#Anyway I enjoyed drawing James getting absolutely bodied

[tapeworrmart]

Guilt ⛓️

[lov3nerdstuff]

I've got you

*James Conrad x reader*

Parts: Oneshot/Drabble

Words: 1.7k

Prompt: "Imagine being on Skull Island (or somewhere equally as fucky) and Conrad shines a flashlight out into the darkness, only for several pairs of eyes to reflect back. His hand tightens around yours and every muscle in his lean body tenses. That deep voice gets low and quiet, warning you not to run. The second you try to bolt--because duh-- he tugs you against his firm chest and his lips are on your ear."

A.N.: This is a gift for @hopelessromanticspoonie who had this idea yesterday 💚✨ She (and her lovely anon) deserve some Conrad goodness! I hope you guys enjoy this quick little snippet 🖤 I am actually writing a longer Conrad series currently, but that will still take a while ☺️

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The low growling sounds outside your tent should have been warning enough, had they already sufficed to wake you up in the first place. If not that, then at least the distant screeching that carried through the cold night air at a bone-chilling frequency, haunting echoes in your mind filling the silence in between.

You should never have left your tent, should never have come on this bloody excursion to the middle of nowhere in the first place! But of course, you just had to be curious and go check on the noise by yourself instead of waiting for one of the men with the heavy guns to take care of it. Just had to prove to them that you weren't just the frail and frightened little thing they saw in you no matter what you did. You had to prove it to him. James Conrad, the man of both your daydreams and sleepless nights. Gods, you had been falling for him from the first day of this doomed mission. Him, with his incredible blue eyes and that unforgettable voice that could put the fear of God into every soul when he bellowed commands across any battlefield, and that yet would recite Shakespeare in the softest flowing melody like he was born to do nothing else. A voice dipped in liquid sin that should not be uttering compliments like languished breaths in the dark. Not without unravelling you softly in the sweetest torture known to man.

Well, you should have gotten a grip on yourself and your pathetic insecurities and just told him how badly you'd fallen for him days ago. Now, however, you were going to die lonely and frustrated, a mere hundred yards away from the well protected camp you'd been stupid enough to leave. Great job, idiot…

The same growling that had woken you up was all around you now, louder, so much louder than before and you couldn't believe that you had been so stupid to walk into this trap of… whatever was lurking in the darkness around you now. You didn't dare to move, didn't dare to make a sound… and simply clung onto the childish belief that if you couldn't see what was stalking you right now, it couldn't see you either. Not that you would've been able to see much anyway, with the stream of tears that was running down your cheeks now.

"Y/n! Are you out of your mind?! You shouldn't be out here alone in the middle of the night!" Conrad's scolding voice behind you, in that delicious British accent nevertheless, sent an immediate shiver down your spine, but unfortunately for more than one reason this time around. Gods, he was here… you only hoped that he had come as your salvation and not a second course to the hidden predators' nightly meal.

"James… They're everywhere, in the darkness… I'm so sorry." You whispered in a tear laced voice, too far frozen in your fear to turn around to him even when you felt his radiant presence coming up right next to you. So close that his warmth was almost seething on the chilled skin of your arm and shoulder. Gods… you had been so stupid indeed; you were absolutely bloody frightened and helpless out here, who had you been trying to fool!

When Conrad finally switched on his flashlight to shed some literal light onto the darkness ahead that you were still staring at relentlessly, you barely held back your startled scream by biting down hard on your bottom lip. There were eyes, so many eyes that reflected the light right back at you from the undergrowth in a glowing hollowness that spoke of nothing but hungry fixation and thus, impending death. Conrad next to you tensed in an instant, every muscle in his lean body coiling in a display of controlled strength, preparing to fight and defend himself. Or rather to defend both of you, for not even a broken second later his hand wrapped tightly around your lower arm as if purely on instinct, and your breath caught in your throat in return. A few deafening heartbeats long you both stayed frozen like that, until slowly, painfully, deliciously slowly, his hand slid down your arm to hold your hand instead, interlacing your fingers with his in the same unfaltering, strong hold.

"Don't move…" He drawled under his breath, commanding you with the deep tone of his voice alone to surrender his will no matter what he said. Thus you could only clasp his hand in a death grip in return, breath coming out in shallow pants as your heart thundered in your chest like the storm approaching in the distance.

And yet, when another loud growl announced that these beasts were drawing closer to you still, almost up your neck already with their teeth or claws sunk deeply into your tender flesh, the sound startled you so far beyond your reason that your flight instinct grew unbearable at last. Every fibre in your body burst in panic, and you bolted without thought, without reason, but you did not get far. Fast as lightning to match the thunder in your heart, Conrad's arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you flush against his chest, holding you tightly against his strong body while your excess adrenaline merely caused you to whimper into the soft fabric of his shirt.

"Shhh... I've got you." His voice was surprisingly soft now, reassuring and calming almost as if just to soothe your fears, while the gentle brush of his lips against the shell of your ear caused you to shiver for entirely different reasons. A soaring heart and tingling exhilaration made for an odd mix combined with the prominent fear of death, but in the end it only heightened your every sense to the incredible. If you were to die now, you at least would do so wrapped up in the arms of the man you loved. La petite mort, only in the opposite direction of what you would have wanted for him and you.

"James…" You breathed into his chest, desperately trying to keep yourself from trembling too noticeably, which only made him tighten his hold on you with a sharp intake of breath.

"Shush now, darling, and listen to me…" He replied in an equally quiet tone, still staring into the hollow eyes of death with his head so closely next to yours. "I will throw the flashlight ahead into the forest as far as I can to cause a decent distraction, and then you and I will run back to camp without turning back. We should be safe behind the barriers we've set up. Do you understand?"

You nodded slowly with a shuddering breath, then turned your head ever so slightly to glance up at him with all those sharp lines of his stern features, while at the same time he dropped his arm from around you and instead took a tight hold of your hand again. Then in the matter of broken seconds, he threw the flashlight as far away from your path as he could, and finally dashed off back towards your camp while pulling you along by your hand. You were quick to comply, running as fast as you could while your lungs burned all the more, but both Conrad's death grip on your hand and the howling behind your back made for a magnificent motivation to keep running either way.

The hundred yards still were torture to your mind and body, but even without the light you could see the barriers drawing nearer and nearer. When you finally reached the gate of the improvised defenses, Conrad didn't waste any time to rush you through before it was barred off from the inside right behind you. The howling, however, remained right outside before the gates and still made your blood freeze over even now from the safety of your camp. Good gods… you really had cheated death. Again.

Panting, you finally dared to look up at Conrad once more. He was still clutching your hand as if he was afraid you would vanish if he let go, and when his burning gaze met yours in that undivided intensity, you couldn't keep your lips from trembling, nor your words from spilling over at last. "I'm so sorry, I… I really didn't mean to cause you so much trouble, I'm so sorry, I just… wanted to prove to you that I'm worth your-..."

You didn't get any further when his hand rose to cup your cheeks with a start, elegant fingers entangling in your hair as he pulled you close to him and pressed his lips to yours in every bit of passion and urgency you had been yearning for for so long. It took you but a broken second of surprise before you melted against him with a faint moan, returning everything he gave you and everything you had beyond. This was heaven… A heaven you were granted only after surviving in hell.

When you finally pulled back, both breathless far more thoroughly than just from your run, Conrad leaned his forehead against yours so very gently, and yet refused to release you from his incessant hold. "You are worth all there is and more, darling. I can bear absolutely anything for you, and with you, you must know that. All except for losing you."

"I'm so sorry." You breathed, eyes closed as you revelled in the roaring waves of unadulterated affection washing over both of you now. "You won't lose me, I… I won't let that happen. I've got you just the same."

Your words brought a smile to his face, you could feel it all around you, could feel it against your lips a second later. He wasn't a man of many words, you knew that, but the ones he spoke were always the most beautiful and honest to his soul. So you did know indeed, you both had each other and that was all you would need.

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[duuhrayliegh]

Hello, darling! I was wondering if you could right some Bucky x reader, where the reader worked along Sharon during Civil War and she meets Bucky. Then she runs always with Sharon and meets Bucky again in Madripoor and continue their story. I hope that makes sense. Thank yooouuuu✨✨✨

hey babes!! yes i absolutely can! i kind of gave more background than i meant to making it way longer, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! i do want to continue this story and most definitely will be so be on the lookout for the other parts of it lovie <3. i hope you still enjoy it even though it isn’t quite what you asked for yet :)

A Friend of Yours

FATWS SPOILERS

warnings: not much, canon lvl violence, some suggestive stuff closer towards to end, language, i think that’s it

word count: 6140 i went a bit overboard, it’s fine i’m totally fine

a/n: i got this request and then didn’t stop writing all day. i didn’t get anything else done all day. i got home at like seven-ish? and i’ve been sitting on the floor of my bedroom just writing this fic (for context it is now 12:47 pm where i’m at)

check out A Friend of Yours - pt. 2 and A Friend of Yours - pt. 3

p.s.: this is the first fic that i’m writing with an actual ‘x reader’ i’m so proud

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

******************************

You grew up with Sharon, the two of you were best friends from birth it seemed. Honestly, Peggy raised you more than your own parents did. When Aunt Peggy got Sharon her first thigh holster, she got you one too. You enlisted together, moved up the ranks together, everything. So, it was of no shock to anyone that after the fall of SHIELD, you both moved together into the CIA’s Joint Terrorism Task Force.

You were inside the hotel with Sharon, Steve and Sam when the bombing on the UN took place. The look of unbridled fear that fell over Steve’s face as they announced Barnes as the primary suspect was heart wrenching. You weren’t able to watch it for long because your phone was already ringing off the hook.

“Look, you need to get me more information, and now.” You gritted into your phone speaker before quickly hanging up the phone and turning to a crestfallen Steve who was still watching the news casting. Sharon ended her phone call and turned to you.

“We have to go to work.” A few short hours on a jet later, you and Sharon were coordinating the operation. Close by, Steve and Sam were awaiting new information. Steve had this insane plan to find Barnes before the whole rest of the world did. Like that’s going to happen, it took the world 70 years to find Barnes. Of course, Steve and Sam are going to find him in about half that time.

You followed the blonde woman into a busy coffee shop and up to the counter. She slid a manila folder over to a well disguised Captain America. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s just noise, except this.” Sharon was talking quietly, trying to not draw attention to the fact that she was committing a serious offense.

“We have to give the briefing, like now Shar, so we have to go.” The two of you pushed off the counter and you turned quickly to say one last thing. “And you better hurry. They’ve given the order to shoot on site.”

You left the shop quickly and made your way back to the white tent, passing the redheaded spy who was watching you like a hawk. A look of understanding crossed her features as you kept a calm facade. She fucking knows, how the hell could she read you that easily?

*********************************

The next time you saw any of them, they were exiting the back of an armored prison van. It was no surprise that his eyes flitted over to his best friend from childhood. You glanced over at Barnes, who was strapped in all different ways, and your heart hurt for him. You tried not to pity him, you know you would’ve gotten a slap on the wrist from Aunt Peggy about it.

Bucky must’ve felt you looking at him because his steel blue eyes locked with your pair. This was the first time that you’ve ever actually seen the man in person. It was startling, in a good way. You grew up going to the Smithsonian and hearing Aunt Peggy’s stories about the great James Buchanan Barnes. You never thought that you’d get the chance to meet the man you did a history report on your freshman year of high school.

“Y/N?” Sharon’s voice cut through your thoughts, recalling you to reality and out of your past. “We have to go. We’ve been assigned to monitor Steve and Sam while they’re here.” Sharon was clearly not a fan of this, which made you laugh loudly.

“Oh, score! We get to babysit Captain America and the Falcon!” You spoke in an unnecessarily upbeat voice and then clapped your hands together. “Our dream job! Let’s go, Shar!” She stared at you for a millisecond before slapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go, you fucking dork.” You followed her through the office building into the control room where you observed Tony talking to Steve. Apparently, the conversation was not going well because both their faces held angry glares. Eventually, Tony left the room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and that can never be good.

“How you doing, Cap?” You asked as you less-than-gracefully plopped yourself into the chair across from him. He looked over at me and released a heavy sigh.

“Honestly, Y/N, not that great at the moment.” He looked at you with his iconic mom Steve stare. Wow, so that’s what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that. Sam walked in and sat next to you. You drowned out their conversation as your gaze focused on screens outside of the glass office.

The video feed of Barnes in his metal cage was displayed on a TV screen. How is this considered humane? Obviously you knew that the CIA had pushed boundaries in the past, but this was just insane. “Are those restraints really necessary?” Sam seemed to be just voicing his thoughts, not expecting a response back.

“Well, he is considered an international terrorist, so yeah, they’re kind of necessary.” You said quickly and then muttered under your breath, “No matter who thinks that it’s excessive.” Steve’s gaze met yours and he was about to speak when Sharon walked in and dropped a paper in front of Sam.

“The receipt for your gear.” A scoff sounded from Sam as he glared at Sharon.

“‘Bird costume’? Come on.” Always quick to defend your best friend.

“Hey, we didn’t write it up.” It came off snappier than you had meant it. Sharon shot you a look, signaling you to back off. You raised a brow at her as she leaned over the table to the intercom buttons.

The audio from Barnes’ evaluation echoed through the glass room. Everyone around you was unsuspecting the four of you listened in. The psychologist was talking to Barnes, who seemed incredibly closed off. Who could blame the guy though?

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?” The psychologist paused for a second, looking down and off to the side. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” The caged man spoke for the first time.

“My name is Bucky.” His voice was rough from not being used. A look crossed Steve’s face and he turned to Sharon.

“Why would the Task Force release that photo to begin with?” Sharon’s body turned to face the man speaking to her. Her brows furrowed while she answered.

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Your head tilted, trying to follow Steve’s train of thought.

“Right. Good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” Oh shit.

“You’re saying someone framed him?” You wanted to believe it with every fiber in your being.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Sam reminded in a calm tone.

“Yeah, you didn’t bomb the UN though. That turns quite a few heads. Especially if prominent people like King T’Chaka end up dead because of it.” You made a good point, but there were still pieces missing.

“That doesn’t guarantee that they would find him. It guaranteed that we would.” Sharon and Steve began examining the room around them. Your attention returned to the audio emitting from the intercom.

“You fear that,“ the doctor paused, “if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” He glanced down again and moved his hand to swipe something away.

“Guys?” You pointed to the screen as the doctor held up his pointer finger.

“We only have to talk about one.” All of the sudden, the screens went dark and the lights flickered off. Secretary Ross was yelling at technicians to get his video back. Tony was speaking to his AI, Friday, about locating the source of the outage. Steve and Sam tensed at the thought of what could be going on with Barnes.

“Sub-level five, east wing.” was all Sharon said as the pair ran off. You looked at her and threw your hands in the air.

“What the hell do we do now, Shar?” She glared at you as she started reasoning with you.

“They’re stronger than we are. If they can contain whatever the hell is happening down there then great. In the event that they can’t, we’ll be up here with Natasha and Tony to deal with it.” You nodded quickly as you both ran out of the room.

You quickly followed Natasha, Tony and Sharon to the main level of the building. Clearly Steve and Sam were unsuccessful in containing the situation because Barnes could be seen through the glass, fighting his way to his destination.

Tony stunned Barnes with a previously concealed Iron Man glove. Barnes started towards Tony and quickly attacked. After Barnes bested Tony, it wasn’t long before Natasha rushed the man alongside Sharon. It wasn’t hard for Barnes to throw Sharon across the room. Natasha took the opportunity to launch herself onto his shoulders, which caused Barnes to slam her into a table with his metal hand wrapped around her neck.

She mumbled something to him as you kicked his ribs, releasing his chokehold on her. He stumbled backwards, his hard gaze landed on yours as he approached. Your eyes locked on his as the two of you traded blows.

They weren’t the same eyes as before. Those eyes were soft and remorseful, these were hard and unattached. There was no emotion behind the pair staring at you. The fraction of a second that you were analyzing his eyes in your head was enough for him to catch you off guard. His metal fist landed in your rib cage. The opposite hand jabbed at your face, busting your lip and sending you flying backwards.

You hit your head on the concrete below, making your eyes roll back. The wind left your lungs and you gasped to get it back as Barnes and T’Challa fought in the background. It was a few minutes later that a concerned Sharon made her way over to you.

“Are you okay?” You looked her over as she did you, checking for any severe injuries. You offered a small nod, not wanting to shake your head too much in fear of a concussion. “Let’s go check in with Ross.”

******************

“And how the hell did Rogers and Wilson even know where to find Barnes?” Ross’ voice boomed through the office. No one said anything, not wanting to incur the wrath of Secretary Ross. “I’ve already allowed Stark 36 hours to find them and bring them back here.” Ross turned to you and Sharon standing in the corner of the room. “If they contact any of you, report it immediately.” Rounds of ‘yes, sirs’ bounced around the room, then chaos ensued as everyone got back to trying to clean up this mess.

“Carter. Y/L/N. Elevator now.” He raised two fingers to point toward the elevators before walking into one. It was just the three of you in the enclosed space. He clicked the button for the ground floor. “I know you have some kind of connection to Rogers but do not let that cloud your judgement. The both of you are CIA agents first.”

“We understand, Secretary.” The elevator doors opened again and you went to step out when Ross stopped you again.

“I mean it, girls. This is your job on the line here.” You and Sharon shared a look before continuing walking. Did he just call us girls?

“Do you think that was supposed to be intimidating?” You laughed under your breath as you went out to the parking lot. Sharon sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“Probably.” She looked at you over the top of her car. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“Where do we start?”

****************************

Getting that fucking shield and bird suit wasn’t easy. They had moved it from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre to the US Embassy to await transport back to the States. It made it easier but still damn near impossible to get. Thankfully, you and Sharon are good liars. Skills of a misspent youth.

The two of you walked in the front door and displayed your badges. “We’re here to pick up Captain America and the Falcon’s effects.” The man behind the counter didn’t even question it. Man, they need better people at the Embassy.

“You’ll have to sign some paperwork saying you picked it up.” There it is. You both flicked a brow and Sharon held her hand out for the clipboard. Small scratches from the pen in her hand were echoing throughout the empty building.

She handed the clipboard back to the man behind the counter. “Okie dokie, just pull your car around to the side of the building and we’ll get you loaded up.” He shot them a small smile and turned around to file the papers.

“That was easy enough.” You whispered to Sharon as you left, not wanting your voice to carry. You walked to your car that was parked in front of the iron wrought gate. Pulling your car around to the side of the building, you popped the trunk. The gear clad Embassy soldier carelessly tossed Sam’s suit inside before gently placing the shield on top of it.

“Hey, if there’s a scratch on that suit, it’s coming out of your paycheck buddy.” You held your pointer finger up to the man’s unimpressed face.

“Y/N, let’s go. We’ve got to get these to the jet or Ross will have our heads. Remember it’s our job on the line here.” What Sharon said made you laugh big while hauling yourself back into the driver’s seat of the car. As you pulled out into the street, Sharon was typing away on her phone and pushing it to her ear.

“This is a secure line but I don’t know for how long, so don’t talk just listen.” She took a deep breath and then continued. “We want to help. Meet us under the bridge on Route 6. We’ll be there in two hours.” She ended the call quickly and threw the phone outside the car. Glancing over at you, she nodded and sighed again.

“We’ve gotten this far.” You had one question burning in your throat that you were afraid to ask.

“Where do we go after they’ve gone?” She looked at you and she was biting her lip, something she only did when she was incredibly stressed.

“I don’t know yet. Do you have any ideas?” You smiled and thought of the one place that you wouldn’t be followed.

“Yeah, I’ve got one, but it’s rough.”

***************************

The drive to the underpass wasn’t a hard one. You had beat the boys there so you and Sharon were sitting in the car. You had the radio playing softly in the background.

“Who the hell do you know in Madripoor?” You laughed and shrugged.

“I’m supposed to tell you all my secrets for free?” You shook your head and shifted in your seat to face her fully. “I was tasked with tracking some artwork down there. One of my assignments when we went through initiation for the Agency.” You picked at the holes in your jeans. “I thought it was just all fake stuff, but I researched it more and more. Turns out, the underground artwork dealing is really lucrative over there.”

Sharon stared at you in amazement. “What did you do, Y/N?” You smirked.

“I haven’t done anything.” You held her gaze, “Yet.” She released a small laugh and her mouth hung open a bit. “I may have a warehouse out there.” You squinted one of your eyes, and leaned forward. “And the apartment above it.” She was going to say something when an old ass blue Beetle pulled up behind you.

“Now how the fuck did they all fit in that tiny ass car?” You both laughed as you stepped out of the car with big smiles on your faces.

“Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car.” Steve walked up to Sharon and they began talking as she popped the trunk, revealing their gear. Your attention was on the men in the car behind them. Barnes was stuck in the back away from cameras and Sam was lounging in the passenger seat. Your eyes met Barnes’ again, they were back to the remorseful pair you saw the first time.

“You know he kind of tried to kill us.” You waved your hand in gesture to the man in the car.

“Sorry, I’ll put it on the list too.” He glanced back down at Sharon, who had migrated closer to him. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

She nodded, “I know.” Then the most awkward kiss in all of kissing history took place. Your brows shot up then furrowed quickly, a small wince overtaking your face. They pulled apart and traded more words. Sharon began walking back to the passenger side of the car.

Steve turned around and you looked back at the two men in the car. Both of them were wearing proud, smug grins. Steve threw his head back as if he was berating them.

“About damn time, Cap! She’s been pining over you for God knows how long now.” The windows were down in the Beetle so the other two heard you shouting at their friend.

“Y/N!” Sharon was a bit embarrassed.

“What? It’s the truth, Shar!” The two of you began bickering like an old married couple as you started the car again. Steve got all he needed from the trunk and shut it quickly, slapping it twice. You began driving off with Sharon giving you directions to an airport on the opposite side of the country.

***********************

That was the last time you saw Steve. Last time you saw anyone for a while. You had been dusted in the Blip. Sharon had followed you to your apartment in Madripoor. The two of you were able to figure the city out pretty quickly. Learning the ins and outs of the island, where to go, who to sell to. One afternoon, you and Sharon had been surveying a Van Gogh piece for your gallery when you flew away. In the middle of a fucking deal, what perfect timing.

Five years later, you were reunited with an even more successful Sharon. “I kept your room the way you left it.” She said as she led you through your shared home. “I figured that you’d be back and you’d be pissed off if I fucked with anything.”

You smiled at the woman gratefully and hugged her. Neither of you let go for a while. When you did, she started filling you in on everything. She had continued to split all her profits and had been depositing the money into your account. “Even if you didn’t come back, I could’ve used it if I needed to bug out. Win-win.” She explained with a smile.

The two of you had about six months of getting back into the groove of things. It was quickly cut off by a ping of your phones one day. A look of confusion and anger crossed her face, “Are you fucking kidding me?” She locked eyes with you and told you to get your gear.

“Where are we going?” She threw her phone at you and you looked at the screen. As soon as you read the notification at the top of it you understood. Repeating your question from before, you tied the knots on your Converse. You followed Sharon to the Low Town side of the island.

“Now what the fuck are they doing here, do you think?” The two of you camped outside of the Brass Monkey nightclub, ready for whatever came your way. Deciding that you were too visible to everyone else, you moved to the building across from the club. Something is bound to go wrong and the first place they're going to get ran to is this dead end alley.

Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, Sam, Barnes, and Zemo got cornered in the alleyway. Sharon had decided to stay on the ground floor next to the door. You shot two of the assassins following the group of three and Sharon took out the final one.

You made your way back down to Sharon, who was still holding her gun up. “You cost me everything.” She focused her gun on Zemo.

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam remarked calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.” Your brows shot up at that, must of been new information that she got while you were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Sharon?” Sam questioned.

“She was one of the ones who stole Steve’s shield, remember?” You stepped forward, raising your gun to gesture to the men in front of you. “And the wings, so your ass,” you waved at Sam, “could save his ass,” at Barnes, “from his ass.” You lowered your gun and stepped in front of Zemo, staring the man down. Your fist balled and you launched it at Zemo, landing a solid hit to his cheekbone.

Barnes grabbed your hand, twisting your body to slot against his with your arm bent behind your back. He leaned close to your ear, breath making shivers trickle down your spine. “I only let you do that because I’ve wanted to for a while now, so don’t get any more ideas.” Your breath hitched because of the proximity of the man behind you.

“Alright, give me my Y/N back.” Sharon said, lowering her gun to holster it. Bucky held onto you for a few more seconds than necessary and then pushed you towards Sharon as he released you. You scoffed, then shoved your gun into the waistband of your jeans. Sam and Sharon had already started their own conversation by the time you calmed down enough to face Barnes.

Sharon bobbed her head to you, an unspoken language between the two of you. After bringing them into your home, Sam began admiring the artwork in the first floor gallery. “Looks like breaking the law is treating you two well.”

“Before even graduating into the Agency, I had a place over here. Never had any intention on using it, but here we are.” You started, “Then, after having to flee Berlin, for you,” You shot a look at Bucky, “we figured if we had to hustle, might as well enjoy the good life. Do you know how much we can get for a real Monet?”

