#but the outsider pov and james coming back just. hit different.

[padfootastic]

Day 2 - Prongsfoot Week 2023

What’s your favorite type of Prongsfoot Story?  And if you’ve written it - link it?

oooof okay. very very repetitive, perhaps even boring, answer.

1. outsider pov.

i know, i know, everyone is fed up of me saying the exact same thing every time but i just!!! can’t get over it!!! these two are so ripe for random people being baffled/awed/horrified by their relationship 😭 i love an outside-in perspective on how they are bc for them, everything is routine, it’s just how things are. it’s only when u pan the camera out that u realise no, they’re the exception not the norm.

i’ve written one—from remus’ pov. this one from lily’s pov kinda also counts. id put both of them in the qpp side of things tho tbh.

2. omegaverse

spicing it up a lil this time ;) even tho i’ve not read many, i’m just. a sucker for this universe and omega sirius with alpha james will have my heart always <3

3. genderbent j/s

id blame dani and our arranged marriage fic for this but to be fair, i’ve always loved genderbending. keeping true to the characters while making such a broad change is just. delicious. and i love it when m/f friendships r transgressive n u just know prongsfoot will be exactly that. there’s a fic (two?) where jamie and sirius r bestfs and they still sneak into each others dorms/beds and act basically the same and it’s the best. i love it.

4. james coming back to life

i’m very sure that every single person who has this in their answers today is in this position bc of em and their wonderful fic and i’m not an exception but gosh, what a top tier trope. james coming back, being all protective and righteous and ready to fight for sirius in a way no one has done before. it’s just. exquisite. the perfect mix of angst and maybe age gap and love.

[heffrondriving]

۪͙۪˚┊❛ ride on, ride on now to the other side of yesterday ❜ : ̗̀❥ james × jett ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

: ̗̀❥ RATING: T+ // WORD COUNT: 3,910 // CHARACTERS: jett stetson, james diamond, kendall knight, jo taylor, logan mitchell, carlos garcia // TAGS: one shot, angst, mild hurt/comfort, pov second person, songfic, nightclub, alcohol, partying, drunken shenanigans, references to drugs, mature language & themes, internal monologue, love at first sight or tripped-out delirium, mildly dubious consent?, alternate universe: different first meeting // AO3

: ̗̀❥ Song inspiration + lyrics from: Boy by Reol (translation)

: ̗̀❥ [Part 4 of Cupid Got Us F♡cked Up]

Hey boy, it stings My heart just can’t get used to this Strange feeling of you not being around But I know I have to go

The way the boy’s hips sway under the burning glow of the cramped room, extraordinarily gossamer and mesmerising against the hundreds of other sweat-infused bodies strobing and gyrating and writhing to the strident beat, it’s almost enough to make you forget the week-stale perfume and cosmopolitan rejection permeating every inch of your arctic-slippery skin.

The screaming is unbearable. You choke down the last drops of your Whiskey Manhattan without biting on the cherry and invite him to dance. He laughs and pulls you in to take a clumsy seat by the bar instead.

I messed up so many times But I’ll redo it however many times And everything you denied I’ll prove however many times

In the middle of wry introductions and exchanging double-edged banter about who’s better-looking (it’s obviously you, but you modestly pass up an occasional cheapshot or two as not to turn him off to pompous egotism; the truth isn’t really welcome in these hotspots anyway) and a rather passionate dad joke about his cheesy boyband career that you’re endlessly hair-riffling and fake-laughing in dangerous schoolgirl levels to, someone comes up to slap the boy in the shoulder—some lanky unattractive blond with enough eyebrows to knit ten sweaters and is definitely a thousand hitchhiking miles away from the both of your supreme leagues (though you reign more supreme, no big duh).

We’re on top of a scale, seesawing And what’s being measured is our amount of good luck I hear the sound of the end approaching

You figure the boy will easily shrug the poor opportunistic fool away, but then suddenly he’s grinning and woolly odd-face is sticking his tongue out derisively and they’re laughing together to the tune of decades-long familiarity and you feel a burst of something like inexplicable jealous rage—how dare he—and your fists clench but before you can gear them back to take a smash hit, a froofy pink drink with fancy sliced fruits in it (exactly your guilty pleasure type but you pretend to be all huffy and insulted anyway) slides between your tetchy hands and the boy’s hooded gaze slyly flits back to you.

“On me,” he says, and smiles that perfect smile, but it’s the assuring squeeze on your skinny-jeaned thigh that makes your chest explode with something like curious obsessive desire. You won’t dare.

“Having fun, my man? is this the hottest club ‘round this side of the Hollywood hills or what?!” Far from it, babe—this isn’t even an anthill worthy enough to stomp my Balenciaga Slides on, you’d retort, but you pop a complimentary peanut or two to keep your rain from their pathetic parades. You’re roasting here too, and hypocrites can’t be choosers. “Oh, and B-T-dubs, you so owe me for actually convincing the huge scary Freight Train-looking bouncer dude to squeeze us up a good couple spots on the list, even after all that bullshit chaos you just had to cause with mister line cutter outside.”

The pounding of my heart is a teasing reminder Of what’s long overdue, let’s dance In front of this intersection of our different paths Yeah, I came here just because I thought to!

“Hey, not as much as you owe me for throwing hands with the big G-man and Kellsters to let us get off band rehearsals early for the night—I swear, I’ll be digging out gnashed teeth shrapnel outta my eardrums for weeks to come!”

“Yeah, at least that’ll give you some excuse to actually clean them, huh?”

“Fuck off.”

“Love you too, buddy.”

“I know you do, idiot...hey, wait a sec. You never even introduced me to your pop-collared buddy there, ya sly dog! Ah—‘scuse me—sorry about that—how’s it going, man? I’m Ken...wait, you uh, you look kinda familiar...have I seen you somewhere before?”

For you, I always wanted to be just right for you If I just thought about how you could do anything I didn’t need any aspirations

No shit Sherlock, you’re capital Fab Fit Fucking Famous, but you’re gonna let fugly (for fuzzy-ugly) duckling figure that kiddie brain-buster out for himself. You simply turn up your chin to an elegant degree and take a snide-coded sip while he tries to make a glib comeback, but he’s thankfully cut short and dragged back by another gormless giggling blondzo, though she’s certainly a significantly prettier sight than her companion...wait, a prettier sight you’ve seen and kissed before...and once relentlessly chased for the sake of the candid cameras and paparazzi posers, even when the game was already over and she respectfully cut the first-place ribbon from your neck. This is genuinely the last place you’d expect to see a vanilla-blue valley girlie like her, and recognising her down to the bouncing Mary Sue curls and the sweet sixteen smirk sends a painful surge of Chambord up your spluttering nose.

So much for being the white swan.

And if it made you happy, I would’ve done anything I even would’ve wanted to be a clown

But she thankfully doesn’t notice you, and you don’t care enough outside of the momentary culture shock to chase her down and catch up with her, either. Not when you’ve already been spared having to put up with awkward pleasantries with some passé costar. Not when she never really liked you much anyway. And especially not when you finally have your darling nightingale boy all to yourself.

Ah, has my time come already? Tomorrow is calling me I smile and wave my hand goodbye

Though, not quite; never quite yet. More flirty no-names and unfriendly faces stay in the woozy rotation, vices and vultures, drawn to the boy’s centripetal gravity just as much as you are. Pretty boy, popular boy, perfect boy like that, even with your blinding bravado and obnoxiously bedazzled confidence, you can’t help but wonder how in the wasted world you’re still managing to keep close attention to him and when his slipping inching fleeting touch is gonna drift away into a parallel reality (please, not sooner, not later), and why you’re suddenly burning up so much.

It’s the bright lights. It’s the copious alcohol. It’s the spinning too much and too close to the sun.

Top speed in the direction of love Ride on, ride on now, to the other side of yesterday Towards the direction of love

“Can we go home now?” someone puppy-whines from behind you and the boy, a klaxon siren intensity that makes you cover your top-hits tinnitused ears and wonder if the cops are closing in to bust in and declare the party as over (as if it wasn’t dead on arrival already when killjoy over here cried wolf). “I think I’m starting to get a serious breakout of hives from this abrasive glowstick plastic. Or it might be the toxic fluorescent dye leaking out and I’m about to have a major anaphylactic shock and seize out and die on the dancefloor to friggin’ Ke$ha telling me to lose my mind and lose my clothes in the crowd and I’m sure as Begly’s bike toast am not gonna take it off!”

“Oooh yeah nah, I wouldn’t recommend that, dude.” Tsk, tsk. You totally would, though. Might liven things up a little better, and you’ve honestly seen worse. Way, waaaay worse. Maybe even done worse if you remember right—but that’s not a fun scandal scoop saved for tonight if everyone’s out here making new one for tomorrow’s headlines. “Not the stripping part, and deffo not the dying part, either—most bigwig party animals are worse revivers than they are kissers.”

“Oh, ‘cause you’d know, huh?”

“Hey, I’m just saying. Take my advice—or don’t, whatever, it’s your body glitter-glazed funeral and we’re not gonna drag your rotting naked ass back home unless Los finds a nice dumpster to bury you in—if you think the overuse of spit and sheer sloppiness is unbearable on the second one, well...”

The saliva I’ve spit out The fallen leaves won’t return to their branches I’ve cut off any way to back down from this Farewell, my beloved days

This lukewarm quip is enough to make mister hypochondriac barker run with his tail between his hobble-hocked legs, knocking some preppy Erewhon-Organic-looking Crosby (who’s clearly trespassing on a group of Daisy Duke girls’ private plush lounge territory) over and ass-up—serves the hedge fund creepo motherfucker right!—as the perp takes his frantic tarantella to the graffitied graveyard they generously call a bathroom. Probably to seek out a steel wool pad and some hospital-grade antibacterial soap (in some depraver’s shady hovel in downtown LA, yeah, as friggin’ if—he’s more likely to find another rigor mortised body slumped a-la avant-garde exhibit in one of the stalls).

A ne’er-do-well who would Make all the noise in the world And never be satisfied

Cute as the nervous dimples and unmatched rabid geek energy were, your jaded eyes don’t follow him for very long. The boy’s stark enraptured face, thrown back to the suffocated skylights and shimmering with pure glee, wouldn’t let you. Slowing down into an astonishing descent with the taste of margarita salt on his sweetsoft lips sipping away the straight chlorine on yours—and you’re stuck waiting, watching forever, a bystander feeling smaller and smaller under the sinking settling shrieking realisation that the sky is bigger than they ever dreamed to cosmically imagine and one daring yesterday it’s all going to go dark, empty space and darkening vision.

This is the afterlife A masochist hurting themselves in longing And in the end, I lost it all without a trace What was “for you” was really always for me As soon as I made sure of it, the fading sky grew cold

This shooting star moment doesn’t last you very long, either.

“And how’s our wonder loverboy doi—woaaaaah nelly. What the hell happened to you? Jeez, I trust you to behave and leave you alone for five minutes...”

“I was just talking to this really cool-looking girl over there—she was with her kinda-scary friends but she’s got all these crazy piercings and rainbow hair and she said she liked Helmetie and thought I was kinda cute and I said I thought so too! And she asked if I thought I was cute, but then I said I meant I thought she was cute, not me. And Helmetie also thought she supertastic-cute, and she laughed and it was seriously the cutest thing ever! So we were like, really starting off on the right foot—and I swear, she was gonna be the one, dude!—but then I asked her what size her finger is and she wouldn’t even let me get to the buying a wedding ring part before, well. This whole mess.”

A pint-sized Latino soaked in what smells like Strawberry Sangria and stale hotdog water steadily trudges towards you and the boy, mopey mouth running a mile a minute with no room to spare for a shut the fuck up. You’d honestly sneer at his sorry sloshed-up sight if he didn’t just embrace the sticky spilled drink all over the both of you without a second boundary’s worth of thought nor hesitation.

Oh, broken mirror Is there anything you can salvage of me? I don’t know, sorry

His caramel cheeks are flushed Cosmo-pinker and his face is a miserable smear of nosebleeds and sobriety, but being teetotal wouldn’t explain why he’s wearing that godawful vomit-brown paisley top and a clunky sports helmet in the middle of a goddamned nightclub. Although, thinking back on all the times you almost got concussed in between getting stampeded by staggering strangers and oversensual half-lovers and snorting bullheads spoiling for a fight, he may just have the right idea. Especially if he’s gonna keep up that honest-to-badness garish haunted sofa ‘fit and trashy pick-up line streak. No matter how adorably, hopelessly, idiotically innocent it was clearly intended to be.

Hollywood don’t do subtle, and this kid was anything and everything under god’s wilted green earth and piss-yellow sunshine but.

And if it made you happy, I would’ve done anything I just wanted to match everything you did

Strawberry shortcake wedges himself in between you two (practically plopped right on the boy’s lap and that venomous rage resurges but you’re all out of froofy drinks and you’re honestly feeling a bit sick and sluggish from the syrupy sweetness and that unfading acrid taste from three free shots and an accidental alcoholic waterboarding ago, so down, bitch!) and laments some more to his apparent wingman over a glucose-elevating order of Virgin Mudslide about his voodooed lacklustre lady luck.

Halfway through the hurricane glass, he gets so impossibly giddy over the thought of never finding true love tonight that his splayed limbs start to have a life of their own and his whirling seat’s rivets fly off like teeny artillery, prompting a serrated scowl from the shaved-head bartender and a rub on the back from the sympathetically exasperated boy as he mumbles something about “first Hortense, now this—why can’t we just have a nice boys out for once without it getting all screwed-up and messy, I swear to god...” and even you actually start to feel a bit sorry for him and his little project reject.

It’s so frustrating But I can’t even bring myself to cry I can’t even shed a tear

With this, boybestie’s promptly encouraged with a crumpled wadful of cocktail napkins, one Helmetie less, and a mollifying bro pat on the back to take it easy and breathe it out, loosen...er, tighten up and get himself back out there on the raucous runaway, and try again (and again and again and again by the looks of it, you’d willingly bet your overcharged tab). They’re the Hollywood super party kings of Hollywood, for crying out loud (whatever the hell that even meant—and Hollywood twice cancels the whole equation out...okay, you really need to lay down on the chasers before you become the next new-age enlightener. And also just lay down, in general), so he better stop the pervy twenty questions game and the shady cool cat act and just try to be himself this time. But maybe just not too much himself.

Hey, so I gave you the notice But the after-effects are getting to me I can’t just be calm and collected about this all And so now we’re both getting a taste of this irony

Nerve-twisting numbers or not, the boy makes a really good point. You’re never really yourself when you’re hanging out in these kinda jank joints, of infamous druggies and has-been thuggies and mostly junkied now-next-to-nobodies—when you’re there overdressed to unimpress for the free drinks and the easy-A lust and the wishy-washy escapism of being no one or everyone or anyone else at all, there isn’t any need to be yourself, after all. That’s the last thing any try-hard outsider would ever want in this silver-lined city, to be known for being yourself since there’s no riches in radical reality...but despite that, the boy himself strangely seems to feel right at home here, no fragile façade nor pity-love fable to peddle save that salvaged heart bleeding bubblegum songs and unsaid stories all over his hundred-dollar sleeve.

Well, don’t say you didn’t want to know I’m feeling on edge, give me something to spur me on

You can see lost scars peeking shyly from behind his apropos Tom Ford bomber jacket that does nothing to hide the soiled clothes of a wayward child stumbling skinning his knees in dirty wonderland, you can see the branching scars that cross his tempered face like fortune lines and coat his sweetest words with an aftertaste of berry-baby-bitter that makes him swallow his guilt a lot harder just so his perfect smile could be a little softer, if you step back and look closer to dim down the glaring migraine lights reflecting rainbows and district red lights all over his flawless skin, you can see he’s really built of nothing else but smouldering diamond bones and vicious tooth and nail ambitions and the prettiest little scars. He hides it well; but there’s no place left to hide in this cramped hellhole but upfront.

Pretty boy, popular boy, perfect boy, who hurt you?

Give me more of that conviction Give me more reasons to stand up again Give me however many and however many times

You don’t ask anymore. It might just be from one-too-many slips and slurries and shots of flaming sambuca, but choosers can’t be hypocrites and you hardly even recall if you exchanged names. Saying hi all the time and staying high all the time, some nitty-gritty details are bound to drop off into asterisks—like how long ago did you meet, and why can’t your hands stop blurring in front of you when the boy’s holding them so tightly it’s cutting off the blood circulation and keeping you numb to every sinking gripping aching touch, and why do you need to care about all these pointless questions? What was your name again...?

Well, whatever. It doesn’t really matter at all. You don’t need names to dance. You don’t need names to fuck. You don’t need names to remember for longer than a nascent after-hours, turning blood-red against yellowed eyes and evergreen veins. But you’re not so sure you want to forget, either.

If you can love someone More than the number of your regrets Then that love is something you should sing out loud Forget about what I promised you on that day

The silence speaks volumes. He spills half his vodka tonic on the jacket while grimacing from the lime and invites you to dance. You laugh and clumsily pull him into the floor, and that terrible twist of time leaves a lot of space for bad intentions as it slows the both of you into a phantasmic non-apropos waltz.

Wishing you well as I send you off Just one last thing to bother you with— I’m sorry. Well, then...see you again

Tired forehead to piercing clavicle. Phantom hands anchored and tracing gently-swaying hips, arching closer, grinding teeth. Broad blustered chests exploding in hazardous friction, challenging each other to thump a little faster, a little louder, a lot more painful, catching breaths catching up to the reverberating electrified drop before the raving crowd goes wild and they all fall down and you would too—god, why does everything burn so fucking much?—if only the boy isn’t holding every part of you together. You and the boy and you’re his boy but is he your boy? You’re not sure you’re not sure of anything anymore and you’re almost afraid to feel afraid to ask and it’s stupid and you’re stupid—stop acting so stupid, where’s your heavy hurting head, up there, up where, where did all your clever lies go off to, to throw up the poison and feel okay again or to curl up and die all alone in some other hypothetical hellhole where it wouldn’t be caught dead—as if you haven’t done this before.

For you, I always wanted to be just right for you If I just thought about how you could do anything I didn’t need any aspirations And if it made you happy, I would’ve done anything I even would’ve wanted to be a clown

You’ve been here before, danced a million ankle-breaking steps before, fucked a hundred wasted no-names before, remembered a thousand hangover ways to wake up on the wrong side of Viva La Holy Hollywood before, but you’re one-hundred percent sure plus one that you’ve never ever done this before. Never felt anything like this before. What is this, you may ask? Why ask at all? Maybe you shouldn’t. The boy’s not looking for answers he knows he couldn’t give back. But you’re still going to ask. God, you have to ask. Even if it’s just this time. Damn whatever the hell your dizzy dirty deadly cocksure fucking ego is screaming at you in every available profane language but right now, but there’s no other time to waste than now.

Ah, I’m out of time now Turn around, turn it all around, for me now

“Are you still gonna want me tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, but I like the idea of you. And I want you, right here, right now.”

What’s for what and what’s for who? I guess I’ll know when it’s all over, huh?

No promises. Nothing different. You’ve seen this shit before, a bajillion times over. He’s good at this. He’s done this before. You’ve believed it before. But you believe in him anyway.

You don’t know what else to do. You don’t know how else to think. You can’t feel anything but the boy.

Pretty boy, popular boy, perfect boy, why do you hurt?

I love this good-for-nothing lifeform with all my heart And even if this isn’t the best solution I just want to be myself...ah, it’s time now

Now you’re dancing, you’re dancing, and the cramped room crashes down around you and the lasting memory of the boy falters and the stringent beat has fallen away into a senseless static rush and you’re still somehow strobing and gyrating and writhing fucking mechanical as you hold onto him for dear life and delight and dear lies and the constellated kisses on your broken neck are stinging and numbed fingers bruising hips and grinding teeth breaking hollows and everyone and their chemical friends are watching, are watching but the glitter in your bleached-blue eyes shine like salty stars reflected against ocean indigo and something slips inside your tongue sinking the unsinkable and it’s not a pastel pill or a blotter or the sun but you gag once and get swallowed whole as everything melts down into a bad trip and he’s desperately asking for your name—what was it again, tell me tell me tell me—and you’re screaming something maybe like his name beneath his slippery scarred skin spreading with cracks and heady perfume and you’re hot and cold all over and over it’s over and going under underwater and all that’s left to think about is the all-consuming idea of him, and him, and him, and maybe, and maybe you—don’t know don’t know don’t want—you want it. Right here, right now. Maybe just enough to forget nothing, everything, anything at all. Maybe you like the idea of us.

No matter how it turns out, I’m going to go now To the starting line, top speed in the direction of love

Maybe you even love the boy, in some other dying cosmic yesterday you never dreamed to imagine before and never will again, even if you escape this pretty greenyellowredblack hole and fucking crawl out of that infinite stampede and make it out alive, alive, are you alive somehow. But you’re feeling smaller and smaller and your headspace is empty and your bloodshot vision is darkening and you’re not gonna ruin it like that. You’re not gonna ruin him like that. Not tonight.

I T ’  S    O   N      Y      O        U         N        O           W        —

Ride on, ride on now, to the other side of yesterday And I’ll overtake even longing itself.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

ascendance - 13

PAIRING: mob!bucky barnes x reader

WARNINGS: age gap (reader is 23, bucky is 37), smut (18+)

A/N: i have such a vivid idea of what bucky’s personality is and i just spent a lot of time writing it down and doing some mood boards and playlists to help me better show who he is as a person without it being from the reader’s pov. i literally have soooo much character studying for everyone in this story, so excited!!! hope you enjoy this one xx

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Bucky’s grip on her wrist was bruising as he dragged her from the races and into the car; once again, she couldn’t read him. It was most like trying to read a. blurred book in a different language, his face stone cold set into the facade she had been used to seeing yet couldn’t really feel comfortable around. He hid her inside the car, hand in the top of her head as if she were a prisoner which in all ways she was. Her mind rushed as she wondered what Aveline could’ve said to him. She thought they were okay, she wanted them to be okay, she wanted to ... she didn’t know what she wanted to do. 

He got into the front seat, slamming the car door before driving like a bat out of hell. She meant to reach out but he was closed off, she could see it in his face. His mind was running as fast as the car’s speed, clenched face, strong grip onto the steering wheel that turned his knuckles white and she had no choice but to stand back, give him his space and allowing herself to be swerved by the sharp curves. Once again, both of them where in glass boxes, closed off from each other. 

With such speed, no wonder they made it home quite quickly and once again he was man handling her inside the apartment. She expected him to go to that whiskey bottle which laid by the kitchen but instead he locked her inside the flat, him outside and her inside, a physical barrier between them. She rushed over to the door, hands flat against the door before one of her fists balled up in anger as she hit the door.

