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bucks-babe · 7 months ago

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Change My Ways For You

Pairing: College!Fuckboy!Bucky x college!fem!reader

Summary: One of the only girls in school that didn’t want Bucky Barnes was somehow the one he fell in love with

Warnings: Smut, fluff, reader doesn’t take any of Bucky’s shit, himbo!Bucky, Bucky being a fuckboy,a bit of forced proximity, small part where Bucky is fucking someone else (ew), pinning, Bucky proving himself to be a sweet boy, non consentual kissing, Bucky being tooth rottingly sweet, Bucky calling reader sweets sweetheart and sweetcheeks, Steve is a dick (sorry not sorry), PROTECTED p in v (they are responsible in this one), fingering, fluffy smut, dirty talk, cockwarming?, so much praise, talk about STDs, delayed aftercare, talk about no aftercare, Bucky learns about aftercare so all is good

Word Count: 14.6k This is a long one

A/N: Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading and helping with the direction; however, any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. This fic is the most adorable and full of emotions. The angst, the fluff, the feelings and especially Bucky. The way they act around one another — it’s absolutely great and definitely a read worth it!

“I have to admit, some of your grades in this class are less than I expected. Some of you have excelled in my class, but there are quite a few students to which their performance, to put it nicely, has been subpar.” A few students in the room look around, trying to see who looks guilty of having shit grades. You couldn’t care less; you know your grades are great so it’s not your problem if someone else is failing.

All you want to do is get out of class and go back to your dorm to sleep, having stayed up way too late to finish a research paper for a different class. Your professor walks back over to his desk and leans back on it, sighing and taking off his glasses to wipe them on his sweater.

“Now, while I understand that this course is not for the faint of heart, I still expect all of you to put in effort, and based on these,” he holds up the essays that were due last week, “I can tell that some of you just don’t care. Not even mentioning those of you who didn’t turn in your paper.”

You hear a scoff a few rows behind you and you know it’s Bucky Barnes without having to turn your head. He is the resident fuckboy, not caring about school or his education, just going to parties and fucking every living thing in sight. Sometimes you think that the only reason he is even in college is to have the “college experience” of “being free and having a bit of fun.”

He’s never turned your head, rather just been a thorn in your side three times a week when you go to class, always joking with his friends next to him or talking about his latest trist. You don’t want to hear about how loud a random girl screamed when she came on his cock. You were here to get your degree and finally move out of this shitty town you were stuck in.

Honestly, you doubt that Bucky was even giving anyone orgasms. In your experience, men who brag about how good they were in bed were nothing but a disappointment, giving you about 30 seconds of mediocre sex until they came inside a condom and rolled over only to ask you, “did you cum?” The answer was always no. You didn’t have the patience to stroke any man’s ego when they couldn’t even make you wet.

Bucky did nothing but make you roll your eyes, annoyed by the absolute gall of himself. “Now, because I don’t want my class average to go down because of a few dumbasses, I have sent some of you an email to meet me in my office after hours in which I will pair you up with another student in hopes that it will give you a kick in the ass since I cannot be bothered to spend more time teaching you.” You like your professor, you really do. He was one of the chillest professors you’ve had, but a twinge of fear goes through you. You fucking hope that he doesn’t pick you to help another student, especially Bucky.

You hang on to the sliver of hope that he won’t pick you. He knows that you’re busy, right? Between work and school you don’t have any time to tutor anyone. The topic stays on your mind long after you leave class, delaying looking at your email just in case he picked you to help another student.

As the hours went by, however, you knew that you had to check it. You cursed when your laptop had battery; if it didn’t, it would have given you an excuse to not show up if you were picked. Nonetheless, you opened your school email, only to find out that you had been picked and you needed to go down to your professors office in a half hour.

Getting dressed, you had the most intense scowl on your face. This was the last thing you needed added onto your plate. You only hoped that he would pair you up with someone who didn’t need that much help, but you were proven wrong when you walked in only to find Bucky sitting down looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Take a seat, please.” You huff and sit down, moving your body away from Bucky as much as you could. You didn’t really feel comfortable around him. He’s never done anything to you per say, but you’ve seen his shameless flirting and it makes you uneasy and never want to be on the receiving end of it.