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monet’s.” Sharon shot him a look, about to defend us when Zemo cut in.

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. All the classics.” Sam made a face of disbelief.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky gestured to the gallery. Sam pulled his phone out of his suit pocket.

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” He was typing furiously as he spoke. Bucky passed him, soundlessly following you and Sharon to the upstairs apartment.

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Once the five of you got upstairs, Sharon began walking them into her office, telling them that they needed to change because we were hosting clients. It didn’t take long for the men to switch outfits. It was refreshing to see Barnes in something other than combat gear or a torn Henley. Sharon followed you in the office, making a remark at Sam while he apologised.

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.” She said as you plopped yourself on one of the plush chairs across from the couch, holding a clear glass full of whiskey.

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo added quietly, since when is Zemo informed? Sharon glazed over his comment, opting for asking about the new Cap while filling a glass for herself.

“Don’t get me started.” Barnes spoke for the first time since being downstairs. You narrowed your eyes at the man.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” You swung your glass to Zemo, “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” His gaze darted over to you, nose wrinkling at your comment.

“Do you know who I am?” He tried to be intimidating but it was just funny to you. You were taking a drink to moisten your throat to fire back a witty comeback, when Sharon spoke for you.

“Oh trust me, she knows. She did a report on you freshman year of high school.” You started choking on your drink as Sharon smirked from the couch next to Barnes. His brows raised and a smug smile graced his face.

“She did now?” Clearly he was a different man from the last time you saw him. Meeting his eyes for the fourth time ever, you were surprised with what you saw. There was almost a hunger lingering behind his eyes.

“Most definitely. I don’t even know how many times she went to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit about you.” You glared at Sharon, who continued to talk, unbothered by you. She raised her own glass to her lips, speaking into her cup, muffling her words.  “Honestly, think she developed a little crush.” Barnes’ eyes never left your face, his mind racing.

“Wait, so the entire time you were helping me and Steve, you had a crush on Tin Man?” Sam interjected, wanting to be included in the conversation. You rolled your eyes and gave a subtle nod to Sam. The action wasn’t missed by Bucky.

“Which is why I think it must’ve been really hard for you to ask him of all people for help. They comin’ down real hard on you out there?” You asked Barnes with a smirk and a head tilt towards Zemo. “I know he fucked you up real good, triggering the Soldier, Barnes.”

Sam laughed beside him. “Dude, that’s basically what you told Walker.” Barnes threw a glare at Sam, who had clapped a hand on his metal shoulder. The conversation dissipated after your comment, guess you killed the vibe.

Sam turned to a relaxed Sharon, “We need your help.” Her body tensed, neither one of you was ready to throw yourself back into enemy territory. “I can get your name cleared.” He dangled a huge bargaining chip in front of her face. You knew Sharon was eager to get back to the States. She misses her dad. It was unfair of Sam to use that as a way to gain her favor.

“Haggling with someone’s life like that isn’t okay, Sam.” You said quietly, focusing your gaze on the glass in your hand.

“It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is, Sam.” You said firmly. “You can’t just say something like that. I know you’re an Avenger. That’s great shit, but you need to realize that if you can’t deliver on your word, we go to jail or worse. You know that.”

“I don’t trust charity, Sam.” Sharon said from beside Barnes.

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your names cleared.” Your nostrils flared and you shook your head. Sharon agreed, blinded by the possibility of seeing her family again. You don’t doubt that she thought through all the outcomes, it just wasn’t the route you would’ve taken.

“We sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, and enjoy the party.” She got up, exiting the office.

“Try to stay outta trouble, boys.” You said placing your glass on Sharon’s desk as you left. “We’ll see what we can find.”

*********************************

You were standing next to Sharon when the three men joined the party. Leaning over to Sharon, you told her you were going to get a drink from the bar. You pushed your way through the crowd, planting yourself on a stool in front of the countertop. Nodding your head at the bartender, they passed you a bottle of club soda.

“Not drinking tonight?” A raspy voice questioned over your shoulder. You turned to face the owner as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Already had my fill. And technically, I’m supposed to be working, Barnes.” Your eyes met with his again. You couldn’t tell if it was the light in the room or if it was just him, but they were a deeper shade of blue than before. He leaned his weight on his elbow that was resting on the bar top next to you. He was so close you could feel his body heat rolling off him in waves.

His eyes roamed your face, stopping on your lips as he spoke. “You know you can call me Bucky, right?” You made a face, bringing your bottle to your mouth. He watched intently as your lips wrapped around the opening.

“We’ve never had a single conversation before today. And the first time you actually met me, you twisted my arm behind my back because I punched the dickwad standing next to you.” You took another sip and his eyes drifted down to your throat. He watched as it bobbed when you swallowed.

“So, yeah. I’m going to call you Barnes.” You leaned closer, “I’ve never been given permission to call you anything else.” You could tell you struck something. Something that he didn’t even possibly know about. His face heated and he had to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, okay. Well you can call me Bucky or if you want, James.” Your brow quirked and you pulled back to take him in fully.

“How many people have you let call you that since you got your free will back?” Your tone was serious, but your face held a smile.

“None, doll.” His eyes ran over your face again. “I just want to hear how it’ll sound coming from your mouth.” One of his metal fingers came up to rest on your bottom lip as your smile grew.

“James.” You whispered, just for him. What he was giving you was a privilege, one you were going to revel in. One corner of his mouth tugged upwards.

“Again.” He growled as his finger remained on your lip.

“James.”

“Again.”

“James.” The party around the two of you faded away. In your reality, it was just you and the man in front of you. A peaceful place, where nothing could change what was happening right at that moment.

Of course, reality is a bitch. And you never got what you wanted. Your jaw clenched as soon as your phone pinged. James dropped his hand from your face as he read the text with you.

Found Nagel. Meet us outside and if you find Bucky, tell him too.

You scrunched your nose and bit your lip. James’ hand was quick to pull your lip from your front teeth, before resting there for a second as he studied your face. He stepped back quickly, nodding his head for you to follow him.

**************************************

You don’t know how the hell Sharon managed to find him, but she did. You were in a shipping yard for storage cars. “Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam said as the five of you weaved your way through the containers.

“With a bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” She glanced down at her phone in her hand. Nodding toward a red container, “Alright, he’s in there. Container 4621.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out five earpieces.

“We’ll keep watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.” You said as you watched everyone situate their pieces. Sharon turned around and began walking down an aisle not far from the container Nagel was in. You stopped James before he could go anywhere.

“Hey, be careful.” His eyes met yours and they were back to the normal steel blue. “Don’t forget who you are, James.” Something flashed behind his eyes, but his face showed no change.

“You too, Y/N. Don’t make me come out here and save your ass.” His eyes flicked down quickly and a smile spread quickly. “I mean, not that I would mind.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, turning and walking down the aisle Sharon did.

“So,” She was leaned against a rusted container with a smug smile. “You and Bucky, huh?” You groaned and stood next to her.

“I don’t know, Shar. Neither one of us should be in a relationship. Especially since we’re both Enemies of the State, well one of us is, the other one was.” You turned your head to look at her. “What do you think about all of this?” She opened her mouth to speak when you both heard something ricochet off a metal wall.

She raised a finger to her mouth and crouched down before pressing that same finger to her earpiece. “Guys, we have company.” She took off down one end of the aisle and you down the opposite, ready to attack from both sides. There were three men walking towards Nagel’s container, you shot a look down to Sharon and she nodded.

She came from the back with a baton, whacking the last guy once in the knees and once in the head, disarming him. When the front man turned to help his comrade, you did the same move to him with your own baton. You both continued trading blows with the men. You had effectively taken out the first man, using his thigh to latch yourself to the third man’s shoulders. Situating yourself to use your body weight to flip him over, definitely knocking him out.

“Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go now, boys!” You yelled to your earpiece as you watched Sharon fight off another opponent.

It wasn’t until the gunfire started that Sharon said something else into the piece. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” You both split off, out of each other’s view, battling your own demons. You were currently dealing with two of those said demons, when a third approached from behind. Locking you in a chokehold as the other two continued punching your ribs.

One of the hunters was suddenly ripped away from you. Punches were landing and groans were echoing through the alleyways. You threw all your body weight forward, throwing your assailant over your shoulder. Two gunshots rang out and then a third one, which landed a bullet hole between your aggressors eyes. Your head whipped around to face James, whose arm dropped back to his side.

He walked towards you, putting a hand on your back leading you to where Sharon and Sam were standing. Zemo pulled up in a blue convertible car, “Supercharged.” was all he said. Sam pointed his finger at the man in the driver’s seat.

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” James sighed heavily, his shoulder sinking with the action.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s two of us, and at least twenty of them.” James got in the front seat, leaving the door open for Sam.

���Fine. But if you try that shit again--”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo raised his hands in surrender. Sam turned to Sharon.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” You leaned over the open door to talk to James. He looked at you with a sad face.

“Why don’t you come back to the States with us?” He tilted his head. “We could clearly use your help, doll.” You smiled at that and licked your lips before responding.

“You know we can’t. Not yet anyway.” He placed his finger back on your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, James. That I can promise you.” He smiled and dropped his hand back to his lap.

Sam climbed into the seat behind James. “You’re not going to move your seat up, are you?” James smirked before replying.

“No.” You watched as they drove off, desperately wanting to see James again already.

You turned back to Sharon and the two of you began walking back towards High Town. “I think you should go for it.” 

[nastybuckybarnes]

I See Red (18+)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky finds that he needs to remind you who you belong to.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut (Absolute filth, disgustingly dirty stuff)

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: Dude if ykyk! This song DOES THINGS TO ME. Anyway, kind of a sequel fic to Gangsta but you don’t need to read it to understand what happens in this one. It’s kinda dark but not really...? oh well, enjoy! This is literally just an excuse to write some rough smut.

I SEE RED (song)

~*~

“What the flying fuck was that, James?!” He pinches the bridge of his nose and tosses his pistol onto the kitchen table, not wanting to have this conversation with you.

“I’m talking to you! Fucking answer me, asshole!” He turns to where you stand, leaning against the kitchen doorframe, brows drawn together in frustration.

“Jesus Christ (Y/n) I had to! You’ve done far fucking worse to get a target!” He snarks, watching you snort and shake your head. “I was doing my job, James. That bitch wasn’t even close to the target. How the Hell does feeling up some random broad make you more or less capable of finishing a job?!” He groans and pushes past you, walking through the living room of your shared penthouse apartment.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me, James!” He spins to you again, a new type of anger and fire in his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up! Just shut up!” He shouts.

You see absolute red.

“I’m not in the mood to hear you complain about absolutely everything today. Maybe tomorrow.” You grab his arm as he tries to leave the room again, fury written on your face.

“Don’t you fucking talk to me like that.” You growl, voice wavering in an attempt at reining in your anger. Your boyfriend scoffs and looks you up and down before standing to his full height and towering over you.

“Or what?” He asks, teasing you. “You gonna hit me? I’d like to see you fucking try. I’ll touch who I want when I want.”

Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, your hand is meeting his cheek and the sharp sound of a slap echoes in the room.

Everything freezes, your palm tingling with the force of the smack.

He huffs a breath out of his nose, stunned for a moment, before looking back at you with dark eyes.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that,” he growls, metal hand coming up and grabbing your throat. He forces you backwards, ignoring the way you stumble over yourself trying to keep up with his fast pace. He slams your back against the wall of your bedroom, ignoring the way you groan in pain.

His chest heaves with anger and he licks his lips.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Princess,” he sneers, fingers tightening around your throat. You glare into his eyes, mouth open in an attempt at drawing in a breath.

“You don’t get to boss me around. I think we established who wears the pants in this relationship, didn’t we?” You stomp on his foot and bring your elbow up to the inside of his wrist, forcing his arm down and away from your neck.

With quick fingers, you grab the dagger off of his utility belt and hold it to his throat, fire in your eyes.

“Don’t fucking call me Princess.” You press harder against his neck, waiting for him to back up. When he doesn’t you grind your teeth together and bring the knife to his shoulder, slicing a shallow gash there.

He hisses in pain, eyes widening.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart. One that you know you can’t win.” You shake your head at him and hold the blade up to his throat again.

“You touch who you want? Fine. But I’m gonna do the same. ‘Cause I don’t fucking belong to you. Understand?” The idea of another man’s hands on you makes a growl rumble out of his chest. He grabs your wrist and pins it behind your back, spinning you around so that it’s trapped between his stomach and your lower back.

Your shoulder aches a little but you don’t let it bother you too much. Instead, you wiggle in his grip, gasping when he brings his other hand around your torso to grab your throat.

"What were you saying?” He asks dangerously, teeth scraping over your neck. You arch your back, eyes falling closed at the sensation.

“I-I don’t belong to you,” you whisper, brows pulling together in frustration when he pulls his mouth away from your neck.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. You do belong to me. And I’ll make sure that you and everybody else know it.”

His mouth is back on your neck, assaulting it with harsh bites.

You moan at the pleasurable pain, thighs rubbing together to alleviate the growing tingling there.

“None of that, darling. You’re not allowed any pleasure ‘till I say so.” He kicks your feet apart and pushes you forward until your chest is pressed against the wall. Your ass is pushed up against his crotch and you moan softly at the feeling of his hard length against you.

Against your better judgement, you grind your hips back against him, moaning at the feeling of him. He takes the knife from your hand and shoves it back into his utility belt.

“Fucking brat,” he mumbles, grabbing you by the hair and pulling you over to the bed. You whimper, eyes clouded with lust.

He grabs your jaw and you bite your bottom lip, groaning when he pushes his thumb into your mouth.

You suck on it instinctively, eyes dazed, and Bucky curses.

He pulls his thumbs out then puckers his lips and spits in your mouth.

“Swallow it. Now.” You comply automatically, squirming slightly when he sits down on the bed and pulls you across his lap on your stomach. He flips your skirt up and tears your panties down your legs, ignoring the way you fuss.

“You gonna be good for me?” You don’t answer, which is answer enough for him. He smacks you hard on the ass once and you moan, the pain stinging in the best way. He chuckles, rubbing the tingling skin for a moment before his hand disappears, only to come back down again with hard *slap*.

“Count them for me, Princess,” he whispers, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging your head up. You can feel his breath on the back of your neck and you can’t help but shiver.

He smacks your ass hard and you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth.

“One,” you whisper, pussy throbbing when he hums. “Good girl.”

*Smack*

“Two.” Your neck aches and you want to drop your head but his grip on your hair stays tight.

He smacks you three more times and you count each one, voice becoming softer and softer as he hits harder and harder.

“Halfway there, Princess.” He lets go of your hair and your head falls forward, chin resting on the side of his thigh.

*Smack*

“Six.” Your eyes are rolling back into your head, but he doesn't let up.

Three more smacks and your thighs start trembling as the coil in your belly tightens.

“Are... are you cumming?” He asks softly, watching the way your body quivers. You don’t answer, bottom lip tucked between your mouth as you tiptoe on the edge of pleasure.

He slams his hand down against your ass once more and you tumble over the edge, a loud broken moan leaving your lips as pleasure fills you.

He grabs you by the back of the neck and wrenches you upright, standing with you and taking your bottom lip between his teeth for a moment while you ride your high.

“Did I say you could cum?” He asks, his voice low and gravelly. You shake your head, eyes still dazed, and he grins wickedly.

He pushes you onto the bed on your hands and knees and climbs on behind you, hands groping your ass. You moan softly and lean your ass further into his hands.

You glance over your shoulder when he pulls away from you, eyes darkening as you watch him strip down to just his boxers.

A glint of silver in his right hand catches your eyes and you swallow hard when you see his knife.

“Yeah, not so brave now, are ya?” He asks, a predatory look in his eyes as he kneels on the bed behind you again.

He presses the tip of the blade between your shoulder blades and you flinch slightly. He shushes you, trailing the blade over the fabric of your shirt, tearing it with ease. He uses his left hand to rip the material of the shirt off your body, leaving you completely bare before him.

“Look at you, all pretty and perfect for me,” he murmurs, trailing the sharp tip of the knife over your skin.

“Such perfect skin, just waiting for me to ruin it.” The knife bites into your skin and you inhale sharply, not expecting the feeling to make your core throb the way it does.

Bucky notices the way your legs clench and he smiles, pressing the side of the knife to your heat. He’s careful not to cut you and pulls the blade away after a moment only to groan at the sight of it.

“You’re fuckin’ drippin’, doll.” He brings the knife around to your face and you feel slightly humiliated at the amount of your slick that coats it.

“Clean it off,” he orders, watching with dark eyes as you stick your tongue out to clean your slick off of the blade. The tangy-sweet taste of yourself makes you moan, and you work harder to drink it all up.

When it’s clean, he tosses it to the ground and shoves your shoulders roughly, making you fall forward. He grabs your hips and hoists them up, forcing you to stay face down ass up.

He sheds his last layer of clothing quickly and situates himself behind you, tapping the tip of his cock against your soaked core.

You jolt at the feeling and grab handfuls of the bedsheets beneath you.

“None of that,” he whispers, grabbing your arms roughly but gently bringing them around your back, making sure you don’t hurt your shoulders.

He pins your wrists to your lower back, holding both of them in one hand and showing you just how much bigger than you he is.

As if that wasn’t reminder enough, he slides his cock through your folds, gathering the ample amounts of slick dripping from you and coating himself in it.

Each pass of the tip over your swollen clit makes you whine and wiggle your hips, wanting him to fuck you already.

“You want something, Princess? Huh? You want something from me?” You nod weakly, panting into the mattress.

“Ask for it like a good girl.” You moan and shake your head, certain you can’t formulate a sentence.

“Come on, sweetheart. Ask for it,” he encourages, his free hand giving your ass a smack.

You whine again before turning and resting your cheek on the mattress, giving you more room to breathe.

“Please,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Please what?” He asks, giving a particularly hard thrust against your clit. You yelp then moan.

“Please fuck me, please.” He basks in the sound of your pleas for a moment then, with no warning whatsoever, slams all the way into you.

You choke out a moan of pained pleasure when he meets your cervix.

“Holy Fuck!” He exclaims, gritting his teeth hard when your walls clench painfully tight around him.

“You’re fuckin soaked, Princess. Is all this for me?” He asks, fingers of his free hand tracing over where the two of you are connected.

“Mhm... all for you,” you whisper. He nods, bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly pulls out then pushes back in, making you feel every inch of his glorious cock.

“P-please... faster...” If he could spend the rest of his life listening to you beg for him he would.

“What was that, Princess? I didn’t quite catch it.” You groan and tug against the hand holding your wrists to your back.

“Faster. Please, please.”

“Well... since you asked so nicely.” He grabs onto your waist and quickly starts slamming into you, setting up a brutal and punishing pace, bruising your cervix with each hard thrust.

The pain is absolutely beautiful, and you cry out loudly.

He pounds into you barbarically, forcing you to take every inch of his long, thick cock.

You can hear the squelching of his cock sliding through the copious amount of slick your producing, and it only makes you feel even hotter, the heat gathering in your core in what will no doubt be another earth-shattering orgasm.

“You gonna cum for me? Huh?! Gonna cum on my cock?! Do it then, cum all over daddy’s cock.” The way he dominates you with absolutely no hesitation is what sends you spiralling headfirst into your climax, eyes rolling back into your head as everything goes black, ears ringing loudly.

He doesn’t stop, he only continues fucking you as you cum all over his cock, pussy clenching and flutter as he continues his assault on your walls.

When you take in a gasping breath, his hips slow until finally, he pulls out of you. You groan, legs shaking and pussy twitching, and Bucky needs to close his eyes to stop himself from cumming.

After a couple of deep breaths, he opens his eyes and flips you onto your back, pushing your knees up to your chest and resting his cock on your pussy.

You fight to catch your breath, hooded eyes trained on him. He slaps his cock against your cunt a couple times, watching as your back arches and a moan leaves your pretty lips.

“You got another one in you?” He asks, knowing he’s gonna make you cum again regardless of your answer.

When you don’t answer, he crawls up your body and presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and dominance. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth so harshly that you're sure he’s left a mark.

He pulls away and looks into your eyes, left hand moving from your hip up over your chest and resting on your right breast. He pinches your nipple between two cold metal fingers and lowers his head to your left breast, tongue tracing the pebbled skin for a moment before sucking it into his mouth.

You whine, the stimulation being far too much, and squirm underneath him.

He chuckles and pulls away, licking his lips as he devours you with his eyes.

“Should I eat that pretty pussy? Make you cream in my mouth then fuck you hard with my cock again? Yeah? You want that, baby?” You shake your head, far too sensitive for one more orgasm, let alone two.

He ignores you and climbs down your body until his face is right between your legs, his eyes gazing upon your sex like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Such a fucking pretty pussy. All nice and swollen for me.” He traces his tongue over your outer lips, groaning at the taste of you. Icy blue eyes, pupils blown wide with lust, stay trained on your face as he presses his tongue into your swollen hole, moaning lewdly as he slurps up everything you have to offer.

You drop your head back, hips thrusting up and off the bed as he eats you out like a man starved.

He pulls back for just a moment, holds your gaze, and spits onto your pussy.

You clench around nothing and you feel more than hear him chuckle as he dips down and wraps his mouth around your clit, giving it a hard suck.

Your shoulders lurch off the bed and he grins up at you before repeating the movement, sucking on your clit and rubbing it with his tongue. He uses the tip of his talented tongue to first circle your clit, then presses harder and flicks up and down.

“Fuck!” You cry, grabbing handfuls of his hair and pulling him harder against your centre. He takes the hint and works his mouth harder on you, teeth grazing over your swollen bud before he laves his tongue over it again, soothing the sting.

The way he maintains eye contact mixed with the obscene sound of him devouring you brings you to the edge quickly, and your third orgasm of the night grabs at you and nearly pulls you from consciousness. Nearly.

Your thighs stay clenched around Bucky’s head, and he uses that to his advantage, licking you through your high until a gush of liquid splashes against his face. He pulls back in slight shock, eyes wide for a moment before he’s leaning down to drink you in, desperate to taste all of you.

Your muscles ache and you can feel a cramp forming in your calf, but you can’t relax, not when he continues attacking your poor pussy with his mouth.

He pulls away and smacks his lips, grinning from ear to ear at how absolutely wrecked you look.

“You ready for my cock again, Princess?” He asks, rising to his knees and pulling your legs over his shoulders. He presses his cock to your heat and you shake your head.

“Baby, you know you’ve got another one in you.” You shake your head again, but both of you know that you don’t want to stop.

He slowly pushes into you, head rolling back at the snug fit.

“’S’like you get tighter and tighter every time I’m in you,” he whispers, voice scratchy. You say nothing, mouth dropped open in a silent scream of pleasure.

Bucky presses a soft kiss to each ankle before grabbing your thighs and pounding into you as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

You grab at the sheets and ball them in your fists, only to have your hands pried up and over your head, locked there in Bucky’s metal fist. His eyes are nearly black as he leans forward, and you lose your breath for a moment.

He’s hitting so much deeper at this angle, and he knows that too. The smug bastard slows for a moment, just gently rolls his hips and rubs over the sensitive spot inside of you before picking up the pace again.

You lock your ankles together around his neck, moaning and whimpering while he destroys you, thick cock splitting you open and ruining you in the best way possible.

He fucks you hard and fast, determined to make you cum once more before he hums.

He angles his hips upwards until you cry out, knowing that he’s hitting both your cervix and your g-spot with each thrust.

He can feel you starting to clench, see the furrow in your brows and the way your lips part.

God, watching you cum has to be one of the best things in the world.

Your shoulders raise up off the bed and your head digs into the pillows, love-bitten neck on display, and that only spurs him on more. Seeing you bearing his marks, knowing that everyone will know you’re his, it makes him fuck you harder, cock glistening each time he pulls back.

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth in a pathetic attempt at being silent, and Bucky leans down, taking your right nipple into his mouth and nipping at it. A scratchy, broken moan leaves your lips and he feels the telltale flutter of your walls before they clamp down, squeezing him so hard he thinks he sees stars.

He doesn’t stop, instead, he goes faster, chasing his own orgasm while prolonging yours. He lets go of your hands and they find his shoulders, nails digging in and dragging down, easily drawing blood.

That pinch of pain is all it takes to send him spiralling over the edge. He cums hard with a growl of your name, teeth finding your shoulder and biting hard enough for you to feel it but not hard enough to leave too much of a mark.

He pumps you full of warm cum, thick ropes of white painting your swollen walls. He cums for what feels like hours, and his cum seeps out from where his cock is locked in your pussy.

You pant hard, holding him tight to your chest. He huffs out a big breath of air and leans back, cock still inside of you, maneuvering your legs until they’re around his waist. He then flips the two of you so that you’re lying on his chest, pussy full to the brim with cock and cum.

His hand rubs soothing circles on your back as exhaustion sets in.

Before you fall asleep you pry your eyes open and look up at him, smiling almost shyly. He shoots you a dopey, blissed-out smile, then sighs, his fingers massaging your scalp.

“If I belong to you,” you mutter sleepily, “then you belong to me. No more touching random bitches.” He nods, straining his neck to kiss your forehead.