      - Bucky! 

His breathe was shaky as she ignored her, his hand slipping from the door as he stuck both his hands on his pockets, going down the stairs in sharp steps. Bucky expected the cold hair to cool him down but it only aggravated him as he looked up at the stars in mere anger, yet, he couldn’t explode. He was a raging monster inside a cage and all he could do was merely fight against those walls knowing they’d never break. 

He made his way to a small shop just across his apartment, some sort of old bodega he was used to going to whenever he wanted to go by unnoticed. As he opened the door, a small bell rang but no one looked at him. He wished life was always like that but people watched, people were always watching. There was nothing he could do.

      - Malboro Golds, please. - he asked the cashier who was almost as silent as him, handing him the pack of cigarettes and taking the crumpled up note James had slide onto the checkout. 

He left without collecting his change or receipt, merely concerned about peeling off the plastic of the package and placing a cigarette between his lips. His whole body relaxed as he took the first smoke, yet his mind still rushed, yelled and screamed at him. Bucky shushed those thoughts away as he got onto his bike, riding a path that he knew was well as the palm of his hand. However instead of being met with the serenity he expected from his old childhood home, he was instead met by closed iron gates. He jumped off his bike to go ask for his sister yet one of the security guards put his arm up, keeping him at arms length away.

    - I’m here to see my sister. 

    - Mrs. Rebecca will not be seeing anyone tonight. - he spoke at him as if he were a common rat, a far cry from the memories of his youth.

    - I’m her brother, I come here every single night.  

    - Mrs. Rebecca does not wish to see you. - the words were like a shot, loud and hurtful, going through his chest and mind in a shattering manner. He wanted to fight it but he knew it was merely anger bubbling through and the last thing he wanted was to fight his sister’s head of security.

As fast as he had gotten to his sister’s house, the faster he’d gotten back to the entry of his apartment. The last thing he wanted was to enter his beloved flat, to be in her presence, to hear her voice, heck even to think of her. He wanted her figure to be merely erased from all his thoughts and mind yet as his keys twisted and the door was opened, she was there in a grey satin robe reading one of his books as per usual.  Her eyes looked up at him, shooting him a look of disinterest only to return to her book. 

That was ... easy, he thought to himself, taking his suit jacket off and making his way to his bedroom to get off the ridiculous rest of the suit which was way too restricting. 

    - Are you done throwing a fit? - she said, not looking at him, eyes and face maintained in her book. Too easy, he thought to himself. 

    - Are you done playing mobster? - he retorted.

    - You don’t seem to mind it when Aveline does it. - she mumbled, turning her book’s page.

    - You are not Aveline. - he closed her book, taking it away from her and contacting every single word. 

    - Trust me, I know. - she wanted to storm off somewhere yet she quickly realised she had nowhere to storm off to.

    - And you should be happy about that.  

    - What do you know about me to know what makes me happy? Everything I do is wrong and I’ve been trying my best, I really have been tried to make the best of this situation but everything I do is wrong. No matter what I do, you just hate me. 

    - What are you talking about? I don’t hate you. 

    - Whatever I do is never good enough for you. I take you from the stairs when you were shot, I get you freed from a stupid deal and all I get ...

    - You could’ve died. - he interrupted, hand gripping the knob of his bedroom’s door. Those words only seemed to further anger her as she took closer steps towards the brown haired man. 

    - I could’ve gotten a beach house from Mr. Wellington if I wanted to and all I had to do is bat my eyes. 

Something about that struck a chord with him. He didn’t know what it was, what it made him so angry and so upset about those words. He didn’t want her batting her eyes at Wellington, he didn’t want her near any of those men who constantly had women who were not their wives coming in and out of the bedroom in disarrayed messes. He didn’t want her even thinking about her, he wanted her safe, he wanted her there, he wanted her to be with ... 

Maybe it was he events of today, his sister’s denial to seeing him or the nicotine destroying all his inhibitions, but his blood was boiling, coursing like ecstasy through his veins and his heart was beating fast. Bucky could no longer distinguish between anger, jealousy and passion, unrestrained with emotions clearly painted on his face. She, however, was the one controlled one, the one whose emotions he couldn’t read; with eyes narrowed, hair natural with her skin on display courtesy of her nightgown. The tables were turned and he didn’t like it, but it wasn’t that which was making him upset. No, it was what she had said. Those words only reminded him of the races, of Wellington’s arms ‘round her waist. 

He allowed himself to get even more lost in those ugly feelings until his hands were cupping her face, pulling her towards him until his lips were on hers. She tasted sweet and he allowed himself to get familiar with the sensation, ignoring his rational part until it yelled at him to stop. He broke the kiss, eyes wide at the realisation of what he’d just done, chest rising up as he tried to even formulate what could resemble an apology but all he could muster was a silence. A silence which didn’t last long as his eyes met hers before her hands on the back of his neck, kissing him again. Whatever inhibitions he had reserved were broken and disappeared as he held her close to him. If his emotions were at an all time high, her hands on his skin and her lips on him sure had his libido matching those emotions. His hands held her tights up, sitting her on a small furniture piece by his bedroom door; her small hands pulled at his cotton shirt, the buttons snapping away onto the floor just as his shirt. 

His lips left her, kissing down her cheek and throat, onto her shoulder, gloved hand roughly pushing that flimsy strap away which broke and made the fabric loose down to her waist. He couldn’t get enough, Bucky Barnes could not get enough of the taste of her, of the breathy sounds. He just could and she couldn’t get enough of him either. None of them were being rational, what was the use of being rational when all he wanted right now was to be inside of her, to feel her chest pressed against his. 

Her hands were quick to try and unbutton those trousers, but he was the impatient one, pushing his trousers and boxers down before thrusting his length onto her. She held onto her breathe, her head resting against his shoulder, eyes tightly shut as he started to move. He himself felt he could cum at any minute, the mere feeling of her walls contracting against his made his mind yell at him she was his, she was his and in that moment she belonged to him, even if it was wrong of him to do so. 

He grunted at that feeling, wishing he could do that forever, stay inside her forever but he knew it was merely seconds until the feeling of her walls had him crossing into pleasure. She rose her face from his shoulder, pushing to kiss him even if the two were still catching his breathe until she made a mewling sound, nails breaking through his skin as stars filled her view. His moves only quickened, bruising grip on her hips as he started to chase his own pleasure, the sounds of sex filling the whole room until he himself came, ropes of white painting her walls and sliding down her leg. His grip loosened, forehead leaned against her shoulder as the two of them regained their breathes.

She was tired, left with no feeling on her limbs and just allowed herself to lean against him. Bucky held her close, pushing the nightgown up although it was broken before taking her into his bedroom to put her to bed, a single question lingering on his mind.

What had they done ...

TAGLIST + BEA’S MOOTS (sorry moots, it is I here to annoy you): @lookiamtrying​ @buckyswillow​ @blossomslibrary​ @juliesland​ @iloveshawnieboi​ @unmagically​ @red-head011 @poisonous00​ @boofy1998​  @starbuckie​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @yosoysere​

[bartistic]

Bruce Goes To The Market!

knife tw, food cw, incredibly dumb self-indulgent concept cw, outsider (oc) pov

It is universally acknowledged that a cashier possessing free time, will be in want of an extra task to fill that free time. At least, that’s what James’ managers seemed to think. Privately, he agreed, as he found restocking the shelves to be a most agreeable pastime, one that could in fact suck up hours of his eight hour closing shift.

He was in the soda aisle, debating whether sparkling water belonged with seltzer or with the rest of the store brand items, when he noticed a broad-shouldered man in sunglasses and a Gotham University sweatshirt, inspecting the selection of diet tonic water and looking utterly flummoxed. Customer in need of assistance!

“Hi, how are you doing tonight? You need help finding anything?” Mentally, James winced at the preppy-ness of his ‘customer service robot voice’ as his favorite coworker Stephie liked to call it. Luckily, he’d thrown his voice out enough screaming to Queen karaoke the night before that his voice stayed in the normal octaves rather than shooting into the stratosphere. The man straightened up and looked down towards James, who suddenly felt very short in all of his 5’9” glory. (Well, 5’8 3/4” but who’s counting.)

“Yes, actually. I’m new to the store, could you direct me to where the soap is?” Oh god. Of all the things it had to be the one item James swore was never in the same aisle twice.

“Of course!” He lied through his teeth. “Here, right this way.” Turning, he set off towards the general direction of where the soap tended to lie, with a variation of four different aisles. Luckily, the first aisle was correct, and he watched, intrigued, as the customer gave a thorough inspection to at least 14 different bars of soap. “Anything else I can help you with?” He added, as the man finally selected a bar and placed it in his basket. The man looked sheepish.

“This is actually the first time I’ve been in a grocery store. I’m not usually the one doing the shopping. My—the person I live with gave me a list, but I honestly don’t know where or even what half of these things are.” He held out a grocery list, scrawled in an elegant cursive. It was double-sided. James checked the front of the store, where the other cashier was engrossed in his phone while trying not to appear engrossed in his phone. It was an hour and a half until they closed, and he was pretty sure there was only one other customer in the store at most.

“Sure! Alright, so our first step should probably be to hit the deli, seeing as they have the longest wait times.” After walking the man through ordering Roast Beef, Prosciutto, Pastrami, Swiss, Havarti, Gouda, and Picante Provolone (what) they moved on to the canned goods. “We should probably grab a cart, I don’t think that basket’s going to be able to hold all of this.” Turning into the canned goods aisle, James sighed.

“Caution: Hazard Detected! Precaución, ¡Peligro Detectado!” The store’s resident useless robot assistant was stuck in place, screaming at a small bit of an onion peel that had fallen to the floor.

“Batsy, I swear to god.” James went over and kicked the peel under one of the shelves, pressing the button on the robot to reboot it.

“...Batsy?” The customer sounded somewhere between bemused and amused. Perhaps just ‘mused.

“Yeah, it’s our obtuse robot that only sees what’s right in front of it and makes a big fuss over literally nothing. It can’t even clean anything up, and the few moments there actually is a spill it just skids through it and makes it worse. Technically corporate calls it Patsy, short for Patrick, because we’re Patrick’s, you know? But since this is Gotham, we call it Batsy. Short for... Batrick. I’m not the one who came up with the name, that honor goes to my coworker Stephie. She’s, uh, not working tonight.” James internally began banging his head against the shelves. Why. Was. He. Like. This. “So, do you know what brand of chickpeas your... roommate wanted?”

/ / /

Finally, after another 45 minutes of shopping, they were ready to check out. James noticed the shift had changed while he was away. “Alright, so I can actually take you at this register over here, ‘cuz I’m still logged in and all.” He gulped as the customer began to load up onto the belt. This was... a lot of food. He’d scanned around a quarter when he officially ran out of room, turning to bagging instead. “Let’s get you another cart, actually, so we can load into that without squishing what you haven’t unpacked yet.” He moved to go grab one, but the customer was faster, jogging back with another cart before he could even finish bagging all the protein shakes. There were, admittedly, a lot of protein shakes.

Scanning the meat-substitutes, James scanned his own mind for an avenue of conversation. “So, you mentioned that it’s your son who’s the vegetarian. How old is he?”

“He’s 13. It’s not religious or health-wise or anything, he just really loves animals. Our house is practically a zoo on a good day, and that’s not even counting all his siblings.”

“Oh, how many kids do you have?” It had to be a fair amount for it to be ‘all’ his siblings. The customer opened his mouth as if to answer, then shut it again. He seemed to be thinking. Did he... not know how many kids he had??

“Legally I have... fffffour? Five? Yeah... that sounds right.” James tried to hide the bewildered expression in his own face, but he must not have been doing it well. “That makes me sound like such a bad father. No, I promise, I love them all, I just have quite a few of their friends living with us as well, and I’ve known those kids long enough to feel like they’re my kids too. Not to mention the whole difference between the ones I’ve adopted, the one who was my ward who I then retroactively adopted, the one I’m fostering, and the one who is legally an emancipated minor. And... the one who. Is no longer with us.” James blinked. That was indeed complicated.

“You must have a lot of love in your heart,” he settled on, finally.

“I just h— Oh, #%*$.” The blueberry container had burst open, all over the floor. James internally groaned.

“Oh no! Sorry about that, that’s the third one tonight. The packaging is just... not great. Do you want me to go get you another one?”

“No, I can get it. Thanks though.” The customer gingerly stepped through the minefield as James power walked to go get the clean up supplies. Six feet away, Batsy was screaming at a blueberry.

“Eat your heart out, Mister Miyagi,” he aimed a light roundhouse kick at the button to reboot the robot. Batsy got two feet before it encountered another world-ending-threat, danger level blueberry. James sighed and went to go clear that area first.

/ / /

Finally, almost everything was scanned. James was scanning the bread and rolls as the customer fit all the bags into the two carts, like an expert game of tetris. There were a few hiccups where James had had to explain that you probably shouldn’t bag Raid with milk, or that it was a good idea to double bag heavy items, or that you should wait until the end to put the eggs in (and there were a lot of eggs. Gaston-levels of eggs. Probably to be expected with that many kids in the house. Hah. eggs-pected.) But by the end they were working like a well-oiled machine. James bagged the last item, hit the button to total it, and watched as the customer realized he forgot his deli items.

“I’m just gonna— gonna run and go get those real quick. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you fill out the charity question real quick though? Th...thanks.” The customer was gone before James could question him on the fact that he’d used the custom amount option to apparently donate $1k to Gotham General’s children’s ward. It was... probably a mistake, but he’d wait around to check. He turned as he heard the beginnings of a commotion behind him, from the one other customer in the store. This guy’s whole aesthetic just screamed gross, from the white-boy dreads to the Blue Lives Matter gaiter mask. It looked as if he was having trouble at self-checkout. James was about to head over to help when his coworker passed him. He turned back to keep an eye on the clock. 10 minutes until closing. Please come back with the deli items soon. He heard an aggressive murmuring that sent chills up his spine, a distinct feeling of Not Right Bad. He turned back to where his coworker was engaged with helping the other customer. His coworker who was... very pale. Frightened. The customer whose hand glinted silver with... oh #%*$, that’s a knife. Not Good Very Bad... oh hell no, you are not hurting my coworker on my watch.

“HEY #%$&FACE, EAT BEANS!” As the aggressive customer turned to meet the container of garbanzo beans that was currently hurtling towards his face at the maximum speed a theatre-kid-who-never-did-sports could throw, the world seemed to throw down. Faintly, James could hear rational thoughts pounding at the door to his mind, begging to be let in. Thoughts like ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for attacking a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for cursing in front of a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for damaging the merchandise’ and ‘You can’t even throw a ball to save your life, there’s no way that’s going to hit him.’ Praying to Freddie Mercury, Elton John, and all other things holy, James watched as the beans sailed through the air and struck their target true— albeit a little lower than planned.”

Grossface automatically brought his hands down to protect his nethers, apparently forgetting that their was a knife in his hands. He let out a second agonized howl as he stabbed himself in the balls. Blindly, James groped around for more ammunition. Holding out a zucchini as threateningly as he could, he watched as the would-be aggressor ran out of the store as fast as he could with both hands clasping his junk. “Are you okay?” He asked his coworker, feeling his voice echo through the suddenly very-quiet-sounding store. She nodded mutely. He nodded back, then turned back to his register and oH shit there’s His Customer, holding the deli items.

“Nice shot.” Okay, this time he definitely sounded amused.

“I... am so sorry about the beans, I can get you a refund on those or I can go get you some more or—”

“No need, they definitely went to a good cause.” The customer grinned and held out the deli items. Faintly, James began to wrestle with the bag to get to the barcodes. Finally, everything was scanned, for good.

“Alright, will that be everything?” The clock read two minutes until closing.

“Yes, that should be everything. Again, thank you for all your help.” James watched as even with the membership points taken off, the total soared to over $750.

“Alright, your total is... $754.33, here’s some coupons and a survey slip. If you fill that out you get entered for a drawing to win a $500 gift card. Which... I don’t know that you’d need, but. Why not.” The customer reached into his wallet and counted out 5 $100 bills. Then he pulled out a black card. He paid off the total with the card, then handed the bills to James.

“Here you go, I wasn’t sure how much you tip cashiers.” James opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish.

“People don’t normally... tip cashiers...” and especially not HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS.

“Oh. Well, you were a good cashier. You deserve it. And here—” at this he pulled a crisp business card out of his wallet. “At Wayne Enterprises we could use quick-thinkers like you.” Pulling down his sunglasses, he gave a quick wink. James waved absentmindedly as BRUCE #%*$ING WAYNE walked out of the store. He looked down at the business card. Written upon it were the words: “Call here for an interview, mention Malone and they’ll know I sent you. Best of luck with the current job— BW”

James sat down. The clock was 10 minutes past closing before he remembered to look at it. There were a million thoughts running through his head. Oh my god I joked around to a billionaire. I cursed in front of a billionaire. I chucked a can of beans into a man’s nutsack in front of a billionaire.

But oddly enough, the only question that remained at the top of his mind was this:

This is because I have black hair and blue eyes, isn’t it.

[hepalien]

Shrunkyclunks (Modern Bucky/Cap Steve) Fic Rec

Hate Sex & Hair Protocol by @maddiewritesstucky - Mature, 1.8k

SHIELD Agent Bucky, UST, Enemies to Lovers (in Steve’s head), Humor

They’re all full of shit, Steve decides.

His team don’t have a clue what they’re talking about, running their mouths about the way he and Bucky look at each other; the tension that seems to be at a constant near-snapping point between them.

'It’s called annoyance' Steve wants to yell in each of their faces, loud and one by one. It’s the pain of having to exist every day in close proximity with someone who drives you out of your fucking mind.

---

In which Steve discovers that ire and desire may just exist side by side in his brain.

Stop interrupting my grinding series by @rohkeutta - Teen, 2.5k

Nurse Bucky, Wrong Number, Fluff, Humor

“I tried to call Sam,” Captain America says, bewildered. He’s sprinting like Usain Bolt and doesn’t sound even a little out of breath. Fucker. “Who’re you?”

“Someone who’s watching you live on TV,” Bucky tells him as the tiny patriotic figure on the screen takes the turns like he instructed. Bucky should probably be a lot more freaked out about this, but honestly? After a tour in the Middle East and six years as a nurse in New York, even this isn’t enough to ruffle him. One sees a lot of shit in the ER. “Also, you better hang up now, that thing is behind the next bend.”

“Uh, okay,” Captain America says. “Thanks?”

“Whatever,” Bucky says, disconnects the call and turns the TV off to get ready for his shift.

Save a Horse, Ride a Captain by @galwednesday - Teen, 2.7k

War Vet Bucky, Meet Cute, Fluff, Humor, Modern Howlies

Bucky tapped him on the shoulder, swaying back and forth a little as he waited for the man to turn around. “Hello,” he said, and then promptly forgot what else he was going to say, because this guy was fucking beautiful. “Wow. Good face.”

Two of the guy’s friends, a man wearing a suit that fit so well it had to be bespoke and a man with a cute little gap between his front teeth, started cracking up. The petite redhead sitting next to them cocked her head to the side and pulled her phone out of her handbag. Beautiful Face just looked kind of pained, so Bucky redirected. He was a gentleman. He could take a hint. No hitting on beautiful guys who were uncomfortable with that sort of thing, no matter how lickable their jawlines were.

“Hello,” he repeated, doing his best to mind his manners. “I’m very sorry to bother you. Can I have a piggy-back ride?”

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet by @musette22 - Teen, 3.8k

Chef Bucky, POV Outsider, Fluff, Humor

“I made soda bread.”

Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

more under the cut

Cafe Au Écoute by @littlesystems - Teen, 3.8k

Coffee Shop AU

No matter where Steve goes, there's always the chance that he'll overhear a conversation about himself - or rather, Captain America. This coffee shop is no different. The fact that he keeps eavesdropping well past the point of plausible deniability is another matter entirely.

#TweetMeDaddy by StarSpangled - Teen, 4.1k

SHIELD Employee Bucky, Misunderstandings, Crack, Humor

Coulson, for his part, stares up at Bucky with such a betrayed look of frozen horror that Natasha actually goes the extra step and presses another button, capturing the moment and airdropping the photograph to her phone for posterity. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why…?” He swallows and starts again, trying for some semblance of normality. “...Why would you tweet something like that?!”

“If you must know, sir,” and somehow he manages to make ‘sir’ come out with the same inflection most people reserve for ‘motherfucking son of a bitch’, “it’s because I have a difficult time doing my job when my job involves monitoring the man with the best fucking ass in the United States of America.” He slowly lowers himself back into his seat until he’s at eye level, making extreme eye contact with Coulson until Coulson turns away to make mortified eye contact in Natasha’s general direction through the one-way glass. Natasha would take another picture, if she weren’t too busy catching Steve’s red-faced sputtering. “Sometimes, I vent to my Twitter followers. Sometimes, it’s about hot men with washboard abs. Can I go now, or do you need a graphic description of how I pleasure myself at night?”

at first chance i'd take the bed warmed by the body by @spacebuck - Explicit, 8.2k

YouTuber Bucky

This close, Steve can see exactly how beautiful his hands are. He’s never really noticed before, or at least he’s never really had a reason to notice, but the man’s hands are large, tanned like he works outside all day. There’s an endearing callus on the heel of one of his palms, and Steve can’t quite work out when calluses became endearing.

Steve pauses the video. Swallows hard. Casts his eyes around for anything that’ll keep his mind off the hands on his screen, off the words inked into those hands, the delicate shape of a bird’s wing, the curling edge of a vine.

He looks down. The name of the channel is right there, blaring the man’s name right into Steve’s brain until it feels like he’s known it all along.

Bucky Barnes.

OR: the one where Bucky's a youtuber who solves puzzles on camera, and steve's smitten and horny

Came with my cool (I dropped it) by @liionne - Teen, 9.2k

Yoga Instructor Bucky

"When you said I need to loosen up, I didn't think you meant literally."

"I meant it every way. Mentally, emotionally, and physically." Natasha says, and thrusts a yoga mat at him.

there once was a diamond by bloobeary - Teen, 11.3k

Fluff, Thanksgiving

"You," Becca seethes, and hits him with a wooden spoon. "Could have told me," Hits him again. "You were dating Captain America." Final hit, Bucky laughs. He supposes he deserves it, giving her no more information than the fact he was bringing his boyfriend to Thanksgiving dinner at her house and then showing up with Steve.

Salt by littleblackfox @thelittleblackfox - Mature, 12k

Bakery AU

The cinnamon roll is gone in four bites. Four indecent, jaw-unhinging bites, and Steve sucks the last traces of lemon and icing from his fingers with a low, throaty sound of satisfaction. He glances up at Bucky, who is leaning against the counter and watching him with avid fascination.