You don’t pay attention to anything your professor says, something about helping Bucky over the next few months until he’s passing or fails out of the course. You’re too lost in thought to care. On top of everything you have going on, now you have to help the one person you can’t stand.

Your professor dismisses the both of you with instructions to meet at least twice a week to study together. Bucky walks out before you and you assume that he has sprinted away to go to another party given that it was late afternoon, but you find him right outside the door.

“So, sweetcheeks, I guess you’re gonna be seeing a lot of me now.” His eyes run up and down your body, like this was the first time he’s seen you. It makes you shift and wrap your arms around your middle, trying to soothe yourself. Bucky clearly takes this the wrong way and thinks that you like his hungry eyes and steps closer to you. “How about I give you my number and we can meet up, ya know, to study? Or if you ever need something, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

You don’t want to give him your phone, thinking about where his hands have been. Ever since his step closer to you, you can smell the scent of sex on him. If you look closer at his beard you can see the glisten on it, most likely from some girl he ate out right before he came to the meeting.

“Just tell me your number, James so we can get this over with. I don’t want to help you and you don’t want my help. Clearly you don’t give a shit about this class and you only want to get in my pants.” He raises his eyebrows at your tone, a little shocked that you spoke to him like that. Before he opens his mouth you continue, “I mean, look at you. You’re flirting with me when I can fucking see that someone’s pussy was on your face, and that makes you think that I want to have sex with you?”

He opens his mouth one more time but you aren’t finished, finally able to snap at him for all the times he’s pissed you off. “I’m not going to be one of the girls you add to your roster so you can get that idea out of your head right now. The only time I am going to interact with you is when I have to, okay? Now give me your number so I can go back to my dorm and fucking sleep.”

Bucky is shocked, not having anyone talk to him like that. It pisses him off that you rejected him. Everyone wanted a piece of him, but he has time to change your mind. He can’t lie, your sass was making his pants tighter, but he relents and gives you his number before you walk away while he watches your ass, palming his dick through his pants.

He needs to relieve the pressure in his groin and he’s sure as hell you’re not going to help him and his hand is nowhere near good as a pussy, so he goes out to Steve’s party, knowing that he can get a girl in minutes.

“Fuck, yeah baby, that pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock. Shit, love that ass too, you gonna let me fuck it? Yeah, I bet you fucking would too.” Bucky doesn’t know how the two of them ended up in the bathroom, fucking each other’s brains out, but he’s not complaining. When she offered to get on her knees and suck his cock he pulled her into the nearest room, cumming on her face before pushing her into the mirror, smearing her makeup and his cum all over the mirror.

The slam of his hips was brutal, surely going to leave bruises on her hips but he didn’t care, as long as she wasn’t complaining, he would do whatever he wanted with her, fucking her like she was a slut. “Fuck, baby, gonna make me fucking cum. Pussy is so fucking tight.” He lets a groan out, close to cumming.

Usually he didn’t make much noise during sex other than dirty talk, only breathing heavily and groaning when he was about to cum, but he was always composed. Sex felt great, but he never felt the need to moan. He never understood why men would moan like a slut just over some pussy, and he doubted that he would ever embarrass himself like that during sex.

“Love the way that ass bounces, so fucking hot.” This was the way Bucky fucked - from behind watching the girl’s ass jiggle. He wasn’t one to fuck any other way. Bucky didn’t give a shit to watch her face or look into her eyes, he just wanted to cum as fast as possible so he could move on with the rest of his day. He thought missionary was quite possibly the most boring position ever created, not like he ever made it to a bed anyway.

“Shit, gonna take my cum, bitch? Yeah, you fucking are, just a little fucking cumdump for me, letting me fuck you in a dirty bathroom, too horny for my fat cock.” He was babbling, just wanting to cum so he could go back out to the party and have another drink, maybe even pick another girl up for later.