“I promise I won’t touch anyone but you unless it’s life or death.” You hum happily then whine when he pushes you off of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl. I’ve gotta get you cleaned up.”

He scoops you up in his arms and you feel his cum sliding out of you. He sits you down on the toilet and while you go he gets the shower ready.

“Just a quick rinse,” he whispers, kissing your nose gently. You nod and let him bring you in the shower. His hands, one cool and one hot, clean your body of the sweat and cum that would’ve irritated you all night.

Once the two of you are clean, he holds you under the water for a long moment, pressing gentle kisses all over your face.

“You’re my girl. The only one for me,” he whispers, fingers tracing up and down your spine. You hug him tightly to your body, closing your eyes and relaxing against him.

“And you’re the only one for me. Even though you drive me crazy.” He chuckles and kisses the top of your head.

The two of you stay like that, just holding each other under the stream until the water runs cold.

[dear-evanrosier]

CONGRATS ELIO<33

👀 / a ship or a character- I’ll give you a headcanon

uhhh, marlene mckinnon? and evan rosier!!

if it's cool to ask for two

yesss ty ty!! do you mind if i add my sexuality and pronouns hcs? well I'm doing it anyway

Marlene:

-lesbian, she/they

-loved to sketch, had all her favorite drawings hung up on her walls

-knew james and Peter since they were kids [grew up together]. They used to sneak into muggle stores and take candy while the other 2 distracted the shopkeep, and would randomly come home with bags of candy that none of their parents knew where it came from

-the only lights she uses are fairy lights or Christmas light. Will literally hiss like a vampire if you turn on their normal bedroom lights

-wears rings and earrings constantly, but the really big chunky ones like phoebe wears in Friends. Shes got a very eccentric style similar to Phoebe's and has no problem with it

-part of the Frog Choir at Hogwarts her last 2 years

-they have a cat named Cup

-she had too many stuffed animals on her bed to count. 90% of it was taken up by them and she had to move them off her bed every night to go to sleep

-dorcas fed this obsession

-dyed the tips of their hair bubblegum pink

-was shockingly good at astronomy even tho she hated it

Evan: (tw for mentions of death btw)

-gay (I KNOW THERE'S A WORD BUT I CANNOT REMEMBER IT FOR THE LIFE OF ME, IT STARTS WITH "A" AND I SWEAR ILL FIGURE IT OUT), they/he/she (genderfluid)

-had huge crushes on Regulus and Barty when they started Hogwarts

-made plans with pandora to open a library + coffee shop after they graduated

-was absolutely terrible at quidditch. could not play to save their life.

-he pretended he just wasnt allowed to play instead of admitting that 3 seconds on a broom was more dangerous to them then a flobberworm

-really really really liked skating. no I dont know why but she def did

-acted like he hated studying but actually really enjoyed it

-used study sessions with Regulus to get him to stop studying or relax, which worked about 60% of the time

-absolutely covered in freckles, as much as (if not more) than Regulus was

-really enjoyed potions class to a worrying degree

-naturally black hair but bleached it maybe a month before he died

-almost killed moody before she was killed first

(Not a evan hc but extends from them)

-Regulus tried to save them, despite it being shockingly obvious she was already dead, and was almost arrested and unmasked before barty apparated them away, leaving Evan's body behind (😭)

[spxllcxstxr]

Bumps and Bruises • M.M

(GIF is not mine)

Request: Hi! Sorry, May I ask for a Marlene McKinnon x fem!/gn! reader fic, Soulmate AU where they feel each other's pain. — anon

Summary: Two Quidditch rivals finding out they’re something...more (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: Mentions of food/eating, injury description, brief mention of blood

Word Count: ~2k

A.N: NonGryffindor!Reader, this is my first time doing a Soulmate AU so I hope this is ok! It’s hard to find a balance between Soulmate AU and normal AU, but I’m sure I’ll get better with it in practice! The ending is kinda iffy imo, but it’s not terrible. Hope you enjoy!

****

The first thing you feel when you wake up on Friday morning is a flare up of painful throbbing blossoming across the outer part of your right thigh.

You groan, prying your eyes open and pull back your blanket.

The pale light filtering through your curtains is enough to see the grotesque purpling of swollen skin. You poke and prod at your thigh, occasionally hissing out in agony.

The bruise is both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Its circular shape is something you see all the time. As a Beater on your Quidditch team, Bludger bruises were commonplace. The issue is, and this is where the mark becomes unfamiliar to you, when you went to sleep last night, there was no evidence of any such mark.

This was peculiar because you never had a history of sleep Quidditch, and you’re sure that if you got up in the middle of the night in a trance, at least one of your dorm mates would’ve told you.

And this certainly wasn’t some accidental hitting your bed frame sort of injury. This was ten inches in diameter, black and blue like a ball of pure iron slammed into you. As a self proclaimed Quidditch expert, you’re fully aware of what caused this.

But this conclusion brings up more questions than answers. Sure, you had practice after classes yesterday, but you would remember being hit full force—and you don’t.

But you have no time to sit and ponder over this mystery, you have to make it down for breakfast and then endure hours of classes. If only you could skip ahead to tomorrow’s match against Gryffindor.

You limp your way through the dorm, unable to put the usual amount of weight on your right leg. The room is empty, save for Bedelia, who, as usual, is still snoring underneath her blanket. On your way out, you make sure to wake her up by slamming the door shut as hard as you can.

Hobbling down to the Great Hall with a bag of heavy books slung over your shoulder is no easy feat even when it’s something that constantly happens.

The Great Hall is buzzing, though most of the noise is coming from the Gryffindor table.

The ceiling reflects the morning, bright blue and not a cloud in sight.

By the looks of it, the Gryffindor Quidditch team just got back from their morning practice, still panting and sweaty. For the entire week leading up to a match, James Potter, their captain, makes them practice and go through relentless drills in preparation. When they’re not on the pitch, he’s quizzing them on maneuvers. You’re lucky that your captain and fellow Beater, Morgana Sharpe, gives you the day before a match off, mostly to rest and review. If Potter was your captain he would’ve ended up in St. Mungo’s by now.

Your eyes wander over to Marlene McKinnon, her blonde hair up in a bun, face red and splotchy from practice, bare arms showing off muscle. Her chest heaves under her scarlet top.

“Practicing getting your arses handed to you?” You joke, leaning against their table.

Marlene scoffs. “Oh, you wish.”

Her deep brown eyes find yours, a troublesome twinkle shining through.

“Focus, Marlene, can’t have you fraternizing with the enemy!” James laughs out between mouthfuls of eggs.

“More like flirting with the enemy.” Sirius snorts, leaning closer to Remus, who chuckles into his glass.

“Oi! Piss off, Black!” Marlene snaps, the red on her face spreading.

Dorcas squeezes in next to her, dittany in hand. “How’s the leg, Marls?”

“Aw.” You pout. “Did McKinnon get a boo boo during practice?”

She scowls at you. “Don’t you have a potion to blow up?”

You clench your jaw and ball your hand into a fist. She’s got a point.

“Alright, enough trash talk, you two, leave it for the pitch.” James rolls his eyes.

Instantly, a weight lifts from your shoulders.

“I gotta go eat, anyway.” You smile warmly at your sort of friends. “So I’ll see you guys in class.” You wave before turning to your own table.

You join the rest of your team the table, squeezing through the tight huddle. Parchment is scattered all over the surface, some with crude drawings of maneuvers, some with written stats.

“Right, now that we’re all here,” Sharpe grunts our in her thick Irish accent, shooting you a disgruntled look. “We have a change of plans.”

“Change of plans?” Webb, one of your Chasers, asks. He looks up from his diagram, eyebrows raised.

“Greene’s soulmate took a tumble and landed him in the hospital wing. Can’t play tomorrow’s match.” She scowls, drawing clenched tightly on her hand.

“Again?” Your team groans.

Rupert Greene spends more time in the hospital wing due to his soulmate’s clumsiness than from playing a dangerous magical sport. That’s the way it’s been for the four years you’ve known him, and you have a hunch that it’ll never change.

“So we’re gonna have to put in Knight? Against Gryffindor?” Webb cries out, eyes wide. “No offense, but he isn’t ready to take on those pricks!”

Sharpe runs a hand through her dark brown hair. “Well, I guess we all just need to pray to Merlin some Gryffindor gets knocked off their broom.” She sighs.

The news of Knight replacing Greene for the match against Gryffindor puts you in a sour mood, making the bruise on your thigh throb more painfully.

You march through the corridors, face contorted in a permanent frown, barely paying attention to your lessons. You do, however, manage to keep your potion from exploding, which Slughorn is thrilled about. Match notes and plays take over your free time, pushing all your homework to Sunday, quickly deciding that this match is far too important. Marlene sticks her tongue out at you whenever she gets the chance as she hobbles through the corridors or looks away from Flitwick in your shared Charms class.

Sharpe drags you and the rest of the team up to bed at nine, lecturing you all about a good night’s rest. You roll your eyes, but you do only spend half an hour studying moves before heading to bed.

You wake up jittery.

You’re always nervous the morning of normal Quidditch matches, but this isn’t a normal Quidditch match. Gryffindor has gone undefeated for the entire season so far, and you just need to beat them. You crave to watch the smug look fall from James’ face and the cocky attitude that Sirius is infamous for crumble. You want to win. At the same time, though, you’re hesitant to see the frown on Marlene’s face. Those perfect lips deserve to shaped in a perfect smile.

Your bruise isn’t as irritated as yesterday. It’s still black and blue, but you really need to dig your thumb into it for it to hurt.

You stretch, listening to your joints pop before strutting down to the Great Hall to join the rest of your team.

Taking a deep breath before making your way through the threshold, you try your best to calm down and radiate confidence. You crack your knuckles and make your way to your table.

Marlene throws you a playful glare across the room, which you teasingly reciprocate.

Breakfast is a quiet affair for your group. Feet tap impatiently against the stone, nervous habits running wild.

The weather is perfect for Quidditch. There’s a slight breeze and a couple fluffy white clouds drifting through the blue sky, providing the occasional blotch of shade. It reassures you and calms you down on your walk down.

Sharpe gives her usual pep talk in the locker rooms. It’s all about blood, guts, and glory, and how we better not mess this up for her or else “she’ll haunt us from the great beyond.” Knight is white as a sheet, trembling underneath his robes.

The crowd roars out from the stands just above, your cue to make your grand entrance. Brooms are taken off their positions in the wall and in a single filed line, you all follow Sharpe out onto the pitch.

“And here it is, everybody,” Remus’ voice calls out over the chaos. “Captain Sharpe, (Y/Ln), Webb, Byrne, Spade, Opal, and their reserve, Knight!”

Your house cheers louder at your introduction, your eardrums pounding. You smile and nod at the crowd, excitement bubbling up inside of you.

“While the two captains are taking positions and shaking hands,” You hear as you mount your broom, Potter and Sharpe facing each other. “I have been paid quite a significant amount to say that according to James Potter, Lily Evans looks absolutely gorgeous today—“

“That has nothing to do with the match, Lupin!” McGonagall cries.

“Godric, Minnie. I’m just doing some adverts, it’s all good. No need to—“

A large thwack echos throughout the pitch, but you’re too wrapped up in Hooch blowing the whistle.

Quickly, you soar up in the air, Beater’s bat in one hand, chasing after your teammates to defend them.

You barely hear Remus over the whistling of the wind and your own grunts.

You watch Marlene laugh after she bats a Bludger away from James, the bat giving off a wicked crack. You’re momentarily mesmerized by her figure. How her tongue peeks out in concentration and her ponytail bounces wildly in the wind.

A moment passes and your arm erupts in pain, and to add onto that, you’re hurtling towards the grass.

You clutch your arm and brace for impact, breath being forcibly ripped from your lungs. Tears well in your eyes from both the pain and the air lashing against your body. Your Quidditch robes flap wildly behind you.

The landing, however, isn’t that bad. You end up in the grass, your bad arm protected. You assume Dumbledore is the one to thank.

You let out strangled pants, sky spinning around you, a piercing whistle sharp against your ears. Your arm screams in agony.

“(Y/Ln)!” Sharpe calls out, broom clutched in one hand. “You alright?” Her face shines with sweat.

“Bloody hell, she’s got quite the swing.” You groan, face contorting in anguish.

In the corner of your rotating vision, you watch red and gold blurs crowding around someone else.

Madam Hooch and the rest of your teammates are talking, but you can’t understand a word they’re saying.

Tendrils of black fog enter your vision and suddenly you’re out cold.

You recognize the hospital wing bed immediately. It’s firm, but not unbearable, the white cotton sheets rubbing against any exposed skin.

“So (Y/Ln) and McKinnon, eh?”

It’s garbled and you’re unable to place the voice, but it’s understandable.

“What’s this ‘bout me and McKinnon?” You manage to slur out, eyes blinking open, the figures above you blurry.

The world gradually clears itself up, your teammates surrounding your bed. Your left arm is wrapped tightly to your chest with a white cotton sling. The pain is dull, but it’s the most noticeable feeling present.

“Ah, well...” Webb scratches the back of his neck, averting his eyes.

“They’re talking about how I finally felt my own strength.”

Slowly, you turn your head to see Marlene sitting up on her bed, carefully watching over you. Her friends surround her, knowing smirks gracing their faces.

Her blonde hair is a bit of a tangled mess from the wind, but her smile is blinding in the light.

“You mean...” Your eyes widen in shock.

Marlene nods her head. “Soulmates.”

You bite your lip in response.

“I mean, it was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?” Sirius asks, looking between his friends for approval. “They literally wake up covered in bruises after like every Quidditch match!”

“Shut up, Pads!” Remus hisses, smacking him on the leg. “They’re having a moment.”

Sirius rolls his eyes and holds his hands up in mock surrender.

Your eyes drift to your thigh where the mysterious bruise was.

“I’m guessing you got hit by a Bludger during practice?” You ask.

“And you’re the one that gave me that broken bloody nose during detention!” Marlene exclaims.

You nod shyly, remembering when Knight accidentally threw the Quaffle at your face during a late night practice.

“Are we really that bloody stupid?” You laugh.

“You want a real answer or...?” James starts, repositioning his glasses.

Marlene shoves James off her bed, and he yelps before ungracefully tumbling to the floor with a crash.

“Guess this is our cue to leave the two stupid lovebirds alone.” Lily giggles before patting her friend on the back and leaving, the Marauders and your own team trailing close behind her.

Because the bones in your arm are practically shattered, you’re confined to the hospital wing for at least another day, but with Marlene at your bedside, it’s been made bearable. You talk about all those mysterious injuries you’ve acquired over the many years and learn the extent of your idiocy.

With various bumps and bruises to match, at the end of the day, the two of you are much more than Quidditch rivals.

[visd3stele]

modern Jily texting au blurb

summary: Lily is a newly published author and her story hits big. James is a talented artist. Texts and flirting never miss.

TW: none (well, not proof read, cringey? the first time writing something like this and it feels weird but I had to take this out of my system lmao)

stay safe on the internet, tho. don't meet up with shady people. make sure you're location is known by a close person. if something/someone makes you uncomfortable, you are allowed to back off and leave it at that.

A/N: I searched the username I used and found no one with that name, but if it's a glitch and there is an actual blog that I couldn't find, it's not based on them.

fanart credit to: I have no idea, found it on pinterest. Please let me know if you do.

masterlist and requests

Lily Evans smiled fondly at the shelves in the library. Standing proudly, her book looked back at her. The beautiful cover she never dared imagine until now. The touchable papers, more than an image in her mind. People passing her by, taking a copy in their hands and tucking it under their arm to purchase it.

It warmed her heart. Everything about her journey as an author. The reviews she read, the discussion she heard of her story. The fans simply enjoying themselves, escaping into her universe. And all the amazing art she was send. Talented people all over the world painted or sketched her characters and were kind enough to share it with her as well.

Lily jumped shortly when her phone beeped inside her pocket. Thinking of the devil, she mused to herself amused. Lily was tagged in another post. A beautiful art of her main characters dressed in halloween costumes. It made her laugh so much she couldn't resist reblogging it.

I absolutely love this! <3

Not a minute later, she received a message. Thanks so much, beautiful, it read. Of course, it was easy to be inspired by such a compling story ;)

Why, thank you! You're quite talented yourself.

After she typed the reply, Lily checked the id. The name prongsart next to a picture of a stag made her snort, but she had to admit, the guy knew his way with a pencil and a brush. There were some unfinished digital art pieces too. And a lot of them were based on her book. Lily doubled tapped each she could find. To be fair, the guy deserved it.

Validation, my love language. Came the message from prongsart soon after.

Really? You shouldn't doubt yourself. I love seeing my characters brought to life.

Great. Cool. I have an idea or two on how you could repay me if you're up for it.

Lily rolled her eyes at the phone screen. Scoffing at the bold implication of this boy, she typed quickly: Your work was voluntarily done. Payment isn't requiered.

True. But it's always welcomed.

Lily shook her head and sighed. Enough texting strangers for a day.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Sorry for being an arse the other day.

Lily's phone opened with the notification. The deer boy, as she nicknamed him in her head, texted her again. Attatched to it was a comic apology gif.

Before she could reply, another text showed on her screen: Do I get another chance?

Lily bit her lip, debating with her eyebrows furrowed and mind still a bit foggy with sleep. As a sunday afternoon, she allowed herself a lazy day in bed, drifting in and out of dreams.

Another chance to what, exactly? Because when in doubt, stole the time with more questions.

Talk to you and not come off as a creep

Are you sure it is within your abilities?

Tell you what: if I misbehave again, you can block me and I'd report the account myself.

I'd've blocked you anyway, don't need your permission. And how would I know you'll keep that promise?

Follow your gut? Lily chuckled lightly at his words. She has been told not to speak with strangers online, but this deer boy wasn't so bad. He made her laugh and his talent was drawing her in to him.

You want me to trust you? I don't even know your name.

James. James Fleamount Potter. And to make it even, I'm from London as well. College student.

Lily Evans dropped her body weight on her elbows, leaning on the soft matresses of her bed. She had all those information about herself made public when she became a bestseller author and the redhead writer couldn't help find James' oversharing rather cute.

Let me guess. Art?

Bet on it.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Lily and James were talking for over a month now. They found out each other's favorite movies, foods, their wildest dreams and biggest fears. She even admited to never truly come to terms of her and her sister's alienation from one another. And he shared the deep betrayal of a friend that led to a terrible accident to fall upon him.

I'm sorry for that. Are you better now?

Its fine Lily-pad. I'm sorry about your sister.

Lily-pad?

Well, if you call me Prongs...

I don't?

You should. Everybody does.

Weird. What's up with that, anyway?

There was a lack of response, the screen showing him typing for about five minutes. Whe James finally did sent his message, it was only a "long story" and a tired emoji.

Come on! Now I'm even more curios...

It really isn't something to drop over a writen convo.

That bad?

Not bad. Odd, maybe.

Lily has been waiting for a reason to see him for quite some time now. So, before she could change her mind lut of nerves, she sent him a quick question and went offline.

The next morning Lily woke up to a new text from James.

Can't have enough of me, Lily-pad?

The story better be worth it, deer boy.

Prongs*

Not until I know why.

Fine. Meet me in the campus, at the coffee stand. Sounds good?

Perfect.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

James Potter's story proved to be wild and entertaining. And after that first date, many others followed. A clear path to a life long love. Who would have thought it began with one good book and a pretty drawing?

[kashimos-hajime]

dear... whoever | b.b.

summary: a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries. 

WARNINGS: swearing, LOTS of fluff, mentions of drinking and sex and hospitals and guns, general fun and witty attitude, small angst, big jealousy, obviously au after civil war. everything after does not exist. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.5k

a/n: written for @softbiker​ and 100% inspired by @sunmoonandbucky​ with the format. my prompt was let me love you by rita ora and i wrote it from the perspective the singer is singing it to rather than the actual singer. this was super fun to write. enjoy!

July 31/20

Dear…

Whoever is going to read this. So… me, in the future probably. So, it should be dear WHOMever, I think, but it sounds wrong.

Is it too cliché to say dear diary? I don’t know. After all, I don’t WANT to be writing this but unfortunately I am because it’s mandated. Apparently, the psychiatrist that works for Stark Industries thinks it’s necessary that I write down my feelings and show that I’ve adjusted to working part-time superhero, full-time head of Tony’s stupid R&D department.

Something about how that much stress can cause psychotic fractures in the worst case scenario.

Cute.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write. Currently, it’s 4:23AM. The only reason I’m awake is because I have trouble sleeping on the best night. I heard Barnes messing about and because I am the Hermit of the Rec Room Couch (catchy, I know), I can hear him just walking about.

What the hell is he even doing?

To be honest, I’ve never talked to Barnes besides the occasional greetings because he’s the sort to keep to himself, I guess, and, valid. I’m not saying it’s not, considering his history, but you know.

I think I’m a friendly person, and I’m bored. He’s eventually going to hear me writing noisily because of super-soldier hearing or whatever, so I might just get up and introduce myself.

Not that I’ve been working here for years, but whatever.

I’m really bored and hungry, honestly, so a trip to the kitchen would be considered normal (and warranted) in such circumstances.

Fuck it.

Time to make a new friend or die trying. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.

.

Aug. 1/20

Dear Jane,

I finally got the time to write in here and you may be wondering why I have named you. Well, after the conversation at roughly 4:30 AM, here are things that’ve changed in a disorganized list. None is more important than the other. I'm just writing what comes to my head.

One: Barnes said he doesn’t really let anyone call him James. I called him James once because I forgot. Profuse apologies followed. He said it was okay and didn’t mind me calling him that. Now, in my mind, I think he’s just saying this to be polite and really just wants me to call him Bucky but he seemed sincere. We’ll see how it goes.

Two: Barnes was awake because his cat woke him up. I didn’t even know he had a cat but it’s a gorgeous white cat named Alpine that Barnes carries around in his half-zipped up hoodies sometimes. It’s adorable. He’s super soft and friendly and I love him already. He showed me all the tricks Alpine could do. Amazing.

Three: Barnes’ favourite movie is the Godfather. Totally surprising there. Please tell me you understand sarcasm.

Four: He said he liked the name Jane when I told him what I was doing up and also in the rec room (couldn’t sleep, writing in my diary) and that I didn’t want to say “Dear diary”

“Why don’t you just give it a name?” he eloquently suggested and Jane was his answer to my question of “Which name?”

Five: Barnes, or James, I guess he is now, is my friend.

Six: We said we’d meet up at 4:30AM or earlier again because I told him I wanted to show him my s’mores dip recipe.

Seven: Wish me luck. Hope I don’t get murdered.

Eight: I think I might be in love with him.

Bye.

.

Aug. 5/20

Dear Jane,

In an effort to summarize what has happened in the past four days, I will open with the fact that James Buchana Barnes is the cutest motherfucker on the planet. He’s super old fashioned, but that’s a given. He opens the doors for me, offers to take my bags up, and in the past four days, we’ve met up at around midnight to just eat and chat. Then he walks me back to my room with a glass of water and I’m left fanning myself because it’s so sweet and he’s so sweet and OH, MY GOD, I am a child.

This feels like a crush. Like, butterflies in my stomach, self-conscious every time he looks at me, can’t stop staring, and wanting to impress him at every turn sort of crush.

AKA, a middle-school crush and I feel completely ridiculous but that is besides the point because he’s just the loveliest person.

Someone should tell him chivalry is dead. Steve thinks he’s just being sweet on me, and Sam says I should flash some ass just to get a rise out of him which would be funny. He’d look absolutely adorable blushing his head off.

We’ll see. I am considering it.

What else happened? I’m drawing a huge blank.

As explained in a previous entry, I was to show Barnes my s’mores dip recipe. Huge success. Crowd loved it. That’s how I learned he has a huge sweet tooth like me. Got an email from Pep about a board meeting which I ignored. If it’s really important, she’ll see me in person. Went swimming with Sam. We started planning Tony’s big Christmas party even though that’s MONTHS away.

But, you know. We’re so busy all the time, it might be worth it planning ahead.

As head of R&D, it’s vital to me that this goes well because they’re fun when they do go well, and a chaotic disaster when they don’t. Also, I have to find a date but details will follow.

I think that’s it.

If there’s more to follow, then I’ll just come back but there really isn’t.

Oh, Alpine found my room. He’s in here right now and he snores. It’s cute, just like his owner.

Okay, goodnight.

.

Aug. 7/20

Dear Jane,

Sam, James, and I went swimming.

Pro of the day: James is ripped and that man was GLISTENING.

Con of the day: I AM STUPID in front of hot ripped men.

Pro of the day: We got ice cream together. Strawberry for me, mango for James because he wants to try new flavours, and Sam ordered some monstrosity with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and raspberry syrups, and a bunch of banana slices. A swirl of whipped cream to finish it off. It looked like diabetes in a cup and that’s coming from me.

Con of the day: James used his thumb to wipe the ice cream off my lip and my brain short-circuited. Sam teased us about it, but James very stubbornly and convincingly said we’re just friends.

Con of the day x2: We are just friends and that is NOT going to change. I cannot explain how much my heart literally fell out of my body in disappointment.

