bottleneck just as James, without warning, came bounding up behind you. He practically ran into your back before stepping in stride to your left. He buzzed as if a gleeful charge was running through him from his toes to the tip of his nose. The three of you stopped walking, forcing a few grumbling students to move past your huddle. 

“You’re chipper,” you commented, laughing as he shrugged. He was always hyper, but this was a bit extreme even for him. Lily, Remus, and Marlene soon caught up to you, their faces all bearing the same sly grin. You gave him an odd glance, looking between him and the others. 

“Excited for the match?” asked Peter. James shrugged again, a smile still on his face.

“That's part of it,” he said, bouncing a bit on his toes. Lily shook her head at him.

“Come on,” you begged the others. “What?”

“Daniel told me he heard from Caelum Waterson, who's a fifth year Hufflepuff, that Corey Luxfire’s in the Hospital Wing with a wicked spout of dragon pox,” James explained excitedly. Corey Luxfire was the best beater on the Hufflepuff team and the likeliest reason Gryffindor would have to lose. He was also a rather talented painter, head of the Hufflepuff Art Club.

“That's excellent!” you began. “Oh, but not for Corey.”

“Screw Corey,” Peter said happily. “He’ll recover– eventually.” 

Lily tsked, Marlene laughing at Corey’s ill fated sickness. 

“I’ll send him some flowers,” James assured, head poking towards yours. “Would that appease you?”

You pretended to think it over for a moment, hand on your chin in contemplation. “Yes, it would.”

James smiled, placing a heavy arm behind your neck, his hand placed upon your right shoulder. You hoped he’d take it off before his fingertips nearly burned five small holes through your jumper. You couldn’t bear for Lily to see you like this, as she was the last person in the whole world, besides James, that you wanted to know about your stupid infatuation. He tugged at you a bit, trying to get you to look at him again.

“What?”  

“Nothing,” he said after a beat, dropping his hand away with a laugh. 

“You’re very odd today.” You side-eyed him, wondering if he was planning on pranking you or something of the sort, especially after his joy at seeing you jump out of your skin this morning.

“What else is new,” Remus said, smiling to himself. James glared at him before turning back to you. 

“Just trying to cheer you up,” he said. You gave him a small, kind smile, appreciating the gesture. 

As you rounded the corner, Dorcas and Mary were revealed to be sitting on the stone lip along one of the walls. Dorcas left Mary with a short word of goodbye upon seeing your group, running up happily to James with the same buzz. 

“Did you hear–?”

“Yep, Daniel just told me,” James answered, not letting her finish. Dorcas practically jumped up and down, beginning to walk backwards in front of you down the corridor. You heard Marlene’s distinctly girlish giggle beside Lily. 

“They’ve got no chance without him,” Dorcas said with a wolfish grin. “Last year he took me out for good, the bloody knobsnarker. It was the only reason we lost. And he gave me a bruise the size of a melon. But the whole team's rubbish except for Corey.”

James hummed, head bobbing from side to side. “Poppy’s not too bad of a seeker.”

“She’s no match for me, though. We’ve got it in the bag tomorrow.” Dorcas smirked, turning on her heels and butting her way between you and James. She threw an arm around your shoulders just as James had, glancing down at you with a pestering look in her eyes. “You’ve got to promise me you’ll get good and drunk tomorrow night after I win.”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t know, no promises. Maybe if Sirius makes that potion…even then you’ll have to bribe me.” Sirius made the best hangover cure in all of Hogwarts, but it was a pain in the arse and took forever to brew. You practically had to beg him to give you some every time you needed it, and that only worked about half the time. He had the tendency to hoard it for the especially bad mornings and would only give it up if you were on your deathbed.

“I’ll steal some for you,” James offered. “I know where his stash is.”

“He might have charmed it. You know how protective he is over the stuff,” you remind him, though James didn’t seem to consider that enough of a deterrent. “Where is he, anyway?”

James, Remus, and Peter stalled for a moment, Remus speaking up first, “I don’t know. He said he’d meet James at the pitch, but he never showed.”

You were just about to tell them you saw him in the hall, but Peter interrupted. 

“He’s probably off snogging Seraphina ,” he drawled, her name spoken like a curse. James groaned, a disgusted look upon his face. 

“She seems nice enough,” said Lily in her defense. 

“And a drag,” James countered. “Even you’re more fun than she is.”

Lily scoffed at the comparison. “You’re a real tosser, you know that?”

“Here we go,” said Remus.

You snickered, sharing a glance with Marlene. No wonder they broke up , said her eyes. At least they're still friends , yours replied.