“Um…” Steve says around his index finger. There’s still a little icing on the bed of his fingernail, and he stops trying to work it off with his tongue.

“You know those movies where the girl eats an eclair or something, and it’s really, like, sexually charged?” Bucky asks.

Steve pulls his finger out of his mouth. He’s never seen that kind of movie, but the thought of Bucky eating an eclair is certainly… well, it lingers. “Uh?”

“Yeah, well that was the exact opposite.” Steve scowls, and Bucky cackles gleefully. “You are something else, Steve.”

Leg Day by Brokenpitchpipe - Explicit, 12.1k

Gym Thot Bucky

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Art Nouveau by voluptuous_panic - Explicit, 12.2k

Bartender Bucky, Tattooed & Pierced Bucky

Steve's on the worst date of his life. At least the bartender's cute.

much tattoo about nothing by @deisderium - Explicit, 14.5k

Tattoo Artist Bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

No Wonder There's Panic in the Industry by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Not Rated (I’d say Mature?), 20.5k

Stark Industries Intern Bucky, Team fic, Humor

In which Bucky Barnes and his BFF, Clint Barton, are NYU interns for Stark Media Group competing to be Pepper's favorite.

Or alternatively, the time Bucky assisted the P.A. team on the Steve Rogers piece and ended up (adopted) with a contact list full of Avengers.

Life of the Party by @aggressivewhenstartled - Explicit, 21.6k

Superhero Impersonator Bucky, Mistaken Identity

“You know, kids,” Steve heard from the backyard, “one of the most common threats a superhero has to face is inside an active volcano! We’re going to have to work on your evasion skills, so for the next five minutes, the floor is lava!” This was met by a sudden spike in both volume and pitch from the small children as they scrambled onto every raised surface they could find and immediately launched themselves right back off.

“I’ve never seen actual lava in my entire life,” Steve said, vaguely offended.

“You got a superhero impersonator for The Falcon’s niece’s birthday party,” Sam said, incredulous. “The Falcon, who is an actual superhero.”

Trust Enough by @geneticallydead - Explicit, 23.3k

Misunderstandings

“Saturday. Yeah, that’s good,” Steve says, and actually scuffs his shoe at the ground. Like a ridiculous shy superhero damsel. “Say eight? I live-“

“Yeah, big building with the A on it,” Bucky says, and can’t help a big stupid grin. Steve stares at him, looking a little dazed, and after their whole conversation it’s only now that Bucky’s brain catches up and realises Steve finds him quite attractive. So. Win for Bucky.

“Let me get your number,” Steve says finally, after they’ve stared stupidly at each other for about three hours, taking out his phone.

So they exchange numbers, and then Steve says he should go, and Bucky agrees, and they kind of stare at each other for a bit more, then Steve actually does go, but not before taking Bucky’s hand and squeezing it warmly in a way that makes Bucky want to shiver all over. Then Steve is gone, and Bucky is standing alone in the alley, grinning to himself.

Right up until the moment he remembers that Steve thinks Bucky is an escort he’s just hired.

Well fuck.

The Roommate by layersofart, Niitza - Teen, 28.6k

War Vet Bucky, Roommates AU, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Team fic

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

Brooklyn Baby by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Mature, 33.7k

Coffee Shop AU, Modern Howlies, Mistaken Identity, Team Fic

In which Bucky is just trying to live life and enjoy his unofficial official table at the obnoxiously hipster coffee shop but some guy named Steve stole his spot.

Or, the time that Bucky unintentionally befriended the Avengers and had no idea.

Never Talk to Strangers by mambo @whtaft - Teen, 40.4k

Grad Student Bucky, Slow Burn

Never Talk to Strangers: or; How a Forgotten Childhood Lesson Led Bucky Barnes to Appreciate Charlie Chaplin, Befriend an A.I., Slip on Soap Bubbles, Be Mistaken for a Succubus, and Try to Woo a Superhero.

Sinking Our Teeth In The Heart Of The Sun by fallendarlings @pressrestartwrites - Explicit, 102.8k

Single Dad Bucky, Kid Fic, Slow Burn, Domestic, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Steve has Autism

Bucky Barnes never intended to become a single father at 25. But life has always enjoyed kicking him while he's down and it's showing no signs of stopping. A chance meeting with a brick wall of a guy named Steve in the formula aisle of the grocery store leads to a friendship it seems like both of them need. If only Bucky could remember that's all they are- friends. If only Steve didn't slot into their lives so perfectly and look so good spoiling Bucky's daughter (and Bucky, despite his protests).

Oh, if only Steve didn't turn out to be Captain America.

Steve Rogers is wandering around a world that he doesn't fit into, fighting for a government that he doesn't trust, just because he doesn't know what to do with himself if he ever relaxes long enough to actually think about anything other than the next mission.

And then came Bucky Barnes and his newborn baby.

More recs

[angstymarauder]

Arch Enemies {M.M}

Marlene McKinnon x Female!reader ; marauders era

summary: where two long-time rivals realize how thin the line between love and hate really are after an unfortunate quidditch incident.

word count: 3.4k ish

contains: angst, fluff, a heated kiss?, side of wolfstar,

a/n: i didn’t re-read it bc I'm lazy. Also if people could drop some wlw angsty harry potter recs that would be phenomenal.

· · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene McKinnon has been your rival since as far back in your Hogwarts years as you can remember. Always at each other’s heads. Always a competition between the two of you. Always striving to be better than the other.

The two of you made just about everything a competition. Chess Matches. Pranking. Grades. Eating. Walking. Detentions (you almost got kicked out of Hogwarts that year.)

Anything that could somehow be made competitive, you two competed. And while you tended to beat her with grades, she often beat you in things that took place outside of the classroom.

The Marauders, apparently, have been placing bets and keeping track of your wins against one another. Lily even claims that one time she walked into their room unexpectedly and caught them writing on a poster on their wall that had both your names in big letters on each side and a series of tallies below each with dates and event names on the bottom, but as soon as they saw her one of them casted a spell to make it disappear.

This year was no different. You knew it was stupid to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to try out for the quidditch team without Marlene fighting you for the same spot. You have no real desire to be on the quidditch team, quite honestly, but your older siblings play quidditch, your parents played quidditch, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents.

You have a quidditch family and you do not want to can not disappoint them.

The hope that Marlene may leave you alone for this one was shattered, as you expected it to be, when you walk into the team's locker room, a bag of quidditch gear in your hand. “Y/L” Marlene spoke as soon as her eyes met yours. Her eyes widened more than usual, a change most people don’t notice, but then again, you’re not most people. You know Marlene better than anyone else, you’ve memorized the meaning of every look in her eyes, every curve of her lips, every flick of her hands. You know her brain, how she works, what she is thinking, for the most part at least because right now you found yourself momentarily confused by the surprise lacing her voice. Why is she so surprised? Did she not expect you to be there? Your thoughts are cut short when the blonde standing at the other side of the room clears her throat in an attempt to reactive her favorite tone of voice when speaking to you, cockiness, “you going for the beater position too?”

“Yea,” you respond, walking over to one of the lockers.

“May the best player win,” you continued unpacking your bag, putting on the final touches to your uniform, but you didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smirking as she spoke, you could hear it clear enough in her voice.

She awaited a snarky response from you, you know that, but you didn’t want to waste your energy on a catfight right now. Your anxiety is already through the roof, there is enough pressure on you at the moment that you feel like your brain physically cannot handle any more conflict, so you ignore her.

Her eyes burn holes into your body as you continue to pull your knee pads on. Eventually, the door opens and you listen to her steps as she walks out of the locker room, closing the door with a slam and leaving you all alone.

It’s not long before you’re 100% ready for tryouts. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment before leaving. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. Calm your mind. It helps a little bit, but maybe not enough.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“Y/L! Watch out!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

The tryouts were going great, James was the captain this year and after stealing a glance at his little sheet, you could tell that you were going to beat Marlene out for this spot.

You should’ve been happier with that knowledge than you were, but somewhere deep down you almost wanted Marlene to beat you. This wasn't what you wanted and by the look in her eyes, you knew that this was what she wanted. A strange feeling arose in your chest each time she looked at you during tryouts, her eyes conveyed a message you hadn’t seen her wear yet and all you wanted to do was decode it. To understand why her eyes looked… sad? Almost. Like she knew you were going to beat her and she was upset about it. She’s never been upset before, always a team player. She took her losses as they came and just vowed to beat you next time. But for some reason… for some reason this was different.

· · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene’s Pov:

You looked so pretty. Flyaway hairs and a look of determination on your face as you swatted away Bludgers so effortlessly. She loved quidditch, but she wasn't as good as you. Jealous, not because you’ll win whatever competition the two of you are probably making out of this, but jealous because she knows she won’t get the position she’s been working her ass off for. Lost in thought she doesn't even notice the bludger coming towards her, luckily she hits it just in time, but then… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Marlene watched as the bludger tumbled straight towards you, “Y/L! Watch out,” was all she could get in before it hit you right in the head.

· · · ∞ · · ·

The first thing you felt when you woke up was an intense pounding in your skill that caused an unconscious groan to leave your mouth. As you increasingly became aware your head began hurting more and more. You went to bring your hand up to rub your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up when you felt another hand on yours. Opening your eyes only increased your headache, but the desire to know whose hand was holding yours overruled the pain. Their hand was soft, warm, it felt like … like home. That's the only word you could find in this pain-forsaken state to properly describe the feeling.

The blur of a person who held your hand made you think you were crazy. You found yourself blinking a few times in attempts to clear your vision, not initially trusting your eyes and barely trusting them now as you see Marlene McKinnon's hand, holding yours.

Marlene McKinnon.

Your arch-nemesis?

The one who practically hates you?

Yea… her.

What the fuck.

Why is she holding your hand… and why do you never want her to let go?

You can feel your lips curve up into an unconscious smile as you stare at the place where her hand connects with yours before roaming your eyes up to her figure to her sleeping face being held up by her other hand, elbow resting on her armchair next to your bed. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and you wonder why you’ve never noticed how gorgeous she was before. How her lips look so soft and her skin so smooth. The way the waning gibbous moonlight shines into the room from the large infirmary windows and lights her face up in a way you’ve never seen in before and in that moment you want nothing more than to stare at her face like that forever. You don’t even notice your other hand moving up to touch her face until you hear a voice whisper from a few beds over from yours. “Oh, you’re up.” Startled, you feel like you were just caught committing a crime and immediately pull your hand back to where it was before. Marlene shifts in her sleep from your quick movements and you’re watching this moment slip through your fingers, silently begging whatever runs the universe to let you stay in this moment just a little bit longer. Thankfully, they answer and Marlene stills, returning to her peaceful sleep. “Don’t worry, Lils says she sleeps like a log.”

You giggle at these words, turning to face Remus with a smile, “yea, she does. We can never get her up in the morning.” “It’s the same with Sirius. He never wants to wake up.” The two of you giggle quietly, afraid to wake up anyone in the castle this late at night, especially the girl sitting beside you. You talk about Remus first, asking if the full moon the night before was really that bad that Pomfrey made him stay overnight again and if he's okay. He assures you that he is fine and redirects the conversation to you, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I don’t even know what happened to me,” you tell him, “or why my head hurts so much or why M-” you pause, now looking at the girl. You’re scared of speaking the words out loud, afraid it may reveal that her presence is only a dream or a figment of your imagination and that you will sound crazy if you speak about it.

“Or why Marlene is here, holding your hand.” Remus finishes your sentence.

“Or that.” you turn your gaze back to Remus, now wishing the moon was a little darker so your close friend can’t see the blush that is surely on your face.

“Well to answer your first questions,” started Remus, “You got hit with a bludger during tryouts, Marlene and Sirius rushed u in here while I was taking a nap - thanks for that by the way”

“Sorry” you giggled

“- and then Sirius went back to practice, as for McKinnon there, she refused to leave. I think she feels bad cause she's the one that hit you. Pomfrey said you probably have a concussion which means you can’t … well you can’t play quidditch this year.” You should be focusing on the quidditch part, it was something you were working so hard for, but you can’t stop your mind from trailing off to her. Is she only here because she feels bad? Or is there more to it? You hope it's more. You’re not sure when these feelings came to fruition, but they’re there now and you’re worried about getting your hopes up because it means risking yourself getting let down.

“I think she likes you,” you take a minute to process the werewolves' words, glancing between the blonde’s head and her hand.

“You think so?” you say with a hopeful smile.

“I think she’s liked you since first year and you’re just too oblivious to realize it,” you look up with him, your confused face causing a slight chuckle to leave his lips, “I’m observant, you know that but it's not that difficult to see how in love you two are, even though you act like you hate each other. I think she knows what she feels,” you both glanced at the girl, “and I think you just figured out what you feel.”

You smile at his words. “I think you’re right,” you admit, too tired to be stubborn and reject what your heart says is a fact.

“Just wait till January to tell everyone please, I have a bet going with the boys and- “ Suddenly the door to the infirmary opens, Remus goes quiet with confusion and Marlen begins to stir from the noise. She’s really waking up this time, you immediately close your eyes, unsure of what else to do or even say to her. You can feel her eyes on your face, her hand holding yours. “Good morning sleepyhead,” remarked Remus. You curse out his name in your head as you feel Marlene’s hand immediately rip out of yours. All you want to do is look at her face, read her mind. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Your mind went to the worst.

“How’s the girlfriend?” marked a new voice, Sirius. Of course. Who else would come to the infirmary this late other than Sirius to check up on Remus?

“She’s not my girlfriend.” remarked Marlene, her tone sending a brief stab of pain through your own heart, “I don’t even like her,” another stab.

“Yea, okay, and Moonys not my werewolf boyfriend.” You would’ve laughed, hearing the noises of Remus hitting Sirius in response to his words, but your mind was stuck on the words of the girl who was still standing close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her body.

“I don’t like her,” she said, her words laced with annoyance and anger, “In fact, I hate her. We’re literally enemies.”

“Then why are you here then?” Remus rebutted, he probably meant to be helpful, but the words she spoke next only made your heart ache more.

“Because I’m not a monster! I hit her with the bludger and I felt bad. That’s it. Nothing else.” you were almost thankful when you started to hear her moving around, collecting her stuff, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes and you didn’t want her to see. “I’m tired so I’m going, goodbye.” And with that you waited, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, getting quieter with each moment. You listened to the opening and closing of the infirmary door and only dared to open your eyes again once you could no longer hear the clicking of her shoes down the hallway.

“You okay?” Remus spoke first, witnessing the silent tears now streaming down your face. You wish you stayed asleep. You wish you never looked at her. Never let yourself feel something you knew she wouldn’t reciprocate. You curse yourself for believing Remus’ hopeful words.

“Fine,” you spoke quietly before turning to your side, the back facing the two boys who get to share the kind of romance you find yourself only able to dream about.

“M’Sorry,” you heard Remus whisper, before the weight of your head and your heart lulled you into a dreamless sleep.

· · · ∞ · · ·

You woke up to Madam Pomfrey's voice urging you awake. Her soft voice reminded you of your mother and made you want to curl up into her arms and cry, Marlene's words last night still resting their weight on your chest. “How are you this morning, love?” she asks, placing a plate of food on the bedside table, you're thankful that she doesn't mention the tear stains that probably made their home on your cheeks last night.

“M’fine,” you mumble, “better.”

“Good, good,” she smiles, handing you a glass of water that you didn’t realize how much you needed until the whole glass was gone in a minute and Madam Pomfrey had to fetch you a new one. “Took a big hit yesterday, that Miss McKinnon has a good arm.” You hum in agreeance, an attempt to not be rude to the elder in front of you, but hearing her name still hurts, the wound of her words still leaving scars on your heart that haven’t even begun to scab. “Speaking of the devil,” the nurse spoke, your head raising up to see Marlene's figure entering the curtain that surrounded your bed. Her hair looked so soft, messier than you usually see it, but you liked it. You couldn’t stop your eyes from travelling down her face, taking in her beauty while she was awake. Bags plagued her beautiful brown eyes, she didn't sleep much last night. Your gaze moved to her lips, the same lips that unknowingly cut scars along your heart mere hours ago. Memories from the night before that you had allowed yourself to forget for a moment returned as fast as they left, returning the heartache that accompanies them. Suddenly, you found the hem of your shirt more interesting, keeping your gaze and your hands on that. “I’ll leave you two alone,” spoke Madam Pomfrey, ignoring the tension-filled silence that laid in the air, “I’d like to keep you here for a little while longer but you should be discharged by dinner,” and with that she left the two of you alone, your breaking heart not even strong enough to look at her.

“Hey,” she spoke first, breaking the silence, but not moving from her spot where she stood at the end of your bed. “Sorry I hit you with a bludger,” she tried to joke, but the tension was too thick that it was just awkward.

“Why are you here?” you ask, a sudden surge of bravery coming from the anger that stems from your sadness.

“Wh-What?”

“Why are you here?” “Because I feel bad? Because I'm not a total bitch and I care about you?” she remarks.

“Why do you care?” your voice grows louder, angrier than you want it, but you’re too stubborn to stop speaking now. “I can’t play anymore, you got the spot on the team, didn’t you? “I mean you said it yourself we’re enemies, right? You hate me?” you continue, repeating her words from last night. “So isn’t this what you wanted? You won. You beat me. Congratulations.”

“So you were eavesdropping?” she asks, her tone attempting to stay angry, but her eyes revealing that look you’re slowly seeing more and more often.

“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m lying right there.”

“Merlin, y/n, I don’t hate you!”

“Liar.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she yells, getting closer to your face.

“If you don’t hate me then why would you say it?” You sat up, both your voices were raising, anger surging through the air.

“Because I don’t hate you! I love you,” she yelled, and then everything went quiet. She loves me? Only now did you realize how close your faces were. Her lips were inches from yours, your ragged breaths intermingled with one another, both of you already exhausted from your previous argument. You looked up from her lips to her eyes, just to find them already staring into yours.

“You what?” you whispered so low that only she could hear it.

“ I-” her eyes were filled with fear. Fear that her feelings won’t be reciprocated. Fear to express the vulnerable emotion that has plagued her heart for how long? You don’t know. So you move forward and capture her lips in yours.

After the initial surprise, Marlene began to kiss you back, her hands finding the back of your neck and your head while yours found her hips. You broke apart too soon for your liking and she rested her forehead on yours. One of your hands moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I love you too.” You watched as her eyes lit up with joy and you couldn’t help but smile. “I get a point on the leaderboard for admitting it first,” she chuckled.

“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreeance leaning forward again so your lips brushed against hers as you spoke, “but I get one for kissing you first.”

“Dammit,” she whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“So Gryffindor Beater, huh?” you asked Marlene. The two of you laid together in the infirmary bed, her back pressed up against half of your chest, your arm hanging around her shoulder twirling and untwirling her hair with your one hand while both her hands played with the fingers of your other.

“Yea, James said it’s mine if I want it, but I don’t need to take it if you don’t want me to.”

“No, merlin no,” you said quickly, “I know how much you want that spot, I barely even wanted it. Was only doing it because with my family I felt like I had to.”

“Really?” She looked up at you hopefully, “you don't mind.”

“Nope.” “Promise?”

“Promise.” She gave her a peck on the lips before turning her head around again. “Plus, you’re going to look so hot in that uniform, I feel like I’ll be the real winner in this situation.” Your words earn a loud laugh from the girl in your arms and you feel like you're on cloud 9. You place a quick kiss on her temple and want nothing more than to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of your lives. Lives that you hopefully get to spend together.

Meanwhile…

“Told you so,” he whispered.

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” the second boy groaned, placing coins into the other boy's outstretched hand.

“Yea, but look how cute they are, Moony the Matchmaker.”

“Oh shut up Padfoot,” he groaned, “I’m hungry, let's go to dinner.” “Whatever you say handsome,” barked the boy before looping arms with his lover and walking away from the two girls in the infirmary who looked utterly and completely infatuated with one another.

[myhockeyworld87]

Ruined - Jamie Benn - Part 6

Word Count: 4,461

POV: Jamie’s

Warnings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Since @bnthomp256 said please, here’s part 6...hehe! Just teasing I saw all of your likes and yeses so here you guys go. Thought I’d get it out last week but it’s the start of this week. Thank you guys so much for reading this series! As always I love your feedback, your reblogs, your tags and your likes! Happy Reading!!!

Sidenote: Also (Y/NN) = Your Nickname (Y/LN) = Your Last Name

Thunder roared in the background as you stood in the foyer, while (Y/N) decided whether or not to stay at your place or brave the storm that was raging on outside. "You're right, it's silly to go over there." She finally agreed, still dripping wet from head toe from her run home and then standing out in the rain trying to get inside her house.

"I'd suggest you take a shower to warm up, but with the storm and all." She shook her head in understanding. "How about I get you another pair of my sweats?"

 "I still haven't gotten the first set back to you," she laughed and you joined her, though she could have every pair that you owned for you enjoyed seeing her in them.

 "You know where they are. I'll grab us a glass of wine to warm up with." She trotted upstairs, trying to be quick so she wouldn't make a mess all over your house, even though it was just water.

 She was back downstairs just as you set the wine down on the coffee table in the living room. "This feels so much better. Thank you." She sat down on the couch beside you. "I seem to be thanking you a lot lately." You simply blushed and took a sip of wine, hopefully hiding how you truly wanted her to be thanking you.

 "It's really nothing. So, how's Jess's thumb?"

 "Good as new, though I doubt I should be drinking this wine as I just had two glasses with her. Thank goodness, I don't have any early appointments tomorrow."

 "Taking off work already," you teased her.

 "No, apparently Fridays are easy days at the office." She took another sip of wine, as you watched her tongue sneak out across her lips to catch a drop. What you wouldn't give to be that sole little drip of wine. "I really like how this practice works, not as fast-paced as where I was before. We barely had time with our patients, which isn't the case here."

 It made you happy to hear that she liked it in Dallas, considering you were going to be here a while yourself. "Well, I hope it doesn't get too crazy once the season starts."

 "It'll be a bit tricky to get everything scheduled, but I think I've got it figured out."

 "I'm sure you will. You were always way more organized than I ever was." (Y/N) was always the one who kept you on schedule with games, homework, and of course dates, though you never forgot those. The storm seemed to worsen as a loud crack of thunder sounded and streaky lightning filled the dimly lit room. (Y/N) jumped and you chuckled. "Still afraid of storms, huh?"

 "I'm not afraid."

 Her comment only made you laugh harder. "You used to say that all the time."

 This time she laughed and then playfully hit you on the chest. "Only you would remember that, and I only hate the bad ones." Just then another roar of thunder filled the air, with more flashes of lightning. "Like this one. Could you have any more windows in this house?"