God, and James and I are meeting up at 2AM tonight so he can show me this new stupid stuffed celerey recipe he learned.

It’s not stupid.

It’s really, REALLY cute he researched it.

This sucks.

.

Aug. 11/20

The worst day ever. I don’t want to talk about it but might as well make a note on it. More on it later, I guess.

.

Aug. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry, I’m dramatic. Must get it from working with Tony for so many years.

Let’s just review what occurred on August 11, 2020, at approximately 3:23 in the afternoon.

I learned that James went out on a date. A DATE. From SAM. When James had ample opportunity to tell me at our regular meeting at witching hour over celery sticks.

EXCUSE ME? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

I’m not even mad. I’m just angry that the man I became friends with only 2 weeks ago and caught feelings immediately for is seeing other people.

I sound like a raging bitch. I promise you, Jane, that I am not. I’m just the insanely jealous type.

No, I’m not.

God, what is happening to me and why does it have to be James.

I never get crushes and the instant I do, it’s for the most emotionally and physically unavailable person ON EARTH.

Also, work was work. I was distracted, drank soup from the canteen, and generally accomplished nothing. Alpine came for some snuggles while James was out. That’s the only good thing.

Thanks, universe.

.

Aug. 16/20

Dear Jane,

So, I brought up this mystery lady over homemade sundaes.

James seems pretty serious about her because he a) apologized for not telling because he wanted to keep it private and asked me not to tell anyone and b) has a second date with her later today.

Oh, GOD. There is no point to this.

.

Aug. 19/20

Dear Jane,

What’s the point of asking someone intimate, personal questions if not because you guys are best friends?

James called me his best friend today. He says he knows me, but if he did, he’d know I feel like throwing up whenever he’s around and that his stare burns through every layer of clothing until I feel like he just knows my secret.

I told him we’ve known each other less than a month, but he said something stupidly charming about “intuition” and feeling and that this feels right and how he knows he can tell me anything and that I was an easy person to talk to.

I should’ve been a shrink.

At least, my trip to Wakanda is going to give me distance. A solid two months of no one else but me, tech, and new faces. Going there to collaborate with Shuri is definitely exciting and taking up more space in my brain than James these days.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with some soldier over there because apparently, I’m catching feelings willy-nilly these days.

See you on the plane, Jane.

.

Aug. 23/20

Dear Jane,

On the quinjet, it’s fairly quiet. It’s one of the things I love about it. The silent yet soft engines that can lull me to sleep. We should be arriving in a few hours so I thought I’d write. I’m getting the hang of this, I think.

There's a press conference later, too, in the trip with the UN and it’s not that I can’t handle it, but that I could’ve done this in my sleep and wished Tony sent someone else. I hate the press, not gonna lie.

Anyway, this gives me time to be introspective.

Is it just me or James always Okay, is it just my imagination that whenever I try to get close to James, he just kinda pulls away? Not in a romantic way. I’m not stealing anyone’s man because girl code, but he won’t even let me just stand near him anymore. It’s like I have an infectious disease only transmitted through physical contact and it’s just weird.

I don’t know.

Before I left, he said he’d miss me and that we should keep in touch through calls (Obviously, I would) and that he hopes I won’t forget him.

So, you say those things but you won’t even let me even hug you?

You’re a manipulative asshole, Barnes.

.

Oct. 20/20

Dear Jane,

I am so sorry that it has taken so long for us to reunite.

In hindsight, I’m a fucking idiot.

I left you on the quinjet which went back to New York and a different quinjet came to pick me up. I came back like two days ago so these past few days have been spent searching for you.

James offered to help, and he seems normal again.

Weird. Guess he was just in a mood with the new girlfriend and adjusting to having me as a friend, too. Guys go through that, I guess.

In Wakanda, I did not, in fact, fall in love with a soldier or anything. I curse every day that I didn’t, trust me. I’m just as disappointed as you are because I just want to get over this stupid crush. For the two months I was gone, it was like I didn’t like James at all like that. Even during calls, I could pretend we were just two teammates keeping each other in the loop. He talked about his girlfriend, I listened, I explained science because he’s a nerd, and he asked questions like he was interested.

It was FINE.

Then, he was waiting for me when I came back to NYC and it slammed into me like Bruce in Hulk-mode.

James asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend because she’d be coming around for the Halloween party anyway, and he thinks we’ll get along swimmingly.

He really said swimmingly. He is stuck in the wrong era, but we all knew that.

I said yes, to be polite.

Here’s to hoping she’s a vindictive bitch and I am justified in hating her entire being.

.

Oct. 22/20

Dear Jane,

I met her. She’s small and pretty and mature and normal.

If I wasn’t stupidly in my feelings about James, I’d love her, too. 

She’d treat him right, give him a good home to come back to.

Best not to notice the people fighting beside you in that way, I guess.

.

Oct. 25/20

Dear Jane,

God is dead and NO ONE has eyes on the road.

Jesus isn’t even taking the wheel on this one.

It’s a fucking disaster.

I do not want to describe in every little detail the intricacies of dreaming about James Buchanan Barnes fucking my brains out, so I won’t, but this is for the record that it happened and how the fuck am I supposed to come back and see him in his probably gorgeous attempt at his recreation of Brendan Fraser from the Mummy AKA my favourite movie (which HE KNOWS THAT IT IS?? GOD, the audacity.)

Girlfriend (his girlfriend. “Girlfriend” is the name which she shall be henceforth known as in these entries because petty wins are all I have right now) is dressing as Rachel Weisz. Because “couples goals” or whatever.

I wouldn’t know. Sam and I are dressed up as sexy salt and pepper shakers (his idea, not mine) and he made me take the salt stick because I think he knows. Steve’s not dressing up because he’s more focused on handing out candy as Captain America.

Tony is… Tony. Iron Man and all that.

Anyway, I’m out of town in DC for a meeting with the Secretary of State for a few days, but I’ll be back in New York on the 30th so I’ll have a few hours to adjust to being around James again before he dons on that outfit that I know will be totally hot.

He called me his best friend again in his latest email.

Made me smile like an idiot, but I digress.

.

Nov. 1/20

Dear Jane,

Halloween was killer. Sam and I won best duo for costumes because we’re that good. Ate a lot of candy and it seems to be looking up.

I dunno. I didn’t mind James and Girlfriend on the couch that much in the after-party. Mostly stuck by Nat and Sharon and Tony. An ood trio, but a fun one nonetheless.

It was fun, but I still have to go to work no matter how many jello shots and vodka gummy bears consumed.

Wish me luck, not that I need it.

Why do you think Tony hired me?

.

Nov. 4/20

Dear Jane.

Natasha said I smile at James in a way that utterly betrays every emotion I want to hide in my chest.

Note to self: Don’t smile at James, or at his jokes, or at anything he ever does again. Avoid him. Put a stopper on this friendship.

Note to note to self: I can’t. He just makes me smile whenever he’s around and he’s always around. There’s no simpler way to put it.

I’m gonna try this hiatus thing, though. Distance myself a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

.

Nov. 13/20

Dear Jane,

Day nine of this hiatus business and it sucks. I miss my best friend.

We’re scheduled for a mission together, and we’re leaving tomorrow so I was going to have to talk to him during the briefing and the op either way.

Well, glad to know this didn’t work.

.

Nov. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Guess who just got fucking shot!

ME!

Guess even scumbags can’t take a holiday because some stupid arms dealer got a cheap shot on me while I was downloading their whole computer system and other tech mumbo-jumbo I am too high to write about.

James left a few hours ago with the rest of the team, but not before he got me a bunch of ice chips and said he was worried and that he hopes I get better soon. He even promised to get me some flowers to spruce up the room and to say my HEART went CRAZY is an understatement.

He came to my rescue, essentially, as soon as he heard I got pinned. He carried me to the quinjet the instant he cleared the area and stayed by my side the whole time even though the bleeding stopped and I was in good hands. He was just so protective, barking at doctors and nurses. It was embarrassing but also really, really sweet.

Is it weird of me to say that I want him to stay by my side forever? 

I’ve never fallen in love before.

Is it always this fast and this hard? I feel like I’m crashing instead of gently and wonderfully falling. Everything is dumb and awful.

Is this what love is like? Because it hurts worse than getting shot because I think I’m going to vomit flowers or butterflies or something.

God, he’d never love me. We’re just friends and even though we have a lot in common, he’d never. It’s just too much of the past in the present or whatever.

Also, he has a girlfriend but it seems very surface-level. God, that makes me sound like a “one of the boys” type of girl who’s a bitch to one of the boy’s new girlfriends, but I don’t know. James told me they don’t really talk about the deep stuff like we do. But she makes him happy, I think.

In hindsight, one may ask what the deep stuff is.

More on that later. I’m tired.

God, why him?

I HATE THIS.

goodnight.

.

Nov. 16/20

Dear Jane,

James visited again today. He sat beside me and we talked until the nurses had to kick him out. He also brought the flowers.

I asked about Girlfriend casually. I said I liked her.

He said he did, too.

I don’t know why I think he’s lying. No, I do.

It’s because jealousy is the green-eyed bitch from highschool who still shows up in my life because she thinks she’s relevant to society.

That was mean. Unrequited love makes you mean. Side effect noted.

P.S. The deep stuff includes his past, his arm, his memory, his favourite colour. I dunno why that matters. It just does.

.

Nov. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Got out of the hospital today because of advanced technology and all that. Nothing’s left but a scar and residual soreness. James helped me to my room and said to call him if I had a problem.

I joked that he has a girlfriend and for some reason, he got really weird about it. It’s hard to describe. I dunno. Nat dropped by for popcorn and movies.

It’s 2:32AM. I’m wondering if he’s in the kitchen but I’m confined to bed rest so I don’t know. Also, Nat is asleep beside me and I don’t want to bother her.

Hopefully I can get up and move in a few days. Life is boring.

.

Nov. 24/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry we haven’t caught up in a moment. Work’s been hectic and I’ve been working overtime trying to make ends meet. Most days I’m in the office or lab, just trying to get enough things done so I can take time off come Christmas.

James stopped by tonight with Chinese takeout and some sweet buns.

He broke up with his girlfriend, too.

Guess that’s why he was being weird about it.

I tried being as casual as I could asking why, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so I asked why he came by. Couldn’t be for the company because when I’m in work mode, I just don’t talk and he knows that.

He said something about his arm feeling funny so I gave it a quick diagnostics check.

I think both of us knew his arm was feeling fine.

Everything is stupid, life is meaningless, and James’ lips are the prettiest shade of pink in the ugly lights of the lab.

I would very much like to have kissed him, but I didn’t.

Girl code.

It’ll probably be a while before I get another chance to actually have time and energy to write another diary entry. Christmas season’s coming close and Pepper is gonna need help with the party.

Yay, me.

.

Dec. 4/20

Dear Jane,

Morgan asked me in less eloquent words if I had a boyfriend (it was more like “You boyfriend?” But whatever. Who even taught her that word?) and I swear to GOD Nat could not make it anymore obvious looking at James.

Remind me to absolutely throttle her. I don’t care if she’s the infamous Black Widow. She has clearly never seen me hopped up on nothing but a negative amount of sleep and rage/embarrassment/spite/all of the above.

On another note, Pep asked if I was bringing a plus one for the party. I said I’d think about it. Normally I’d just take Sam but he has his eyes on someone at the VA and I like my friends getting laid so no go there.

Might just go alone. I don’t know.

Pep said I should take James, but I don’t really think she knows the truth about that situation. Luckily, Tony instantly rejected the idea and said he’d find me a date if I couldn’t.

Thank the universe for at least placing me in the close circle of the most well-known and richest man in the world because he also gave me his card and said go wild.

He knows me so well. I’m thinking about Christmas shopping when I have another free day, and I’ll pay for that with my own money, of course, but clothes shopping is a free market.

I cannot wait.

.

Dec. 12/20

Dear Jane,

I wish I could show you my haul, but I got so much stuff Happy had to drive to help me. Besides obvious gifts, I also managed to snag a gorgeous dress for the party.

Thoughts on black and gold?

I think it’s beautiful. Hopefully Nat and Sharon think so. We’re having a girls night tonight and showing off outfits, so that’s exciting.

James asked if we could meet up tonight.

I told him I had plans and he looked so downcast.

I dunno. Everything feels weird between us. Like we’re fine, we’re best friends still, but something’s changed when no one was looking. He’s single now. I guess that energy is different because I had gotten used to his energy with ex-Girlfriend.

I don’t exactly mind but it’s not ideal either. I miss summer. It’s much less complicated than winter. Winter, one has to worry about wind and chills and snows blocking roads, black ice, dry skin, freezing fingers.

Summer: there’s just a lot of sun, wind, bugs, and the vaguest notion of being bored.

Look, I love winter. It’s my favourite season. It’s quiet and gorgeous and dreamy, even though it gets dreary in New York. The snow falls slowly sometimes, Christmas is gorgeous here, and I’d rather be cold than sweating buckets, and there are no bugs to bother me. Also, it gives me a good reason to stay in the labs or in my room where it’s warm and toasty.

I just miss the relative simplicity when James and I were just strangers on the edge of being friends, which is, in retrospect, a selfish reason to like one season and hate another.

Well, some philosopher somewhere probably said something about humanity being selfish.

.

Dec. 16/20

Dear Jane,

T-minus nine days until the party.

No date in sight.

Maybe I’ll ask Anderson from HR. We had coffee together a few times and he’s nice. Good catch: smart, not too bad looking, and really nice. I’ll head down tomorrow and ask.

Alpine had purred when I told him my plan and headbutted my hand, so I guess I got the Alpine-Seal-of-Approval.

.

Dec. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Operation: Ask Anderson from HR to Tony’s Christmas Party failed. Granted, it could’ve been because that was a god awful title and that that name, in itself, prophesied catastrophic failure, but also because I was accosted by my best friend.

I wish I meant Sam.

Nope. James caught me in the elevator and we made small talk. Sounds fine, right? Then we turned the topic to the party. Talked about clothes and prospective celebrity appearances and drinks and food. Just about everything, so might as well turn to talks about dates, which meant I had to explain why I was in the elevator in the first place.

Going down to ask Anderson ended in James revealing that he didn’t have a date either.

He doesn’t know who Anderson is, which I thought would be the case, and he popped the question before the doors opened.

Notice how I said “didn't” have a date.

Guess who’s going to the party with James, clearly stated as friends, platonic soulmates, etc.?

Me.

Yippee.

.

Dec. 18/20

Dear Jane,

It’s 3:42AM and I’m in the rec room as usual. I was gonna not write here today but it normally helps me sleep to just write a bit, get what little thoughts are in my head out. Yeah.

I hear James in the kitchen talking to Alpine and it’s making me smile like an idiot.

Oh, shit, he knows I’m in here. He’s making milkshakes.

I am morally obligated by best friend duties to join him.

Goodnight, Jane.

.

Dec. 24/20

Dear Jane,

I’m not sleeping with James Buchanan Barnes tomorrow night.

This is a resolute promise. An early New Year’s resolution.

.

Dec. 25/20

Dear Jane,

Merry Christmas! 

In between jovial festivities, I’ve finally found a little nook that’s quiet enough to write in. We opened presents, had a big family breakfast, went skating and just lounged around, and frankly, I’m exhausted. Need to recharge the old social battery.

Among the assortment of gifts is one that stands out to me. James got me a gift that said “Open When Alone” and I did before I started this entry and it was a fucking necklace. Like, a gorgeous one. It’s gold and thin and it feels wonderful. There’s a little cat paw charm on it and it’s so pretty because he has a matching bracelet for himself and I have still not yet recovered.

It’s just so sweet and it reminds me why I love him.

Yes, love has made me unbelievably sappy. I just heaved the biggest sigh in history.

Unfortunately, I have to go earlier tonight. To the party, as written in previous entries. I remember my oath of one-night celibacy and I intend on keeping it, despite how fucking endearing this gift was, because he said it best: we’re just friends. I’m not about to coerce my best friend into sleeping with me out of a piteous, unrequited love. That’s just gross.

You will either see me hungover tomorrow, or very drunk later tonight. It’s all very depending on how this night turns out.

.

Dec. 26/20

Dear Jane,

Fuck.

P.S. He REALLY does not mind me calling him James. Take that as dirtily or as clandestinely as you wish.

.

Dec. 27/20

Dear Jane,

I spent the entire day in bed with very pleasurable company.

I am SO GLAD we haven’t gotten called in because James doesn’t leave unless to go to sleep in his own bed or to eat, and I do NOT want to explain to the team that James fucked my brains out for two days straight because my heart is bursting.

He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft.

Intimate knowledge of that is now burned into my memory for future reference.

God, this is a dream come true. He doesn’t even question it, he just

It’s like I’m a goddess to him. He treats me like one, at least, and it’s like he’ll do anything I ask. And we act like it’s normal, too. Midnight trips to the kitchen included.

Best Christmas ever.

.

Dec. 28/20

Dear Jane,

I feel like I’m ignoring you but I’m also having the best sex of my life. He’s just… so fucking good and it’s a holiday and holy shit my mind is blown.

Love at first meeting isn’t real.

Well, maybe this one time, it was destiny.

.

Dec. 29/20

Dear Jane,

It isn’t just the sex, you know? It’s the pillowtalk, too. He just makes me laugh so much and everything is so easy between us and it feels real. Popcorn and chips in bed, some mojitos, just each other’s presence. It’s enough like that, you know?

Some quote about how the one you love should be both your lover and your best friend is in my head but I’m too lazy to look it up. James’ head is in my lap and he’s just reading while I’m writing and everything seems perfect.

He doesn’t ask what I’m writing because he knows it’s private and I trust him.

This is perfect.

I think I really am IN love with him.

.

Jan. 1/21

You know that cliché/tradition of New Year’s kisses?

WELL THEN.

Best (and worst) New Year’s ever. I’ll explain more later. I’m too tired and too angry and also sore and bruised.

See you when I’m not hungover.

.

Jan. 5/21

Dear Jane,

I’m finally stable enough to write.

In a crazy turn of events, Barnes and I got into a fight because of what happened after New Year’s Day’s events: I caught him leaving before I woke up and at first, curious questions ensued, and it wasn’t a fight but then it became one and I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t even mad. He just started being weird and I got annoyed and we tried and failed to keep our voices down. Luckily, my room is pretty soundproof.

Things just got out of hand and I feel like tearing my hair out. I wanna storm up to him and just yell some more.

Tony came into my room and didn’t say shit about my hickies and the fact that James is avoiding me like the plague. He gave me a really good hug, though and then gave me a few weeks off extra. I don’t know how he knows, but then again, it’s Tony.

He just said love’s tough sometimes.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I’m thinking about just taking a long vacation and disappearing. It seems like a good route to take at this point.

.

Jan. 6/21

Dear Jane,

James is looking at me right now as I write this. I wonder if I should look back or if he’s going to come up to me. We’ll see.

I’m only writing this so it seems like I’m busy. I’m running out of things to say, honestly. Can he just go? What’s the point in staring like that? What’s the point?

I could ask myself the same question. What’s the point in loving someone who’ll never love you? Yeah, he’s sleeping with me but he pulls away every time I try to do something more. Outside the bubble of my room and the small time frame of post-11PM to around 4:45AM, he acts like he’s allergic to intimacy.

It was never like that with ex-Girlfriend.

Maybe it’s something to do with me.

I don’t know, but he keeps looking and I want to get up and leave, but I won’t. I’m not gonna let him win.

.

Jan. 6/21

He didn’t. He just went out. Sam and Steve asked if I was okay because as soon as he left, I got up for the bathroom and screamed into a towel.

I don’t think either of them knows what’s going on, but they have a notion.

.

Jan. 9/21

Dear Jane,

He apologized. Still no explanation as to why, but it feels weird.

I told him I’m going on a vacation to Switzerland. Go skiing or something and asked if he wanted to come.

It was stupid to ask, but he said yes.

Shit.

.

Jan. 14/21

Dear Jane,

Switzerland is lovely.

No work is relaxing. Awkwardness between me and the other traveller on this vacation. Weather’s supposed to be nice when we get there. Sunny snow days, pretty mountains, other Swiss things.

No other comment.

.

Jan. 21/21

Dear Jane,

I lasted all of a week.

Yep, I slept with him again, and yes, he was back in his hotel bed come sunrise.

I dunno. I’m over it. We don’t apologize and hope everything gets back to normal because neither of us want to say anything to ruin it any further and we both have a major fear of the complicated. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me if I was completely against it.

Also, I tried calling him Bucky at dinner like ex-Girlfriend (and everyone else) does and he made the most disgusted face.

He said, and I quote, “Bucky? When did I stop being James?”

I told him I was trying something out and he said it failed. Snarky bastard.

I guess if he’s still James, that must mean I’m still special.

That’s the Tony-inherited ego talking.

But it does make me exceptionally happy to play with the idea that I’m special to him. Best friend with convoluted benefits. Sounds like the title of a very long-winded self-help book that doesn’t really help much but that does sound like the story of my life so I can’t complain too much.

We’re going home in a few days.

I’ll probably sleep with him again. Bet Steve’s shield that I do.

.

Jan. 24/21

Dear Jane,

I get three Steve’s shields because I was right every single fucking day.

He’s like a habit I can’t quite kick and don’t really want to.

We snuggled afterwards last night. His arm was around my shoulders, we were naked, I was resting my head on his chest. For a moment, it felt like something couples do and then I fell asleep and woke up alone.

Quantum physics is easier to understand than this but I think we’re being mutually exclusive right now, so it’s almost dating.

I dunno. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s better than nothing.

.

Feb. 2/21

Dear Jane,

I’m absolutely miserable.

I’m still getting laid, but that’s not related. Correlation and causation or something.

Why is New York so dreary and when can everything just stop?

I don’t know. Winter is ending and now it’s in that awful transition phase between seasons and it’s mucky and rainy and disgusting. Tony got these limited edition ice cream flavours though so I’m gonna ask James if we can make milkshakes out of them or something.

He doesn’t like the muck either. That’s not really relevant, I guess.

.

Feb. 14/21

Dear Jane,

I got flowers and chocolate from the department because I think they can sense I’ve been in a bad mood since forever. Then, there was an anonymous delivery and inside was this gorgeous chain bracelet that matches the necklace sort of. I lied and told the department it was from Pepper.

What a wretched holiday.

Yours truly.

.

Feb. 18/21

Dear Jane,

Normally, when boys get their haircut, they look ugly for a day or two after.

Not James.

He got his hair cut shorter and he looks really good. Like unbelievably good. Short hair fits him just as much as long hair does.

No other observations.

.

Feb. 25/21

Dear Jane,

It was Morgan’s birthday party today. James came in one of those brown jackets with the sheepskin wool inside and he looked so good. We mainly stayed apart to prevent any dalliance because one does not disappear from the Madame Secretary’s birthday party and the team doesn’t really know what’s happening behind the scenes except for Nat and Tony, really.

I really wanted to kiss him in front of our friends. I caught him staring a few times, and every time, the smile seemed to vanish off his face.

I’m lying in bed and it feels pretty empty.

It occurs to me that I’ve been in love for a pretty long time and I’m not even in a relationship with the guy.

Energy could’ve been devoted to so many other things and I’d hate being in love if it weren’t for the fact that it’s James.

Again, love making me sappy and all that.

.

Feb. 28/21

Dear Jane,

Jane is such a common name. Some would call it plain yet it means gift from God.

I wonder if James knew that.

.

Mar. 10/21

Dear Jane,

It’s James’ birthday. Birthday sex is a requirement and a desire. I also got him a gift which is a pair of new black Timbs. I hope he likes them. I’m excited for cake, I guess. Morgan did my makeup but I’m gonna have to wipe it off for the small little party tonight.

I think, ordinarily, I’d be in knots because it’s James’ birthday and I love him and he’s my best friend, but I just don’t know. March is fairly boring and contemplative and rainy. Work is work. Helen Cho did a presentation on her Cradle technology. Very cool.

.

Mar. 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s raining and doesn’t feel like spring. Alpine vomited on my bed a few days ago because he’s not feeling well. James and I took him to the vet and he’s on antibiotics. Poor boy. He’s sleeping in the corner of my room right now while James is away on a mission. I think I’ll just work from my room for a bit until he’s feeling better.

Nothing much to report, which is why I didn’t write anything. The month passed by too quickly. James should be back by the end of the month. I miss him and not because of the sex. No one else who doesn’t work for me or pays me listens to me ramble on their own free will. Talking to screens just isn’t the same.

.

April 1/21

James got back really early this morning and I, by tradition, was awake. I sort of wish I wasn’t though. In true April Fool’s tradition, I made fun of him for being a day late to which he genuinely apologized. I told him to shower and get to sleep but he was in that mood where you’re so exhausted you’re wide awake.

James suggested we make really strong cocktails for each other as a celebration for an extraction mission completed successfully.

Who am I to say no to celebrating?

He really likes grapefruit juice so I made a REALLY strong Grapefruit Paloma. He made this really interesting drink that was purple and tasted like oranges and cranberries. A lot of blue curacao was in it so it was pretty bitter but it hit like a fucking truck which is probably why I didn’t understand anything he said at first.

He told me he loved me.