“I will have you know that I am loads of fun, right Marls?” Lily asked, turning to her friend. Marlene nodded quickly, raising her chin at James. 

“Yes, she is, Potter. Wizards chess and extracurricular academic reading are very exciting and quite the riot!” 

You started laughing along with the others, though Lily remained straight faced. You didn’t notice her winding up for a sucker punch until it was too late. 

“Yeah, and Y/N is too. We all know how much the Astronomy Club helps you wind down and let loose.”

James howled, as did Dorcas, whose arm grew a bit tighter round your shoulders. You shoved it off, scoffing as Peter continued to snort. You ought to have called them all nerds, as Lily and James consistently got better marks than you, and your grades were on par with Remus and Marlene’s, but you decided to let it slide. A good jab was a good jab.  

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

After the double period of DADA, everyone was done with classes for the day, all light on their feet as the weekend neared its beginning. You and Lily we set to go to the library like you did most Friday’s after class, trying to convince Dorcas to come along. 

“It’ll be fun,” Lily begged, moving out of the way for some other students to pass. Dorcas shook her head, looking back at James and Sirius who were itching to leave. It was most certainly not Dorcas's idea of fun to spend an afternoon at the library of all places, though Lily never ceased her efforts. You swore you’d only seen Dorcas there once or twice during your entire stint at Hogwarts. 

“I’m going to the pitch, you wanker. Potter'll kill me if I don’t!” She looked back at the Marauders, James waving her on anxiously. He hopped up a few times in the air, his movements increasing in their intensity. 

Lily's hands came to her hips, peering over Dorcas’s shoulder at James. He had turned back to the others, still antsy, but listening to something Remus was saying. 

“Potter!” Lily shouted. James turned quickly, his tie undone and swinging onto one shoulder. “Can’t you spare Dorcas for an hour?” 

James sighed, eyes rolling back as he slouched forward. “No, Evans , I can’t! We just barely got the time away from the Hufflepuffs!” He glanced between you and Lily before piping up again, “Wanna come and watch?” 

Lily scoffed. “You’re sounding more and more like Sirius these days.”

James shrugged with a teasing grin, looking towards you. “Come on, don’t you wanna see your best mate in action?” He moved around like he was on a broom before adjusting the bag slung across his shoulder. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the match,” you reminded him. “And who says you’re my best mate?”

Sirius smiled a genuine, full smile, and it made you happy to know your insult towards James is what did it. Remus made a pained face as if he had just watched James fall from his imaginary broom. 

“ Uh! ” James gasped, taking a few heavy steps closer. “I said you’re my new favorite, does that mean anything to you?”

Godric, why does he have to do this? You really wished this little schtick could end so you could go back to pretending James didn’t even like you all that much.

“You both can fight about it later,” said Lily, linking your arms. “We’ve got to nab the good tables before the first years hog them.”

“Have fun,” Dorcas said with a wave, walking towards Sirius. James stood and shook his head at you. 

“I’ll see you!” you called to no one in particular. Lily dropped your arm and you both began to speed walk towards the library. Halfway there you could feel her staring at you through the corner of your eye. You sighed, glancing over. She had an odd, uncharacteristic smirk upon her face. You didn’t know whether you should be frightened or not. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, her skirt dancing to and fro as she walked.

Chapter Three

[ethereacals]

10 Things I HATE About: You. (part two!)

summary: James is starting to get desperate when Lily continues to reject his attempts to date her, as she reveals she's not allowed to date until her completely opposite twin sister does. which seems highly unlikely, (thats why its such a good rule). so James comes up with a grand plan to get Sirius to date her, what could go wrong?

(literally just the story of 10tihay)

wc: 1,401

pairings: evans!slytherin!reader (jeezus thats a mouthful) x sirius black

tropes: grumpy x sunshine, because of a bet

contents: angst? (if that's what we call it) to comfort, happy ending, james doesn't think before he does something, mulciber is sexist (but what’s new)

Pt: 2-3

a/n; i’d like to apologize to those who have waited so long, my dyslexia has been getting worse and worse recently and writing was something i started dreading to do, but i’m back and better then ever! thanks for a patience 🫶

(part one)

WELL, SIRIUS WAS FUCKED. and not in the enjoyable way.

how could he do this to himself, how could he do this to James? he wasn't meant to actually like you.

your rejections shamefully bruised his bulletproof ego, crushing it to pieces like a glass heart.

but they meant the world to him, he loved your routinely reluctance and the way you always seemed to be running away from him.

it was a game he was more than willing to play.

as long as you never found out everything was a bet; he could keep you forever like he was in love the whole time.

selfish, really. but Sirius Black was a selfish man.