Bucky lets out a low groan, filling up the condom with his cum. Once his orgasm is finished, he pulls out, taking the rubber off and throwing it away. Pulling his pants back up, the girl turns around, clearly affronted. “I didn’t even cum, baby.” Her voice was high and annoying, making Bucky roll his eyes.

“Sorry, but your pussy made me bust early.” He chuckles knowing damn well that it was a lie. He just couldn’t be bothered to make her cum. Why would he put in the extra work to make her cum when he was just having fun? If she wanted to cum so bad she could have handled it herself. He wasn’t stopping her from using her own hands. Bucky either ate a girl out until she came to get her nice and wet if he was feeling generous that day or left her to her own devices while he took his own pleasure from her body.

She blushes, “oh, thanks, that’s sweet of you.” Bucky just wants to get the fuck back to the party and she’s talking too fucking much. “Maybe we can do this again.”

He can hear how hopeful she is and he felt just a little bit bad so he decided to humor her. “Sure, Sherry, whenever I’m free. You know college life and all, working hard in classes every day. Gotta keep up that 4.0 GPA.” As he heads for the door, he hears her squeak out, It’s Sally!

The next day is when you’re supposed to meet Bucky in the library to study, but it’s been a half hour and he still hasn’t shown. You decide to study what you need to. If Bucky wanted to fail you weren’t going to go out of your way to help him. You weren’t his mother; he was a grown man and he was responsible for himself.

Nearly an hour later, Bucky stumbles in, clearly reaping the effects of the alcohol binge he must have been on the night before. It was no wonder why he was failing his classes. When he sees you, a smile graces his lips, trying to make you forget that he was more than fashionably late. “Heeyyyy, sweetcheeks. You been waitin’ on me long?” The closer he gets the more you can smell the musk of sex and alcohol.

“James, are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?” You know he is and you fight the urge to turn your nose up at the offensive smell coming off him.

“Huh? Oh, shit, I am. Well would ya’ look at that?” He laughs before plopping down in the seat next to you, his smell even worse than before. He tries to give you what you assume is a sexy look, but he just looks like he just awoke out of a coma. “How about you help me change them then, sweetcheeks? Maybe even give me a good scrub, make sure I’m real clean? Oh, and sweets, call me Bucky since we’re gonna get real close.”

There is no way that he is trying to have sex with you when his stink is filling up the entire section of the library. Anger bubbles up in your chest. You were here to help him and he is taking this whole thing like a joke. “I don’t have time for this, James. Unlike you, I actually care about my grades and don’t think with what’s in my pants.”

As you go to walk away, Bucky tries to grab your wrist, wanting to mess with you some more, but his motor skills haven’t come back yet and he was too slow. “C’mon, sweetheart, I was just messin’ with ya’, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Bucky holds his tongue about wanting to sniff your panties, not wanting to antagonize you further, but you just keep storming away and soon enough you’re out of Bucky’s sight.

Bucky huffs, annoyed that you walked away from him. Not because he actually wanted to talk to you, no of course not, it’s because no one has ever walked away from him. He walks away from girls after he fucked them, not the other way around. Grabbing his shirt, he lifts it up to smell it, turning his head away when the stench hits him. “Damn, no wonder she fucking sprinted away from you, Barnes.” Bucky stands up, almost falling over when gets lightheaded, the effect of drinking all night with no food catching up to him.

He slowly makes his way back to his dorm to shower and get out of his grimy clothes, feeling it stick to his skin in the worst way possible. He realizes that he only gave you his number and you didn’t give him yours so he has no way of texting you to see when your next session is. Maybe he would have made it on time if you texted him. It wasn’t his fault he was late. Honestly, you should have reminded him since you are supposed to be helping him.

The next day Bucky sees you in class and luckily he doesn’t reek this time. Instead of sitting in his usual seat, he goes down a few rows and plops down next to you. “So, sweetheart, I don’t mean to question your teaching methods, but seems to me like you’re a pretty lackluster teacher, runnin’ out on me like that.” You slowly turn your head, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man. How dare he say anything about you when he showed an hour late and proceeded to ogle you like a piece of meat?