I think, somehow, he managed to get drunk after the Grapefruit Paloma and two more bottles of vodka. Don’t ask me how because Steve NEVER gets drunk. Maybe HYDRA-brand serum is faulty? I don’t know.

I asked if he knew what date it was. He laughed really loudly, said no, realized, stuttered apologies and then said it again.

It was the most perfect sound in the world and it was the best moment in recent history.

Or, the sickest practical joke.

Consensus not yet reached.

.

April 2/21

Dear Jane,

I asked if he remembered what happened yesterday morning.

He did not.

Sickest practical joke confirmed.

.

April 9/21

Dear Jane,

I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve felt a whole lot of nothing. Everything is abysmal and James’ confession is all I can think about. Tony’s on my ass about slipping and he has half the mind to put me on paid leave until I get my shit together, both as the head of the department and as an agent.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, all that garbage.

I wish I could live my whole life drunk and honest. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this situation where I’m stuck in eternal limbo with my best friend whom I’m in love with. Minus the drunk part.

Duty demands I return to this weathered journal until it’s finished so we’ll see. I might be back this month. Maybe not.

.

May 1/21

Dear Jane,

It rained a lot in April so now the flowers are blooming early. April showers bring May flowers. Guess it has some merit to it.

Limbo sucks. Its inescapable nature, its terrible facade of everything seeming fine when it really isn’t.

Of course, James still makes me smile, but nothing seems really okay when I let myself stop for a second.

I’m going out with Steve to a charity thing tomorrow. Should be a few hours worth of not thinking and free booze. Oh, and James and I made out in one of the quinjets after dinner today.

Felt weird considering we aren’t a couple, but it happened spontaneously as that is the nature of our relationship, it appears.

The cause also happens to be the cure of melancholy. Weird.

.

May 6/21

Dear Jane,

For context, it’s 5:23AM.

Went for a walk in Madison Square and then Central Park with James yesterday, although in my head it’s still today. We met up with Nat for some training at the gym. Got a bit mobbed by fans and the paps who asked if we were dating like we’re the tabloid’s biggest scoop.

We weren’t even holding hands, but I guess it’s just another reason why we shouldn’t be TOGETHER together in public.

We had another deep stuff talk again in bed after the usual business. I wanted to ask what this is between us and if he’s pursuing other options, because I’m not and I wanted to know if I should, but I also didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

He was in a good mood today, and seeing as sometimes he has nightmares, I thought it was best I don’t ruin it. He thinks I don’t notice but how do I not notice? He’s my best friend.

I kissed his cheek when he got up to leave and he kissed me goodbye on the lips.

I guess that means something.

.

May 17/21

Dear Jane,

In a moment of complete boredom, I listened to Imagine Dragons’ new album. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, but Sharon thought it could’ve been better. Whatever.

.

May 22/21

Dear Jane,

Ran into ex-Girlfriend today. She still has that whole sunshine thing going on still. We had coffee and she asked if I got together with James yet.

I choked on my coffee and nearly died on the spot.

That’s how I learned that James apparently broke it off softly and ex-Girlfriend had, very wisely and knowingly, said that he should chase the apple of his eye before I (the apple) rotted alone and forgotten at the trunk of the tree. Or, as any sane person would say (and ex-Girlfriend DID say), get picked from the tree by another hand.

She said it was quite obvious that I was in love with James even months ago. She also thanked me for being so nice, anyway, and that it must’ve been difficult. What a fucking SAINT.

I set her up with a date with Steve because they have the same energy, honestly, and that’s going down on the 26th barring any emergencies.

Call me Cupid, but I think I just constructed the perfect match made in heaven.

Mentioned this meeting to James minus the apple detail. He asked if she was doing okay, which she was, and seemed glad for that. Between kisses and his sneaking hand beneath the covers, he also asked if there was anything else. Not really much to say on that front.

.

June 3/21

Dear Jane,

It’s starting to dry up consistently, now. It’s getting warmer, too. Sam brought me flowers and told me to at least turn the air-con on if I was gonna be stuck in the lab all day. Oh, the simplicities of summer are hopefully returning. Got out early and hung out with Morgan at the park in the evening.

It’s nice to hang out with someone so blissfully unaware with the stupidity of love. All Morgan cares about is grass and buttercups she grabs from the ground. She doesn’t have to worry about how to tell the guy she’s in love with that she loves him.

Oh, didn’t you hear? Nat said I should just buck the fuck up and tell him.

And Nat is scary when not listened to.

Much to brainstorm about.

.

June 14/21

Dear Jane,

Just here to brainstorm some ideas for future Stark Industries projects and thought I’d preface it with a small diary entry. Nothing really happened. Work’s catching up for some reason and bad guys are acting up. I’ve pulled a few all nighters, not gonna lie.

Really tired, but in a good, productive way. Haven’t thought much on the James front. Gonna have to focus on that after everything calms down.

.

June 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s officially summer and yet today was awful with only subtle hints of being okay.

So much for simplicity.

In the evening, I read on the hammock on the balcony. No one really bothered me except James, but he’s never a bother.

Steve and ex-Girlfriend (who will now be reidentified as Girlfriend) are pretty cute, and she meshes well with the group. There’s nothing really awkward between her, James, or me, so I guess two people’s summers are going well. Bully for them.

Didn’t really eat. Was too busy working. James got me dinner. Didn’t feel right and just kept working. This whole agreement between us has been very flexible but we really need to fit in a session soon.

I’ll make it work somehow.

.

June 22/21

Dear Jane,

I got my wish and didn’t at the same time. We spent the whole day in the sheets (very blissfully relaxing) and I, stupidly and with very little sleep, let it slip.

In less elegant terms, I told him I loved him. It felt very real and genuine and very-out-of-a-movie, but his reaction was less so.

What did I say? Allergic to intimacy.

He tried to play it off as best friends and even that was uncomfortable, but I, very seriously and very foolishly, corrected him that “no, James Buchanan Barnes, I am IN LOVE with you.”

He left a few minutes ago, saying something about heading down to the gym, but I know he’s just trying to avoid me.

God, how am I so stupid?

.

June 25/21

Dear Jane,

I haven’t seen James in a few days. I thought he was avoiding me but turns out he’s out of the country. Something about protection for whatever dignitary is travelling at the end of the month. I don’t know.

I wasn’t assigned to that op so the details weren’t shared liberally. Sam just said it’d be a while during the ambassador’s entire stay. High threat level which is why the Avengers were contracted.

I just hope he stays safe. I know he probably took off to take his mind off things, but I don’t know how he’s focusing when all I can think of is those three little words.

I love you.

Seems so fake the more I hear it in my head, but his reaction was so real that I think I might’ve just irreversibly messed things up.

.

July 12/21

Dear Jane,

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. If future me finds this with blotted words, it’s because I am indeed crying while writing this.

James was medically evac’ed last night and transferred back to New York. Helen Cho was flown in from her medical conference in Minnesota where she was showcasing the newest version of the Cradle.

There was an assasination attempt and James is fucked up bad.

Holy shit, I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It’s like an invisible demon has my heart in his claw-like hands and he’s squeezing with all his might. I think my heart might explode.

I just want to hold his hand but he’s so high risk no one’s allowed to see him right now.

The waiting room is too quiet. Steve’s holding on to Girlfriend’s hand so hard I think her bones are broken but she’s taking it like a champ. Nat’s pacing, slowly patting a sleeping Morgan who she’s carrying. Sam and Tony are talking about stuff.

It’s too quiet.

I’m so scared.

.

July 13/21

They got him into the Cradle. Thank God. I think I might cry some more out of relief, but he was conscious for a few minutes earlier and he’s stable now.

It’s really late at night but they extended privileges to me to stay with him so I’m just sitting here, writing. Listening to the Cradle do its thing and the monitors do theirs.

When he was conscious, I was with him. He said some stuff under his breath but the one thing I could make out was “I’m an idiot.”

Granted, he’s right. It was supposed to be Steve or Tony on that mission. You know, people with more defense op experience, but he had to go out and volunteer himself.

I feel sort of guilty.

It’s partially my fault, isn’t it?

I think I’ll try to tuck in for tonight. I wanna be awake when he wakes up, too.

.

July 14/21

Dear Jane,

James woke up today. He’s still in the Cradle (lots of internal damage spread throughout the body) but he’s conscious. He saw me and immediately tried to sit up which was sweet, but when he couldn’t, he just told me to come closer and then told me that he loved me.

I called him an idiot for running away. I told him he really scared me. I told him that I loved him so fucking much. I told him that I feel so guilty and he just held my face and said that it will never be my fault.

He’s so fucking romantic, even when he’s lying down with a wound being stitched closed live in front of my eyes.

Oh, and he kissed me. I don’t think I noticed how much I actually missed him until that moment.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in my chest. It’s a mixture between super happy and super scared and super, super warm inside. Summer might be looking up.

.

July 18/21

Dear Jane,

We got home today. James is staying in my room. The team doesn’t say anything about it. We’re best friends, after all, but I think they’ve known for a long time that there’s something more. Some of them are just too polite to say so.

I won’t have much time to write over the next couple of days. James has to be kept on a strict, extremely healthy diet and medicine regime.

I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s home.

He’s kissing me a lot more, now. Alpine likes the fact that his two humans are now in the same room. He purrs so loudly, I can hear him from where he’s dozing, curled up underneath James’ chin. He (James) is resting after his second round of antibiotics for the day while I work from my room, and sometimes I catch myself looking back just to make sure he’s okay.

I’m going to go kiss him now.

Be right back.

.

July 21/21

Dear Jane,

It’s almost Nat’s birthday (the 26th). Super exciting. James is back on solids and I’m helping him around with walking. Even with the Cradle and the healing factor, he’s still super banged up, so it’s better safe than sorry.

We had a really long talk about love and stuff. It’s good to finally have it out in the open. It was mostly me talking about my side of things and he just nodded a lot. I know he was listening though.

We also kissed a lot, like seventeen year old couples who are heavy on the PDA, but within the privacy of my room. I dunno. I like the heat of his arms and the way he kisses the shell of my ear when he’s bored or it’s a commercial break.

It feels very natural.

I am very much in love with him.

I tell him that and he always looks skeptical, but whatever. He doesn’t have to say it back (I tell him that there’s no pressure) and he’ll get it through his thick skull eventually that he’s now stuck with me.

.

July 25/21

Dear Jane,

We made cookies in the early AM as tradition for the party tomorrow and I told him that I love him (again, but this time he didn’t run, nor has he the past few times. Fantastic).

While the cookies were baking, he explained everything on his side of the story: how he was scared to be vulnerable, how opening up to me is just different and new and scary and I get it. I really do. I know how it feels to think you don’t deserve good things and sabotage feels like the only way to save everyone from hurt.

He smiled a lot more after that. I guess he’s just glad I get it.

One day, I’ll successfully convince James that he deserves everything good this world has to offer.

Until then, I’ll just keep trying.

P.S. He said, with less hesitation than the first time, that he loves me, too. Best. Day. Ever.

P.P.S. The cookies are so good and I want to devour them all. I could barely stop James from eating all of them. Again: Best. Day. Ever.

.

July 26/21

Dear Jane,

In summary of today:

Happy birthday, Natasha.

James has been given the clear bill of health which is exciting. Also, I asked him about the Jane and gift of God thing.

He knew. “Intuition” and all that. He also said I looked “like a royal dame” in my swimsuit. Smug idiot just trying to be charming.

I love him and that’s the only reason it works.

Back to the festivities.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

Good morning to you and to James who’s still in my bed at a ripe 6:23AM, fast asleep.

Progress. Now, back to sleep.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

It’s now 9:49AM and James greeted me with orange juice and waffles. He said I was cute when I slept. Creep.

He also said he tried so many times to stay in my bed after, before we were like we are now, but he never could, and now he’s upset that he missed out on my cute sleeping/waking up for the day face every time he did so.

He is exceptionally cute when he’s pouting.

I think we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend, but we’ll work out the semantics on that later. For now, it’s another summer day together. He suggested Chinese takeout for dinner because I have to go dip back into the lab later today to check on some samples.

I agreed and he kissed me in promise like it was our “thing.” I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Massive progress.

.

July 28/21

Dear Jane,

He told me I was the only one for him.

Also, he kissed me in front of our friends for the first time. Natasha yelled “FINALLY” and pushed us into the pool. Sam laughed and then I grabbed him and threw him into the pool. Ensuing: a water fight for the ages.

For a day: 10/10

.

July 31/21

Hey Jane,

I think I’m happy.

I’m sorry I ever doubted the effects of writing down my feelings.

James has a romantic trip to uptown planned for our first date and he said it’ll take the whole day so I thought I’d get this entry in the morning. I dunno. It’s really early and the happy thought was the first thing that came to my head.

Weird, but it’s a good weird.

See you in a bit.

[autumnscribbles]

LA Nights | b.s

requested by anon tysm

summary: brad gets jealous when y/n and calum appear to be flirting at a party

words: 1.3k

warnings: none really? drinking, if that counts?

a/n: finally back!!!! i’ve missed writing, feel free to send requests for anyone i have in my pinned post (or ask for others and i may do it!) i figured since it’s calum’s birthday i’d do the one with him hehe, hope you enjoy!! also i love this trope sm lol so had a lotta fun writing this

                                                             ~

“Ready?” Brad asked as he held the door of the uber open for you, reaching his hand out to help you since you were wearing heels, which you honestly didn’t do often.

“I guess so,” you chuckled, pulling down your dress slightly and smoothing out the front. 

Ever since dating Brad, parties made you more nervous than they had before. Now, instead of drunk college students, parties were full of famous and well known people, attractive people, important people. You felt like none of those things.

Usually, at parties like this one, you tried to blend in as much as possible. You either stood against a wall somewhere, or clung to Brad’s arm, following him wherever he went. You mostly avoided initiating conversation with anyone, even if it was someone you recognized.

Brad gave you a comforting kiss on the temple, leading you into the massive house where the party was being held. You already forgot who the host was, but it didn’t matter that much.

“Drinks?” Brad asked the second you both stepped through the door, music already blaring.

“Absolutely,” you laughed, needing the liquid courage to get through the night.

You both got drinks from the bar, sipping faster than you should have, eager to feel the buzz quickly to feel less awkward and nervous.

“Are the boys here?” you asked him, referencing to the rest of the boys, who were supposed to make an appearance tonight too.

“Not yet,” Brad answered, having to talk right in your ear so you could hear him. “They should be here soon.”

You nodded happily, excited to have 3 more people here that you knew and felt comfortable around. You glanced around the area you were standing in, recognizing a lot of people. It still felt weird to you that you could go to a party and casually see people you otherwise would probably never meet.

“Care to dance?” Brad asked.

You obliged, getting another drink quickly before walking out to the makeshift dance floor. Brad’s hands found your hips immediately, both of you swaying together. The song changed to a slow song, and you both gave each other a knowing look, eyebrows raised.

“Fast dance to a slow song?” he asked, a smirk spreading across his face.

“Fast dance to a slow song.” you confirmed.

You both broke out into your silliest dance moves, even doing a small dance sequenced the both of you choreographed together at 3am in the kitchen while waiting for frozen pizza to cook. You laughed loudly, not caring that people were watching the two of you look completely ridiculous.

You were both out of breath by the time the song ended, and the alcohol was finally kicking in. This, of course, meant you already needed to pee.

“I have to pee,” you told Brad, laughing for no reason because alcohol made you giggly most of the time.

“Want me to come with you to find a bathroom?” he asked.

“It’s okay,” you answered, shaking your head. “The boys should be here soon, wait for them and I’ll find you.”

You weaved your way through the mass of people dancing, keeping your head down to avoid drawing attention to yourself. A house this big must have multiple bathrooms, you thought, you were bound to come across one of them eventually.

You made a guess that there would be one upstairs, and it would be much quieter, so you went up the stairs, opening doors to find which one was the bathroom.

You finally found it, surprised no one was already waiting. After doing your business, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You smoothed out your hair that had gone a bit crazy from the dancing, and wiped some smudged mascara from under your eye. Once you decided you looked more presentable, you made your way back downstairs to find Brad.

At the bottom of the stairs, you collided into someone. You shouldn’t have been surprised seeing as you always walked with your head down, but you still jumped back nonetheless.

Standing in front of you was Calum Hood from 5 Seconds of Summer. You liked their music, and had seen the band a few times but of course never spoke to them.

“Sorry,” he told you, hand on your shoulder to stabilize you. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s all good,” you smiled, waving it off trying to act like you were talking to just anyone.

After an awkward pause, you stumbled over your words, trying to move out of the way to let him go up the stairs.

“Your cup’s empty,” he noted. “I was just going for a top off, care to join?”

“Sure,” you nodded. You needed a drink anyway, and after you would go find Brad, and hopefully the other boys as well.

As you walked to the bar, you had casual conversation with Calum, not bringing up the fact that you knew him or enjoyed his music. 

After getting your drinks, you and Calum continued talking. It was rude to just walk away, and you assumed someone would come up to him eventually and steer him away from you.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he said to you after chit chatting for a little while.

“Oh, yeah, Y/n,” you answered.

“Pretty name, I’m Calum,” he replied.

“I really like your dress, y/n” he added, his eyes scanning your body, making you blush slightly.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “It’s really not much.”

You thanked the alcohol for not making you completely awkward, and you weren’t drunk enough where you couldn’t have a conversation.

“Well, I think it is,” he smirked.

Was he flirting? Calum Hood, flirting with just a regular, average girl?

“What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing at a party all by yourself?” he asked. What a classic line.

“She’s not,” a familiar voice said from beside you. You jumped, seeing Brad standing there, his eyebrows furrowed together as he watched the exchange

“Babe,” you smiled, reaching for him.

“Calum, this is Brad,” you smiled. “My boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Calum stumbled. “Yeah, hi, good to see you again.”

“Yeah. You too,” Brad said coldly.

You gave him a look, signalling non verbally for him to be nicer. He seemed to understand, and was often good at being nice even when he didn’t want to be.

“Are the other boys here?” Brad asked Calum, smiling brightly. You knew this was his way of asking “don’t you have other people here you could be talking to?”

“Uh, yeah, they are,” Calum smiled. “I was on my way to them when I ran into y/n.”

“Isn’t that lovely,” Brad grinned. 

“Connor, James and Tris are here,” Brad said to you, keeping his tone even. “They’re excited to see you, so I came to find you.”

“Oh, great!” you said excitedly. “I’ll see you around, Calum, nice meeting you.”

“You too,” he smiled kindly, and with that you were off.

“Is he serious?” Brad mumbled once you were out of earshot.

“What?” you asked. “He didn’t do anything.”

“Y/n, he was hitting on you, very obviously might I add,” he commented.

“Well he didn’t know I was with you, it’s okay,” you said, trying to calm him down. “I can handle myself, you know I wouldn’t do anything stupid.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Brad sighed. “He didn’t tough you, did he?”

“No, baby,” you assured him. “And I would have stopped it if he did.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “You know how I get sometimes.”

“I know,” you gigged. “But you also know you’re the only one for me, no matter who tries to talk to me at a dumb LA party.”

“I love you,” he smiled. 

“I love you too,” you grinned, planting a kiss to his lips, hands cupping his face.

“Now, let’s dance with the boys!!”

[chilly-me-softly]

Every Little Thing’s Gonna Be Alright • Chapter 18

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17

"Wow girls you are... wow" Ben is pleasantly surprised as soon as he sees the two girls leave the room. Deb immediately approaches him and the two share a tender kiss while Evelyn looks down embarrassed at the compliment, suddenly feeling in their way.

Eventually the three of them make their way to the lift and Evelyn's heart misses a beat every time the lift stops at other floors, opening those doors so slowly it tortures her again and again by showing people she doesn't know, before finally arriving at the right one. And so she suddenly decides to get herself together. She went through a birth weeks before and nearly feels sick about a guy. Absolutely not.

The room is bright and warm, not making her regret wearing a strapless dress at all. There are already plenty of people around, small groups chatting and laughing. Ben at her side places a hand at the base of her back leading them forward to find Gareth Southgate, Harry Kane and his wife a few steps later.

"Ben, good to see you. And with two lovely ladies I can see"

"My girlfriend Deb and my sister Evelyn" he makes the introductions after shaking his manager's hand.

"Oh Evelyn, nice to finally meet you in person. Congratulations on your baby girl" the girl smiles trying to keep from glaring at the guy next to her as she shakes hands with everyone there.

"I'm sorry if he bothered you. My brother doesn't know where to draw the line"

"Nah next training session he'll get what he deserves" Kane teases him making everyone laugh under his brother's mock indignant look.

The round of introductions continues as Ben leads both of them around the room. She doesn't feel as nervous as she had imagined, everyone is so nice and friendly and the fact that she sees almost everyone at least once a week via a screen has helped to make the environment even more familiar despite not really knowing them. But it's only fair because she finds herself on the other side for a few minutes too, experiencing what it feels like to be known by everyone but not be known at the same time. It turns out that everyone seems to know her thanks to Ben's big mouth but if nothing else that had taken the pressure off of finding conversation topics.

"You know who just walked in, get ready" Deb whispers to her while Ben is busy having a conversation with James a few steps away from them. And Evelyn does everything in her power not to turn around, clutching her glass of water wishing it was something more at that moment.

"Oh finally! You're always late mat," Ben comments as soon as he sees Jack, the two of them exchanging the usual handshake as the boy laughs. And her gaze inevitably ends on him.  

The suit wraps his body properly, the tie is perfectly done and for a moment she wonders if someone has helped him. But there is no one at his side and she feels stupidly relieved. Their eyes meet for a brief moment and that is enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"Jack, do you remember my sister Evelyn?"

"How could I not. I mean we spent a whole day putting that cot together, did we?!" he steps forward leaning over slightly to leave a kiss on her cheek. And as he does the same greeting Deb, a trail of his scent reaches her nostrils. He looks so calm, as if nothing has happened, while she is in complete shambles. Again.  

"How's the baby? I hope the cot held up. I wasn't so convinced we'd be able to make it" Evelyn laughs partly and mostly at the absurdity of the situation.

"She's fine. And the cradle too, it's very comfortable. Not that I've... tried it out or anything" she replies, stumbling on a few words, wanting to facepalm herself, miming a gritted 'help me' to Deb when she's sure no one's looking.

"I need a refill. Eve are you coming with me?" Deb points to her glass before taking the girl under her arm and heading for the small bar area.

Evelyn sighs relieved once she walks away as Deb laughs, "Girl you are so hopeless"

"God why do I have to be so stupid?"

"Did I ever tell you about how I met your brother?" Evelyn shakes her head, interested in the story. Her brother had never been a fan of gossip, it was bad enough that he had let them know he was seeing someone let alone the whole story of how it happened.

"I was out with my friends and I was trying to impress this guy"

"You hooked up with my brother when you were interested in someone else?!" she asked amused as Deb shushed her with a hand gesture, taking the full glass and moving a little further aside.

"Let me finish. Anyway what I was saying, oh yeah I was trying to impress this guy. Nice looking bloke... but apparently he didn't see me. I reckon I spent hours dancing, fooling around with my friends trying to get his attention. But nothing"

"Until I practically ran into this guy who smiles at me and says you know it's not worth wasting time on someone who doesn't want you the way you want him"

"Ben" she states almost unnecessarily but Deb nods anyway smiling.

"Turns out he'd been watching me all night instead, only I was too busy being a fool to notice"

"So you're saying I need to look over?" Deb almost rolls her eyes in exasperation.  

"No. I'm telling you to open your eyes and look around. You feel stupid because you're trying so hard to hide your feelings. Let yourself go. If it goes well you'll have a decent person by your side, if it goes wrong... you'll get back up as usual"

"And if you're going to say you have a baby girl, I'm going to slap you. Right here in front of everyone" Evelyn immediately shuts her mouth, not wanting to challenge the girl who is more than capable of doing such a thing.

"You really know how to comfort people" she comments instead sarcastically glaring at her, trying to make her feel guilty at least a little.

"You don't need comfort, just a little push" she winks at her before they are interrupted by Ben dragging his girlfriend away to dance after making sure once again that everything is fine.

Evelyn stands there watching the two of them sway mindlessly in the middle of the dance floor and smiles. She remembers the first wedding their parents decided they were old enough to attend, how they hid under a table for almost half the reception to escape the entertainer and how Ben swore he would never dance like the groom and bride that day because 'too close, too much contact yuck'.

"What are you drinking?" a voice brings her back down to earth and when she turns her head she finds Jack at her side leaning against that counter with absolute nonchalance.

"Water"

"Oh. It definitely takes a bit of alcohol to get through these nights" he says with a hint of hilarity ordering a beer from the person behind the bar.

"I can't. I haven't touched a drop in ages now and I don't fancy making a fool of myself in front of everyone thanks"

"Something interesting. Sure you don't want some?"

"I'm glad my public humiliation excites you so much" Jack laughs before bringing the freshly served bottle closer to his lips.

"Besides, it doesn't seem to me they're forcing you to attend"

"I was so close to not coming in fact. Then I heard you were going to be there" their gazes intertwine as she tries to figure out if he's messing with her or if by some strange twist of fate she's misunderstood. But it's all there, in his ever so penetrating eyes. If she chooses not to see it, it's up to her.