 "Here, I'll close the blinds for you." You leaned over her and grabbed the remote for the windows, pressing the buttons for them to roll down. It was only once you set the remote back down did you realize how close you were to (Y/N). Your faces only a few inches from each other. Her eyes locked with yours, her heated stare warming your body, in places that they shouldn't. You should've moved back to your spot on the couch, but you didn't. Instead, you found yourself saying, "Better?"

 A breathy "yes," was your answer, right before her hand reached up and cupped your cheek. Your skin burned from her caress and you longed to touch her back, but were too afraid that she'd retreat back to her old self if you did, so you held your breath hoping not to break the spell. It was her next words that sent your head spinning. "Kiss me, Jame." You blinked hard, unsure if you heard her right, but then she nodded at your silence, giving you that permission you didn't know you asked. "Kiss me," she whispered once more, and you didn't need to be told a third time.

 Your lips were hesitant on hers at first, just a soft brush against hers, as you were both scared and thrilled at the same time. Scared that she'd pull away and thrilled that she was the one who initiated it, not that you hadn't wanted to kiss her, you'd been dying to since first running into that day on the street. You grew bolder, adding more pressure when she didn't pull back and it reminded you so much of that first time that you'd kissed her. That had been the start of something new, and your heart had pounded so hard you thought it was going to come out of your chest. That same feeling was happening again now. While this wasn't new per se, it was a fresh start for the two of you, a chance to start again and you savored every moment of it.

 (Y/N)'s hands slid their way to your neck, where she tugged you closer to her. It was all the encouragement you needed to deepen the kiss. When you glided your tongue along her bottom lip, her mouth easily opened for you. She moaned into your mouth at that first contact, the sound shooting straight to your cock making it rock hard. You hadn't wanted a woman this bad your whole adult life. It had always been (Y/N) and always would be. You felt her body relax into the cushions of the sofa, as she drug you down on top of her. Part of you felt like this was a dream, and if it was you never wanted to wake up. Your hands shifted to glide up her shirt; your rough fingertips caressing her silky-smooth skin. She wasn't wearing a bra, must have taken it off when she'd changed into your sweats. You cupped first one breast and then the other, rolling her nipples between your thumb and forefinger. She arched her back into your hand, the action almost breaking the kiss but her lips sought yours not yet wanting to let go, just the way that you'd already decided you would never let her out of your life again.

 A sense of déjà vu hit you. The two of you making out on your parent's couch, afraid someone would walk in, only this time that wouldn't happen. It was all so familiar, yet completely new at the same time.

 Her breasts were larger than you remembered, fuller and more rounded, and you longed to take a pert nipple in your mouth to see if she would call out your name the way she used to. Yet at the same time, you found yourself backing off, afraid to take things too far, too fast. A whimper escaped her lips, as you trailed your hands to her back, to press her body close, before finally breaking the kiss. Gently, you laid her back down on the cushions, as you pulled back to just stare lovingly into her eyes. Her gaze was so intense, and you saw the same desire in them that you felt. "Don't stop, Jame…." Her voice was breathy and needy, and it took all your will power to not just strip her clothes and take her right there on the sofa. "I want you." Fuck, those three little words were almost your undoing. How many nights had you longed to hear her say that? How many times had you prayed for this exact moment? Had gone to bed with thoughts of her wanting you like this.

 "(Y/N), I…"Jesus, you wanted this so bad, but it was more than just sex. You wanted her mind, body, and soul, and you weren't sure if she wanted the same. Even though it killed you, you sat back up on the couch, bringing her with you. She was still staring at you, though there was confusion written all over her face. You felt the same internal struggle. "(Y/N), I want you too…"

 "But…"

 It was as if she could read your mind. "But I don't just want this to be for one night. I'm in this for the long haul this time. I don't want to just sleep with you tonight and have you sneak out of my bed in the morning." You could see her absorbing all your words and you grabbed her hands placing them in yours, so she could not only hear the sincerity but feel it as well. "These last couple of days have been everything and I want more of them. I don't want to fuck it up. Not that sleeping together would do that, but…" God, you were never good with words, but this was harder than you thought. "I just want you to know. I'm not going anywhere this time…and I don't want you to run away because of our past. I know I fucked up, but things are different now. I'm different and if that means waiting to be with you until we're both on the same page then that's what I'll do."

 You hoped the words you spoke all made sense to her, as you watched a myriad of emotions play across her face. She was silent for a while and the longer she was the more nervous you became. "I won't lie, Jame. I'm scared as hell that you'll hurt me again."

 "I would never…"

 She placed a finger on your lips to shush you. "I know you want to say that you never would but our past says differently. I wish I could put that all behind us and maybe I can with time. All I know is that I want to try Jamie. I want to give us a chance." An overwhelming feeling of relief washed through you at her words. All you wanted was an opportunity to show her what things could be like between the two of you. How you would love her with every fiber of your being if she'd only let you. "And Jamie," she said capturing your full attention once again. "I don't plan on running away in the middle of the night or tomorrow morning." She emphasized her words by straddling your hips. "In case you forgot, I have a late morning tomorrow." She winked at you before taking both of her hands and cupping your face as she brought her lips back down on yours. This time you were ready to fully give in to the primal urges coursing through your body. That was until your phone rang at that exact moment and she pulled back.

 "It's Jessi."

 "Tell her you'll bring me over tomorrow morning, to get my stuff." She pecked your lips quickly before letting you answer the phone.

 "Uh Jess…" you tried to speak, but (Y/N)'s lips were on your neck, causing the best kind of distraction.

 "Hey Jame, was that enough time?" (Y/N) sucked at your pulse point and you groaned slightly into the phone. "Are you two…?"

 "Umm….yes. We'll get it in the morning," you finally managed to mumble out.

 "EEEKKK. That's so exciting. I want to hear everything. Well, not everything," she rambled on a continuous stream of words, while (Y/N) slid her hands under your shirt and up your chest.

 "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Jessi." You hung up the phone, even as she was still speaking, knowing that Jessi would understand once you told her that (Y/N) was giving you a second chance. You stilled (Y/N)'s hand though when she reached your waistband and undid the button there. "Before you go any farther, I need to tell you something."

 (Y/N) sat back on your lap, making it a bit uncomfortable as your cock was pressed intimately against her, even though you were both fully clothed. "Ok."

 "I just don't want there to be any secrets if we're starting fresh." She eyed you skeptically and you hated the looked that crossed her face, that one that was afraid to trust you. "Jessi was home the entire time tonight. She just wanted to give us some time alone." You searched her expression to see if she was angry about the lie that you'd told her. It was the upturn of her lips and the little laugh that escaped them that let you know she wasn't upset.

 "I kind of figured. She seemed to be rooting for us when I was talking to her early."

 "Oh, so you were talking about me?" You teased as your hands bunched her sweatshirt up so they could settle on the bare skin at her waist.

 "Maybe…" Her cheeks turned the most adorable shade of pink and you wondered if there were other parts of her body that were blushing as well.

 "Just maybe huh?"

 She nodded her head yes, then slid her hands around your neck. "Well…if we're confessing things. I have one of my own." You pulled back slightly so you could look her straight in the eye. "I remembered the code to get in the house halfway here."

 "Oh," you said, surprised that she'd come over here on her own free will. "So, you just wanted to see me, huh?"

 Your hands ran up and down her sides caressing her skin. "Nah, I just wanted to steal some more of your sweats."

 "Stealing my clothes already?" This time your fingers tickled her sides, causing her to burst out in laughter with you joining her. "I guess I'm going to have to make you pay for them now." The more you tickled her, the louder she laughed, her body wiggling all over yours until you flipped her so her back was on the couch and you were looming over top of her. Both of you immediately stopped giggling, as you gazed into each other's eyes, the mood suddenly changing from its playful atmosphere to one of sexual desire.

 It was (Y/N) who spoke first. "I guess you better name your price then." It took you a minute to realize she was talking about the sweats, still being sassy while the sexual air between you sizzled.

 The truth of the matter was she could have anything she wanted, for she already owned your heart. "Maybe we should continue this discussion upstairs then." You looked down at her your eyes filled with both lust and love, that same feeling for her you had fourteen years ago. She wanted you as well, she had even said the words earlier, though now you could feel it in her touch and see it in her gaze. It was too soon to hope that she would return the love you so desperately longed to show her, but with time, that would come.

 You eased yourself off the couch and then leaned down to help (Y/N) up. She laced her fingers through yours as you led her to the staircase. Pausing at the base, you turned and hauled (Y/N) close to your chest before asking her, "Are you sure?" You needed her to know that things didn't have to go that far if she didn't want them to.

 "Yes Jame, I'm sure." She emphasized her point, by going up on her toes and locking her lips to yours. An overwhelming need to have her in your bed naked took over. You scooped her up under her knees and carried her up the stairs, never breaking the kiss. As soon as you crossed the threshold of your bedroom, you shut the door, effectively closing the two of you off to the rest of the world. In here is it was just you and (Y/N), nothing and no one else mattered, as you gently laid her down on the bed.

 In one swift move, you had her top removed and then you were staring down at her half-naked form. Your mouth was everywhere on her, on her lips, across her jaw, trailing down her neck, until finally, you took a taut peak into your mouth. "Mmmm," she moaned out as you paid homage to each nipple. Her hands threaded in your hair, before reaching down to pull on your t-shirt. Your mouth only left her body so you could remove the garment, and then her hands were on your chest and roaming across your back. Nails lightly raking across your skin and causing gooseflesh to rise everywhere she touched. You couldn't get enough of her. Knew that if you spent the rest of your life with her, it would never be long enough.

 Lips ghosting down her abdomen, you kissed her right above the waistband of your borrowed sweats, as memories of your first and only time with her started to seep back into your brain. Your cock felt like that sixteen-year-old boy again, ready to explode at any minute, though just like back then, you knew you needed to make it good for her. Her hips lifted as you pulled the sweats off her body, taking the tiny lace thong with them so that she lay there bare for you. She was more beautiful now than she had been at sixteen, if that was even possible. Back then she'd been on the cusp of becoming a woman; now, she was fully there. All soft and supple, with curves in all the right places. She was literally a man's fantasy come to life, and she was yours. "You're so damn beautiful," you breathed out, and a blush rose to her cheeks at your compliment. You wanted to tell her that she was more gorgeous today than back then, but didn't need the ghosts of your past haunting your present. They had no place in this room. Instead, you spread her legs, your hands running up and down her calves and thighs before your mouth followed their path. It all led to that one spot, the place you longed to bury yourself deep inside, but not quite yet. Not before your mouth could see if she tasted as sweet as you remembered.

 Her body was trembling, and not from fear but with excitement, as you took that first long lick between her folds. "Jamie," she moaned out at just that simple touch, and your name on her lips spurred you on. You started with soft kitten-like licks, your tongue getting coated with her wetness. Her hand worried through your locks, and her nails scratched into your scalp with each lick, urging you on. "Mmm…yes, Jame…yes." You flicked your tongue faster across her clit, feeling her hips rise, as you placed a steadying hand across her stomach, to hold her in place as you devoured her pussy. She tasted just as delicious as you remembered and you could've spent hours there just driving her insane, but when you dipped your tongue inside her cunt, you felt the first blush of her orgasm begin. "Fuck, Jame…I'm gonna cum." You thrust your tongue in deeper encouraging her to cum all over your mouth. "Oh god…Jamie," she cried out as pleasure washed over her, and you felt a rush of wetness hit your mouth.

 "Mmm," you moaned out as you lapped at her pussy. Her body went lax as she came off her high, but you weren't done yet. You had fourteen years to make up for, and you planned on starting tonight. Taking your index finger, you slowly thrust it inside her, while your tongue moved back to work on her little nub. Just soft licks as her body was still over-sensitized from her first orgasm.

 "Jamie, what are you…." She didn't finish that sentence, as your finger found her g-spot and you rubbed the pad of it back and forth against her pleasure spot. "Fuck, Jame….I…oh god…" Her words were almost incoherent, her body writhing each time you touched her. Your mouth nibbled on her clit at the same time and you could feel her losing control again. "I can't," she panted out, yet you knew she could.

 "Come on baby, just one more," you encouraged, then latched back onto her little nub.

 "Oh, Jame…I…Fuck…" She was there then, quivering around your finger that kept making that come hither motion inside her. Her body bucked up into your mouth, as you worked her through her second orgasm until the shaking finally subsided and she relaxed back into the mattress. A grin broke out across your face, and you planted a soft kiss on her pussy, before pulling out your finger and working your way back up her body. "I think you're trying to kill me," she breathed out, though she was smiling from ear to ear.

 "Only in a good way baby." She brought your lips to hers then, tasting her sweet essence that still lingered there. Her one leg stole to the back of your thigh, the heel of her foot running up and down before she broke from the kiss.

 "I think you're overdressed, Mr. Benn." Her hands trailed down to where your button was still undone from her earlier work on the sofa. All she had to do was slide the zipper down then shimmy them past your hips and you were free, though you kicked them and your boxers off your legs and onto the floor, before going back to kiss her again.

 "Better," you asked once the garments were discarded.

 Her hands snaked down your body to your cock, where she began stroking it. "Much," she hummed out, while you groaned out in pleasure. "My turn," she said, with a playful shove to your chest, so that you would roll onto your back, but there would be none of that tonight. Just like the first time you were together, you knew if her lips touched your cock it would all be over and you'd waited too long to be inside her again to have it all end that way.

 "Not tonight, baby," you told her then pecked her lips. Her palm twisted around the head of your cock and you almost spent right there in her hand. You had to grit your teeth, at the exquisite feeling. "Now who's trying to kill who?" You gripped her wrist to stop her before she got carried away.

 "Just trying to return the favor." (Y/N) nipped at your lower lip, pulling it between her teeth, before sucking on it. She really would kill you if she kept this up, but what a way to go. You took control of the situation before things got out of hand, spreading her legs farther apart, before replacing her hand with your own so you could guide it into her warm and waiting entrance. She felt like the finest silk wrapped around you, as you entered her pussy. It was even better than that first time had been. "Mmm," she moaned out as you filled her with your cock. When you were buried all the way inside her you thought back to fourteen years ago and how you'd looked into her eyes and told her you loved her. That love was still there today, and you longed to tell her how you felt, but knew she wasn't ready for that. It took every ounce of self-control not to whisper those eight letters to her. Instead, you let your eyes speak the words you so longed to say as you locked yours with her, before starting that slow thrust in and out of her.

 Her hips met each slow thrust until you couldn't take it anymore and you pumping your cock into her at a frenzied pace. While somewhere in your mind you knew this wouldn't be your only time with her, you knew you wanted to make this last, so you slowed to a steadier rhythm. Moans filled the room, both yours and hers, as your lips would connect then pull apart as you both needed air. Every now and then you would dip down and suckle on her pulse point, driving her even more insane. "Yes…Jame…yes," (Y/N) would pant out.

 "Fuck you feel so good," you told her as you thrust inside her over and over. Taking her leg, you repositioned you both, so that it rested against your chest, letting you drive into her pussy even deeper. There was no holding back then, as your cock was buried to the hilt. "I'm so close, babe."

 "Me too," she murmured. Still, your hand snuck down to rub her clit, making sure she reached that pinnacle before you did. "Oh god, Jame," she screamed as her climax hit, her nails biting into your back as she came hard. She said your name over and over like a benediction, until you spiraled out of control, thrusting deep into her and cuming with her.

 Your body tensed, and you groaned out her name as you filled her with your cum. "(Y/N)," you called out, her body wrapping around yours, holding you close as you came. You slumped forward, your body relaxing as you floated back to earth. You twisted both of you to your sides, as to not crush her, though your cock remained inside her as it grew flaccid.

 The two of you laid there, lazily kissing one another, neither ready to break the intimate contact you'd just shared. She finally needed air and broke the kiss, yet snuggled deeper into your side; her lips pressing soft little kisses to your chest, while you kissed the top of her head. You just laid there a few moments catching your breath, while her fingers drew slow circles along your back and arms. It was (Y/N) who finally broke the silence. "So, is this your way of not getting me to run?"

 You moved so that you could see her face in the dim light, not catching her meaning. "Huh?"

 She giggled then, the sound vibrating through your body. "Your cock is still inside me."

 "Oh shit, sorry." You made a move to pull out, but the leg she had slung over your hip, tightened its grip, pulling you closer to her.

 "I'm teasing Jame. I like you like this, or rather us like this."

 "Mmm, me too," you mumbled before ghosting your lips over hers.

 "Definitely easier for round two." She winked at you before burying her head into your chest. At her mention of the words round two, your cock twitched showing signs of life again. "Well, that was fast," she said eluding to your growing erection. Oh yes, round two was definitely going to happen, and maybe rounds three and four as well.  

[nitannichionne]

If He Was Your Fan, Chapter 59: Prerogatives (A Henry Cavill Fanfic)

Chapter 59: Prerogatives (Henry POV)

CHAPTER 59: Prerogatives

NOTE: Thanks for your support and input, especially last chapter!

(Henry POV)

I lay in bed, looking at her. I made it priority to wear her out last night:

“Aaahhhhh!” she screamed as I drove her hips up and down an my cock. She gripped my shoulders, her head falling back riding out the previous orgasm. “I can’t—”

“You can,” I growled, turning her under me. My tongue snaked to her mouth, moistening her dried lips and the insides of her mouth. I went down on her again and she let out a whimper. We both moaned as we felt her passion flow again. “Ah, that’s it.” Her hips raised off the bed and I crawled between her legs, nibbling her torso on the way back up, and aligned my hips with hers again. I rubbed my meatus against her slit, kissing her neck.

She gave a kitten cry as my tongue surged inside her mouth, my cock thrusting into her at the same time. The sound struck the base of my neck and lit a path down my spine, making me ache to pound her again. How I loved hearing that sound, feeling her body become pliant in my arms but feeling her fingertips rake my back deliciously as her sex pulsed and pulled me, her eyes half open as if under a spell…my spell. Doesn’t she know what that does to me?

I sigh, blinking back to present. I am trying get it. She wants to establish her own identity in this new life here in the U.K. She didn’t see it coming, and she wants to try to start anew, get her bearings, as it were. I understand.

But I DON’T understand why she has to do it this way. I am being selfish, and I know it, but I barely care, I think as I lick my lips watching her. Yet I do care about her and how she feels, and I am going along with this. Did I sweep her off her feet? I must have not done a good job. She seemed stable the whole time we were together in all three film sites.

I hate games. Is that what this is? It’s hard for me to believe that. Our relationship started so differently from most. Our whole history is different from most. And I have never ever had a woman be so understanding of my quirks, like my gaming and such. She seemed fine when I went to work, didn’t even show a bit of insecurity until…until I put it there…damn, am I still paying for that?

And I gave her my ring! How can she question everything when she is wearing my crest on her finger? She had to know I was working up to popping the question. I looked down at the one she gave me. She thought it wasn’t good enough. How can she think that?

“Henry?”

I look at her. I’d been quiet too long.

She looks dejected. “Can we just…go outside awhile?”

I swallow hard. “Yeah, in a bit.”

“Oh, okay,” she nods, but she looks like she’s going to cry. “I’ll take Luna out. You bring Kal, alright?”

“Yeah.”

She gets Luna’s harness, and she, thinking she is part dog, trots over to be leashed. I can’t help but smile at that. “Okay, then.”

The second she’s alone, I get on my phone. I see all these numbers I’d conveniently blocked out—actresses and such, women I could call up. I slowed at Emma’s.

I call up my brother. I can’t believe I’m calling him. As the line rings, I realize how serious I am about her and how much I want to truly understand and not lose her.

“Hold on,” he says. “Let me get this right. She wants to not move in with you yet?”

“No.”

“Oh, she might be a proper lady, Henry.”

I roll my eyes at that. “She is.”

“No, you know what I mean,” he chastises. “She wants to establish her own status.”

“She wears my ring.”

“A ring, or the ring?”

“The ring.”

“Well, Good Lord, Henry, the horse is out of the barn!” he is quiet for a moment. “Did you ask her? Does she know what that ring means?”

“No.”

“Henry!”

“Good Lord, you sound like Mum.”

“No, she’d probably hit you in the back of the head with a paper,” he mutters.

“You’re not helping.”

“She loves you, and she wants to make a name for herself before you change it. She wants to be sure it isn’t proximity but really a desire to be together. She wants other people to at least have reason to feel that way too. Good enough?”

I sigh. “Good enough.”

“I kind of like her already.”

“She’s American.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Told Mum?”

“Met Mum online.”

“Well, well, well,” he teases. “When are the rest of us going to meet her?”

“Soon.”

“Good man,” he encourages. “Remember, it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind—”

“--And a man’s prerogative to change it back,” I finish with my brother. We have a laugh. Mum always hated that quote.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I hang up and look at Kal. “Well, I guess that’s that, Kal. Let’s go.”

We join her and Luna outside. She looks worried. I can’t help but soften. She wants my understanding.

“So, tell me about this place at Stella’s,” I exhale.

“It’s in Brixton, not far from you,” she says hopefully, her eyes widening. “It’s a studio.”

“Small?”

“I don’t know, but it’s furnished and I can still afford it even with the pet fees.”

I look at the stars in the sky, the Northern Lights beginning to fade. For the first time I hold to the fact that they are still there. I take a deep breath. “I can help you settle in.”

“You will?” Painful relief crosses her features as she leans into me.

I drag her to my side. “If this is what you need, pet, but I want you to know that ring means something to certain parts of society.”

She is quiet for a moment, and swallows hard, looking at the ring on her finger. “Should I give this back—”

“No,” I say flatly. “And you can take my ring off my cold dead hand!” I earn a laugh from her. I gather her close. “I don’t fully agree, my love, but if this is what you need—” I was cut off by her pulling me down for a kiss. It was tender and vulnerable, tasting of tears.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

We look at the skies. “They are fading.”

“They’re still there,” she whispers with a shrug. “They’ll be back. We’ll be back.”

“We should camp next time.”

“No plumbing?” Her eyes widen. “No thank you.”

i couldn't help but laugh at that, and honestly I couldn't agree more. We finished our playtime with Luna and Kal and head inside. We ate all of our leftovers and curled in bed that night, warming each other. Snow and rain had fallen in the time we were here, only to melt and warm again. “Brixton.”

“Yes, Brixton,” she whispers. “It’s not Group A, but I can afford it and Stella says it’s nice. I know it’s not the most desirable area.”

It dawns on me that she is afraid of London, really afraid of it-the society.

may be in middle middle and you are upper, and I know that I think your line was Baronet but now Gentry, and that I am…well, essentially, no one to that, but…”

“I assure you, it’s not as strict as you think.” I look into her eyes and see real fear.