“Excuse me? You wanna say that again, James? Because I don’t think I heard you right, because you better not have just said that I’m the problem.”

“I was just teasin’ ya, sweets. But if this is gonna work ya gotta help me a little bit. I mean, you’re the teacher and all.” You wanted to slap that smug smirk right off of his face.

“If this is going to work, James, then you need to try. I’m not going to pull my weight and yours so get that idea out of your head right now. I’ll be in the library at 4:30. If you’re so much as a minute late, I’ll tell the professor to get someone else to deal with you.” With that you got up and changed your seat, not wanting to be around him for another second.

Bucky felt his pants tighten again. He really needs to do something about your attitude, like fuck it out of you. It wasn’t a lie that he found you attractive and the thought of bending you over your desk and watching your ass bounce made his cock even harder. Bucky was contemplating asking the girl next to him for a handjob but the thought of her hands around his cock didn’t seem as good as what he thought your hands would feel like.

So instead of that, Bucky moved his seat to the back of the room so he could jerk off. A man has needs after all and Bucky has never had to worry about someone taking care of his boners until now.

Bucky decides not to push his luck and he actually shows up to the library on time, sans all of his books, but at least he’s there. He sees you in the corner, hunched over your laptop, typing away. You look cute too, with your tongue slightly passed your lips in concentration and eyebrows pulled together. Reading glasses perched on your nose. His sweetheart was working hard. What the fuck, Barnes? Bucky is taken aback by his own thoughts. He has never looked at a girl like that, when none of his thoughts are about how many different ways he could fuck them.

You roll your eyes when you see that Bucky didn’t bring anything with him, just the air of arrogance that seems to follow him wherever he goes. “Would ya’ look at the time, sweets? I’m early. See I happen to take my education very seriously.” You swear, if you roll your eyes anymore because of this man, they’re going to be stuck in the back of your skull.

“Yeah, yeah. What did the professor say you needed to work on?” You want to get straight to business. The faster you get this done the faster you can leave.

“Uh, well. I don’t exactly know what.” He tries to smile to soften the blow of his incompetence as he sits next to you, but you are almost vibrating in anger at how useless he is.

Huffing, you angrily click at your laptop, going to check the email your professor gave you, knowing that Bucky couldn’t be trusted to remember. “James, please tell me how your grade is a 13% and you’re still in college?” You had no idea that someone could have a grade that low and not be kicked out of the entire course.

“What! No way, let me see that.” You slide the laptop over to him, showing the proof of his negligence. “Well, damn, we have a lotta work to do then, sweetcheeks.” You ignore his comment and pull up his most recent essay, surprised that he turned it in at all, but not shocked to see how terribly he did.

“James, what did you even think this essay was about?”

“Uh, nature and care?” Your mouth drops open and you just stare at him for a minute, making him squirm under your gaze.

“James, this was an essay on Frankenstein, and you were supposed to analyze the difference between nature versus nurture. You wrote about the fucking trees!”

Bucky clearly didn’t understand the problem with his essay. “Yeah, that’s nature!”

“No, James. Nature as in how you are, like how you were born, not how you were raised. You were supposed to compare how Victor was nurtured all his life but was full of hate and spite, but the creature never had any care but he was benevolent until everyone who encountered him abhorred him!”

You were talking too fast and Bucky didn’t understand a word of what you said. You were using words that he had never heard of before. “So, you can fix it, right, sweets?” That same sly smile was on his lips. The look on your face was enough to make him backtrack. “Uh, so we can fix this right? You know, since we’re a team now.”

The resting bitch face you gave him had him shifting his eyes around the library, trying to avoid it. As soon as he did, however, he regretted his decision when his party hook up locked eyes with him. His eyes immediately went to your laptop, typing random words onto the document you pulled up, trying to seem busy.

“So, sweetcheeks, I’m picking up what you’re putting down. So Victor is a bitch and Frankenstein is cool.” The sound of your voice correcting him by calling the creature Frankenstein is drowned out by the shrill voice of his past trist.