"Are you two getting friendly?" she almost jumps on the spot not having heard him coming as Jack imperceptibly straightens his back.

"Something like that" Jack takes a long swig from his bottle, "I was just telling your sister that without alcohol these evenings are pretty boring"

"You're going to have to start looking for someone or we're going to start calling you Jack the boozer" Ben jokes as Deb scolds him for being rude and Jack shoots Evelyn a look before scoffing at him and taking another sip of that beer.

-

The first thing she thinks of as soon as the signal comes that they can leave is to run to her room as fast as she can to get rid of those heels. She had forgotten how confident they made her feel but also how uncomfortable they were after a while. That's why when Ben and Deb suggest her to go get something to eat with them, she flatly refuses. It's okay, she had a good night at the end and they deserve some time alone too without having to babysit her.

She heads for the lift as the two then head for the hotel exit, not taking long to get into the cubicle. Almost as the doors are about to close a hand blocks them and two people enter the lift. The door is about to close again but it's blocked again and she's about to huff loudly, dreading her plan, when her gaze meets Jack's. He approaches her as the doors finally close and the lift begins its ascent.

There is silence in the cubicle, Evelyn keeps her eyes on the display showing the current floor number, swaying slightly on her knees. When she feels something brush her hand along her side, first imperceptibly, so much so that she thinks she imagined it, then more firmly. The pinkie of Jack's hand searches for hers before intertwining and stupidly something inside her bursts, radiating a sudden warmth.

She doesn't look at him, instead keeping her gaze fixed on that number that keeps going up slowly. But she doesn't even do anything to interrupt that moment, enjoying the warmth released by that contact no matter how small and everything else.

The lift doors suddenly open and before she can realize it, the grip on her hand tightens and she finds herself in a hallway being led by Jack.

"What are you doing that's not my plan" she states confused but offering no resistance, curious as to what he might be up to.

"It's mine" he just says turning his head towards her for a second before taking the key card with his free hand and stopping in front of a door.

"I just want to spend some time with you. I can't waste this opportunity" he admits sincerely and she simply smiles at him waiting for him to open that door.

When she walks inside the first thing she does is let herself fall on the bed kicking off her heels, moaning at the feeling of freedom as Jack smiles closing the door behind him.

"Don't you dare use that against me. They were killing me"

"I didn't say anything" Jack raises his hands holding back a giggle and she tries to glare at him as he places his jacket on the chair nearby loosening his tie before sitting down on the bed next to her.

"Just know that you just ruined all my plans"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I could already see myself in my room getting rid of these heels and this dress, maybe a nice warm bath and a good refreshing sleep"

"Oh you can go if you want"

"Nah I'm here now" she says shrugging and he smiles before laying down next to her. They look into each other's eyes, both studying the other's face as if for the first time, until Evelyn sighs.

"I practically asked Deb never to leave me alone tonight and yet here I am" if she thinks about it it only makes her laugh.

"Were you afraid I might kidnap you?"

"That I might do something stupid actually"

"Like what?"

"Like be alone with you somewhere and-"

"And kiss me again. Is that what you're worried about?" Evelyn sighs closing her eyes but she can still feel his gaze on her, so persistent.

"Do you want to kiss me? Because I want to, so bad" she can hear his desire in his voice and she's thankful her eyes are closed and she can't see his expression too because that's the only reason she hasn't thrown herself at him frankly. She's struggling so much in that moment with her brain, and then here he comes.

"Can you open your eyes please?" he asks softly as she shakes her head, holding her breath when she hears him move.

"You know I stood outside your house I think for at least an hour that day. Hoping maybe you'd change your mind" he whispers catching her off guard, his voice closer now. And finally she gives in opening her eyes looking at him intently.

"Why?"

"Because whatever this is between us it's clear we both feel it Eve. I don't want to dance around it anymore"

"Jack I-"

"And I gave you your space because I knew you would need it. But all I've been doing is thinking about you, thinking about that kiss"

Evelyn sits on the edge of the bed at that point, leaning forward resting her elbows on her thighs and closing her fists in her hair. She feels him do the same as the bed moulds under their weight.

"You scare me. Because you make me feel things I thought I'd never feel again. Not as strong" a few seconds pass in which silence is the main protagonist, before he changes position kneeling in front of her. His hands go to release her hair from that hold, fingers to intertwine with each other.

"I know it's hard to trust and letting you go again after a breakup"

"That's the problem. I feel like I can trust you and that scares me because with Lucas I... we shared so much in such a short time and I even thought I loved him, and with you... I don't want that to happen again, I couldn't bear it"

"Little by little, allow yourself to be happy again. Let me in Eve" Evelyn's body comes forward imperceptibly as she pulls her hands from Jack's grasp, laying them immediately afterwards on his cheeks to pull him to her and make their lips meet. She stops thinking for once, following her feelings. And if she doesn't feel on the clouds, she doesn't know what describes that moment frankly.

"You don't know the confusion in my head right now" she giggles, resting her forehead against his. "I really want to turn my brain off sometimes"

"Oh I'm here for that" Jack grins mischievously pushing Evelyn backwards suddenly, causing her to lose her balance, and lie down next to her as she lets out a choked squeal in surprise before laughing. He moves closer to her again connecting their lips together smiling, he can't help but want more and more.

They can't break away but at the same time Evelyn doesn't want to rush things so she puts some space between them, deciding to take off that dress to get more comfortable and borrowing something from Jack's suitcase. She takes her time in the en-suite bathroom, sorting herself out and admiring in the mirror how those clothes are soaked in the boy's scent and she brings them to her nose stupidly before shaking her head and getting out of there.

Jack has changed too in the meantime, ditching his fancy shirt and trousers for something more comfortable, getting into bed and fiddling with his phone while waiting for her. It's a bit late but neither of them wants to close their eyes because it would mean ending the day and leaving, parting ways again.

"What will happen once we leave this room?" Evelyn voices her thoughts with a sigh causing him to look up from his phone which is immediately pushed aside.

"Come here" Jack holds out his hand to her and she walks over to him settling on his lap and letting his arms wrap around her.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen. You're gonna go back to your beautiful little girl and cuddle her because you've missed her so much and I'm gonna go back to my house and let my dog do that" the girl laughs as he leaves a kiss on her temple, "But we're gonna do everything we can to keep in touch like before or even more because I'm not leaving you now, that's for sure"

"Sorry, I just seem to need some comfort all the time"

"I'm here to give it to you. Whenever you need it. We said little by little right?" she kisses him again and each time a smile arises spontaneously on her lips. It's absurd, at the beginning of the day she had wished for it to pass as quickly as possible so she could go home to her little girl, but now she wishes it would last a little longer so she wouldn't have to be separated from Jack. To stay in that bubble they have created for themselves in those hours and in which they are so comfortable.

They talk and talk over and over until the yawns outweigh the words and then they give up, holding each other for what's left of the night taking all they can before they inevitably burst that bubble and test themselves in the tangled world they live in.

----

Tag: @alexajanecollins @emwritesfootball @rosie7703

Chapter 19

[liklty]

Wizard And Sorceress - Hisirdoux Casperan | Becoming: Part 4

Plot: (Y/N) (L/N), a 17-year-old girl who has long known she was a sorceress, has been roped into her cousin’s Trollhunter adventures alongside a couple of friends.

Word Count: 3129

Warning: Swearing and poor writing towards the end

A/N: Hello! If you were wondering, I’m not dead! Sorry if I didn’t update this story in quite a while. I was just really busy with school and I kind of struggled with motivation when it came to writing this chapter, but I pulled through! For what’s it worth, I really hope you guys enjoys todays chapter. I’m thinking having my update schedule to be every 2nd Tuesday, if that makes sense, and I hope to keep with that moving forward! Also, just to give you guys a little heads up, Douxie is probably going to appear after a couple of chapters, so get ready for that :3 Sorry that it isn’t sooner. 

Also, I wanted to give a big thanks to @wanda-peitro-lorna-maximoff from coming up with the  nickname, “Young Hecate” Stickler has for the reader! I just love that nickname so, so much, so thank you for allowing me to use it in my story!

“So, what did you decide?” As the three of you walked through the locker room, Toby asked the taller boy, nudging Jim's arm with his elbow.

“That if anyone finds out what happened in my kitchen last night, all of us will be committed,” Jim replied, his face serious as he looked at Toby. 

“I meant about kicking Steve’s butt.” Toby clarified while karate-style chopping and punching motions with his hands. 

Jim told him, “Give up the dream, Tobes,” as he walked ahead of the two of you.

You heard a brief dinging sound that disappeared as quickly as it came. From where you were walking, you saw the amulet, which was in Jim's bag pocket, shining softly. You drew your brows together. Toby seemed to have noticed it as well, as he grabbed Jim's backpack and stopped the boy as the brunette peered into your cousin's bag pocket. You, too, came to a halt and looked.

“Does this thing run on batteries?” As you heard the bell ring in the distance, Toby asked, moving his head to get a better look.

“What’s it doing?” You wondered as you took a closer look.

“How should I know?” Jim whispered, his hand covering your view of the amulet, “It didn’t come with a manual.”

“Does it feel like you’re going to, you know, change?” The shorter boy asked, taking a quick glance around.

“Oh no,” Jim breathed out, his shoulders slumping and eyes widening in realization.

“Oh-oh! Then we gotta get you somewhere that isn’t here!” You said this as you hurriedly considered where you and Toby might take Jim.

Toby nodded and forcefully shoved Jim into the boy’s changing room behind him, leaving you by yourself lonesome.

“I- oh.” You mumbled to yourself, debating whether you should wait outside or go somewhere else so you don't seem strange for standing outside the boy's locker room.

You turned around after deciding to stand by a nearby locker and immediately collided with someone. You staggered back and quickly looked up, apologizing frantically, your brain not completely registering who you had collided with.

“It’s quite alright, Young Hecate.” A familiar male voice informed you.

You blinked twice before lighting up. 

“Oh, hello Mr. Strickler!” You greeted the man with a smile to which he returned.

“How are you doing? How are your lessons going?” He asked you.

“I'm good and I'm doing well in my classes,” You nodded, swinging back on your heels before leaning forward on your toes, “But math is super hard! I’m not sure how I’ll make it through it! It’s going to absolutely kill me!” You wined, straightening your back and waving your hands around.

“You're a smart kid, (Y/N),” Stickler chuckled and patted your head with his pen. “I'm certain you'll be able to get through the year with at least one of your brain cells intact.” He said, making you laugh.

“A girl can dream,” You said, patting the area above your chest as you closed your eyes.

“I’ll see you later.” He said, bidding you farewell as the two of you parted ways.

You peered from the corner of your eye to see the man enter the locker room. You came to a halt and stared at the entrance, nervousness rising in your stomach. You hoped Jim wouldn't be caught.

---- 

“Give me my Romeo and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all of the worlds will be in love with night.” Claire recited on stage, performing for the role of Juliet for the play, Romeo and Juliet.  

When she was finished, the small crowd in front of her started to applaud.

“It would have been easier to tell him that I’m a Trollhunter. I don’t even know the play.” Jim told you both, frustration evident in his voice.

You, Jim, and Toby were tucked away to the side of the stage in the school's gymnasium. Toby had told you that Mr. Strickler had seen Jim in his armor back in the boys changing room and Jim, in a panic, had told him that he was going to audition for Romeo in the school play while the three of you were rushing to get to the gym earlier.

“Thank you, Ms. Nunez.” Ms. Janeth said to Claire.

When Claire approached Jim, her arms crossed and a grin on her face, the girl nodded, and the sounds of clapping died away, “John?” She asked.

“Um, Jim.” The boy corrected her. 

“And here I thought you didn’t like Shakespeare.”

“Oh, no, he’s my favorite. I totally love him.”

“That costume,” Claire started, gesturing in disbelief and awe at Jim's armor, “Is incredible. Did you make it?”

“No,” Toby replied, drawing your gaze to him, “He discovered a magical amulet that does it.”

“You're funny,” Claire chuckled as you and Jim glared at him.

You slapped Toby’s shoulder, earning a “Hey!” from the brunette, “Yeah, you’re a real comedian, huh?”

“Next!” Ms. Janeth called out.

"I believe that's your cue," Claire said as she stepped back and pointed to the stage. “Break a leg,” She said, keeping her hands behind her back.

As he walked towards the center of the stage, Jim muttered under his breath, "I'd prefer that."

“Good luck, Jim!” You cheered.

Your cousin grinned and gave you a little nod as he looked at you. When they observed his ‘costume,' people murmured in surprise and  Jim gave a nervous chuckle.

“Who are you?” Ms. Janeth inquired, her brows furrowed at him and her pen pointing in his direction.

“James Lake Junior.” He responded timidly.

“And what are you trying out for?”

“Uh, Romeo.”

“Well, we are all ears.” Ms. Janeth said, jotting down a few things on her clipboard.

Jim caught a glimpse of you and Toby, who gave him a  reassuring smile and two thumbs up. He gave Claire a quick glance before looking away, a slight smile tugging at his lips before forming a thin line.

“Destiny is...” Jim started after taking a deep breath. “A gift,” he said as he closed his eyes for a few moments before opening them. He chuckled as he looked at his amulet.

“Some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation, never learning the truth that what feels as though a burden pushing down upon out shoulders,” He drew his sword from his holster and pointed it at the small crowd, eliciting a few gasps, “Is actually the sense of purpose that lifts us to greater heights. Never forget that fear is but the precursor to valor.”

You smiled when you noticed the stunned audience before returning your attention to your cousin's performance.

“That to strive and triumph in the face of fear is what it means to be a hero.” Jim raised his sword and aimed it at the ceiling, “Don’t think.” He spun the weapon around, causing the drama teacher to cower in her chair and hide behind her clipboard, her eyes peered over the edge. Jim swung the sword back into his back in one swift motion, “Become.”

The crowd clapped enthusiastically, with a few people also getting up to do so.

“Um, thank you.” Jim thanked sheepishly.

Eli stood up and stomped away, throwing his sword to the ground angrily. You couldn’t help but giggle.

----

As the three of you rode home on your bikes, a bell clang could be heard in the distance, and the sun was setting in the background, painting the cloudless sky with purple and orange hues.

“Dude! That was amazing! You were amazing! I’m amazed at how amazing you are!” From your left, Toby exclaimed cheerfully, making you smile.

“I can’t believe you were able to do that!” You cheered, “You were great!”

“I can’t believe I did that too!” Jim said.

“And did you see how the Chiquita was looking at you?” Toby smirked as he crossed his arms and balanced his body on the seat of his bike, “Your armor totally did you a favor.”

“I’m still getting the hang of it,” Jim admitted, unsureness indicated in his voice. 

“Blinky said it reacts to your emotional state, right?” You began, “The-”

Toby had then collided with a wooden plank on the side of the road and swerved to the side, his bike wobbling as he tried to recover his balance. He returned to your side after that, Jim softly chuckling.

“Are you alright?” You asked, your brows furrowed in worry.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” Toby responded, chuckling nervously. 

“Ok good.” You turned back to Jim, “Anyway, the armor appears when you’re in distress.”

As the three of you rounded the corner, Jim said, "But I wasn't in distress back at school."

When the three of you spotted a massive, dark beast with a set of horns and what appeared to be swords attached to his back standing on the other end of the street, you and the others came to a halt. It roared, making you all finch back and weep in fear.

Jim straightened his back and said, "But I am now."

“Trollhunter. Merlin’s creation,” The beast growled, getting down on all fours and stomping the ground with one fist, “Gunmar’s bane.”

Toby whispered to Jim, leaning against his side, "I think he's talking to you."

Yeah, no shit.

The beast roared once more before rising and stomping on the ground with his hand. He took a step to the side before stomping on all fours again. When he got closer, you saw a small portion of his hand go into the sun's light, which made him hiss and recoil.

Huh, his weakness must be sunlight!

“Guys, take a look. He can't go into the sun,” You said quietly, drawing their attention to you, “It hurt him.”

“Not for much longer!” Toby said as the sun started to set.

God fuckin damn it. 

“The amulet!” The beast said, his voice booming, “Surrender it and I will give you a speedy death.”

“Doesn’t know how to negotiate, this guy. Go, go, go!”

As the large horned beast chased after you, the three of you screamed and raced towards the nearest corner. You rounded the corner and hid in the limited space between two trucks. Your heart raced when you heard a growl nearby.

“Hurry up!” You hissed shakily, “Put your armor on, please!”

A loud clank was heard, followed by the sound of a big truck being thrown. You rubbed the area above your chest, trying to keep your breathing steady.

“Okay. For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command.” Your eye twitched as the amulet softly glowed a blue colour before fading away. Jim's eyes widen as he exclaims, “It’s not working!”

When you heard heavy footsteps approaching, all of you slipped behind the truck quietly. You clenched your handlebars tightly when you heard growling.

“For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command.” Jim repeated, but nothing happened, “Seriously, it’s mine to command. I’m commanding here!”

The truck in front of you was raised, and your gaze was snapped in that direction.

“Centuries of Trollhunters and I will have killed two in almost as many days.”

“Oh no! He’s good at math!” You and Toby both yelled, and the three of you booked it on your bikes.

He hurled the truck at the three of you, and fortunately, you all narrowly avoided being hit as you made a sharp turn that nearly caused you to crash into the ground. Your pulse was quickly pounding through your ears, and adrenaline was coursing through your veins.

When the beast leaped in front of you, the three of you swerved out of the way, avoiding the beast's brash arms. You peered over your shoulder as he pursued you and fired a beam at him, causing him to fall back a little.

“Head down Delancy!” Jim demanded s you, him, and Toby made another turn to avoid another truck coming your way.

“Behind Stuart Electronic!” Jim ordered as he glanced behind him.

“You know I can’t fit there!” Toby complained.

“You got this!” You said, trying to offer Toby some encouragement. 

“No, I don’t!”

“You’ve been on a diet remember?” Jim pushed his way into the narrow alleyway with you trailing close behind.

Toby became trapped when he reached the alleyway and tried desperately to move forward saying, “I can’t fit! I can’t fit!” 

You and Jim came to a halt at the end of the alleyway and you fired another beam into the beast's eye, causing him to hiss in agony, saying, "I'm going to have your head sorcerer!"

“Please don’t!” You said.

“I can fit! I can fit! I can fit!” Toby chanted happily as he made his way closer to you, “I fitted! Yay diet!”

Before you and your friend rode off towards the bridge and biked over it, you gave him a big smile and congratulated him. The three of you came to a halt around the final curve, panting heavily. You closed your eyes and leaned your forearms on your bike handlebars. Your legs were killing you and you absolutely hated that.

“Look at me, look at me. We’re not dead, right?” Toby asked, his face lying between his palms.

“Master Jim!” You turned your head towards the source after hearing a familiar voice chuckled. You, Jim, and Toby were approached by Blinky and Aaarrrgghh.  Blinky was waving at you, Toby, and Jim while Aaarrrgghh was hiding behind a bush, “Ha-ha!”

“Bular’s trying to kill us! He chased us all over town!” Jim screamed as he approached the two trolls.

You sighed softly as you sluggishly followed. Toby was close behind.

“You have a sweet voice, but you bring death with you!” With a finger pointed at Blinky, Toby said.

You let out a shaky laugh.

“You can fight him, right?” Jim asked optimistically.

“I could not hope to possess the skill to defeat Bular.” Blinky answer as the troll trolls laughed.

“What about him?” You questioned, gesturing weakly to Aaarrrgghh, “He’s buff.”

“Pacifist,” Aaarrrgghh said, tilting his head slightly.

“Seriously?” Jim said in disbelief. 

Toby patted his arm and said, "Man, what a waste of a hulking brute."

“Thank you.”

“This is why there is a Trollhunter, Master Jim.” Blinky explained, “Aaarrrgghh renounced the violent path ages ago.”

Oh?

Bular jumped out and growled at all of you before anyone could say anything else. Blinky had told you all to join him and that you'd be safe in a place called Heartstone Trollmarket if you did. So that's what you did when the giant beast chased after you, shrieking.

You were sobbing in your head, desperately not wanting to continue pedaling to your limits. Perhaps you should just let Bular kill you so you can be free of this torment. You swear this is the most physical activity you've ever done in your life.

Bular knocked down a row of street lamps, causing Toby to collide into one of the fallen lamps and was launch into the air. Fortunately, Aaarrrgghh had caught him and immediately laid the boy on his back. You were riding down the path towards the canal and you screamed as you slide down the canal at high speeds on your bike.

You used your magic to bring your bike to a stop, causing you to jerk forward and groan. You sloppily dismounted and dashed toward the two trolls and Toby. You watched as Jim was finally able to wear his armor and landed on the cement floor of the canal.

Jim was in a combat stance, but after seeing Bular coming at him, he noped it real hard and booked it towards you. When you, Binky, and Toby tried to persuade him to take on the beast, Bular leaped in front of him. His blade flashed a vibrant blue hue when it struck Bular, sending them both sliding in opposite directions.

“Hurry! We must open the portal!” Blinky said as he took out a flickering orange object that looked like a miniature sword from his pocket and tossed it at Aaarrrgghh, who caught it.

Aaarrrgghh carved out a semi-circle into the wall with the orange object and punched it, causing it to crack. When it released a blue colour, the fragments started to hover out of the way, creating an entrance.

“Jim!” You call out, “Hurry up!”

“I’m a little busy here!” Jim responded, trying to fight off the beast, which only resulted in futile.

Jim dashed towards you, but the portal began to close.

“Come on, Jim, hurry!” Toby exclaimed, reaching out his hand.

Your heart sank when the portal closed, but thankfully, Aaarrrgghh reopened the portal, although barely, and dragged Jim to the other side. After that, the gateway was instantly closed. You and the boys took deep breaths while the adrenaline levels steadily dropped after the rush.

“He nearly… We nearly… He almost…” Jim said breathlessly.

“Nearly what, Master Jim? Speak up.”

“He almost killed us!” Jim exclaimed, raising his hands into the air. 

“‘Almost’! A very important word.” Blinky said, turning around as you and the younger boys looked at him with disbelief, “A life of ‘almost’ is a life of never.”

“Why’d the armor suddenly shut off?” Jim said as you all followed Blinky.

“Master Jim, you are the first human to possess an amulet crafted for trolls.” Blinky stated, “It’s to be expected its behavior will be… unexpected.”

After passing through a very wide doorway, you noticed the dark crystals pinned to the wall below you, creating a staircase that led all the way down. The crystals started to take on a blue hue, illuminating the pit and making it look absolutely beautiful.

“Woah.” You and Toby exhaled deeply and leaned forward.

You latched to Aaarrrgghh's arm, terrified of falling to your death.

“Are you sure we’re safe in here?” Jim asked as you all made it down the staircase.

“Indeed. The incantation forbids entry to Heartstone Trollmarket by GummGumms such as Bular, for they are the most fearsome of trolls.” Blinky said as you all managed to get to the end, “Now, Master Jim.” Blinky said, turning Jim to look the other way.

You strolled over to Toby’s side.

“This is the world you are bound to protect.”

As you take in the stunning scenery in front of you, your mouths were agape. Hearthstone Trollmarket appeared to be made up of a number of buildings and stairwells arranged around the town. Throughout the place, there were various minerals and crystals that provided lighting, and in the middle of it all was a massive amber-like crystal that towered above everything.

“This is Heartstone Trollmarket!”

[kneamet]

James Nicholls wants to have a baby with a reader. She wants to get away from him. James caresses her gently and kisses her. He tells her that they will try for a baby tomorrow. The reader is terrified and tries to get out of bed, but James holds her wrists and says she must be in bed with him.

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere, forced.

Word Count: 1862

Character: James Nicholls/reader

Summary: James wants a baby, but you're against it.

POV James

He liked to see you in bed. In his bed, which he had bought himself, distributing his pitiful soldier's pay for the arrangement of furniture and home comfort. He did not want to admit to himself that at least the pay of a soldier in those difficult war years for people was very good. The pay was excellent and one month would have been enough for two more, while sharing the household budget with his wife. But now he was being paid, as a former soldier, a fairly small salary, which meant that he had to earn extra money and save money.

But surprisingly, the police paid enough. The salary for his main job as a police officer in his small village covered everything, so there was a lot of money left for other small expenses and food. As well as the paper he used too often.

James swallowed, smiling slightly and wiping his pencil with his thumb, making a smudge for the shadows on the man's body. The love of drawing, which had been instilled in him since childhood, always gave him pleasure. It was nice to sit in silence, enjoying only the small crowing of the chickens in his parents ' backyard, and leaning against the wall of the room, drawing, remembering, and memorizing all sorts of images.

James has always had a great passion for drawing and for art in general. He wanted to achieve something great. Make it so that it is remembered. And they remembered him not as just an unlucky person in the family circle, as everyone thought, but as a famous artist who would dedicate his works to his beautiful wife and share his art all over the world. And, of course, he also wanted respect.

A man rarely got respect in the family circle. Being a rather soft and insecure person, little James was teased, as he himself remembers, from the beginning of the school to which his father sent him, paying off the last money for his son's education, even without counting the fact that he himself had a lot of debts.