“Well, your father is in finance, so he still has the status, your brothers are in professions that adheres to the same—”

“And I’m an actor, love.”

“Line and wealth, Henry.”

I chilled at her words. She was truly afraid of not being considered good enough. And what’s more, she really thought I cared. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she whispers, framing my face in her hands. “but what of James Bond? What of the Knighthood?”

I laugh, albeit nervously. “Knighthood?” I pull her on top of me. “Stop it.”

“What?”

“Do you really care about all that?”

“I guess the real question is, do you?”

The question hung in the air. “If it comes, it comes, darling.”

“And if the door is closed without consideration?”

“If I do great works that improve or enrich over time, I can be considered.” I tell her.

“Like Durrell?”

“Among other things.”

“I want to be an asset to you—”

“You already are,” I pull her down and squeeze her for a hug. “Good God, woman.” I pull her back, looking at her. “You are beautiful and brilliant with a heart bigger than the skies we’re under. That’s why I love you.” I slap her arse. “This bum doesn’t hurt, either.”

“You’re so bad!” she playfully slaps my chest, making me laugh.

I take a deep breath. “I will back you, whatever you do, pet. I see you need this now.” But in my eyes it was far from necessary.

“Thank you,” she whispers in my ear, hugging me. “thank you for understanding this.”

I hug her close. I hug her as if she is all I have. I hate that she feels this way, though there may be some truth to it, but it will be so subtle that she shouldn’t notice. Smart as she is, I should have known she would. But I have never felt like this before. I get the feeling she hasn’t either. It means something-we mean something…

@mistress-of-ward @nuggsmum @messyinsomnimaniac @jencanbeyouryengeralt @sweetdreamsofgelato @mary-ann84 @omgkatinka @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae @henryobsessed @summersong69 @sunshine96love @michelehansel @thelastsock @tumblnewby @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocks @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield @musicartmayheminmyheart @kaatelyynn-blog-blog@forallthebrokenheartedthings @alphacancrii @liquorlaughslove @designerwriterchic @tamychm @nikkilynn303 @circesgirl1 @xoxohannahlee @pixie88@fckdeusername @maan24 @kaatelyyynn​ @october505​ @absentmindr​ @introvertedmouse​ @sassy-pelican @griscka75

[weasleydream]

So cold

HOLY FREAKING SH*T THERE’S 300 OF YOU FOLLOWING ME THAT’S JUST INSANE!!!!! 

Thank you so much, all of you, thank you for supporting me in my work! I just- I don’t have the words to express how freaking much I love you all, and special mention for @pregnant-piggy and @theravenclawmarauder, two amazing persons

So now that I’ve said that, this is my first request and it’s from @smiles-returning-to-the-faces. As I’ve told you, I’ve taken some liberty and I hope it’s still okay for you (and I’m sorry it’s been so long...)

This is my first Sirius x reader and I hope you’ll enjoy!

Masterlist

(too lazy to find a gif right now)

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

It was strange, the silence invading the house while just one week ago, it was filled with laughters, discussions and complaints. Now, the 12 Grimmauld Place seemed as dead as the rats once hiding in the couch, even though we were still four souls in there. Kreacher was bound to the house, of course, and he didn’t have much of a choice. Nor did Buckbeak the dear hippogriff and Sirius. And me? Nothing could have forced me to stay here, nothing except my love for the husband I had lost so many years ago. 

Sirius was my first and only love, the only man I had ever known. At first, his bad boy attitude had intrigued me. He seemed to be a living cliche, the heartbreaker of the school, never listening to anyone yet adored by even the strictest teachers of Hogwarts. Even his group of friends seemed cliche: the other star of the school, excelling in the Quidditch team and the most popular girl’s boyfriend; the serious guy, the prefect who had in fact the most mischievous ideas; and the shy boy who was part of the band without anyone really understanding why. 

Then I had begun to know him, to know his deep self, and I had fallen for the fragile boy with low self-confidence, the boy who had ran away from home and who wanted so desperately a family, which he had found with the Marauders. We were so different at the time, I was as introvert as he was loud and sometimes eccentric, but don’t they say that opposites attract? The only thing we seemed to have in common was our fear to love deeply, with all our heart, the fear of being abandoned and left broken on the sidewalk. 

We had found each other, we had begun dating at the end of sixth year and married half a year after graduation. We were both terrified of what life held for us, always dreading the moment one of us had to leave on a mission for the Order. It was exhausting, and one day, Sirius had proposed. A week later, I was officially Y/N Black. 

And a year and a half later, I was indeed left broken on the sidewalk, holding in my shaking hands the Prophet which first page showed Sirius, my beloved Sirius, laughing maniacally after, in their words, having killed Peter. James and Lily were dead, betrayed by I didn’t know who, Remus was gone I didn’t know where, and now Peter was dead too and Sirius… 

I spent the first year fighting tooth and claws to liberate him. I knew him, he would never have betrayed the man he loved like his brother and killed one of his best friends. Never. But proofs had kept coming to me, no one had allowed me to talk to him or to send him a letter, I didn’t know how he was doing, I had kept being attacked for defending him… And I had lost faith. This had been my biggest mistake. From this day, I had disappeared in the wild, not even replying to Remus’ letters as I thought he could be the traitor. 

Twelve years later, my life had changed completely once more when Sirius had escaped Azkaban. The reunion had been weird and difficult, but I trusted him with everything I had and I wanted to make up for all these years when I didn’t know what to think. 

That brings us back to Square Grimmauld, this place I knew Sirius hated with every fiber of his body. This place which had become his prison because Dumbledore had said so. 

“Sirius, love, are you okay?” I asked quietly when I saw Sirius gripping the back of a chair so tight that his knuckles were white. 

“Of course, don’t worry Y/N.”

He smiled and opened his arms. It was an invitation, officially because he wanted to reassure me, unofficially because he needed to remind himself that he wasn’t alone anymore. I threw my arms around his neck, tightening his body against mine as much as I could. The feeling still was a bit strange: his skin was closer to his bones than it used to be, his arms were thinner, and every time our bodies were in contact, horrible images of him tortured by dementors invaded my mind. These moments, it was hard to tell who was the most broken between us. 

“Do you want to see Buckbeak?” Sirius asked abruptly. 

He had stepped back and was looking at me with what painfully looked like a forced smile. 

“Yes, why not? I bet this poor Buck is bored to death up there.”

It was hard to always be pushed away by the love of your life after twelve years apart, but I didn’t want to rush him. I didn’t know what was happening in his head, and even though my only priority was to help him, forcing him to talk to me wasn’t the solution. 

After a little stop in the kitchen, where Sirius grabbed enough meat to feed a regiment, we headed to the room where Buckbeak was hidden. The hippogriff seemed more than happy to see us, and he didn’t even wait for us to salute him. With a noise that sounded like a shout of joy, he started to eat under our amused gazes. 

“The poor boy seemed to be starving.” Sirius commented casually. 

I nodded in agreement and stepped forward to brush a spider off Buck’s back. Far from noticing me, he extended his wings and moved them vividly, hitting me in the progress, before lying on the floor and squealed in a way that indicated clearly he wanted to be alone for his nap. 

I followed Sirius outside and as he closed the door, he asked me quietly:

“Are you okay?”

“Of course, don’t worry.” I replied with a smile. 

Sirius chuckled before gesturing his head toward the stairs. We joined the kitchen, and I sat on the work surface, grabbing his hand when he passed in front of me. Little gestures like that were normal before Azkaban, everyone used to tease us because we seemed to be glued one to each other. That’s probably why seeing him tensing for something as innocent as me holding his hand was so painful, a bitter reminder of what had been and could never be again. I let go of his hand and his fingers brushed against mine for a second before leaving them colder than ever. 

“It’s not easy, is it?” Sirius spoke up. He was giving me his back, but I could have sworn he had this sad smile I hated to see on his face. The one he always put up when he wanted to be brave but just didn't have the strength. “I thought it would be easier. I thought I would just kiss you, tell you how much I love you and things would get back to normal.” 

“What keeps them from being normal again?” 

“A lot of things.” he whispered before heading out of the kitchen.

This time, I wouldn’t let him go without an explanation. I was tired of all of this. I jumped off the work surface and caught up with him, wrapping my arms around him and resting my forehead on his back. 

“Talk to me Sirius. Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

Sirius, who had frozen, suddenly turned around and pushed me against the closest wall. His arms were surrounding me, his hands flat on the floor and his breathing warming my face up. His chest was regularly lifting, matching mine as my heart was beating faster than ever. 

“I just…”

Sirius’ voice was low, like a growl coming from the depths of his body. His hair falling in front of his face, his eyes were hidden from me yet I knew they were darker than usual. He had always failed to hide his emotions because of his eyes, so expressive against his own will. 

“I want to be close to you.” he whispered. “I want it so bad it’s scary. I feel like… Like I can’t breathe if I’m not near you.” 

I shivered before slowly removing a strand of hair. 

“I’m afraid of the effect you have on me. How can someone be so… so addictive?”

“Sirius, don’t think too much, love, it’s not your thing.” He laughed, and the sound reminded me of a yelp like every time he laughed heartily. “You’re here now, I’m here, so you don’t have to worry anymore. You can be as close to me as you want,” I added in a murmur, looking up at him with a smirk. 

Sirius’ POV

“Please babe, five more minutes…” I moaned as Y/N was getting up. 

“Love, you’ve begged for five more minutes for an hour now!” She exclaimed before chuckling softly when I grabbed her waist. 

“I don’t care, I don’t want to let you go.” 

Laughing at my childish pout, she laid back straight between my open arms and snuggled against me. Her hair tickled my bare skin, and so did her eyelashes when she looked up at me. Her Y/E/C eyes were shining in the morning light, and I found myself falling in love all over again. 

Everything from the bliss I was feeling to the dream-like light was just perfect. My wife was here with me, a thousand times more beautiful than the last day I had seen her before being sent to Azkaban, and her heart was still mine. She had waited for me, and now she was here. I should have been the happiest man on earth, shouldn’t I? Yet, it was still hard to believe that all of sudden, everything was back to normal. I couldn’t help but fear the moment all of this would be taken away from me, I dreaded the moment Y/N would simply vanish in front of me, the ghost of her hand making me wonder if she had even been here. 

I knew it was hard to understand. I needed nothing more than to be with her yet I was terrified and unable to stay by her side. But I just couldn’t let her leave my sight either; what if I couldn’t find her anymore? I had talked about this to Moony the last time I had seen him, and that was what had decided me to talk to her. 

“Just tell her,” he had shrugged. “You know you can trust her, and she will understand. You’ve been alone for twelve years Pads, of course it’s normal to need a reminder that she is here.” 

“Are you crazy?” I had replied. “I can’t tell her I’m so terrified that I spend half of my nights just watching her! What would she think?”

“Still the drama queen, aren’t you? Well, if you don’t want to talk to her - which I’m positive is the best solution but nevermind - then I don’t know how I can help you.”

Y/N moved against me, and her hand began to stroke the side of my arm. 

“You seem tense babe, are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay, don’t worry and come here.”

I tightened her body against mine and closed my eyes. Skin against skin, our hearts beating in sync, this was what I wanted for the rest of my life. 

“I missed you so much…” I breathed in her hair. “I was used to your warmth and all of sudden, I was left alone in the cold…”

“It’s over, love.” She pushed me just enough for our eyes to meet, her gaze as teary as mine, both crying because I had suffered all these years for nothing. “I’m here, I’m with you, ready to warm you up whenever you want. You’re not alone anymore, Sirius.”

[crystal-heart-saga]

CRYSTAL HEART:

CHAPTER ONE: A Startling Discovery.

DISCLAIMER; I DO NOT OWN MARVEL, IF I DID, HALF OF ENDGAME WOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED.

TW; MENTIONED/REFERENCED/IMPLIED CHILD ABUSE.

Natasha’s POV

The Battle raged around me as I raced across the compound. I had to get inside before HYDRA wiped their Computers.

“I’ve got your six Tash,” Clint’s voice rang in my ear.

“Copy that,” I said, effortlessly taking out a HYDRA agent that had attempted to block my path.

I took a moment to catch my breath, the gun still firing from my shoulder. Suddenly, a barrage of bullets rang out from the other side of the fence. I turned around and saw Cap crouched behind his shield. pinned down by a half dozen HYDRA agents.

I vaulted over the fence and rolled towards the sounds of gunfire. A HYDRA sniper had been hiding on top of the security building. I fired a few rounds into him. He screamed as one of the bullets hit him. His weapon ejected and he crashed to the floor below. I grabbed a piece of pipe, and another HYDRA agent rushed towards me. I smashed him with the pipe, knocking him out cold.

This gave Steve the opening he needed, he leapt to his feet and tossed his shield. taking out three goons in one swoop, then he punched the last one and tossed him into the security fence.

"Go Romanov," He said, turning to me, "We've got this out here, but there's no point if we lose the Data."

I nodded, heading towards the door.

Inside the perimeter of the security building, three HYDRA agents had managed to capture James. Clearly they'd used a trigger word to knock him out.

"What's the plan Ms Romanov?" Spider-Man asked. I glanced to my left where he hanging upside down off a web at my side.

I held up a finger to shush him as I watched what the HYDRA goons were up to. They were working on loading the gasses back into the portable canisters.

"I'll take them out, you get James to safety," I whispered, turning to the boy beside me.

"You got it."

I kicked down the door, startling the agents, One of them tossed a canister at me, I dodged it but It exploded, the blast left a giant hole in the floor.

That was the opening I needed.

using my widow's sting on the agents, I was quickly able to incapacitate them. and as Spidey moved in and got James out, I dropped down through the hole in the floor.

I was inside the Compound.

Walking through, it seemed that all the occupants of the compound were outside getting their butts handed to them by the rest of the team. Reaching the Server room, I pulled a USB drive from my suit pocket and plugged it in.

"Alright JARVIS," I said, "Start the Download."

"Straight away, Agent Romanov," the AI replied.

While I waited, I picked the lock on the filing cabinet and started digging through the paper records. I found the Winter Soldier Files but put them back without looking. That was too Personal. Something else caught my eye, A file marked Kriegerkinder

Kriegerkinder? why did that sound familiar? I opened the file and promptly shut it again, desperately trying to dispel the nausea that had risen from what I'd seen inside. the team needed to know about this.

As the download finished, I grabbed the USB drive and started to head out through a different exit. walking down a dark, foreboding corridor. lined with doors to what seemed like holding cells. suddenly, my foot collided with something soft.

I looked down, it was a teddy bear. A tattered, old, slightly disgusting teddy bear with a missing arm, ear and eye.

Children, there had been children here.

maybe there still were.

I broke opened every door in the corridor, all of the holding cells were empty. the floors were stained with blood, vomit and other body fluids. and the walls had chains much too small for any adult.

Cell after cell, empty, empty, empty. Like HYDRA had gotten them all out when we'd shown up.

and then, as I threw open the door to the last cell, I found a sight I'd never forget.

It was a child! A little girl who couldn't be older than ten huddled in the damp corner of the cell. she had messy platinum blonde hair that was long, unkept and matted with filth. scraps of tattered grey fabric that could barely be called a dress, hung loosely off her far too thin body. Big heterochromatic eyes, Blueish green on the left and deep hazel brown on the right, stared up at me in fear.

"Don't be afraid," I whispered, kneeling down, "I won't hurt you."

The little girl looked at me as if she didn't believe me.

"You are safe now," I told her, "you're okay now, I promise. What's your name?"

"1 2 2 8 1 9 2 2." She replied, almost robotically.

"That's your number, what's your name?" I asked again.

She remained silent and looked at the floor.

"You don't have a name... do you?" I guessed.

She shook her head, Blood-stained pale locks falling in her face.

"Well, I'm Natasha. Natasha Romanov."

The Little girl gasped and recoiled in fear, "You... You're... You're one of them! You're an Avenger!"

"Yes, I am an Avenger. But I'm not going to hurt you. and neither will anybody else. We don`t hurt children."

"So you`re not going to feed me to the Hulk?"

"Why would I do that?" I asked, appalled.

"That's what they said you'd do to us if we ever left."

It didn't take me long to realise why the little girl thought I was that kind of person. HYDRA tells people anything to keep them under their control.

"How many of you are there?" I asked.

The little girl hung her head and chewed her lip, "I... I... I don't know... but... They stick us with needles then we become really sick. A lot of us don't make it."

Bile rose in my throat as I tried not to let my anger truly show. I'd only scare this little one who'd already been through so much.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

The little girl shrugged.

"Would you like to leave here? with me?" I asked, "We can keep you safe. I promise."

The little girl looked away, as if thinking about it. then she turned back to me and nodded meekly.

I offered my hand and she hesitantly took it. Together, we left that dark, damp cell behind.

"You know, I have to call you something," I said, "You really don't know If you have a name?"

The little girl shook her head again, "No. but... but I have dreams occasionally, someone's in them, and they call me Mel."

"Mel, huh? Well, I`ll call you that. Would you like that?"

she nodded.

I held Mel close to my side as we left the Compound and walked across the now-empty battlefield. Evidently, the Avengers had won the day yet again.

Mel Stumbled as we passed through the mangled wire fence and headed for a large group of black Vans.

"M'sorry." Mel said softly.

"Nothing to be sorry for," I replied, "It's alright, just a few more steps."

"Tash!" Clint called out to me. I felt Mel jump and try to make herself smaller. "There you are! Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

"Sorry, got a little... distracted," I replied, gesturing towards Mel.

"S***!, Barnes was right... the orphans... the experiments, just like the twins."

"I think she's the only one left."

"What's your name kid?" Clint asked, kneeling to Mel's height.

"I don't really have one," Mel responded shyly, "but Ms Romanov's been calling me Mel."

"Nice to meet you Mel, I`m Clint Barton, Codename; Hawk-eye." Clint smiled, then he turned back to me, "You should talk to Hill."

"That's a given, here she comes now," I replied.

"Agent Romanoff, did you discover anything?" Hill asked.

"You could say that."

[troop52]

do u !!! have any character theme songs for the troop boys? Like any songs you think really fits them (and why u think it fits)?

THATS A GREAT QUESTION!!

Before I get into it Im going to plug this collaborative Troop Playlist on Spotify, feel free to add onto it!! Continuing with my picks

I think a lot of the songs I associate with The Troop in general are just because I happened to listen to them around the same time I got into the book in the first place (So they could only be tangentially related BUT only if you squint hard) Example: Drunk by The Living Tombstone, cant really tie it into the story but in my mind its linked Some better, more fitting songs under the cut (Side note its LONGGG IM SORRY... Also its all YouTube links because some of these arent on Spotify :'^()

Disclaimer -Like 95% of my choices arent really a "These lyrics match up exactly 1 to 1" but more of an overall "the vibe/general idea its trying to capture lines up" type thing. If that makes sense.

Its Alright by Jack Stauber: Kind of self explanatory, I think its a perfect song for these guys. From "It's alright, I'm here, Everything's alright, Feels weird but calm, I wanna hear It's alright" to the whole sound of it- its all great. Equal parts distressing and sad with an almost eerie calmness to it. Despite it all theyre gonna be alright, right?

The Second Little Piggy by Worthikids: Another one that I think is sort of self explanatory- at least with the chorus. "If my brain turns to mush, If the shit hits the fan, Will you be my friend?" Kind of the falling apart of everything, specifically their relationships, in light of the incident.

Poor George by James Supercave: Another case of "listened to at the same time I read the book" BUT I was actually making a Troop PMV script with that song. I never finished it but maybe Ill revisit it... just for you

Cold Summer by Le Matos ft Computer Magic: I dont even think this takes place in the summer but the VIBES and also it came from Summer of 84, which is another good piece of murder boy media.

Treehouse by Alex G ft Emily Yacina: This is a Eef and Max type of song because they are bffs and thats final. Basic song because Im not creative, but I think its a nice heart to heart theyd have (with Eef doing the talking)

Fifteen Minuets by Nick Krol: On the flipside heres a song that goes with Eef and Maxs friendship fracturing, once again more from Eefs side than Maxs. THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGG

As far as songs for the boys as individuals hmmm thats a good one that I havent thought about as much...

MAX + The Ghosts by The Real Tuesday Weld: That survivors guilt... lyrics arent like a perfect match but I think it gets that sort of hollow feeling across. Hes haunted man... + Final Girl by Electric Youth: Ok its a little funny because har har Final Girl Trope but I mean HE IS ONE. ANd dont look at me its a nice song- "Others were gone, and you kept going on, You know they never really noticed, you were always different, One by one, They're all done, And you're the last one standing" + Going Grazy by Lonesome Wyatt and the Holy Spooks: HONESTLY this could go for all the characters but Im tagging it onto Max because hes the one who has to deal with the aftermath of losing everyone (sorry survivors guilt Max again </3) "Everyone's saying my mind is unsound, 'Cause I always see you when you aren't around" "They're gonna wrap me in a jacket of white, And lock me away in a room without light" is what cements it as a Max song for me

EEF + The Existential Threat by Sparks: Once again starting sad, I link this one specifically to his paranoia about the worms- especially with lines like "Can't they see the existential threat is on its way". Kind of exasperated no one else can see the danger (he thinks) hes in. + Wrecking Ball by Mother Mother: I know I know its basic but I cant help it!!! Eef anger issues arc we are shaking hands me too + Haunted by Laura Les: Eef struggles with people seeing him as "just like his father" and I think we can get some good angst out of this track if we keep that in mind. Especially the back half of the song with lyrics like "Do you think I'm frightening?" and "Mirrors shatter when I'm passing, broken glass and crashing" since he is just a reflection of his dad (to others at least). Also song good.