“Hey, baby, haven’t seen you since that party. See you're working hard, keeping up that 4.0 I see.” She lets out a giggle and strokes his bicep. You raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything about his supposed GPA. You’re taking great pleasure in watching Bucky squirm, clearly not wanting anything to do with her now that he’s gotten his rocks off.

“And who is this? I bet my smart baby is helping her study, right? That’s so sweet of you to help out, really. Not everyone would want to help the ugly girl.” You wheeled your head back, about to bite her head off for daring to say shit about your looks when the foundation on her face was three shades lighter than her chest that was almost spilling out of her way too small top. Now you were never one to judge, but if someone comes for your looks, you come right back at them.

Before you got the chance to tear her a new one, Bucky interjected. “Ya’ know me, always helping out where I can, even those less fortunate than me.” His eyes were glued to her chest and you doubted that he even knew what she said to begin with. “Listen, Sandy, how about we catch up after I’m done and I can help you out too?”

The “sexy” look on her face dropped. “My name’s Sally, nevermind, you can have the ugly bitch!” Bucky cringes slightly at getting her name wrong again; he was never good with those. You don’t know why you were involved with their lovers quarrel, but a twinge of hurt sprouts in your heart. You didn’t even do anything to her and she had to come at you for your looks, and Bucky didn’t say a fucking word.

Grabbing your things, you pack them with more force than necessary, but you don’t give a fuck. “Sweetheart, where are ya’ going? Don’t listen to her, she’s just a bit jealous that I’m with ya’.”

How does he not see what he did wrong? You just glare at him before turning on your heels and walking away. There is no way that you’re going to spend anymore time or energy on him when he isn’t going to try. If it was anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t be so hurt, but for just one second you thought that Bucky wasn’t as bad as he made himself out to be.

“Sweets, c’mon, we still have that essay to write.” Was this man really following you down the hall? Yes, yes he was.

You spin around, eyes ablaze just to walk back up to him and push his chest. “You have an essay to write because I. Am. Done. You don’t give a fuck about this and I refuse to put myself through this for nothing.”

“What did I even do?” Now you were shaking with anger.

“What did you do? You haven’t tried at all, showing up late, trying to get me to fuck you, and worst of all, you let someone talk about me like that right in front of you and didn’t say a fucking word. You know, for a second there I thought you might be a nice guy, but you proved me the fuck wrong.”

Bucky had the nerve to look angry at what you said. Pushing you against the wall, he stares into your eyes. “Sweets, you’re really starting to piss me off. I’m fucking trying and it’s not good enough for ya’. I ought to fuck that attitude right outta ya’.” His eyes drop down to your lips and you’re too stunned to speak, not expecting him to push you up against a wall.

He was starting to scare you, getting into your space like this, but before you could tell him to back off his lips smashed against yours. It was rough and fast. Your lips stayed still but your eyes were wide open, shocked at what he was doing. You tried to push his chest, but he only got closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, one hand dropping to your ass.

You struggled to free one of your hands, but as soon as you did you slapped Bucky in the face as hard as you could given your angle. He pulls back, shock on his face at the fact that you hit him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing! What made you think that I wanted to kiss you, asshole!” You try to wipe your lips, wanting to get the memory of his lips against yours off.

Bucky just stood there, not knowing what to say. He didn’t know what came over him. You shook your head and practically ran away to your dorm so you could shower and wash his touch off of you. The next day you were glad you didn’t have class with Bucky, but the remains of his kiss were still lingering. You didn’t even want to help him to begin with and this is how it ends up? With him forcing you to kiss him.

You didn’t want to tell anyone what happened, just wanting to forget the whole thing. But you couldn’t avoid Bucky for long since you did have to share a class together. He tried to come up to you, but you saw it out of the corner of your eye and switched seats before he could reach you. The entire hour and a half lecture was spent making sure Bucky wasn’t making his way any closer to you.

Instead of rushing out when class was over, you made your way down to your professors desk. “Professor, could I talk to you in your office for a minute? It’s important.” He might be relaxed most of the time, but your professor always made sure everyone in his class felt like they could talk to him if needed.