"how was your date with the dog, Sugar?" Barty teased excitedly, jumping off the bed to run over to you.

"lovely, actually."

"I KNEW I- wait, what?" He was completely prepared for you to say it was horrid.

"lovely, i said. please don't make me say it again."

"I'm so glad it was nice, dear." Dorcas cooed, wrapping her arms around you.

"have anything in common with your loverboy?" Barty sighed dejectedly, sitting you down on the bed.

"we both like Fleetwood Mac." you admitted sheepishly, twisting your hair like some immature school girl with a crush (which wasn't exactly far off).

"that's great!" Dorcas cheered softly, taking your hand.

"I'm falling for him." you blurted out, blushing once you even realized the thought had come out of your mouth.

"that explains it." Pandora pondered.

"explains what, lil' sis?" Evan asked confusedly.

"her aura," Pandora began, "it's oddly pinkish."

"n-no, it's not." you refused.

"the nargles don't lie, Y/N."

one early morning Quidditch practice— you were on the field stretching as you heard the speakers begin to stir.

“you’re just too good to be true~”

“can’t take my eyes off of you~”

everyone on Slytherin and the other teams looked around, as you saw Sirius with a microphone belting “Can’t Take My Eyes off You” by Franke Valli.

what. the. fuck.

obviously— Madame Hooch had his head for it.

but he must’ve thought it was worth it, just to see you laugh at his antics.

Sirius kept the bet going, though he'd rather cut the deal and just date you regularly. like normal people do.

you, on the other hand, were unaware of the bet and were wishing Sirius would leave you alone and stop asking you out.

because your personal feelings were growing way too strong, and you didn't need some man to swoop in and save you like some damsel-in-distress. You were perfectly capable of saving yourself, thank you very much.

your singleness proved that. But why was Sirius Black, of all people, so enticing?

you kept going out with Sirius for as long as you could, until the butterflies in your stomach stopped fluttering, and the spark that ignited in your heart whenever he looked at you fizzled out.

your plan is to stop your heart from aching every time you see Sirius Black. How do you plan to do that?

spend as much time with him as possible until your conversations become boring and predictable. That should do the trick!

news flash: trying to bore yourself out of a crush didn't work at all. In fact, it backfired and now you're even more attracted to Sirius Black than before. what are you going to do now?

you were sat in potions when Peter anxiously slid a piece of paper towards you, clearing his throat and motioning you to open it.

“s’from Sirius.” he whispered, cracking his knuckles as he turned back to his Cauldron.

confused, you opened the (rather large) piece of parchment and read down the words carefully.

“My Dearest Y/N L/N,

if you are able and would like to spare an inch of your time to grace me with your lovely presence by the lake at exactly 6’o clock this evening? i’d love to have you in my company for a small surprise (though you don’t like them— it’s small, promise.).

see you there, princess?

-S.O.B (xoxo)”

your eyes skimmed over the letter, as if to check if it was fake or some sort of sick joke.

but.. nothing was exploding or falling apart so… it should be safe.

besides, you were beginning to trust Sirius. he wasn’t the worst person ever.

that thought made you severely sick to your stomach, that the rotten little first year you knew had blossomed into such a beautiful thing.

and that night was amazing.

you guys danced, joked, laughed… kissed..

it was like a fairytale.

your dreams of your very own happily ever after were squashed when you were far too young by your older yet muggle sister, Petunia.

she said there is no such thing as runaway princesses, daring sword fights, fire breathing dragons, mystical fairies, etc.

and she particularly liked telling her and Lily that happily ever after never happened, that it was a myth.

but his lips felt like happily ever after.

his gaze felt like happily ever after.

he felt like happily ever after.

“so, are you thinking about going to the spring dance?” Sirius asked gingerly, knowing you weren’t keen on the topic.

“no, it’s a stupid tradition.”

“c’mon, nobody will expect you to be there!”

“why are you so keen on this? what’s in it for you?”

he ignored your question, looking down at his pitch black painted nails.

“you need therapy, you know that?” he quipped, looking back over to your aggravated look.

“you’re ignoring my question.”

“nothing! nothing is in it for me!” he finished his sentence off with a cautious kiss on your forehead, leaving you with a soft smile.

it killed him at he lied to you.

but that happily ever after was clearly— too short.

after lovely dates and nearly becoming official multiple times, everything had come crashing down onto you.

here; let me explain.

many people would say that Sirius deserved better than you, but you learned long ago to ignore the sting of people’s words on your skin.