KENT + Goodbye Mr A by The Hoosiers: Mfw the disillusionment with authority sets in. I think the vibe fits when he had that little epiphany about how adults are fucked- not perfect but it gets the idea across me thinks. + I'm Gonna Win by Rob Cantor: Ties into his need to "win" aka be the best at everything, be in charge, all that jazz! Hell do whatever it takes to be successful, even if it hurts. That was a little emo + Toba the Tura by Forgive Durden ft Chris Conley: Not to be emo again but "They say you're gifted, well I just see a scared kid. They must have flipped it, your skills are latent. O, you snuffed the glow. Replaced it with coals. Threw away the throne... This mess that you've made, it's a six-foot grave. It's a home for your lonesome bones that remain. We'll disappear, but you'll stay here to rot" AND SO ON AND SO FOURTH representing his fall after it was revealed he was sick. He was referred to as "the uncrowned king" and was on top of the world but then POOF that all crumbled and it was made out that he basically deserved what happened to him. It would be fun to make a pmv of him with this song (Simplifying my thoughts a bit because Ive already written a LOT)

NEWT + I Earn My Life by Lemon Demon: Ok a little Kentcore but Im actually having a hard time coming up with songs for Newton so here we are, they can share. Newt existential crisis moment time I guess + Know How by The Crane Wives: POV Newt struggles with going through with the plans he makes to keep everyone safe (stopping Max from touching Kent, going back into the cabin, etc) "I am not brave, I am not brave, I keep my focus on what is safe, You drew a line, made up your mind, And now I'm struggling to realize" And also maybe struggling with his place in the group and as a person in general- all that living through his cousin thing. "I gotta wrap my head around, What my heart is telling me, I've been trying to drown it out, Just because I know what I am, I am supposed to do now, Doesn't mean I know, Doesn't mean I know how" + On The Outside by Oingo Boingo: Idk man. Hes on the outside lookin in!! Loner nerd!! Its ok though, we still love him

SHEL + Bad Blood by Creature Feature: The lyrics speak for themselves: "I can guarantee I will do evil things, The only way that you can stop me now, Is if you put me in the ground, Somewhere I'll never be found" + Frontier Psychologist by The Avalanches: Hinges on the fact that the principal or whoever was like "Your sons a freak" and Shels mom was like "HES PERFECTLY FINE" while Shelley was like dismembering an animal or something + Johnny by American Murder Song: The songs good but theres this ONE LYRIC that sucks so the link provided is an edited version and also a lovely Warriors oc video I think you should all enjoy and support <3 Anyway Shel would be Johnny I could see this song being a scene in the book. Field trip to Shels house and they find his murder garden

If anyone wants more for Im not opposed to making another post :^)

[they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon]

The Muggle Witch

Sirius Black x Reader Fluff

Words: 2297

Warnings: Halloween, shitty friends, a pov change? female pronouns Bit of Slytherin hate, I don’t hate you guys!

A/N: A Halloween fic! It’s not Halloween? Welp better late than never! anyway, hope you enjoy!

______________________________________________________________

-Sirius had insisted that the boys go trick or treating in the muggle town closest to James’s house, he’d only ever heard of it but never had the chance to do it, this would be the first holiday he hasn’t had to stay at Hogwarts or at his old house. That was the main reason the boys agreed to go. And to say Sirius was ecstatic would be an understatement.

It was Friday night, the night before Halloween. After a day of classic marauders shenanigans they started to get their costumes together. It did take them a bit to figure out what they would or could go as, they all agreed that the majority of the magical creatures are a big no, particularly werewolves.

James went as a mummy, Peter went as a pirate. Remus joked about going as himself but ended up going with “Where’s Wally” and Sirius was going as a wizard, just for the irony.

After a night of no sleep from both excitement and Peter’s snoring it was finally Halloween, Sirius couldn’t sit still, it was honestly quite adorable.

They spent the day decorating the house, scaring each other, and Mr Potter got them all pumpkins to carve (Remus thought it was a bad idea to give the marauders sharp objects but he went with it)

And then, the time came, about 9pm they got dressed and ventured to the town, all very excited for different reasons

- James was mostly happy that he got to take his honorary brother trick or treating fo the first time - Sirius was probably the most excited, he looked like a ‘puppy on steroids’ as Remus put it - Remus was just happy it wasn’t a full moon, and he and Peter had a deal that Peter would give Remus all his chocolate for exchange of his candy - And that was all peter was excited for, was free candy

After going around the block getting enough candy to give a giant diabetes, they ran back to the Potter's house and dropped their candy off, James had spotted a small Halloween fair and wanted to check it out.

Wandering around they find a haunted house, and think “hell yes” James and Remus go and get tickets for it while Sirius and Peter wait near the entrance, Peter is to entranced in the house to notice Sirius leave around the corner, he heard yelling and he wanted to check it out

Turning the corner he finds a group of friends, well they don’t look like good friends.

There’s about six of them, one of them, who’s wearing a wizard custom like his, is standing on one side, looking scared and the other five on the other.

“I really don’t wanna go, you guys go in and I’ll wait here” She has her hands crossed over her chest and holding her shoulders

“You such a baby, honestly just go home if you’re not going to have fun with us, it’s Halloween you're meant to be getting scared” The group walk off, leaving her by herself, even from his distance he can see the shimmer of tears forming under her eyes.  ‘I can’t leave her like that’ 

“Hey, you ok there?” he asks gently with a smile She jumps slightly wiping her eyes “Oh yeah I’m ok!” she smiles back looking at the line to go into the house where all her friends are laughing together

“Why’d they leave you alone?” He’s frowning looking at them ‘Bet they’d be slytherins if they weren't muggles’

“Oh, I just didn’t want to go in the house, I’m a bit of a scardy cat, thanks for coming over, I’m just gonna go home. Happy Halloween!” she turns to leave but Sirius catches her arm, making her jump, again.

“Why don’t you come with me and my mates?” He motions his head to the boys, laughing and having fun

“Oh, uh thanks, but it’s ok, I don’t want to intrude on your friends, you don’t even know me. Plus I’m still terrified of this building” The pair of them jump as someone screams inside the house.

Once he’s calmed down he looks down at his hand, the mystery girl had grabbed his hand

“Uh, I’m so sorry!” She snatches her hand “Uh, thanks for talking with me” she gives a weak smile

“Nope, you’re coming with me and my friends, can’t leave a pretty witch alone, you can hold my hand” 

She chuckles at the comment on her costume, even though she still looks hesitant, but Sirius can tell that she’s going to say yes “Plus Imagine your ‘friends’ faces when you come out of the haunted house with two cute guys” he winks

“There’s four of you?”

“Well, I’m not cute, I’m hot, and then there’s Peter” “I-” she sighs shaking her head “I guess it would be fun to see their faces”

“That’a girl! Come on, I’ll introduce you to the boys...uh, wait what’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m Y/n”

*Your Pov*

Sirius lead you over to the other marauders “Guys this is Y/n, Y/n this is James, Remus, Peter and my name is Sirius” The boys give out a chorus of greetings “Lovely Y/n is going to be joining us, as payback to her shitty friends”

“Sure it’s not just cause she’s pretty?” James nudges Sirius, making the other boys laugh “That’s more of a bonus” He winks at you making your cheeks heat up.

“I’ll be right back, gonna get a ticket, you sure it’s ok I come with you?” They all call out yes! At once As you walk of the James, Peter and Remus turn to Sirius  “Sirius, you can’t date her, one she’s a muggle and we go back to school soon and you’ll never see her again” Remus raises his eyebrows “You’ll end up hurting her”

“Well! If you had given me a chance to explain why I invited her, heard her friends yelling at her for not wanting to go into the house and she was ‘bout to cry, if she went to Hogwarts, we’d do the same in a heartbeat, why not make someone feel better for hour?”

Looking at Sirius they could tell he was sincere about that, it wasn’t that she was pretty, it was cause he didn’t want you to feel alone.

Before someone got a chance to say anything, you had come back to the group.

“Ready to go!” James called heading over to the line, the boys all being pumped up made you actually happy that you were going with them, still pretty terrified, but you felt at ease with these guys.

They told you all about their school though strangely worded, they kept staring eachother down when they said some things, like Peter had said “Slughorn took our wands for that one” and all of them jumped on him and Remus hit him on the back of this head, their explanation was something about a inside joke at their school.

The joy of being with them stopped as everyone gave the woman their tickets, she was dressed up as some kind of ghost maybe. Sirius noticed you were hugging yourself again as they went into the introduction room to say the rules, blah blah don’t touch things blah blah.

Sirius whispered in your ear “Want to hold my hand?” he held out his hand. You looked at it for a moment before there was a scream, making you grab it straight away.

“Right this way, and don’t worry they don’t bite” then she muttered just loud enough that we would hear it “too hard”

Going through the house, it was a lot bigger than it looked, probably had a part that wasn’t in the house, just couldn’t see it from the front.

There was some kind of story, you weren't paying that much attention to it, you were too busy trying to to pass out or break Sirius’s hand from holding it. 

There was a section where there was a fake full moon and as you went though a wolf howl, the boys all tensed and Remus’s eye were wide, he snapped his hand to his mouth and left that part as fast as he could.

James going up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering something to him. Remus just nodded and took a second to breathe, Peter was now in front of the group.

Seeming like he was hating life.

After what seemed like days they made it to the end, the whole group sprinted out and stood outside bent over breathing hard before looking at eachother and laughing.

“I may have hated every second of that, but it was pretty fun” You smiled at the boys “Can we go get food?” Peter practically pleaded. “Of course you want food Wormy '' James laughed helping him up.

As the group of new friends made their way to the small food truck, Sirius was still holding your hand. “If you want you can let go of my hand” you chuckled squeezing it

“What if I don’t want to?” He winks making your cheeks heat up again  “Plus, I see a particular group of tossers looking at the most beautiful people in this whole fair holding hands”

Discreetly looking over your shoulder, turns out your friends were watching the five of you walking off to get food together, they all whispered before getting up and coming over to you and Sirius.

“There you are Y/n! We were looking for you!” Before you had the chance to say anything you felt someone lean their arm on your shoulder, it was James.

“Well clearly not, since you all have empty food packets” He smirks “Oh babes, Remus found food, would you like to join us?” He did an obnoxious bow putting his hand out.

“Or you could come sit with us, your friends not some random boys you’ve known for like a hour” 

“Uh, I’d love to join you boys, considering I’ve been your ‘friend’ for a few days since we live in the same apartment, and you only invited me cause your parents forced you.” You raise your eyebrows “Plus, I’m not even going to your school, see you next holidays!” smiling you turned to head over to Remus and Peter. James and Sirius were grinning ear to ear. 

Before going after you Sirius says to the group “You guys remind me of some kids at our school, don’t ya think Prongs?” James picking up on who he’s talking about.

“Ah yes, the ones who bully first years into doing their homework? I see what you mean Padfoot” “Well good day to you, be glad your muggles, or I would have hexed you into the forbidden forest” James winks “Tar Tar!!” Sirius calls as they turn and walk away

“Definitely Slytherins”

“Agreed”

You and the marauders ended up hanging out almost everyday till they had to leave to go back to school.

“Urg it’s the last day till we have to go back to school” Sirius complained as the group sat together in a park “I’m so stressed, I’m going to a new school”

“Our first day was terrifying, the grounds are huge, we still get lost sometimes with how the stairs change- uh have to get changed all the time cause they break” Peter says stress eating some candy “Nice save” Remus mutters rolling his eyes

“Uh guys we gotta go pack, hope to see you again sometime Y/n!” James says hugging you The boys all say varius goodbyes with hugs, as the boys start to walk off, Sirius jogs back to you and hugs you one more time.

“Till we meet again” he smiles holding your hand, you squeeze his hand, acting on impulse you kiss him quick before turning and starting to walk home 

“Till we meet again!”

His cheeks heat up before running after the boys “GUYS! HOLY CRAP! SHE KISSED ME! WOO!” He cheered.

***

The train ride back the boys told Lily about Halloween and all of the things they did.

Entering the great hall for the first feast, Dumbledore makes his first welcomes etc, Sirius isn’t really paying attention, he’s heard in like a million times, but his ears prick up upon hearing Dumbledore say,

“We have a new student starting today, she would have started next year, but plans changed, so, Professor Mcgonagall please bring out the sorting hat, for a second time this year. Everyone give a warm welcome to our new student Y/n Y/ln!”

You walk up to the front, your eyes on the ground, not a big fan of a hall of people you don’t know clapping and staring at you. If you had looked up you would have seen the marauders all wide eyed with dropped jaws.

“You guys already swooning over her? She just walked in!” Lily whisper yells at them, getting shushed by all of them. 

You sit up at the stool and only after a short time the hat yelled “GRYFFINDOR!” the table erupts in the cheers, the boys all standing up, you look up to see who the hell stood up for that. Your eyes instantly go wide and you have a huge smile.

“You're kidding me!” You yell hugging Sirius and Remus who was next to him, sitting beside  Sirius “I can’t believe you guys are wizards! let alone are going to Hogwarts, in my year”

“Of all the things I’ve seen, this is the weirdest thing, and I’ve seen some weird shit” James jokes After a bit of talking and explaining everything Sirius takes your hand and kisses it. 

“We did meet again” “We did”

“Is this the girl?” Lily leans over to James “Yep”

[cricketnationrise]

quarantine reads part 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

76. The Countess Conspiracy by Courtney Milan: book 3 of the brothers sinister romance series. you absolutely DO NOT need to read these in order. i certainly didn’t. also. its a romance novel. there is sex.

77. Joy: And 52 Other Very Short Stories by Erin McGraw: short story collection. some of these are less than a page long. ideal reading for only having like 5 mins.

78. One Good Earl Deserves a Lover by Sarah MacLean: did i get this from the library because of the title? yes. is it a fantastic story? also yes. book 2 in the rules of scoundrels series. romance novel. there is sex.

79. The Invisible Library by Genevieve Cogman: magical library world at the heart of multiple universe has agents that retrieve unique works. featured universe is a sort of victorian england plus elves and werewolves and vampires and dragons and magic and this book is FANTASTIC. still need to get the others because IT IS A SERIES BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUP

80. The Rogue Pirate’s Bride by Shana Galen: book 3 of the sons of the revolution series. look i like romance novels. i especially like that you don’t have to read them in order. its a romance novel. there is sex. also PIRATES and the leads saving each other’s lives.

81. The Queens of Animation: The Untold Story of the Women Who Transformed the World of Disney and Made Cinematic History by Nathalia Holt: non-fiction look at the history of disney animation via the women who worked there. lots of details i didn’t know. chapters are movies rather than years.

82. The Man Who Loved Books Too Much by Allison Hoover Bartlett: bit of a misnomer since the guy is straight up stealing rare books with credit card fraud. he just thinks he’s being gentlemanly by amassing these books. it started off as a feature article and it shows.

83. We’re Here, We’re Here by KM Szpara: tor.com short story, 2 members of a boy band fall in love. management doesn’t like that so starts to control/manipulate the implants they put iN THEIR VOICE BOXES AHHH

84. The Night Soil Salvagers by Gregory Norman Bossert: tor.com short story, cool story telling form with in-world songs/poetry/recipes, very poetic writing

85. The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt: two brothers are hitmen get hired for a job. one of the brothers is really excited, the other starts to contemplate a different life, gold rush era california/western USA, horses, violent, seriously at least one person is killed in every chapter. at one point they burn down a whole lodge. cw: harm to animals, murder, starvation

86. The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin: classic piece of writing about the Black Male experience in the united states

87. The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper by Phaedra Patrick: lonely old man goes on scavenger hunt to find the meanings behind the charms on a bracelet he finds in his dead wife’s closet. travels all around UK and paris and makes friends near and far.

88. The Unlikely Escape of Uriah Heep by HG Parry: some people can read characters out of books. i repeat. CHARACTERS CAN COME OUT OF THEIR BOOKS. theres a whole diagonalley esq space that houses characters that can’t go back. chaos and danger ensue when uriah heep refuses to go back into his book. magic!

89. Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett: #11 in the discworld series, DEATH gets tired of doing all the things and decides to retire.

90. Death and What Comes Next by Terry Pratchett:  discworld short story

91. Love and Other Foreign Words by Erin McCahan: girls life is about to change when her sister is proposed to, very gifted, coming of age, crush on her teacher, endgame is her/her best friend who is a guy and has clearly been pining THE WHOLE TIME

92. Pioneer Girl: The Annotated Autobiography by Laura Ingalls Wilder:  i love the little house books and this was the first non-fictionalized account of her life i’ve read. the introduction by the editor was especially cool/helpful to read, lots of photos and drawings

93. Exhalation by Ted Chiang: this might be my favorite book of all quarantine. and i read a lot of books. a collection of short stories that all fucked me up, but in a good way? title story contains the sentence, “It’s no coincidence that “aspiration” means both hope and the act of breathing.” which like, how dare you sir

94. Wayward Son by Rainbow Rowell: book 2 in the simon snow series, which is a fantasy series created by rowell in her novel Fangirl. She then proceeded to write fanfic of this already fictional series. i’m in love with the meta. 3rd book out in 2021.

95. Salvage the Bones by Jesmyn Ward: set in mississippi before/during/after hurricane katrina hits, follows one family through the eyes of the daughter. tw: sexual assault, dog fighting, harm to dogs, death of dog

96. The Will of the Empress by Tamora Pierce: was still doing my Emelan reread. 4 protags reunite to help out Sandry as she goes to Namorn to deal with her estate and her cousin the empress. whether they will be allowed to leave is another story

97. The King of Attolia by Megan Whalen Turner: book 3 in the queen’s thief series, seriously, go back and read from the beginning. political machinations of the king from a (Mostly) outside POV. the gods are always closer than you think

98. The Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson: a very Spanish vibe fantasy novel. book 1 in a series. chosen one trope. new queen stumbles into the resistance. magic!

99. The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley: first book in a mystery series. a young teen girl is super into chemistry in 1950′s england countryside. someone is murdered in her garden. she tries to figure out what happened because her dad is still shell shocked. cw: kidnapping, harm to children

100. A Big Ship at the Edge of the Universe by Alex White: first in the salvagers trilogy. motley crew turns into found family on a space ship. in this world almost everyone has magic. older female protagonist. queer representation out the wazoo, SPACE. boots just wants to brew her beer and be left alone.

[pogues-never-say-die]

Cringe

Feeling angsty ya’ll so I went hard into it this time. This is still the same version of “Y/N” from my previous stories but you don’t have to read the other’s for this one to make sense! If you want to read them you can read Rome, What Have I Done and Heartlines at these links.

Keeping the playlist theme going so this one is based on the song “Cringe” by Matt Maeson, give it a listen here!

CHARACTERS: JJ Maybank x Reader

WARNINGS: slight smut, a whole mess of cursing, use of safe words, daddy kink if you squint, JJ is going through some shit in this one okay

LENGTH: 3.3k, we’re getting longer guys

POV: JJ Maybank

Cringe

Lover, come over, look what I've done

I've been alone so long, I feel like I'm on the run

Lover, come over, kick up the dust

I've got a secret starting to rust

“Baby please, please just come here,” I’m such a pathetic wimp, begging my girlfriend to come over and take care of me. All because my asshole of a father came at me again. Who the fuck am I?

“JJ, it’s 3 in the morning. I’d have to sneak out. What is going on?”

“Nothing,” lie, such a lie. “I just need you.” That part is true.

Luckily Y/N knows me better than anyone.

“I’ll see you in 15,” she says before hanging up the phone. I try to clean the blood off my knuckles before she gets here but I know it’s a lost cause.

Sitting on the picnic table outside John B’s house I anxiously wait for her to get here. 15 minutes on the dot, I see her Jeep turn into John B’s drive, kicking up a cloud of dirt as it pulls up.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” she says with a smile as she gets out of her car and makes her way to me. Even in a pair of shorts and my oversized shirt and sleep in her eyes, I know how lucky I am everytime I look at her.

“Hi baby,” the second she gets to me I wrap myself around her like a vine. How pathetic do I fucking look? All 6 feet of me wrapped around her with my head shoved far into her chest as she rubs my scalp. I don’t fucking care, I just need her.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”she asks when I finally unbury my head from her chest. I’m sure my black eye is shining under the moonlight because I see her eyes widen before she lightly rubs her thumbs across my face. Her hands are always so fucking soft.

“Just the usual, this time it was because I forgot to put my cereal bowl away.” Reaching up to my hand on top of hers I completely forgot about the current state of my knuckles. Fuck.

“This doesn’t look like the usual,” she whispers as she rubs her hand over the marks on my knuckles. Fuck that hurts.

“I couldn’t take it this time, so I fought back.” I can’t tell if she’s upset but she doesn’t say anything so I just keep talking. “I don’t know what happened, I just lost it. I’m done Y/N. I’m just so done.”

Fucking. Done.

She said I'm looking like a bad man, smooth criminal

She said my spirit doesn't move like it did before

She said that I don't look like me no more, no more

I said, "I'm just tired," she said, "You're just high"

“Can you just call her? Please” From my spot swinging in the hammock and a joint in my hand I pretend I don’t hear her. After I called her last night all she wants to talk about is this fucking therapist she found online. Not happening.

“John James Maybank, I’m talking to you.” She says, storming over to stand above me. Through my sunglasses I can still see the snarl on her face.

“I know you’re talking, I can hear you. Fuck the whole island can hear you,” I’m not high enough for this shit. But as I go to take another hit of my joint she pulls it out of my hand and throws it on the ground before stomping it out.

“You’re different,” What the fuck does that mean?

“I literally haven’t changed anything, I’m just sitting here.”

“If you can’t notice the person you’ve become then that just convinces me even more than you need to see this therapist,” she says, still glaring down at me. “She specializes in people with PTSD, and I think it’s time you go talk to someone.”

“I’m fine baby,” the pet name seems to soften her up a bit. I put my leg down on the ground to make the hammock stop swinging. Sitting up a bit I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her into the hammock with me so she’s straddling me. “I’m just exhausted. It’s been a long week working at the hotel.”

“And you’re a little bit high,” she laughs. God that sound is beautiful.

“Yeah and maybe a little bit high,” I laugh back. She doesn’t bring it up again after that. We just lay there in John B’s backyard, swinging back and forth as the sun goes down. With her head buried in my neck, leaving kisses all over my exposed skin, I’m glad she can’t see my eyes. I’m worried behind the redness she’d see the tears are building.

I’m not okay. I’m so fucking not okay.

And I said, "I saw you in the water"

And I said, "I saw you in the water"

The ocean is cold as shit today but I don’t even care. I just need to feel something. Anything at all. As I paddle into the ocean I can see the clouds swirling above me - there’s a storm brewing.

The waves just keep getting larger and larger the longer I’m out there. Left and right I’m just getting pounded. I can’t seem to catch a good wave to save my fucking life.

By the fourth time I get knocked down I’m just done.

“Fuck! FUCK” I don’t know if throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the God damn ocean helps anything but here I am.

After I look up from my spot on my board I see the most beautiful sight I can imagine, my girl in my hoodie waiting on the beach with a towel.

Paddling in I’m still full of so much rage. I can’t seem to catch a break lately. Daddy problems. Money problems. Mental problems. I’m just so sick of having so many fucking problems.

“Hey handsome,” How the hell did I get a girl like her?

“Hey pretty girl,” putting my board down I take the towel out of her hands before wrapping it around my shoulders and giving her a kiss. She’s got the softest fucking lips. “What brings you out here?”

“Well I got out of work early and saw you weren’t at the Chateau so I knew you had to be out here.”

Slipping my hands under her (my) hoodie I can’t help but pull her as close as possible to me. Burying my head in her neck is the best I’ve felt in weeks.