Nodding his head, he leads you to his office and closes the door behind you, but not before you catch a glimpse of Bucky looking like a kicked puppy. He knew what you were about to talk about in that office, but there was nothing he could do about it. “Have a seat and tell me what’s going on. You’ve seemed off the past couple of lessons and I’m starting to get worried.”

You gulped, not knowing why it was so hard to say that you don’t want to tutor Bucky anymore. You didn’t want to let your professor down. Maybe it was because he reminded you of a father that you never had, but you just wanted to make him proud, showing him that you were capable of what he entrusted to you. He was looking at you, waiting to listen.

“Um, well, I have been distracted, but I think that it would be best for James to-” You can’t finish the rest of your sentence when you look at your professor. He trusted you to help Bucky and you can’t throw his trust away. “I think it would be best for James to have a more structured plan and I wanted to discuss that with you.”

The pride in his eyes was undeniable and you forgot about all the shit Bucky has put you through over the last few days. “Of course, what did you have in mind?” When you get out of his office, Bucky is still waiting, most likely missing the next party one of his friends is having.

You don’t even look at him, only grabbing the front of his shirt and dragging him with you all the way down to the library. “Sweets, listen, I didn’t mean to make ya’ feel-” Turning around, you cut him off and he stumbles to a stop.

“No, I don’t want to hear it, James. You listen to me. We will meet in this library every other day at this exact time and you will keep your mouth shut and work. Do you hear me?” Bucky feels his pants tighten, but doesn’t say a word about it, slightly scared to talk back to you.

He just nods his head, finally noticing how beautiful you were. How your eyes held so much emotion in them, even when you didn't let it show on your face. Or how your lips form a small frown, the sides pulling down giving you an adorable pout. The small belmishes on your face, the tiny imperfections, created the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“A nod is not an answer, James. Use your words.” Bucky swears that he could have cum in his pants at that exact moment. No woman has ever been so dominant with him in or out of the bedroom.

He gulps before finding his voice again, hoarse but still working. “Yes, ma’am. I won’t let ya’ down again. I swear.” You stare into his eyes for a few seconds longer, determining if you believed him or not, giving Bucky more time to appreciate every part of your face he didn’t notice before.

You let go of his shirt and keep walking and Bucky follows you like a lost puppy, eyes downcast to your ass but not being able to see much with your hoodie going down past it. Instead of going to the corner of the library you were at last time, you walk to one of the private study rooms. “Sit and get your shit out.”

Bucky wastes no time following your direction, loving how brazen you were. You sit down next to him, giving him the opportunity to smell your perfume, the light scent intoxicating. “So, teach, what are we working on first?” His eyes are bright and attentive, taking in your facial expressions. He’s trying to butter you up, make you less angry at him.

“We have to fix your atrocious essay. It’s worth the most amount of points so hopefully it will bring your grade up.” You root through his binder, nothing organized at all. When you find it and pull it out you sigh, not knowing where to even start. “Okay, first things first, you need to at least understand what this is about.”

You explain everything to him, stopping to see if he is still following along, surprised to see him paying attention, going so far as to interrupt every so often to ask questions. For the first time since he got to college, Bucky is trying. The two of you sit there for a few hours, going over the essay line by line, fixing his mistakes. To your surprise, his grammar wasn’t too bad. At least he had something going for him.

The next few lessons go by the same way, Bucky working hard to not piss you off, but also to improve his grades. There were no flirty comments, no complaining about you being bossy. He was falling for you, something that Bucky never thought would happen to him.

He didn’t know how it started. Maybe it was that day you told him off, grabbing his shirt and putting him in his place. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. You were so beautiful and smart. God you were smart. It amazed him how easy it was for you to explain the assignments to him.

Bucky stopped going to parties, too. For once he didn’t find interest in getting shitfaced drunk and sticking his dick in a random girl; although it was giving him his first ever case of blue balls, it just felt wrong to have sex with another girl. He tried once at the last party he went to before he decided to stop going, but her hand on his cock didn’t make him pulse with need. Bucky ended up faking a phone call, saying that his friend was in the hospital and he needed to go see him.