James didn't really remember him. Only in fragments. A tough man, whose nra still try to subdue. And everyone always wondered how such a man could have such a son that even a woman could not command?

James shook his head, running the hard lead over the soft paper of his sketchbook, which he had barely found in the town. He considered drawing his outlet. Something that he can only share on paper and only to himself. Basically, in his paintings, he liked to draw people, animals and feelings. Unattainable feelings that all the people in the world deny. Weakness, pain, and poverty. A disturbing topic, but very important. The one that all people are afraid to reveal.

As he made a few more touches, James pushed it slightly away from him, carefully assessing the result. His beloved wife, his beloved rose. You. You were so good at this image. An innocent but fatal beauty was visible in you in his drawing. The only thing he didn't particularly like about the painting was the shadows. It is quite difficult to find the right slates, since all the artists wrote at once with paints, even without wanting to outline.

James chuckled as he set his leather-bound sketchbook down on the low round table beside the bed. His gaze immediately shifted to you and he tried to stifle a small moan. No, he definitely didn't think you were a sexual object. Of course, he had such feelings for you, but basically they were all tender and as sensual as possible.

He saw how your beautiful eyes, which reflected and understood absolutely everything, tensely jumped from line to line. He was curious about what you were reading, so James quickly reached for your hands, snatched the book out of them, closed it, and wrote the title of the cover.

"Little women," he muttered, frowning, one hand clutching a book with a soft and battered cover. Without turning, he frowned. "I haven't read this yet. Interesting?" Looking up, he smiled a soft smile as he placed the book on the table where he had previously placed his sketchbook with an unfinished drawing.

He saw your startled and slightly frightened look. Did he scare you?" Or disgusted? No, no, no! He definitely didn't want to do it. His eyes widened slightly as goose bumps covered his back.

But no, of course he imposes it all on himself. You love him, and he loves you. You had a pure and tender love, which can not be compared with anything, even with book novels.

The man reflected your smile and stretched out his hand, touching your stomach covered with a sheet and looking from him to you, looking at the features of your face with such a penetrating look, as if he wanted to remember forever.

Your velvety, bottomless eyes looked straight into his soul, searching for every bit of his unforgiving sins and punishing him. And he would definitely repent of them.

"My rose, I've wanted everything for a long time, but I didn't dare..." James muttered, stroking your stomach and feeling it sink slightly down, as if moving away from his touch. "What do you think about it?.." he was nervous. I was nervous. It was such an awkward yet interesting feeling that he couldn't describe it. "What do you think about having a baby?" he finally managed to say, feeling his hands start to shake from the strain.

He was burdened with the happiness of becoming a father with the one girl he loved, cherished, and was literally dependent on. He always wanted to feel her gentle touch, her soft words, her lovely appearance, her beautiful voice and, of course, her witty mind. So wonderful and so lovely. And all of it.

Suddenly, he felt your body tense under the weight of his hand, and you jerked. James frowned. He didn't like it. Are you trying to leave him?" Run away? From him? Or from responsibility? No, he doesn't want that.

"What are you doing, my rose?" he couldn't remember when the nickname had first appeared. Perhaps when they had first met and crossed eyes in the flower shop where James himself had bought flowers for his mother.

***

"Yes, finish this bouquet, please," he said, smiling sweetly at the saleswoman, who nodded and could not help but reflect his smile and catch his flattering state. James grinned, looking around. He's never been here before. Buy flowers. Who's going to do it anyway?

He turned his head to the right after the saleswoman, and his eyes widened in incredible and flattering surprise. Right in front of him, in the farthest corner of the hall, stood the most beautiful and beautiful girl he had ever met.

Her hair was tied up in a small bun that pulled her hair up; he couldn't see her eyes, but he was sure they were incredible. Lowering his eyes a little lower, he noticed what she was wearing, smiling slightly. Such innocence.

***

Touching your hand with a light touch, the man pulled his whole body up to you, touching your soft lips with yours, barely holding back a moan at how soft and pliable they were. Stepping back slightly, he touched his forehead to yours, feeling the little saliva that ran from your lips to his.

"We'll try to have a baby tomorrow, my rose."

***

POV Your

You wanted to leave. Make a scene and leave without even saying goodbye. Slam the door loudly, saying you don't want to hear his voice. But you knew that was impossible. That it was too risky and putting the trust that James had in you was risky. Once again, you didn't want to get into his confidence by talking about it, praising his ears with flattering comments in his direction.

It's better to leave it as it is. What does it say? Is the old evil better than the new? Yes, I think so. So it's better not to make James angry, but just continue to pretend to be his wife, that she loves him. At least he wouldn't notice.

You never thought that this nice gentleman. Your sweet boy and friend James, who was so sweet and charming, will eventually turn out to be a man who is obsessed with you and believes that his love is pure and does not even realize that he is hurting you.

But now it seemed to you that he had overstepped his bounds.

Have a baby? You absolutely did not want to do this because you thought it was too much. Yes, you have been living together for more than a year, but it is still scary to go to such a step. And you definitely didn't want a child with a man who literally kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife.

And yet, despite all the flaws, you didn't think he was crazy. And no, you didn't love him. There was no love between you, and there can't be any, because you hate him, and he's just obsessed with you. It's not love.

"Wh-what?" you tried to force yourself to say, feeling your hands tremble under James ' touch, and coda's skin prickle with goose bumps. Your breathing became ragged and erratic.

"Yes, my rose, why don't we have a baby? I think we're ready for this, " he muttered under his breath, moving away from you and wiping away the saliva with his finger, smiling slightly at you. Smiling the smile you've come to love, not knowing what lies behind her mask.

You hated the way he called you. A rose. With my rose. You didn't belong to him, and it sounded disgusting. Too disgusting. It's like he only thought of you in a sexual way. Because you only associated rose with sexuality.

You looked up at him, feeling very confused. James was definitely a freak at heart, but his appearance was not lacking in nature. He was handsome: his blond hair was cut short; his blue eyes, like a distance in which you could disappear, looked at you with a needful look; his lips were thin. His face was so aristocratic that you couldn't believe he was an ordinary soldier.

But no, you're not buying his innocent face. Although you were still tormented by doubts. James has never physically touched you before. It is possible only morally, and this is rare. So you didn't know how to describe him as a person. He was a rather ambiguous person. The face of an angel, which in the end turned out to be a devil, but a devil in which an angel is half seen.

You shook your head, wanting to leave the room and get the hell out of there. Just away from James and his ideas. Sitting up, you were about to get up, until you felt James's big hand on your emaciated wrist, and he was glowering at you from under his brows. He was scary.

"You will stay in bed with me, my rose."

[celosiaa]

avoidance

From a wonderful prompt I received! “A cold going around the season 1 archival staff and them just actively avoiding Jon because they don't want him to get sick because they know it'll be worst for him with his asthma. What they don't know is Jon's already caught it and is getting the wrong idea and just thinks he's being avoided because they don't want to catch it from him.”

Hope you enjoy this short little sickfic! Featuring hard of hearing Tim, especially for @haunted-by-catholic-guilt :)

“Oh, there he comes, Sash.”

“How does he look?” she replies, being sure to speak louder while Tim has his face turned away.

“Can’t tell yet.”

Tim cranes his neck and squints to better catch a glimpse of Martin, who walks toward their office from the lift, bundled up against the unseasonably cold weather in a knit scarf and hat.

“God, I need to get new prescriptions,” he says, rubbing his eyes against the blurriness.  “He’s got a hat and scarf on, though.”

“Ooh, things are looking promising!”

Turning back to her, jaw hanging open in mock-indigence, Tim places a shocked hand against his chest.

“Miss James, I’m horrified!  You would wish illness on our poor poet, Martin Blackwood, Esquire?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she says, sniffling a bit as she punches lightly at his arm.

“Morning, everyone,” Martin croaks as he steps in—though it must sound rather congested, judging by Sasha’s satisfied smirk, and she holds out her outstretched palm to him.

“Morning, Martin,” Tim replies at once, not willing to hand over his fiver just yet.  “How are you today?  Just peachy, I’ll bet?”

Throwing him a glare from where he’s sat down at his desk, Martin’s face suddenly goes hazy, his eyes unfocused as he pulls his scarf quickly over his nose—before sneezing thrice, harsh and miserable, breaking off into painful coughs to finish.

“Aw, Martin, I’m sorry,” Sasha coos in sympathy, patting his back with one hand while reaching out to accept Tim’s begrudging fiver with the other.

“Don’t you apologize, Sasha,” Martin croaks after he recovers himself, rubbing a tissue against his dreadfully pink nose.  “We all know this is Tim’s fault.”

“Excuse me???” Tim bursts, throwing his arms wide in a gesture of disbelief.

“Shut it, you know it’s true,” Sasha concurs, unwrapping a spare tissue box to donate to Martin’s desk.  “You’re the one who fraternized with Research, knowing they’ve had this bug going around for weeks.”

“Why are you both attacking me?” Tim shouts, breaking off to cough for a moment, his own illness not yet entirely abated.  “This is homophobic.”

“Not if we’re all queer, you arse!”

He returns to clutching at his chest, taking a dramatic inhale.

“Martin, she’s slinging me with the cruelest of insults!  Are you really going to sit there and do nothing?”

“Basically, yeah,” Martin replies, voice whittled down to a hoarse whisper—he makes sure to speak slowly, such that Tim can read his lips.  “Because she’s right, and you deserve it.”

“I’ll have you know, sir—“

Tim’s scolding is interrupted by the opening of the heavy door to document storage, from which Jon emerges—looking unkempt as ever, carrying a stack of files tucked beneath his left arm.  Nodding briefly at them in greeting, he hastens across the room to his office, and Tim just barely manages a glimpse of him pulling his inhaler out of his pocket before the door shuts. 

“Is he coughing?” Tim asks, turning to gauge their reactions.

“Yeah.  God, he sounds absolutely horrendous,” Martin croaks, wincing at the dreadful wheezing coughs, ineffectively muffled behind the door.

“It’s his own fault,” Tim mutters, earning him looks from both Martin and Sasha.  “What?  He could ask one of us to root through the dusty shelves for him,  you know, like a normal boss.  But he won’t, because he’s too damn stubborn.”

Knowing he’s at least a little bit right, Sasha and Martin say nothing, only continuing to listen with concern as Jon pulls twice from his inhaler, before finally seeming to get his breath back.

“We should all try to keep our distance from him,” Martin says at last, giving them both a significant look.  “I don’t want him to get this—not when he’s coughing like that.  Don’t want to put him at risk.”

Grin dropping from his face, Tim nods solemnly back at Martin, and Sasha follows suit.

“You’re right, mate.  We’ll do our best.”

“Yeah, it’s a deal, Martin.”

“Thanks,” Martin replies, flashing them a sunny, if not stuffed-up, smile.  “Right then, anything specific to work on today?”

—

For what feels like the hundredth time that day, Jon slams the pause button on the tape recorder, snatching up a tissue as fast as he can—near-silently stifling two into it.  It makes his head pound every time, tears at his already-battered throat, but he’d rather not spread whatever miserable illness he’s managed to catch all around the office.

Though it seems that they’d all been avoiding him well enough as it is.

He’s not a fool—he knows he’s got a fever, knows that he’s contagious and really ought to be avoided—but when Martin had neglected to bring him his afternoon tea that day, well…he was more than happy to blame the lump in his throat on the fever.  For all he tells himself that it doesn’t matter, that he ought to take care of himself, it does nothing to settle the ache in his chest.  The one that his inhaler can no longer take the edge off.

Sighing in frustration, Jon does his best to turn his focus back to his work—rising unsteadily to his feet to search for the next file.

What was the number again?

God, I’m dizzy.

He stretches out a hand to brace himself against the filing cabinet, blinking away the stars sparkling across his vision as he adjusts to standing.

Right.  01319…0…8?  9?

Wait, did I—did I finish the last statement?

He muffles a cough into his elbow, bracing even heavier on the cabinet.

Doesn’t matter, I’ll just get this one anyway.

Won’t need to get up again, at least.

“Looking for something, boss?”

Tim calls from his office door, which he’s propped open—perhaps in the subconscious effort to tempt Martin into bringing him tea. 

Pathetic.

“Jon?  You alright?”

“Oh—err, of course,” he says at once, lifting his head toward him.  “Can I help you?”

“I was the one asking,” Tim chuckles, stepping forward into his office—before immediately retreating again.

Oh.

“Sorry, I would help you, it’s just—you know, with this cold going around, better not.”

“R-right.”

Jon buries his hurt as quickly as possible, refusing to let it show on his face.

“Right, of course.  Then, err, just—carry on then, I suppose, Tim.”

Turning back to the cabinets, Jon tries to leave the conversation there, feeling his chest beginning to tighten with every passing moment.  He doesn’t want to get Tim ill, not when they’re all so clearly worried about catching it—

“Jon?  You’re—you look shaky, are you alright?”

Don’t cough don’t cough don’t cough

“Fine,” he croaks, even as he brings a hand up to press against his fluttering chest.

“What was that?” Tim asks, stepping just a bit closer, tilting his head to better read Jon’s lips.

Don’t don’t don’t

He can’t hold it back anymore.

At once, Jon doubles over with coughing, shallow wheezing accented by the rumbling of congestion deep within his lungs—all of it nearly sending him to the ground with the force of it.

“Jesus, Jon—just sit down, alright?  Christ,” Tim urges, at last entering the room to grab him by the shoulders, lowering him to sitting with his back against the filing cabinet.

Every thought of hiding or sparing Tim from contagion flies from his head, replaced only with the gasping need for air, his body screaming at him to breathe—

“What’s going on?” Martin asks from the door, scanning across the scene quickly, alarm rising at once.

“Get his inhaler,” Tim orders, tipping Jon’s head forward between his knees.

“Oh god.  Right—right, h-here, I’ve got it—Jon?”

He taps gently on Jon’s upper arm as he crouches.

“I’ve got it here, can you look up?”

It takes every shred of focus he has left to his power, but he does—reaching out to cover Martin’s hands with his own as he guides the inhaler to his lips, pressing down on the button and drawing as deeply as he can from it.

“Good, good, that’s—that’s good, Jon,” Martin stammers, still holding the inhaler within his reach.

“Take another,” Tim demands, voice leaving no room for argument.  “When you can.”

After a few more labored breaths, Jon complies—chest expanding a little more now, though he can still feel the crackling wetness at the edges of it.

“Here, Jon, I’ve got you some water,” Sasha says as she enters the room, undoubtedly having heard the commotion from outside.  “You alright?”

“Shouldn’t be here,” Jon rasps, seeing Martin’s hands in his periphery, reaching up to sign for Tim’s understanding.

“I know—we didn’t want to get you ill, Jon, but—“ Tim cuts off momentarily, running a hand through his hair in frustration.  “I mean, it sort of seemed like you needed help, right?”

Wait.

“You didn’t…you didn’t want…to get me ill?” Jon asks through panting breaths, finally feeling steady enough to lift his head.

“Well, no, we—“ Martin suddenly breaks off, scooting a little ways back from Jon as he realizes their proximity.  “Of course we didn’t want you to get ill, your asthma’s been so terrible the past few days.”

Jon shakes his head in confusion, brows furrowing as he glances between the three of them.

“I...I don’t—“

Oh.

Oh.

“You didn’t…know I was ill?” he asks, and Tim’s eyebrows shoot into his hair, turning back to share a glance with both Sasha and Martin.

“Oh no, Jon, I’m so sorry,” Martin laments at last, sniffling a bit into his sleeve.  “We didn’t—we thought that, well…we thought we were protecting you from getting it.”

The relief Jon feels at this is astonishing—certainly inordinate for the situation, but…he finds he does not care much altogether.  Even if just a bit, the knot in his chest seems to loosen—his breathing made easier just for a moment.

“Woah—you alright?” Tim asks with renewed concern, the cause uncertain to him, before—

He feels a tear beginning to slip down his face.

“Oh,” he says, hurriedly scrubbing it away.  “Oh, I—I’m sorry, I—I-I’m fine, it’s alright, I don’t know why—“

“It’s alright, Jon,” Sasha says from above him, leaning down to press a warm hand on his shoulder.  “Look, if you feel like you can stand, I’ll drive you home, okay?  You need to rest.  I’m serious.”

The look she gives him now, that they all give him—it’s nearly enough to bring a smile to his face, his mouth barely quirking up at one corner. 

“Y-yes, I—thank you, Sasha,” he says, allowing Tim and Martin to lift him slowly to his feet, leaning against them momentarily as he sways just a bit.

“You’re calling your doctor on the way,” Sasha continues, leading them out of his office and toward the lift.  “I’m not leaving you alone until you do.”

“R-right,” he pants against the exertion of their slow-paced walking.  “I—thank you.  I suppose.”

“Don’t mention it Jon,” Martin says softly as they bundle him into the lift.  “Just get well, okay?”

Something warm and lovely floods through Jon’s chest at this, and he cannot help but nod—a half-smile flickering across his face as the lift doors close.

[shiteatinggrin]

Hi, so this is my contribution to my first jilytober, I wrote some canon fic, it is kinda sad so I guess you could call this angst? I don’t know, I’m not that good at categorizing fic. Anyways, here is a love letter to James Potter from Lily Evans because he just died under her eyes. Wrote this fast, so I can’t vouch for the quality of this. This is almost 3k of Lily being a sap, so enjoy! Find it here on Ao3.

Bastard with a shit eating grin

Do you remember our first kiss? I can still feel the cold air of winter seeping through the walls of Greenhouse Number Three and you and I laughing together. It was not an unusual thing anymore, but some people could have been surprised, because we had had some big feuds over the years, the Dormitories Dashing and Destroying Disagreement, the Inflating Inner Ear Incident, the Flying Fiona Fight and the Severus Snape Saga consisting of the big highlights. However frustrating it was, we always had fun together, didn’t we?

Now we were falling in love dutifully without realising we had always been meant for each other in some way. I was all colors: glorious red hair, pink cheeks, pale green eyes and horrendously yellow socks. You were all teeth: shining smiles, arrogant smirking, belly-laughing in a silent room or grinding them in concentration for the task you were committing to (hyper-focusing on) at the moment.

‘Oi, Evans, can I copy your homework?’ You would say that practically every day.

‘How about a please, Potter? Might do you some good.’ You watched me smear some soil on my neck when I scratched it and said nothing. I discovered it in Transfiguration two hours later. Crazy how we can only remember the smallest details years later and the big things just go right over our heads. I could only ever remember the small details with you, because whatever we said to each other was never important, only the talking to you part was.

‘Oh Lily, dearest flower to my heart that I worship beyond any rainbow, might I please please please see your diligently done homework so that I can rewrite it because, being the idiot that I am, I was off gallivanting with Sirius yesterday instead of being a good student.’ You added pouts and made doe eyes for good measure as if I wouldn’t already have grabbed the moon from the sky’s grubby hands every night if you had asked it.

I would stifle a smile and put some piece of parchment in your extended hand without even looking, sometimes it was the homework if I was feeling generous, if I were more in a creative mood I might give you a stupid doodle or some kind of letter that would say something like: ‘Dear Prongs, you are an asshat. Looking forward to our rounds tonight so I can kick your ass in Gobstones. Now listen to Sprout, will you? Lily’ with a stupid heart over the i that basically meant PS: I love you. Finally, I’d say something like:

‘I would have laughed, but your head might inflate so much you’d have neck pain for a week.’

You let yourself smile then and continued to jest me, hoping to wrench a smile out of the beast (you always did it literally two minutes later, it is funny how easy it is to win when you give yourself such small tasks).

But that day, amazingly, we broke out of our routine.

At night we would always hang out together in the common room with our friends and slowly the people would fizzle out, having gone up to their dormitories and I would stay on the couch with the urge to kiss you with some dumb excuse not to leave on the tip of my tongue. I painted my nails or read some book or talked to you extensively about something I’d learned recently and you would listen with concentrated eyes and a much too easy smile.

Then you would start talking and when you started some story it would never finish, even now you can’t even recall something as simple as Harry’s first smile without going on for five full minutes without stopping. In these nights I would try to look like I wasn’t paying too much attention to you, like I was detached from everything pertaining to your person, but being young and in love doesn’t exactly give you the best skills in subtlety and so you would ask me if I was paying attention and I would blush and you would make some quip about redheads and their skins and everything would go back to normal.

And out of the blue, when I was talking about getting some sugar quills next time we were in Hogsmeade and how difficult the Ancient Runes paper was, you kissed me. Your hands flew to my hair and mine to cup your face and you pressed your body hard against mine. I’d never seen you so hungry for anything before, it seemed like you had been starving for a thousand years before our lips found each other. I had kissed three boys before you, and none of them could compare to the feeling of ecstasy of your mouth against mine. No one will ever compare to James Potter, right? That’s what you used to say in fourth year when you made a particular lucky goal in Quidditch or when you caught the Snitch in mid-air even though you were a Chaser and we were in Potions classf. Is it weird that I miss that?

I don’t think there ever was a time when I didn’t love you, all electric hair and much too quick brain and hundred stupid nicknames that didn’t mean anything unless you explained them in excruciating detail and you would smile too much and talk too loud and walk too fast and I wouldn’t feel so out of place with you because I did the exact same things. Petunia was always prim and proper and I always tried to be like her and please everyone but you taught me how to be myself and how to blossom into my personality without even knowing it. With you I’ve never been too much, I was always just enough.

Everything always came so easy to you, and I’ve always hated you for it. Now I think that I can’t appreciate enough how you could always share that with everyone around you, that incredible luck that could get you out of the worst of predicaments. I guess it all caught up to us today, but I don’t mind now. I’ll love you forever, come what may.

My heart is full of wanted posters of you: dead or alive.

I can’t remember the first time I’ve really noticed you, because you were always in the periphery, doing stupid things and getting in trouble and beaming for no reason at all and the memory of your presence was impossible to shake, but I still remember the first time we really became friends. We were fifteen by the lake and my best friend betrayed me under the glistening sun, the following day I had the worst grade in Transfiguration I’d ever gotten. You found me crying by a window on the fifth floor and apologized a hundred times (which I couldn’t have cared less at the moment), but you still went and talked to McGonagall and she agreed to let me retake the test in the afternoon and offered me a biscuit.

In seventh year, a girl told me that she was so jealous of the fact that I was the only one that could make James Potter change and mature. As if your life revolved around me. I thought of your sick father and the fact that Sirius had appeared on your front door one day and never left your house and with a twinge in my heart thought of the war coming and I couldn’t believe my ears. With all this going on, and she still thought you’d only change for a girl?

I’m not proud of this, but I might have shouted at her and maybe, perhaps I was the one that sent a silencing charm her way, but who could really tell? Not her, because her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

I wonder if I ever told you that. Probably, because you know everything interesting there is to know about me. You even know the most boring facts about me, because they amuse you just the same. You know I like peonies the best in spite of my name and that my first kiss was with Snape when I was eight, you know that I wiped my mouth right after and didn’t know yet what love was. You know that my favourite band is Hate Potion and that my guilty pleasure is Celestina Warbeck. You know that I wanted to name our son Harry because of a muggle TV show I used to watch with Petunia when I was seven on Saturday mornings and that when I fight my favorite charm is Expelliarmus. You were at my side when I killed my first (and last) Death Eater and that I cried for a week afterward. You comforted me for five hours when Marlene and her entire family were massacred in their own home, the same one where I had spent a good chunk of my summers to avoid Petunia. You know that I only ever paint my toenails blue and that my favorite flavour of ice cream is mint chocolate chip. You know all about my relationship with my sister and how she used to be my best friend and that we used to dance in bathing suits around the sprinkler and fake being witches to make potions out of mud and flowers and how she never forgave when this dream became true for me but not for her. You know all about my failed relationships, with Tuney, Sev and my ex-boyfriend who left me because he didn’t want to be associated with a muggleborn. You know I’m absolute shite at drawing and that I can’t dance to save my life and you laugh at me when I’m drunk and try to follow Peter’s choreography to some dumb song I don’t know. Last year, you helped paint flowers all over my bookcase because I wanted it to be unique and just mine.

When Harry was born, you refused to sleep for two days because he was so cute when he slept against your chest, but you finally fell asleep while cutting onions for dinner and I had to intervene.

One of my favourite things about you is that I have never seen anyone so full of life. You smile like nothing has ever gone wrong in your entire life and you are more loyal than any Hufflepuff I’ve ever seen, you would die for any of us in a heartbeat and we would do the same for you anytime. My love for you is so big I wonder how it even fits in our little house in Godric’s Hollow. You painted our walls burnt orange because you said it reminded you of my hair and I wonder if it is weird to fall in love with you even more over some colour choices. You complete me because as much as you are a complete idiot, you still recommend the best books and are smart enough to plan the best pranks, but too smug to make anyone else take the blame. You had always been my favourite person in the whole universe until Harry arrived, but he is so much like you that it is like meeting you at a much earlier age. He has the same laugh as you, you know?