“I saw that last wave,” she says combing her fingers through my hair. Hmm that feels nice. “Did you manage to at least catch a good one before your little hissy fit?”

“You saw that?” I mumble into the spot right below her ear. “I couldn’t catch shit today.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I can’t help but pull away and laugh at that.

“Yeah hard fucking pass.”

“Don’t do that,” she says with an attitude, here we fucking go. “Don’t shut me out.”

“I don’t want to do this right now”

“Do what?”

“Fight.”

“Who said anything about fighting?” Why’s she gotta sound so sad? Now I feel like a dick. “I just want to know why you’re being so weird lately”

“I’m fine babe, can we just go inside please? I just want to cuddle.”

Yeah that’s all I need, a nice pathetic cuddle with the girlfriend I don’t deserve in the house that’s not even mine.

Lover, come hold me, head's on the fritz

Gaudy intoxicated feelings comfortably mixed

Lover, come hold me, could you forget?

I've got a secret, digging a debt

From across the Boneyard I can see her talking to some of her Kook friends. It’s a large crowd but I could spot her anywhere, especially when she’s wearing that dress. The one that hugs her curves perfect in every way and has a cut all the way up her thigh. God my girl is fucking gorgeous. I don’t deserve her. I’m a fuck up, why is she with me?

She must have felt me looking at her because before I know it she’s walking over to me, grabbing two Corona’s out of the cooler on her way.

“Hi handsome,” she says when she reaches me. Handing me the beer she straddles me as I sit on the log near the fire, not caring that it makes her dress ride up, exposing more of her beautiful tanned legs. Jesus christ she’s hot.

“Hi pretty girl,” I respond, wrapping my arms around her to pull her even closer as her legs wrap around my waist. This is the most physical contact we’ve had in a week. I’ve been avoiding her, I just haven’t been in the mood. Now I sure as shit am.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours?” How long have we just been sitting in silence? I completely zoned out. I can’t tell her what’s going on because even I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the killer beating my Dad gave me the other night but my head is fucking swimming.

“I’m just thinking about how hot you look in that dress and how much I want to fuck you,” she hates when I lie but technically I’m not. She does look fucking amazing tonight. With that she leans down and puts her lips against my ear and for a split second I forget what I’m being so angsty about in the first place.

“Why are you thinking about it and not doing it?” Holy shit now she’s sucking on my ear. I’m fucking done for.

With that I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder, ignoring the stares from everybody at the party and the cheers from my friends as John B yells “Get it”.

Fuck yeah she’s going to get it. She’s going to get it good.

It’s a short drive back to her place with her hand dangerously close to my dick the whole time. When we make it to her house I’m very grateful no one else is home because the moment we get into her bedroom I slam her up against the door.

“What are the rules baby girl?” Good God have her breasts always been this fucking perfect. I can’t help but manhandle them. She’s going to have marks tomorrow but I don’t know if I care.

“Do we need the rules tonight?” She asks with a smirk. Before she can say anything else sarcastic I wrap my hand around her throat and apply pressure, not enough to cut off her airway but enough for her to know who the fuck is in charge.

“Yeah baby girl we do, because you’re about to get fucked hard. Daddy needs this.” I say before moving my hand up to slip my thumb in her mouth. She sucks on it so hard it makes me moan.

“#1.) Don’t speak unless given permission. #2.) Don’t cum until told to. #3.) Say the safeword if it gets too much”.

“Good girl”. She’s always such a good girl for me. Way too good for me. She knows it, I know it. No, JJ, don’t think about that right now. Just think about how good her pussy is going to feel. Yeah, just think about that.

Sweating all your sins out

Putting all your thoughts back together

Oh, we just don't blend now

All of my attempts seem to weather

“Tsunami”, I’m so far deep into my own thoughts that the first time she says it I don’t even register it.

“Jay! Tsunami, tsunami, tsunami” Fuck I heard it that time. I pull out of her immediately but as I’m still hovering over her I look down and see tears running down her face. She’s crying? She safeworded and she’s crying?

“Baby…” I reach out to touch her face and she cringes away from me, rolling over to the other side of her bed and sitting up on the edge, staring at the wall and refusing to look at me. When I go to touch her shoulder she moves away from me again, wrapping the comforter tight around her naked body like a cocoon.

What the fuck did I do?

“Y/N, please talk to me. Please. What happened? What did I do? Did I hurt you?” My hands are starting to shake. I couldn’t have hurt her, I’m not him. I’m not him. I would never. I’m not like him.

“You didn’t physically hurt me,” she says, still facing the wall. “It just got too...cold”.

“Okay?” She used the safeword for the first time ever because she was...cold? “I mean we can turn the temperature up in here baby but I’m already sweating.”

“No JJ,” she snaps, turning around to stare me down, tears still swimming in her eyes. “You were cold. It felt like you were just taking something out on me. You didn’t kiss me, you didn’t even look at me. What the hell was that JJ?”

“Don’t be dramatic Y/N,” What the fuck does she mean? “That was sex, we’ve had sex before you should be familiar with the concept”

“That wasn’t sex, that was retribution.”

“Retribution for what?”

“I don’t know JJ, you tell me.”

“Whatever, let’s go to bed,” I’m done with this conversation. She doesn’t even know what she’s talking about. As I shuffle under her sheet I notice she doesn’t move from her spot sitting in bed. “Y/N, get in bed.”

“I want you to leave,” she says, her voice a lot stronger now.

“Are you fucking joking?” This is bullshit.

“I don’t feel comfortable with you here anymore, you need to leave.” She’s not even crying anymore, she’s just looking at me like she’s staring right through me.

“Fine, whatever, who the fuck cares,” I get up and pull my clothes on, not even getting dressed quietly. I’m over it, I just need to get out of here. As I push open her first floor window to climb out I turn around to see she’s still just looking at me - cold as stone.

“Why don’t you just give me a call when you stop being so fucking dramatic?” I say as I climb out, her audible sob sinking deep into my core as I slam the window shut.

What the fuck are you doing JJ? As I walk away from her house, I turn around to see the lamp in her bedroom turn off, shrouding the whole evening in darkness.

Everything is just so fucking dark.

Oh, I make you cringe now

Don't I make you cringe?

It’s been 4 days since that night. 4 days of this stalemate. She hasn’t called or texted, neither have I. As I walk into the Wreck I see her sitting at a table with the other Pogues, fuck I didn’t think she’d actually show up.

I go to turn around but Pope’s obnoxious ass stops me before I can.

“JJ, over here” he says waving me over. Well here we fucking go.

Y/N is sitting at the end of the table, two open seats on each side of her. Instead of taking one of them I pull up a chair to the other end of the table, keeping my distance. I can tell the Pogues are confused.

“I can move down so you guys can sit together,” John B says starting to stand up but I grab him by the arm to stop him.

“It’s fine,” I say gruffly. She doesn’t even look at me, just keeps stirring her milkshake. Well this fucking sucks.

“Okay what is happening?” Of course Kie has to say something.

“Why don’t you ask her?” I tell her, pointing to my angsty girlfriend across the table - that made her look up.

“You really want to get into this right now?” She says with a snarl. I’m not one to back down.

“Well you won’t talk to me so why not?”

“You told me to call you when I stopped being dramatic,” she says with fire in her eyes.

“So?”

“And I’m not done being dramatic yet.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Sarah asks from her spot across from John B.

“She can tell you,” I say, picking at my bracelets on my wrist. I’m so fucking over this conversation.

“Fine,” Y/N says, throwing her hands up. “Let’s do this then. Right here, right now. Your boy JJ over there decided to take his bullshit out on me and fuck me like he hates me and then didn’t even give a shit when I had to use our safeword. That’s my problem”

I don’t even have to look up to know all of the Pogues are looking at me like they want to kill me. I also don’t have to look up to watch her leave, I can hear her push her chair out and go out the back door of the Wreck to the deck.

“Go,” John B finally breaks the silence, standing up from his chair to pull me up.

“Go where?”

“After her,” He says, pushing me towards the back. “If you don’t go right now you’re going to lose her forever”.

The second I step out onto the deck my whole body just caves in. My beautiful girl is sitting on the steps leading down to the beach just sobbing. The sound of her short and quick breaths is all I can hear.

As soon as I sit down next to her she cringes away from me again, making herself as small as fucking possible.

“I don’t know what’s wrong me,” I finally say, breaking the silence while staring out at the ocean. “Something is different. I’m not okay Y/N, I’m not okay. Everything hurts. My body, my head, my fucking soul. Everything just fucking hurts. And I am so sorry that I took that out on you. I promise I really am”.

“I’ve never been scared of you in my life JJ. I’ve seen you beat up multiple guys, I’ve even seen you hold a gun to someone’s head. And I have never been scared of you. But that night, you scared me. It was like you weren’t even in that room with me. You were somewhere else and the version of you that was in that bed didn’t care about me.”

“Hey,” I say, grabbing her chin to turn her towards me. “I will always care about you. Every piece of me will always love you. I am so sorry I left you there after you had to use the safeword. That’s not okay, that’s not what our deal was. I should’ve been better and it will never happen again. I will never hurt you again.”

“Then I need you to prove it, I need you to get some fucking help.”

“I don’t need help, I have you.”

“You won’t have me anymore if you don’t get yourself in check” she says with tears running down her face. I’m pretty sure my heart just lept out of my fucking chest.

“Are you giving me an ultimatum?” I whisper, still refusing to move my hand from her face.

“No, JJ, I’m just telling you the truth and giving you a choice,” she whispers back before leaning forward to also grab my face. “I love you more than anything in this world. But I refuse to be treated the way I have been the past few weeks. So you’re either going to speak to a professional like we talked about or I’m going to leave. I’m not going to sit around and watch you destroy yourself.”

When I put my lips on hers I can feel her sigh into my mouth. With just a quick kiss I pull away.

“I’ll call that chick first thing tomorrow morning,” I say, moving my hand to grab the back of her neck and pull our foreheads together.

“Really?” My eyes are closed but I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Really baby. I’d do anything for you.”

TAGLIST: @tangledinsparkles​ @iamaunicorn4704

[gagmebucky]

thank you to taylor @blessedbucky​, mia @theamericanfalcon, liz @marvelous-mr-stark, raechel, shayla, lauren, courtney, em and tina for allowing me to write this content as well as my beta reader kat @angel-fire​! love you all!

read the full synopsis and excerpt // read chapters snippets here.

o. in which you accidentally send your nudes to your brothers’ best friend. (includes reader’s pov, bucky’s pov, mentions of sexting.)

—

Initially, taking the photos—exposing yourself in such an intimate state to another—you were hesitant. It wasn’t the possible repercussions, i.e. revenge porn, that gave you pause but more-so an insecurity in your own body. Having never done something like this before, you briefly dithered between whether you should or not. 

Ultimately, however, you do. The guy had spent money on you, went through the trouble of finding something you’d like and shipped it discreetly. And when you slip the racy number on, your insecurities wash away and leave excitement in its wake. Everything about it you love, and it has you preening in a solo photo shoot you’re eager to show off. 

After a good time of selfie shutters bulking your phone’s storage—positions of you scantily-clad standing, sitting, a cross of both—you finally relent. There’s too many pictures to pick from, but you do. Three poses that optimize the best aspects of the outfit and that you think he’ll like the best have you buzzing in anticipation of his reaction. 

Giddy, you tap them directly on the album app and click the share button; you input the letter B in the ‘To:’ slot. Since there’s only two contact names under that letter, his name shows up immediately, the first with the nickname Bucky beneath it. You gloss over that and in quick succession, you quickly hit the contact and press send. 

For a split second, you’re proud: you’ve taken this e-relationship to the next level like he wanted, and he’ll be happy with you. Then it hits you like a brick through glass. A replay of your actions travel to your brain, and you belatedly realize what your eyes saw—your thumb smearing too low on the screen, so instead of Brock as the recipient, it’s Bucky. 

“No, no, no!” you whisper as your heart hurtles like a jackhammer stuck in your rib cage. 

A part of you insists it’s your paranoia playing tricks on you, and that’s a valid rationale because this whole thing does worry you about getting caught. Except, upon checking its legitimacy, you confirm what you accidentally did. There’s no mistaking it, now, because with your brightness turned up full, your partially nude figure stares you in the face underneath of a thread between you and your brothers’ best friend. 

James Bucky Barnes—the man who’s nicknamed you bambi because the numerous times he’s seen you face-plant over your own footing, the twenty-four year old who still ruffles your hair when he greets you, the soon-to-be business owner who dates certified models—has a trio of your attempts to be seductive; bottom lined with text you hope comes off likewise seductive.

Mortification swallows you. Your skin burns hotter and hotter by the second. Sure, you’ve embarrassed yourself before: you fall a lot, and you’re awkward conversationalist. But never something of this magnitude, not something that makes you seem so desperate and pathetic. 

You can imagine him opening the messages. He’d immediately assume, understandably, it’s a come-on; a girl trying to be a woman’s failed goal to enthrall a man like him, his best friend’s kid sister’s pitiful effort to be anything other than just that. As if you could ever measure up to the types of women he dates. 

And, yes, there’s been a time where you had a crush on him. But it’s not your fault when he looks like how he does, a rugged example of masculine sex appeal, and treating you the way he does, teasing but with a twist of kindness, and the fact that he’s the only non-blood related man allowed near you. 

But that time has passed. Even then, you knew the one-sided attraction was delusional to have. You were—still are—so sure about it that you never even dared to fantasize about him and the rumors that used to trek behind him about his sexual escapades. There’s no hidden desire to be with him, and that worsens it because it’s not like you’d feel any relief in knowing his reaction. You don’t care about his reaction in the first place!

Now, no matter how much you will insist it’s an accident, there will always be a dubiousness about it. With how close your families are, things are going to be tense. Because there’s no forgetting he’s viewed you like that, and there’s photo evidence of it. 

It hits you then. The extremity of your fuckup douses you in ice, and your muscles freeze because you register that since he knows about your family borderline patriarchal values concerning you, he has to tell them you’re taking nudes, and it will be over for you. 

It has taken you twenty years of your life to finally venture outside what your family has allowed, to sate your curiosity of what exactly your fathers and older siblings have kept so strictly from you: sex and all the goodness it entails. 

It has taken you an additional six months to explore in-depth and build the courage to start something tangible, to wander the depraved side of the internet where strangers did things to each other that made you want to do things with someone of your own: stirring foreign but oh-so amazing feelings in your nether regions. 

For twenty-six weeks you carefully treaded across in order to ensure your family had no clue what you’re doing, clearing your web history and using incognito mode, all your accounts anonymous, keeping your notifications on silent in case anyone becomes suspicious of who’s continuously contacting you. 

One hundred and eighty-two days later—in the middle of which you started your sex-based communication—of preparing to lose your virginity, your family will find out what you’ve been up to, and your life will be hell. 

Everything has been going so perfectly. You found a guy enough distance away he isn't affected by your family’s influence, middle-aged so he’s experience and doesn’t mind handling a virgin, and is willing to drive an hour to meet you at a specified hotel when the time comes.  

All that hard work down the drain. 

You toss your phone and jump to your feet. Panicked, your bare feet pad back and forth on your rug-covered wood floors. Your teeth gnaw at your thumbnail as different scenarios of how everything will transpire flit through your head. Each one is more terrible than the last, and your anxiety heightens. 

Somewhere in your disquietude, it occurs to you. Your brothers are downstairs and so is Bucky, but it’s ten o’clock at night, and that means they’re gaming. That particular activity coined a rule that all players have to stow their phones in the guest room. The specifics are blurry but it was something about Bucky interrupting the session due to excessive texts. 

It’s an opportunity. A chance that you can creep downstairs, swipe his phone and delete your mistake—hell, you’ll break his phone if you need to—before he’s any the wiser. 

“And—” Bucky Barnes drawls out the vowel as the rough-textured ball hurls through the air and swishes sharply into the hoop. “—nothin’ but net.” He relaxes from the perfected basketball follow-through stance, hands dropping to his sides, while he regards his old friend with a cocky smile. “Beat that, Rogers.” 

Steve snorts and catches the ball when it bounces onto the concrete. Palming it in one hand, he dribbles it twice and trades positions so instead of being stationed next to the hoop, he’s descended to the driveway curb where the established three-pointer line is. 

“You still got it, Barnes,” the blond admits, loosening his shoulders and spreading his footing to be a width apart. His right hand balances the ball from below, elbow tucked underneath, while the left splays against the side as his knees bend, and he springs up. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he releases the orange sphere at the top of his jump. It catapults in a flawless arc and drops through criss-crossed netting with a similar swish. His lips curve with satisfaction as he adds, “But, so do I.”

Bucky laughs and seizes the ball as it falls free. “Callum and Henry have no idea they’re going to get obliterated,” he says, coming to slap his palm in an affable embrace. “Fair warning, they’re still as sore losers as they were five years ago so be prepared for that.” 

Steve Rogers chuckles. The former fourth to their high school cliquè, he’s aware of just how bad sports they are. 

After graduation, he left out-of-state to pursue a degree in technological engineering, which he acquired last month in May, prompting his return back to New York. Between the four of them, Bucky and Steve are the level headed ones so he’s glad to have the support to handle the wild children his childhood best friends are. 

“Speaking of,” Steve starts, dirty blond eyebrows knitting as he glances around the neighborhood’s cul-de-sac. “Where are they? I thought Henry was supposed to be waking up Callum? If we aren’t starting yet, then can I get my phone back?” 

Bucky clicks his teeth. “Yeah. They’re probably stuffing their faces right now. Their sister went grocery shopping and got a cake so. . .” He waves his hand in gesture before continuing in vehement passion on the second point, “The whole phone thing is bullshit, though. I miss a few winning shots ‘cause I was busy with some pretty little thing texting me, and now there’s a ‘no technology rule’.” He scoffs and folds his arms. 

Now that he thinks about it, he could totally have his phone right now. And he’s more interested in having it than usual. There’s this girl he’s been seeing frequently at local parties—six feet tall with gorgeous brown skin, always done up in intricate eye makeup, silver tongued (he’s very interested in her tongue) when she speaks—and he’s finally gotten her number. She could be texting him, and he doesn’t even know it! 

“You know, yeah, we should get our phones back if those assholes want to take all day,” Bucky decides, agreeing with steps toward the closed storm door, but opened front door until he hears the inquiry:

“How is Y/N, anyway?” Steve’s voice is genuinely and harmlessly curious behind him, and he stops in his tracks because Bucky remembers the poorly hid crush he harbored for you. “I saw her instagram the other day, and she must be quite the heartbreaker.” 

Spinning around to face him, Bucky lifts a brow. “Huh?” Then he processes the implication that you’re out dating and such. The mere prospect has him surprising laughter. 

With their dad and his girlfriend on a tour of the world, the three of them are the only ones in the household. Given you’re the baby of your siblings, despite being an independent twenty-year-old, your older brothers have taken it upon themselves to ensure you focus solely on school work. Callum and Henry know exactly how to threaten their message across that you are not to be bothered, and anyone who tries will end up battered and bruised. 

He shakes his head. “Nah. She’s not with anyone, hasn’t been ever,” he tells him. “If you thought Callum and Henry were overprotective back then, you should see them now.” 

Gunmetal blue eyes blink surprised at him, and there’s a faint battle between delight and disappointment. “Really?” He shoves his hands in his sweats and falters somewhat. “It’s gotta be hard considering the way she has grown up,” he says but Bucky’s face scrunches in confusion. “You can’t tell me you don’t see how cute she is.” Before he can respond, Steve adds, “Obviously I wouldn’t ever see or be with her in that way—I wouldn’t betray Callum or Henry like that—but objectively, you can admit she’s gorgeous, right?” 

Bucky has to take a moment and genuinely consider it—consider you—because he hasn’t before. (Other than noticing the genetic similarities to Callum, who shares your eye and hair color but is a shade lighter than you, and Henry, who shares your complexion and eye color, but his hair is darker than yours.)

There’s no denying your looks are better than most: the structure of your face works beautifully, dazzling eyes framed by your lashes and occasionally accentuated by mascara, lips usually adorned in gloss or anything that keeps them hydrated which could be described as alluring, and your hair is almost always done, sometimes switched up in style. But there’s an inherent innocence there, a sweet and clumsy awkwardness, and maybe because he’s watched you grow up, four years your senior, but it just doesn’t do it for him. 

You’re his best friends’ baby sister, for God’s sake. He’d never at you like that in the first place. Especially not when he’s been aware, in the past, you harbored a schoolgirl crush on him. It was painfully obvious, to your chagrin, but he found it adorable—flattering but unsurprising considering girls flock to him like seagulls to boardwalk french fries. 

Currently, he’s sure you know he won’t ever pick you—under principle, under the lack of attraction. Other than pleasant smiles and occasional small talk mixed with teasing, you don’t gaze at him with starry eyes anymore, at least it’s waned significantly as you matured. 

Back to the question: “Uh, no, not really. Even if Callum and Henry didn’t care, I don’t think I’d be attracted to her,” he answers truthfully. Your purity doesn’t provoke his sexual attraction although it does invoke a duty of protectiveness. “She just isn’t my type.” 

Steve arches a brow, a surprised playfulness in his expression. “Oh? Then what is your type, then?” he asks, nudging him with his elbow. ‘Cause from what I remember you’re up for anyone and everyone.”

“That makes me sound like a whore,” he feigns offense but digresses into a fit of chuckles as he thinks back to all his various sex-capades and Steve flashes him a look that says aren’t you? “Yeah.” He nods with a prideful chortle. “But I’m into more frisky girls, y’know? Ones who’ve been everywhere and done everything. They’re brass and loud and just do whatever the fuck they want. I like to be one of those things.” 

Behind him, his best friend, Callum’s orotund voice rings out between the pressurized shh of the storm door, “Buck’s into slutty girls, Steve.”

He cringes at the diction. “Don’t call ‘em slutty. Sounds degrading when you guys say it like that.” Most of the time, he agrees with him—and his brother—but when it comes to women, there’s usually a dissent and a need for correction. “But yeah. I prefer girls with experience,” he declares strongly. “They don’t get attached like girls with... less experience do.”

Callum rolls his eyes, bounding down the porch stairs to the recently pressure-washed driveway, and he plucks the basketball out of his hands. “Here we go again. Bucky and his ‘I hate virgin’s’ campaign,” he mocks, shaking his head. “Doesn’t make any sense to me ‘cause everyone knows virgins are the tightest.”

This time, Bucky is the one to roll his eyes. “Well, that doesn’t make any sense considering tightness isn’t dependent upon whether it’s their first time ‘cause, y’know, vaginas stretch, you morons.” Sometimes he has no clue how Callum passed sex education (then he remembers that he bribed the health teacher). “Meaning a girl can have sex, then after a period of time, her virgin ‘tightness’ eventually returns. The only reason virgins may seem tighter is because they’re usually nervous.” 