As the weeks pass, Bucky can tell you’re getting soft on him, especially when you called him Bucky for the first time.

“C’mon, sweets, it can’t be that bad helpin’ me out.” Bucky leans back in his chair, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, James because from where I stand, I’m losing IQ points by the minute with you.” You still try to sass him but Bucky can tell you’re fighting off a smile. The two of you talk like actual friends now - no more jabs at his promiscuity and no more ogling.

“Ah, I think it’s the other way around. I can feel myself gettin’ smarter with ya’.” Bucky puts his head on the table in front of you, moving so he could look at your face. His eyes glisten, showing the sweet man hidden underneath his tough exterior.

“Oh, give me a break, Bucky, you’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll do all the work for you.” You smile, looking down at him with the same adoration he’s giving you. His name leaving your lips felt right, smooth and sweet.

Bucky’s eyes widen, not expecting his name to sound so damn good coming from you. He doesn’t say anything in fear of you going back to calling him James. Now that you’ve called him Bucky, he never wants to hear his first name come out of your mouth again. He wants to be your Bucky.

You can’t deny the feelings you’ve developed for Bucky. The man charming his way into your heart, but you know you can’t act on them. You doubt that Bucky has ever been in a serious relationship, only going for one night stands. Even though you’ve seen first hand how sweet of a man he can be, you still aren’t convinced that he would be interested in dating.

But Bucky doesn’t share the same sentiment. Today is the day he’s going to ask you on a date, hoping that you’ll say yes and give him a chance to prove himself to you, prove that he can be the man you deserve. Like always, you’re in the library before him, already set up and waiting. When you see him walking over you wave, the same gorgeous smile he fell for gracing your lips.

You could tell that he was nervous, stuttering and not meeting your eyes. “Bucky, what’s going on with you? Don’t tell me that you forgot to turn in the essay that we’ve been working on.”

Bucky smiles sheepishly at you. “No, sweets, I remembered to turn it in. I, uh, well, ya’ know. I got a question for ya’.” Mentally slapping himself in the face, Bucky blushed.

Staring at him suspiciously, you pushed your laptop away, giving him your full attention. “Well, sweets, you’ve been so good to me over these past few weeks. Really turned me around. I didn’t think that I would be able to do all this college shit, you know?” It wasn’t a question that he wanted you to answer. “You made me change my ways. I don’t want to go to parties and get blackout drunk anymore. To be honest, I’d much rather spend my time with you.”

Bucky takes a deep breath while you gaze at him with a blank expression on your face, making him even more nervous than before. “Doesn’t matter what we’re doing, s’long as it’s with you I don’t care.”

You cut off his rambling, afraid of where he is going. “Bucky, what are you trying to say to me?” You know what he is trying to say, but you don’t know how to react to it. It’s not like you haven’t imagined what it would be like to go out with him, but that’s just not the man he is.

“I’m tryin’ to be romantic right now, sweets.” He lets out a little giggle, playing with his hands to try to calm himself down. “What I’m tryin’ to say is, would you like to go on a date with me?” Bucky feels his heart drop when you only stare at him, not even blinking. His knee starts to bounce, the anticipation becoming too much for him.

You sigh, thinking about what to say to him. The two of you have a good friendship, one that you never thought you would have, but starting a relationship with him is terrifying. “Bucky, listen.” Just from the way you started your sentence, Bucky regrets saying anything. “It’s not that I don’t like you, I really do, but I can’t deny that your past scares me.”

“What do you mean, sweets?” For a man so observant, he can be a little dumb.

“You don’t do relationships, Bucky. You’re used to no strings attached and dating includes a lot of strings.” Bucky clenches his jaw, of course his past would come back to bite him in the ass.

“I don’t want no strings attached anymore. I want to be with you and only you.” You close your eyes, putting your head down slightly. You want to believe him, you really do, but you don’t want to get your heart broken. Gently, Bucky’s hand grabs your chin, moving you to face him. “Let me prove myself to you, sweets, just give me a chance and if I blow it I give you full permission to kick my ass.”