I cannot believe how brave you are, because traditional courage requires you to go into battle and protect everyone you love like a lioness does her cubs, but you have found the energy to keep going even trapped in this house with an infant without being able to help your friends outside. You go everyday against your most basic instincts and you manage to have so much fun with us, but I see the tired bags under your eyes and the fact that you lose your train of thoughts sometimes and I know that you’re thinking about the war and the security of the boys, I know they are your family and it would kill you if one of them ever fell into battle, yet you never complain, yet you never lose hope. I love you so much my feeble heart can’t contain it all. My love for you is as inevitable as the blue of the sky, as the oxygen in our lungs, as the passage of time, I love you so much that when I see you it is like coming home, your wild hair and round glasses and mischievous eyes and soft voice and much too long limbs and wide chest and calloused hands and smile like an answer to all my problems.

No one has ever made me feel as secure as you and now I know I have to be strong for you, because you are the one that’s fallen, like a marionnette whose strings were cut. The coffee stain on the right arm of your shirt is the last thing I will see of you, or maybe it is a bit of your wild inky hair. I will never be able to look at the night sky the same.

I can hear him in the stairs, and all I can think about is you and Harry this morning, my two favourite people in the world, sat on the carpet and puffs of colour coming out of your wand, your laugh coming out of his mouth, one single tooth poking out, little chubby legs shaking from laughter, the wand you stupidly left on the carpet (the wand you didn’t care wasn’t in your hands because you didn’t care if you died, you just wanted us to live). Your last gift to me was the most precious of all: you gave me the time to say goodbye to Harry.

‘Mama loves you. Dada loves you, Harry.’ That is the only thing I find to say, because it is true and my heart is breaking, I can hear it thundering, collapsing like a dying star, you are dead, I will die, Harry has to live. I cannot withstand the thought.

I have never loved anyone better than the two of you. Apparently I never will, but at least I have known real love, the one that comes from daily life, that never dies because it is kept alive by stupid little things that make us who we are. Crazy how we only remember the little things and the big ones just go right over our heads.

I will remember the smallest things about you, like the little scar in your left eyebrow, the weird placement of your thumb on your wand, the feel of your skin against mine and the way it tanned in the summer while mine just became redder and redder, the sound of your laugh when Sirius said something funny and the way you always pushed your glasses up your nose with your middle finger, the way you sit in any chair like it’s a throne, the way you answered questions in class without raising your hand, the way you held a book open when you were reading it, your last day where you wanted to make pasta and I wanted steak, the way you would mess with your hair not because you thought it would make you look like you just stepped off your broom, but because you were nervous or restless. On your good days it would stand flatter on your head and I had to pass my hand through it because otherwise it just didn’t feel like you. You laughed too much when Sirius decided to read Crime and Punishment to Harry as a bedtime story and your son wouldn’t go to sleep. You would tell him stories of your childhood disguised as muggle magical adventures and I became a knight, Sirius a prince and Snape a dragon. You would call my cat Fiona the ginger cat, as if Fiona wasn’t enough and she needed an extra title. I guess she was royalty after all. You always tried to make me believe that she loved you more than me, even though I’d had her since I was eleven and you once made her fly across the common room just to annoy me.

Do you remember this morning? The last time you ever kissed me? You made me eggs and tea for breakfast and sang some Beatle song for me in the most off-key voice. You stole the bacon from my plate, laughing from across the dinner table. I was so happy because you were in a good mood today, you didn’t seem to feel so trapped and it was Halloween and you were trying to convince me to dress Harry up as a muggle magician, which I thought was the worst joke you’d ever made. You kissed me on the mouth and we settled on a pumpkin costume. Your lips tasted of stolen bacon and orange juice (you’ve never been much of a morning tea person).

I have never loved anyone better, and apparently I never will.

The house is so silent now that you are gone. All I can hear are my own ragged breaths. Harry seems to think this is some kind of game. He is all that we have left now. All that will ever be left of us. To love is to create, right? We have created the most beautiful person in the world, it should be the only thing that counts.

I love you. I could try to make this poetic, the love thing, but I think the most poetic way it can be is on its own. I don’t know any words more powerful than I love you. I love you and you are dead. I love you and I will die soon. I love our son and he will live. Life is as simple as that. I love you and soon we’ll be together again. Miss you already.

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

betting on you

summary: your date doesn’t go to plan, and Jake won’t stand for that.

warnings: a gross date

word count: 2.6k

Your life, described in one word, was chaotic. Being friends with an entire professional hockey roster tended to have that effect. Not that you really minded, especially with the company you usually kept. 

More often than not, there was at least one hockey player on your couch. Sometimes you regretted letting them know where you kept your spare key—you couldn't count how many times you’d come home from work and had a heart attack seeing someone already on your couch. 

But there were nights, like tonight, when the boys were invited over, that you enjoyed their company the most. Currently, Elias, Brock, and Jake were sitting around your kitchen table as you bounced around the room in an effort to cook them dinner as a thank you for always leaving you tickets for their games.

“You’ve got a text.” Brock called, your phone sitting on the table beside him. 

“Who’s it from?” You questioned, hands too busy with putting the chicken in the oven to check it yourself. Though, when Brock spoke next you wished you had just waited a moment to figure out for yourself.

“John, uh, he wants to know if Friday at eight works.” Brock told you, a bit of hesitation in his voice as his gaze flicked to Jake for a moment. Your whole body tensed and you practically lunged across the room to get your phone back, all the while avoiding the questioning glances from the three boys. 

“So you’ve got a date?” Elias asked, and you would’ve hissed at him to shut up, but it’s Petey, and you’re pretty sure he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever met, so instead, you just flush completely. It was answer enough, though, because suddenly the Minnesota native was wearing a teasing grin.

“Oh my god, you have a date!” Brock all but shouts, raising the beer bottle he’d been sipping and gesturing it towards you like he was cheering. You were certain that by now you looked like a tomato, and with all three boys looking at you, you shrunk into yourself and typed furiously on your phone.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” You finally found your voice, and Brock just laughed heartily at how defensive you got. The boys then started making teasing comments about John, and you completely ignored them because there were three boys sitting at the table but only two were talking. Which was something, because you couldn’t remember the last time Jake had ever been so quiet.

“So is it a first date?” Brock questioned, his chin propped up on his hand as he grinned at you. He was having way too much fun at your expense, and you made a mental note to get back at him later. You mustered up a nod, setting your phone down on the counter after confirming your plans with John.

“How’d you meet?” Elias asked, being ever the gentleman. Once again, your whole body flushed in embarrassment at his question. Jake still was silent, brows furrowed and expression unreadable.

“Um, Tinder.” You offered meekly, finding the veggies you had roasting on the stove suddenly very interesting. It wasn’t necessarily embarrassing that you were on the app, but it was awkward admitting to it surrounded by three guys who probably never would never have to use Tinder to get a date.

Plus, the massive crush you had on Jake probably didn’t help the redness of your cheeks. One wine night with your friends led to you downloading the app in a last ditch effort to get over the hockey player. Now, you were regretting it. Brock was giggling at you, and Petey was trying his best to suppress his grin. You couldn't even look at Jake, until—

“You can’t go on a date with him.” His voice was firm, and for the first time since this whole debacle started, all heads snapped to him. You spun on your heel to face him, and still the look on his face was unreadable.

“And why the hell not?” You questioned, arms crossed and brow raised. You weren't looking for a fight, but Jake was absolutely in no position to tell you whether or not you could see someone.

“Because Tinder guys suck.” He had a point, but your embarrassment had switched to stubbornness, and with the way Brock and Elias were looking between you and Jake like this was the most amusing thing they had ever witnessed, you weren’t about to back down.

“Not all of them.” You mumbled, features softening as you leaned back against the stove. You kicked yourself for the way your heart skipped a beat as you briefly wondered if him caring about whether or not you were going on dates meant something, but you quickly realized you were wrong as Jake spoke next.

“Let’s make a bet.” 

“Oh, it's getting interesting now.” Brock murmured, but neither you nor Jake broke the eye contact you’d been holding since he first spoke., and you quirked a brow at him to continue. 

“If your date goes bad, you have to be my personal chef for a week.” Jake started, and you rolled your eyes. You’d probably end up cooking for him anyways, but you weren't about to point that out and end up with a worse punishment—not that you thought the date would end badly, of course. 

“And when the date works out?” You prompted, one corner of Jake’s lips twitching up at your sentence. 

“If it works out, I’ll get you and James—”

“John.”

“—ice level seats to the next home game.” Jake finished, and you could tell from the smirk on his face that he had intentionally messed up the name and was proud of himself for it. 

“Really?” You questioned. You tried to ignore the fact that you really didn't want to go to a game with John, because that meant bringing him around the boys and though you loved them all dearly, you knew they could all be a bit much. 

Plus, the idea of introducing John to Jake made your stomach twist.

“Really.” Jake nodded, leaning back into his chair. For the first time in a moment, you spared a glance to the other two men sitting at the table. Elias was trying, and failing, to hide his amused grin. Brock on the other hand, was extending no such curtesy. He was clearly entertained, and you briefly wondered if you should offer him some popcorn to go with the show you and Jake were putting on.

“Fine. Deal.” You said before you even really knew it. You were oozing false confidence, but none of them needed to know that. Jake grinned, but you didn't see it as you turned back to the food on the stove. 

You figured that the date would go okay, maybe it’d be a little awkward but soon you'd either grow to like him or you'd part ways after the game that Jake promised. 

Except. 

Nothing seemed to go right. Firstly, John had picked some fancy restaurant, which, though it wasn't your style at all, would’ve been fine. But then he kept making comments like how a guy needed to spend a ton of money to get someone to put out and how the top you were wearing was the same color as his sheets—which was followed by an invitation to find out for yourself. 

Your favorite was when the waitress had left the table after taking drink orders and he had the audacity to turn to you and make a comment about how he wondered if she’d go home with the two of you if he asked. 

You got up and left before he could say anything else.

Once you were in your car, you took a moment to catch your breath and bask in just how awful the date had been. Before you really even knew it, your phone was in your hand and you were dialing the one number you knew you could count on no matter what.

“Jake.” You breathed the moment the line connected, not giving him a second to question why you were calling when you were supposed to be on the date. “If you say anything about that stupid bet I will hang up. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?” Jake’s concerned voice sounded from your phone's speaker and the corner of your lips turned upwards at the sound. 

“I’m fine, I drove myself.” You explained with a shake of your head. You leaned back, relaxed from just having Jake on the other end of the line. It was scary, how much he meant to you and how hard getting over him was proving to be. John wasn’t the first guy you’d gone out with since you started trying to shift your affection away from Jake, and even the guys that were total gentlemen never seemed to work. Nothing was as easy as it was with Jake.

“Are you still there?” He asked after a moment of silence on your end. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just in my head.” You muttered, feeling absolutely defeated after the way the past twenty minutes had played out. 

“Come to mine, we can watch a movie or something.” Jake offered, causing the corner of your lips to quirk up. The idea seemed infinitely better than anything else you could have done, so it was easy for you to agree. 

“I’m on my way.” He told you to drive safe, and you hung up, fastening your seatbelt with a grin. The drive was quick and uneventful, the radio playing quietly as your mind went wild with all the ways Jake was probably going to tease you. 

By the time you were at his apartment, you had figured that he’d make a show of how you lost the bet, maybe even draw up a plan for you to get groceries for him to cook. He'd more than likely threaten to beat up John, and though you knew it was for your benefit, you knew Jake wouldn't exactly be happy about how he acted. 

And for the second time that night, what you assumed would happen was completely wrong. 

You knocked on Jake’s door and it took him a moment to answer, but when he did you were met with an unexpected sight. Your best friend was there, but instead of the sweatpants and t-shirt he usually wore around the house, he had on a pair of dress pants and a nice button-up. His sleeves were rolled up, and you pretended that you totally didn't eye his tattoos the second you spotted his exposed forearm.

“What’re you dressed up for?” You questioned, seeing as Jake was just looking at you with a sheepish look on his face. You were certain that you were imaging the slight blush on his cheeks, and as he stepped aside to let you in, he still hadn't spoken. “You didn’t have plans, did you?”

“No, I, uh—okay, listen.” He stuttered, hand tugging through his hair and eyes bouncing everywhere across the room but you. His actions concerned you, Jake was not a nervous guy, so whatever he was about to say clearly had an impact on him. 

“Jake?” You prompted after a moment of silence. You knew he was trying to collect his thoughts, but you were getting anxious to hear what he had to say.

“So I know your date was bad, but that must be, like, an understatement, because it's only half an hour past your reservation.” He started, and your eyes widened a bit as you realized he remembered when the date was supposed to start. “And I wanted you to have a good time, so, I figured, we could, if you want, have a date night here?”

He was blushing, and his words were rushed, but you had heard him loud and clear. Your heart was racing as you contemplated the reasoning behind his actions, certain that you are reading too much into things. Jake had never hinted that he wanted anything more than a friendship with you, and friends cheer each up other after bad dates, right? 

But the way he was acting, and the way he simply said date night seemed to imply so much more than your typical movie nights or dinners. And usually the other guys were there, too.

“Why?” You found yourself asking on. Of the dozens of thoughts that were running through your mind, the only thing you were able to ask was why. You felt stupid for it, but something was telling you that there was a reason for his behavior. 

“I, uh, I might really like you.” Jake muttered, and suddenly you felt like the two feet separating you from him was entirely too much. He finally settled his gaze on you, and you could see the worry in his eyes. You probably should’ve said something right away, but you were too caught off guard by his confession to formulate actual words.

Panic had clearly set in on his face, blue eyes searching your expression for any hint of a reaction. You cracked a grin, and the simple action had some of the tension visibly leaving Jake’s body. You took a few steps forward, standing before him and his hands instantly landed on your waist. His grip kept you in place, not that you planned on moving away anytime soon. 

“Please say something.” He breathed, a hint of a chuckle at the end of his plea. Words were failing you, the feeling of Jake’s touch and the smell of his cologne practically turning your mind to mush. Instead, you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to connect your lips in a long-awaited kiss. You could tell by the way his hands gripped your waist tighter and tugged you closer that he wanted the kiss just as much as you did. When you pulled away, Jake’s grin was as wide as you’d ever seen. “I was going to ask you if you kiss on the first date, but I guess I know.”

“Shut up.” You mumbled, leaning in to peck his lips again. It was a bit clumsy, with how wide you both were smiling, but you wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world. The two of you were lost in each other, wrapped around the other and grinning like fools for who knows how long. That was, until, you pulled away just enough that your senses weren’t completely clouded by Jake. “Is something burning?” His eyes grew wide, and he all but knocked you out of the way as he raced to the kitchen. You followed after him, not trusting him if there was an actual emergency. 

“I was going to make dinner.” Jake pouted. Apparently, what had been burning was the spaghetti sauce he was going to make, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He shot a playful glare in your direction, but that did nothing to stop your amusement at the whole situation. You were pretty sure the only reason he even had a jar of sauce in his pantry was because you had left it there last time you cooked for him. 

“We can get takeout.” You reasoned, stepping into Jake and wrapping your arms around his torso. “I’ll even let you pick what we get since you’ve been so sweet.” Jake chuckled, and you felt the vibrations from where your cheek was pressed against his chest. He pulled back a bit, his forefinger tilting your chin up so he could connect your lips once more. 

“Takeout can wait.” He mumbled, and before he could deepen the kiss like you knew he was planning to do, you slipped out of his grip. He pouted again, and you chuckled at his adorable expression, even if he was being a bit childish. 

“Not so fast, Virtanen. You’ve got to buy me dinner first.”

[westerhos]

Our Story: Chapters 2-3

Thank you to everyone who has sent such lovely messages about this story! Happy to hear some of you are re-reading it while others are discovering it for the first time. Now for the next two chapters, which really should have been one...

[December 24th, 1990]

Their home is a modest one—a studio clinging to edges of the city, not far from where they first met. It’s an older building, mid-19th century, with pipes that freeze in the winter, burst like Scottish primrose in the summer. There is a single window on its western side, which welcomes the December-white sun at each day’s end. And it is here, lined along this sill, that Claire’s plants reach hungry towards the sky, try to trap this silver sliver of heat inside their veins.

Save for the flowers, theirs is an ascetic sort of décor. Sparse like a monk’s quarters—though Jamie and Claire hardly mind. They decorate the empty corners with their future, hatched in whispers during the night.

One day, Jamie promises, they’ll have Persian rugs and a four-poster bed. One day, they’ll own a leather sofa, its cushions like butter against Claire’s bare thighs. “And a vase!” she adds. “All fancy people have vases.”

But for now, they sleep on a musty twin cot, their belongings stored in the trunk at its foot. Jamie’s manuscripts are stacked inside, their pages marked in ballpoint scribbles and soil-dusted fingerprints. (“I canna read what this says anymore!” Jamie yells. “S’okay,” Claire says. “That paragraph was rubbish anyways.”) He’s an editorial assistant, the paltry salary worth the power of the red pen, which reshapes the written world to his liking. It buys food and rent, and covers what med school tuition Claire’s scholarship does not.

It’s a quiet life, but a happy life.

Claire yawns. “Did you know that every Christmas Eve my uncle told me a story? Made it up himself, right on the spot.”

“Are ye trying to tell me ye want a story?”

“I may be hinting at that, yes.”

“Ach,” Jamie says. Her favorite sound, every inch of him encapsulated in this strange, Scottish scoff. “Your subtly always turns me on.”

“Oh, hush. C’mon.”

He runs a hand through his hair, auburn and cinnabar limned in moonbeam.

“A good story on the spot? That’s no small amount of pressure, Sassenach.”

“How about a request then?” she offers, and Jamie raises a brow. “How about my favorite?”

“Yer favorite?”

“Don’t play coy. You know. The one you always start incorrectly? She is wearing a holiday sweater, a confection of silver bells and sequined penguins…”

“Weel, it’s a much better beginning than the ‘curl of my lips’…”

“Debatable,” Claire replies, tongue tracing the valley of his cupid’s bow.

But Jamie nods, chooses a different beginning this time: “It was immediate…”

He twists one of Claire’s curls around his finger and inhales. She still smells like the springtime, earthy and ripe, and perhaps there’s a hint of his own musk now, too. He likes it this way, enjoys finding proof of his existence somewhere beneath her skin. Permanent.

“Immediate!” Claire echoes, a one-woman Greek chorus. She is pressed into him, feeling his chest curve around her spine. It always surprises her how their bodies fit so perfectly, their limbs folding and molding to fill all their negative spaces. (And she has so many, our Claire, between her toes and between her ribs. Vacant rooms where her mother, her father, and her uncle once lived.)

“Aye, from the minute I saw ye, I ken you belonged wi’ me.”

“Mmm,” she hums, not saying, “Of course I felt the same thing,” or “Of course I loved you from the very first.” Because, of course, Jamie knows this already. (Strange, they both think, how the heart can move faster than the speed of light.)

“Speaking of which…” she says.

“Ye don’t want to hear the rest?”

“In a sec,” she replies. “But your friends seem to think we should get married. Dougal especially.”

“They do,” Jamie says softly. “And Dougal does—to him, maybe.” He brings Claire’s hand to his lips, smiles into the Christmas present he’s wrapped around her finger. A ring: one mounted pearl, taken from his mother’s necklace. (“No’ an engagement ring, mind,” though they both knew it meant forever.)

“Do you, though? Think we should get married?”

“I’ll do anything that means I can call ye mine.”

“You already can.”

“Aye, but I dinna think the law agrees wi’ you.”

“Devil take the law.”

Jamie laughs. “I reckon the Devil doesna want the law either, Sassenach. He hates the law.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Which is?”

Claire turns towards him, remembers this past year together: their first date (Italian restaurant, 9PM showing of Pretty Woman), their first fight (broken coffee mugs, a noise complaint). She remembers the first time they made love in this small, crooked flat: middle of the floor, surrounded by packing boxes and crumpled newspaper. The bubble wrap had crackled beneath them—pop-pop-pop!—as if they were dancing on fireworks. (“I never want to leave this place,” she’d told him. He thought she’d meant the flat, but she’d meant his arms.)

“Which is…Well. Do you want to marry me, James Fraser?”

He squints. “Is that a proposal?”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t ye on your knees?”

“You bloody—”

Claire’s elbow swings towards his face, but Jamie catches it, stretches her arm back so that her palm lies flat against the wall. He rolls on top of her, leans down and lets her heart beat against his lips. Wills it into him until his blood thrums with it. The sound of their story.

“Yes,” Jamie says. “I want to marry you, Claire Beauchamp.”

“You mean Claire Fraser?”

He laughs; she smiles (they are both winners on this day).

“Aye. Beauchamp, Sassenach, Fraser.” His voice drops, a whisper: “My wife.”

[December 24th, 1991]

While Jamie and Claire’s studio remains the same, the flowers change with the turn of seasons: baby-skinned petals become felted cloth, neon-bright as they hang from a child’s mobile. The pots along the sill are gone, their soil-dust trails swiped away and their roots transplanted to a community garden. In their place, sits a collection of shiny, new tools for a shiny, new crib, which stands half-assembled beside the cot. The flower mobile blooms above it, suspended in silent wait for spring. For Faith.

Come April, Jamie and Claire will bring the sunshine into their home, no longer needing the single window and its lancing, evening light. Come April, they will have marigold walls, yellow linens, and bright rubber duckies floating in the sink. All of this for the baby that will sleep inside the shiny, new crib beneath the flowers that will never die.

Faith. This is the name they have given their future, no longer an unfurnished corner in their studio, but a growing presence inside Claire’s belly.

“Ugh!”

“That bad is it?”

“Worse than bad. I look like a whale who’s just fucked a Christmas tree.”

Jamie opens his eyes, his wife framed by his fingers, and he moves his hands to stifle a laugh.

“And a few wee penguins at that…”

“You’re not helping,” Claire whines, examining her reflection in the mirror. Rounded cheeks, rounder stomach; sharp lines blurred by months of pregnancy. All afternoon, she has scolded and cajoled, bribed and threatened, her cottons and nylons.  But the fabrics have been stubborn, loath to surrender their bodily claims to the child pushing against them.

“Jamie, I can’t go out wearing this.”

“I dinna see how you’ve much choice in the matter, Sassenach. We should've gone to Waverly yesterday,” Jamie replies. The sweater—the same one she’d worn the evening they met—hugs her stomach. Tight but still discreet, the purest flash of flesh above her waistline. “Party’s at 8. We’ve no time to go shopping for a proper outfit. It’s either that or what God gave ye.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be a treat? A naked, pregnant woman sipping virgin egg nog in front of the buffet. Happy bloody Christmas!”

“Angus wouldna mind.”

“Well, so long as the host is happy.”

“I wouldna mind.”

Claire snorts and twirls, as if to say, “Are you sure of that?” (He is, absolutely, and to the marrow of his bones.)

Jamie sighs. “D’ye want me to wear mine too?”

“You mean your lager-stained pullover? With the Santa looks that looks like he’s got vomit in his beard?

“Aye, that’s the one.”

“Yes,” she replies, grinning. She remembers where it lies amongst the rest of their clothes, just as she remembers its wooly scratch against her breasts two years before. Jaime’s hands (so much larger than hers, even then) lifting it up and over, laying her bare beneath the fluorescent lights of his dorm room. “Yes, I want you to wear your Belligerent Santa jumper.”

Jamie nods.

“And no beer for you, either. Just store-bought non-alcoholic egg nog. My misery needs company.”

“Fair is fair.”

“And—”

“There’s more?”

“Much more.”

“Ach, weel. Anything for the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“Oh, Rupert will be so grateful you think so, Jamie.”

“What are friends for?” He draws closer, vibrating. “But what about you, Sassenach?”

“Me? You’ll look more ridiculous than I will. I’ll be peachy and taking shots of fake egg-nog!”

Claire finds the sweater and throws it to Jamie, watches him catch the frayed and wrinkled ball of it. The hem is still an unraveled spool, which she winds and winds around her finger. Once, twice, three times until it marks her skin in a pale, white ring. She pulls it taut, feels the slow draining of her finger as the blood retreats, towards her husband. Electricity between them (the pipes groan, the winter thaw come at last).

“Now,” Claire purrs, “put that on so I can take it off you.”

“D’ye think we have time?”

“Of course we do,” she says. "We always have time." (Not always, not forever.)

“Well then,” Jamie says, bowing. “Your servant, madam.”

At this point, I still had no idea where I was going with this story, and I think that’s abundantly clear here. Regardless, I was very much taken with the “romanticism” of being poor, in love, and bohemian in New York City—so these two chapters are basically my written daydreams about being a young Patti Smith. Luckily, that never happened! Although I did wind up living in a tiny long-term Airbnb with an opera singer, a grand piano that took up the. entire. living. room., and a very uncomfortable futon that I slept on for my first 6 months in Brooklyn.

These are really the last ~~happy~~ chapters for a while, which is totally a reflection of the fact that I had moved to Brooklyn and was scared, lonely, and just generally very angsty, lol. So my apologies for what lies ahead.

One closing thought: Why did I choose Pretty Woman as Jamie and Claire’s first date movie, lol? Had I just watched it? Did I just associate the ‘90s with Julia Roberts romantic comedies? Did I not bother researching other movies that came out in 1990? Your guess is as good as mine!!!