The look on Callum’s face says that what he just said went right over his head. “Whatever.” He shrugs and starts dribbling the ball half-heartedly. “I just know the woman I end up with better be a virgin.” 

“Right!” Henry’s likewise orotund voice, a pitch higher, speaks after he pushes through the glass door. He presses to the court-slash-driveway, wiping icing off his mouth. “That’s marriage material. I’m not fucking around in a relationship with no woman that’s been fucked already, y’know?” 

Bucky’s eye twitches, jaw locking for a millisecond. “But you guys aren’t even virgins yourself,” he points out their hypocrisy. When they look at him to rebuttal, he automatically knows it’s going to run his blood pressure up and it’s not worth it. “You know, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You guys have fun with your conversation.” 

Swiftly, he whirls around and heads for inside. The last thing he hears is Steve’s ambivalent, “I get the appeal of virgins. But you know, I don’t think it really matters. I think it just matters if you’re into them, and if they’re into you. I wouldn’t care either way but. . .” 

The air conditioned air greets him coldly, and he revels in it. The June sun is killer, though perfect weather for playing a game outside, and the chill dries the sweat beaded on his forehead. He pads down the foyer, turns the corner to the bathroom and enters to take a much needed leak. 

Bucky has so much brotherly love for your brothers: neighbors since being in diapers, his mother the female figure in their life, and becoming and remaining best friends for over twenty years. There’s only one thing that grates his nerves when it comes to them and that’s their view of women is somewhat skewed. Sometimes—most of the time—went the topic comes up, he’s always one second away from throttling them. 

Hopefully after he pisses, they’ll be talking about something else, and finally they all can play basketball. It. 

Flushing the toilet, he goes onto wash his hands. He lathers up in orange antibacterial soap and rinses the suds off with hot water. There isn’t a towel, at least not a clean one, so instead he just lets the remaining droplets drip onto the floor. 

Emerging from the bathroom, James pauses and absentmindedly wipes his hands dry on his mesh-polyester shorts. His attention automatically draws to the guest room’s closed door adjacent to his position. A decision strikes him, and he steps forward and casts a curious glance down the corner. 

When boisterous and distracted laughter filters through the front door and down the empty corridor, it springs him into action. He figures there’s no harm in checking his phone while he’s here. He’d been especially resistant to giving it away because he’s engaged in a particularly stimulating conversation with a particularly titillating woman—popular in her own right, he can’t afford to miss his shot with her. 

His fingers turn the knob, and he shoulders through. The furniture is decorated and accented in yellow and white, condition otherwise pristine, save for the phones littered across the king-sized poster bed’s fluffy duvet. He strides across gleaming light oak floors and hones in on the only golden-colored, rubbed encased titanium. 

As he grips it, long digits curling around the back, pinkie supporting the bottom, thumb tapping the screen to life, he can hear the dwindling of high-spirited jesting through the en-suite’s rectangular horizontal slider window; a wondering of where he’s gone has him speeding up. 

Although he’d been gone for under an hour, his screen is bright with various notifications, social media accounts and text messages. He ignores the former and searches for the latter, specifically the contact, Val 😛💦. Scrolling quickly, he comes to a stop but not because of his original intent. 

His head cocks, and he knits his brows when he sees your name instead; formally nicknamed, bambi, due to your penchant for clumsiness and general fragility. You don’t text him—except for that one time you needed to be picked up from the library—and considering you know he’s just outside, his baffled curiosity is further spurred. 

With a sideways swipe of his thumb, your thread enlarges on the high-definition display. He isn’t sure what he expected, but this? Oh, this, definitely is not it. His eyes widen as the content loads, and reveals you, in all your half-naked glory. 

“Shit,” he breathes out raggedly, blinking multiple times because he has to be seeing things. But, nope, it’s still you—looking like that, wearing that. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your brothers are beginning to call his name, demanding his attendance, and he froze in shock, unable to tear his stare away from the girl who’s tripped over her own feet more times than he can count; the wallflower who spends all her time studying in her room; the forbidden fruit who’s innocent has always stirred a vigilant feeling inside him—now stirring something hard between his thighs because there you are. 

Like always, your hair is done prettily, wispy-lashed eyes big and inviting, a saucy pout to your glossed lips. Your flawless complexion seems to glow in the reflection of the mirror, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the warm lighting, or if it’s the confidence you exude in your faux-innocent expression from where something so sinfully sexy. 

Three photos, and every single one is like a punch in the gut; displaying your usually hoodie-hidden figure in its bare, exquisite form. The skimpy white two-piece caresses your breasts in a lace halter top, leaving a teasing amount of cleavage. Your navel exposed, he becomes aware of how soft your skin would be. Moving lower, your untouched flower is wrapped in a thin thong with a bow on the center of the waistband. 

A million things flit through his head; a million disgusting things he never thought he’d think about you. 

The main one is every sort of attraction these snapshots arouse. A laser slices down his center and sears him to the core. The multiple poses calls every hungry part of him to attention, the curve of your breasts, the contours of your hips and the jut of your ass. And he shoves to the darkest recess in his mind because that’s just an innate reaction to lingerie. (Right? Right.)

He combats your images with that of Val: knows-what-she’s-doing and equally promiscuous as him Val. The anthropology major who downs beers within seconds and tongue kisses the first person she sees afterwards. 

The next is the one he focuses on, that you would take these and send them to him—as if he’d betray your brothers like that. Second-hand embarrassment strikes him because he knows if you’ll send something as risky as this, he’ll have to formally reject you and break your unreciprocated pining heart. 

He grimaces at the thought. This is why he doesn’t do virgins and the less experienced in general. The inherent strings are a killer, and he resents the drama; and it’d be ten times worse with you because of the added complications of your siblings. 

In fact, he hears something beyond him, coming down the hallway, and it’s probably them, but he can’t stop rereading your text accompanying the photos, partially imagining how it’d sound in your delicate voice: 

bambi (4:21PM): is this as pretty as you imagined? did i do good? just tell me what you want, and ill do it. i want you. soon, please - and yes, ill beg. i promise itll sound even better in person. 

[read it in its entirety on my patreon - one time fee of $5 to access!]

[jeromesxreader16]

Such A Joker (43)

Part 42 Here!!!

~o0o~

Jerome POV:

I open my eyes seeing nothing but cemented walls entrapping me. I run my hands along the towering stockades laughing. "Oh, you are incorrigible, but then again, you always were. Oh, wait. Or was that me? Sometimes I get so confused, I... I can't remember."

I look up at the camera and smile widely. "You didn't have to run away like that. I would never hurt you... Xander. I love you. I just know you'd be a good uncle to my future giggling phycos. Can't wait to see ya! You'll get to meet my doll! She's a sweetie, but be careful... She's one hell of a wild card. Did you think about me? I know that you did." I giggle and crawl up close to the camera giggling. "Oh, I'm gonna squeeze you until you pop!"

Jeremiah POV:

"Oh, I'm gonna squeeze you until you pop!" I shiver as Jerome chuckles evilly on the screen. I pour another glass of scotch and sigh. "Your sweetie. Your doll, huh?" I hum watching him entertain himself.

"Let me tell you a little about her, brother." I huff plopping in my seat. "She's the most breathtaking angel I've ever seen. Psychotic and beautiful. If she knew I was here, boy, she'd get really mad. Haven't been home to please the lady, you know how that is." He giggles making me clench my fist.

Does he know? Does he have the slightest clue I've cured (y/n), she's sane, and in my protection?

"Jer?" Her small voice echo's from the cemented halls. I turn off the monitors just in time as she walks into the office. She wasn't supposed to wake for 4 more hours. She was supposed to stay asleep until the job was done.

I smile seeing her half-lidded eyes, baggy shirt, and messy hair. "Come here, love." (Y/n) smiles grabbing my hand and sitting upon my lap.

"You're drinking?" She asks cuddling into my frame. I sigh looking at my drink. "I am." "Why? Are you stressed?" I brush her hair back kissing her head. "Jerome went to visit my office today. Killed a lot of my employees." She gazes down at me with sad eyes. "It's not your fault, Jer." I nod understanding.

"How was your nap?"

(Y/n) lifts her head and kisses my cheek. "I had a dream about you." "Yeah? Was I nominated engineer of the year?" "No. We got married, had a beautiful boy with red hair. He was extremely smart." My heart skips as a smile grows on my face. "You dreamt of that? With me?" "Is that a shocker?"

I cup her cheek in my hand and smile. "I just never predicted I would be as lucky to have you in my life." She leans up kissing me. "Well, Jeremiah Valeska, I'm here to stay." I chuckle basking at this moment.

"Sir, you have visitors pulling into the property range." (Y/n) huffs looking into my eyes. "You're always so busy." I brush her hair behind her ear smiling. "It looks like your father has come to visit," I say looking over to the screen from the outside camera. She gasps watching as the car pulls up and two men exit.

Jim POV:

I bang on the metal door sighing. "Have you heard from her anymore?" Harvey asks next to me. "She called telling me she was with her boyfriend." "And she's safe." I shrug fighting the thoughts of danger in my head. "She said she was." Harvey shrugs smiling. "Alright Partner. I just know she's like you. Reckless."

The door opens and a young blond stands to look at us. I flash my badge, "James Gordon here to see Xander Wilde."

~

She leads us down many long hallways full cemented. "So this whole joint's underground?" "Mr. Wilde values his privacy." "How long has he lived here?" "He finished construction six years ago."

She walks up to a door inserting a code. "Echo. 496."

"Welcome, Ms. Ecco." A robotic voice sounds out opening the door. "He'll see you now."

Harvey and I walk in seeing a man with his back turned. "Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Wilde." "I expected you might come, Captain." He turns around and my blood runs cold as the face of insanity looks into my eyes.

Harvey and I pull our guns out aiming it at Jerome.

"My God. There's two of them." Harvey gasps looking over the Valeska brother.

"Dad! Stop!" I look behind me and see my daughter. "(Y/n). What are you doing here? You told me you were with your-" My eyes avert from (y/n) and land on Xander. "Boyfriend."

Xander lets his lips slip into a tiny smile as he nervously looks at the gun. "May I put my hands down now, gentlemen?" I look over at (Y/n) confused. "Are you kidding me? Put your gun down!"

Harvey and I lower our guns as I stare at my daughter as she walks over and makes sure Xander is okay. "Apologies, Mr. Wilde.

You took us by surprise." He nods and smiles at my daughter. "That's understandable. It's happened before."

"You can call me Jeremiah. That's the name my mother gave me. You solved her murder, Captain Gordon. I owe you a debt of gratitude for that and for putting Jerome in Arkham, where he belongs." (Y/n) holds his hand in comfort as he explains. She's not fazed by him talking about what Jerome did. Has she finally let go and found security?

"He never mentioned you before."

"No, I suppose he wouldn't have. From the letters my mother sent me, he never spoke of me after I left."

"Left where?"

"The circus. They hid me away to protect me from him. See, we were always different, Jerome and I. From an early age, I showed a proficiency for maths and design, and Jerome, mainly the mutilation of alley cats. On my tenth birthday, he held a cake knife to my throat. A few weeks later, he lit my bed on fire. It was like living in a nightmare. I'm grateful he was never able to hurt (y/n). My mother knew eventually one day he would succeed, so one night, my uncle came to my room while Jerome slept, and told me that he was taking me away. I had no idea where, but I kissed my mother good-bye, told her I loved her, and I never saw her again."

"He took you to St. Ignatius."

"Got a new name, a new life. And I was finally able to live without fear. But in my heart, I knew one day Jerome would come for me."

"Well, that day is today, pops," Harvey said walking closer.

"What do you mean, Harv?" (Y/n) asks looping her arm with Jerimiah.

I stand closer, explaining. "We have reason to believe Jerome knows where you are. (Y/n), he's already been by your apartment, and now with you here you're in even more danger. We need to move you both to a safe location until we can apprehend him."

Jeremiah shakes his head holding my daughter close. "That won't be necessary, gentlemen. I've spent the bulk of my life preparing for this eventuality. I am the safest here in my home. I can keep (y/n) safer than any secretive location in Gotham." (Y/n) nods looking at us. "He's right, dad. I feel safer here with Jeremiah than the GCPD."

"Not anymore. Jerome knows the name of your proxy. He got it from your boss just before he executed him."

"I heard about Jerome visiting Allen Hayes. It's tragic, but the proxy's name I gave to Allen was a fake."

(Y/n) POV:

As Jeremiah speaks his arm tightens around me causing me to look up at him confused. Why is he so tense?

"You're lying." It hits me as my father says it. I remove myself from his side looking up at him. "I beg your pardon?" I narrow my eyes at him crossing my arms. A liar knows a liar when they see one.

"Jer? What are you hiding?" As his eyes meet mine I see the panic living in them. What has he done? "Jeremiah. Honey, is there something you want to tell me?" He reaches out for me with a shaky hand. "N-no, love. Your father is just intimidating." I hum patting his chest.

Jim and Harvey walk around the small office scanning over the many things scattered over the desk.

"(Y/n). Come here, please." I walk over to my dad sitting on the desk facing away from Jerimiah. "Yeah?" "Why the hell didn't you tell me before?" I roll my eyes sighing, "He's fine. Lord, he can't even hurt a fly." "Besides the point, overprotective father, we get it! Now, let's dig, anything weird about him? Something he could be hiding?" I look back over to Jeremiah as he paces his office fixing his glasses each time they fall to the bridge of his nose.

"He said he's intimidated by you."

"And you believe that?" I scoff lowering my voice. "Of course not."

"Yeah, there's something about this guy that's fishy."

"What about the security cameras outside." "What about them, dad?" "They were turned on, (y/n)." I look over my should looking at the bank screens of the monitors.

"Jeremiah, how come the monitors are off if the cameras are recording?" My dad asks walking closer to Jeremiah as Harvey walks near the monitors.

"I don't see why that's any of your concern, Mr. Gordon. Now, if you excuse me, I'm a very busy man." Jeremiah says stuffing his hands in his pockets. Harvey touches buttons on the monitors trying to find the right on.

"Please don't touch that."

I stand and walk over hitting the small red button causing the TVs to light up with life. "That's very sensitive equipment."

The screens clear and as the pixels match, I cover my mouth locking my eyes onto the screen. Jerome stands in a small room performing yoga. He looks up at the camera and waves causing me to shutter. I turn to Jerimiah with tears brimming my eyes.

"Oh, yeah. I'd say that's pretty damn sensitive." Harvey says watching Jerome.

I storm the short distance to Jeremiah glaring at him. "Why would you do this?" I sneer at him. He closes his eyes with his head leaning towards the floor. "(y/n). I wanted you safe." "And you think by bringing him closer to me was going to keep me safe?"

Jerome's giggle causes me to focus on him. "You know, brother, it has been a while since I've seen my sweets. Say, you wouldn't be keeping her from me, would ya?" My father glares at the screen shaking his head.

"You need to take us to your brother."

"I can't do that."

"What if he's nuttier than the other one?" "Harvey!" "I'm nothing like Jerome."

"You want me to put you in a cell next to his with zero visitation? Because that is where this is heading!" "Dad, stop! Calm down!" I say grabbing my hair in stress.

"And then what, Captain Gordon? You couldn't hold him. Arkham couldn't. I can. And I will make sure Jerome never escapes again. I am making sure he never hurts (y/n) again!"

"Jeremiah, I am thankful for that, but that's not going to work. Jerome comes with us, and if you want to make this easier on yourself, I suggest you stay the hell out of the way." I push myself between my father and Jerimiah. "I get this is a big deal, but this isn't the way to-"

"Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. The loonies are outside."

Harvey points at the monitors showing Scarcrow, Jervis, and Ecco following blindly.

Jeremiah rushes to the screens panicking. "No. No. How'd they find me?"

"They must have followed Jerome."

The lights shut off leaving us in a blood-red hue from the emergency lights. Jeremiah grabs my hand pulling me close to his side.

"We need to move, now. Is there another way out of here?" "Yes, but we-" "You can't leave, Ecco!" I cry in a panic. "The loonies will use her against us, (y/n)!" I shake my head removing myself from Jerimiah's hold. "No. She's my friend and has done so much for me. I'm not letting her die." My father nods placing a hand on my shoulder.

"She's devoted her life to helping Jerimiah. She's too important, dad." He nods looking at Jeremiah and I. "We get you two out first,

then we can come back for her. Deal?" I nod pulling Jeremiah out into the halls.

"As a child, I was obsessed with labyrinths, so I designed my house like one." My dad and Harvey follow close behind. "You mean this place is a maze?" Jeremiah nods leading the way.

"Easy enough to get in; (y/n) and I are the only ones who know the way out. Stay close to me."

We pass another Conor as the maze twists. "The maze is built on a hundred acres. There are 73 dead ends. I once invited the top

maze designers in the country to try to solve it... one did. It took him three days." "Then how did I do it in an hour?" I giggle jogging ahead.

As I round a wall I see Ecco walking towards me. "Ecco! You're alright!" She grabs my neck and slams me against the wall. "Ec- Stop!" I gasp as she clenches my airway shut.

I kneed her in the stomach pushing her away. "Alright. I can play." She lunges at me causing me to doge and swipe her legs knocking her to the ground. She stands up taking me down to the ground.

"Ecco. What are you doing?" Jeremiah rushes as he sees me on the ground.

"Hey, hey, hey, she's hypnotized."

Ecco charges towards him and knocks Jerimiah down. "E-Ecco, it's me. It's me. Ow!" I stand up punching her in the face and knocking her down once more. Jeremiah looks at me surprised. "I didn't know you could do that, love." I laugh breathlessly turning to him quickly as Ecco fights off my dad and Harvey.

I help Jeremiah up but am pushed into the wall as Ecco grabs him and walks in down the hall away from us. "Gordon! Help!"

"Dad!" I yell looking after them. "Come on."

Jeremiah POV:

"Ecco, please. Where are you taking me? (Y/n) will be alone!"

"I'm taking you to Jerome." He speaks in a monotone voice gripping my arms. "No. He'll do horrible things to me. Ecco..."

"Stop!" Detective Bullock yells charging Ecco. Harvey falls and out of nowhere (Y/n) comes from behind the wall pushing Ecco and knocking her out.

I have to say... It was hot!

"Come on!" I grab (y/n) hand and run towards the exit fearful of the end. "Jeremiah, what are you going to do?" He shakes his head breathing heavily. "I don't care. I just want to get you to-"

"Hello, brother." Jerome pops out in front of Jeremiah halting our tracks. Jeremiah blocks my frame holding my wrist tightly. I peer at Jerome with wide eyes. His eyes meet mine and he smirks growing a giggle. "There you are, dollface. I've been searching for you too. Looks like I killed two birds with one stone, huh?" "Jerome I-"

Jerome yanks my arm bringing me close to him. He holds my waist and smiles down at me. "I've missed you." He leans down planting a passionate kiss upon my lips before throwing me behind him. "Whoa! More of that later!" He chuckles before turning back to his brother who is watching my every move with growing worry and rage.

"So, how ya been? Oh, you look great! To think I used to be the handsome one, right? I see you've been taking care of my doll here... Not cool bro." Jerome glares at Jeremiah.

Jeremiah shutters looking down. "How'd you find your way through the maze?"

"Oh, bro, we might not look the same anymore, but we still think the same. Exhibit A!" Jerome gestures to me cackling. "Plus, you used to draw those stupid things all the time as a kid. I paid attention to."

Jerome throws his head back sighing. "I've been waiting for this moment for 15 years. Ever since you ran away in the middle of the night, like a coward."

"You're insane." Jeremiah states.

"And I tried telling Mom, but she didn't want to listen to me. You blame me for everything that's gone wrong in your life. But the truth is, Jerome, you were born bad."

Jerome turns to me smirking. "Why the long face, love? Don't worry our little ones won't be as he so rudely says born bad." He pinches my cheek gazing at me with love. My stomach churns as I fight all the past urges to let go of my responsibilities and be with him again, but I couldn't do that the Jer.

Could I?

"So that's why you made her think that I tried to kill you?"

I look over Jerome's shoulder watching as Jeremiah grew more nervous.

He wouldn't have lied about that, right? His own brother?

"What was it again? What was it? I put a blade to your throat. No, no, no, no, no. I tried to... light you on fire!"

"We both know you wanted to!" "Yeah, that was a funny story, wasn't it?" Jerome sneers at his brother. I step out glaring at Jeremiah. "So you did lie to me. You lied about everything." "N-no, (y/n). Jerome did! He's keeping you locked under his belt! He made you think you were crazy for seeing me! Can't you see he doesn't love you as much as I do? I'm trying to protect you!" He cries out reaching for me, but I pull away shaking my head.

"Maybe it didn't happen exactly like that, but... but I didn't have a choice, and I was right. You killed our mother."

"She did deserve it though. Didn't she, (y/n)? You saw how horrible she was. After that whore hid you away, she gave up on me. Poisoned by your stories. You turned everyone I ever loved it against me. Living proof right here!" Jerom points to me.

I glare at Jeremiah and stand in front of him. "(Y/n)-" I slap him across the face making Jerome laugh and hold me back. "You used me! You only wanted me so you could get back at Jerome! How could you play with my feelings like this? Make me feel like I was crazy? Like I was alone?"

"Alright, firecracker, cool it down! We can talk about punishments later." He pushed me behind him facing Jeremiah again. "Yeah, I guess it's like what they say. We all could go insane with just one bad day. I guess with you, it's more like one bad spray. You'll see."

"What are you gonna do to me, Jerome?"

"Come on. I'm gonna kill you. Of course. But, first, I'm gonna drive you mad. But don't worry, you won't be alone. All of Gotham will be joining you, too. I'll be keeping (y/n) safe, don't worry."

"No, Jerome, Please, let her go and-"

"Must go! Must go! They're after me and the Scarecrow. Sprint with us Ms. Gordon!" Jervis rushes past us grabbing me and pulling me down the hall with them.

"(Y/n)! No!"

As we all jump into a car I can't help but release my pent up laughter. I look over, seeing the other two watch me confused. "Sorry gentlemen. I've had a sane few months. Have to get back into the swing of this!" I push all my emotions of pain and anger away as Jerome sprints towards us.

"Ah, what a night, huh?" He giggles holding me. "What do you say, doll? How about we make this night unforgettable?" I smile at his crazed eyes feeling the light shine within me.

How can I love two men who cause me to act like two separate people?

"I've missed you, Jerome." He cups my cheeks as we drive like madmen down the road. "I sure hope so, (y/n), because you're not leaving me until my end." I lean in sealing the deal with a kiss. "Until the end, Jerome."