Sirius seemed to make it all better though.

it was annual Hogwarts spring dance season, and you usually would refuse to go.

and you weren’t crazy about the idea of a bunch of sweaty, hormonal teenagers dancing for hours on end.

but maybe with Sirius it wouldn’t be bad.

you’d even went dress shopping with Dorcas, something you would’ve never ever done.

so the night of the dance, everything went to hell.

“hey! Peter!.. have you seen Sirius?” you yelled over the loud music, the bass pounding in your eardrums.

“Pads? umm, yeah i think he’s with James!”

“Thanks.” you thanked half-assedly.

You scoured the Great Hall, messing nervously with your hair as you spotted him chatting with James.

“Pads, come on. You know i love you but you need to get a move on with this bet if you want the rewards.” James placed a strong hand on his friends smaller shoulder, not noticing you were there.

“I know, Prongs, I’ll probably just— ghost her after tonight or something, i guess.” again he felt bad lying to James, since he’d never ever dream of ghosting you ever.

but this time one of his lies caught up with him.

“nothing in it for you, huh?” His head perked up as he saw you standing infront of him, you took a disappointed glance at James and ran out of the ballroom. he followed close behind.

"would you give me a chance?" He tried to reason, following you up the staircases.

"You were paid to take me out! by the one person i truly hate. I knew this was a set up!" You yelled heart brokenly, stopping a few steps above him.

"Y/n, it wasn't like that, okay?"

"Really? what was it like? A down payment now and then a bonus for sleeping with me?"

"No, I didn't care about the money, okay? I cared... I cared about you."

You turned to face him with a countenance of both sadness and anger.

"You are so not who I thought you were." You muttered sadly.

In desperation, Sirius grabbed you and attempted to solve the issue by pressing his lips against yours, trying to recapture any spark.

but much to his chagrin, you jerked away from him. giving him a disgusted look as you fled back up the staircase towards your dorm room.

Nice one, Pads.

part three coming soon!

taglist <3:

@m1nank0 @hisparentsgallerryy @universallybilzzardlove @m4r4udersmyluvs @heyyrose @thescarletredwitch @0strawberrysorbet0 @bubbles2416

[lovemybluebully]

WIP

I'm slowly working away at the new fic. 😋 It's just coming to me in little bursts of inspiration that I quickly am trying to translate into some kind of story while the ideas are fresh. My very long workdays are currently taking up most of my time, but I think I've made decent progress. It's at around 1,600 words so far but I have barely cracked into all the stuff I want to write so I'm predicting that this will probably end up being a long one. Hope you don't mind that. 😆

Oh, and fair warning that it's going to be a little more violent than my fics with Wade if you're bothered by that kind of thing. But this is Victor Creed so it kind of comes with the territory and I do my best to try to keep these guys more true to their characters. As best as I can in a fic that involves tickling anyways. 🤣

Sneak peek below the cut? Yes. Yes, there is. 😏 Hope you like it so far!

"Sounds like someone needs to be taught a lesson. I've got you pretty helpless right now, runt. There's a lot of things I could do to make you suffer. For instance, I could go ahead and just rip your arm right out of its socket....," he yanked a little hard on Jimmy's trapped left arm as proof of his superior position, eliciting an uncomfortable grunt from below.

He grinned as his hand that was holding James by the face against the ground slid down to grasp the back of the neck.

"Hmmm, could always break your neck if I want to make it quick for ya. It all could be over in just a few seconds. How's that sound?"

"If you're going to do somethin' then do it already. I'm not your fucking cat toy," James snarled, always annoyed by these games that Victor liked to play as he would much rather have him just get it all over with, but the other simply chuckled.

"You're right, that would be too easy. And where'd be the fun in that?"

He released his hold on James' head, moving his hand to its next position.

"We should probably take it slow. Prolong your agony. Was just thinking of how easy it would be for me to snap all of your ribs....one...by....one..." 

In a less lethal way of demonstration, he tweaked a few ribs going down James' exposed side, feeling the muscles strangely began to spasm beneath. 

"Ahh! Hey watch it! Get your lousy paws offa me!" James barked in demand as his body flinched from each soft pinch that he received while Victor stared down at him curiously.

He took a moment to pause the torment as he went over in his mind the reaction that his brother had just had. There was no way that he had hurt him doing what he had done. He had barely touched him and yet he seemed quite bothered by it, more so than he would have if Victor had caused him actual pain.

Seeing his brother twitch beneath him like that sent Victor's mind into a state of deja vu and soon some memories from long ago started to resurface. It was at this point that he finally realized what the issue was, unable to contain the devilish grin blooming across his face.

"Hey Jimmy boy..."