That brings a small smile to your lips, but you’re still not convinced. “What if you get bored of me? Being with the same person over and over again?” Bucky’s heart aches at your words, not used to seeing you unsure of yourself. How could he ever get tired of you? He knows that he is the one who caused your insecurities. If he didn’t sleep around as much as he did, then you wouldn’t worry about his loyalty.

“Sweetheart, ever since you put me in my place, I haven’t touched another woman, can’t even think about someone who isn’t you touchin’ me. Just one chance is all I’m askin’ and I promise that I will show you how much I care.”

Closing your eyes, you lean into his warm palm, letting yourself feel him. His eyes hold so much vulnerability and you feel yourself losing the ability to say no to him. “Just one chance, Barnes. And if you hurt me I swear to God.” You’ve never seen Bucky smile so wide, pure joy adorning his face.

The smile never left his face, only growing wider. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweets. What about you come over to my dorm and we can have a movie night? Maybe you could even stay over?” He looks sheepish, worried you’ll turn him down. At the quirk of your brow he rushes to explain himself. “Not like that! Just to hang out.”

You head back to your dorm to get a change of clothes while Bucky waits outside so he could walk with you back to his. As soon as you walk out, he is rushing to grab your bag from you, insisting that he carries it. “Bucky, I can carry my own bag, you know. I’m capable of that much.” He loves your little attitude, never accepting his help.

Throwing an arm over your shoulder, Bucky leads you away, not giving you your bag back. His dorm is just what you expect from a college frat boy: trash can overflowing, clothes on the floor, food left out, bed a complete mess. Scratching the back of his neck, Bucky shyly looks at you. You decide to only give him a little bit of grief for the mess. “Am I allowed on the bed or have you fucked someone here?”

Bucky’s eyes widen, frantically shaking his head. “No, never brought anyone back to my dorm.” Toeing your shoes off, you ask him where the bathroom is, changing your clothes before you flop onto the bed, letting yourself sink into the fluffy mattress. For a minute, Bucky feels his brain malfunction. The sight of you in his bed is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He would give his left arm to have you naked right now, his cock buried deep inside you, your pussy pulsing around his cock, moaning when he rubs little circles on your clit.

“You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna put on a movie, loverboy?” Shaking his head, Bucky nods and heads over to grab his laptop before climbing into bed, leaving space in between the two of you in case you didn’t want to be too close. “I didn’t know that hanging off the side of the bed was your style, but if you want to leave me to freeze feel free to do so.”

Bucky doesn’t know how to act around you, this whole dating thing is uncharted territory for him. He just moves over, your thigh pressed to his. Bucky had to will his cock to not get hard, the softness of your body was making it hard to think straight. The fact that he’s only jerked off for the past month isn’t helping either.

You move to get more comfortable, which so happens to include you snuggling into his side, curling your arms around his bicep. Bucky has no clue what the movie is about, the image of all the things he wants to do to you in this bed are too much for him. He doesn’t know what the feeling passing over him is. He likes this. He likes the feeling of your body pressed to his. Not in a sexual way, although he wouldn’t mind that either, but in a completely innocent way. Bucky never stayed around after he came, always getting dressed and leaving. He’s never had a woman press their body against his just to find comfort.

Somehow, Bucky is following along with the plot of the movie, but he knows that it was just because of how you interacted with all the characters like they could hear you. Bucky would usually hate that, he hates when people talk through movies, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with you. If anything, he was glad that you kept talking, giving him the opportunity to hear your voice.

Halfway through the movie you stop talking. When Bucky looks down he sees that you fell asleep on his chest. Of course at that moment Bucky’s bladder decided that he needed to pee urgently. He tried to hold off for as long as he could, focusing on the part of your mouth and the bit of drool leaking from it. But try as he might, he needed to use the bathroom.

He tried to maneuver you to not disturb your sleep but you woke up as soon as he moved. “Where you going?” Shit, he’s going to have to pee with a boner because your sleepy voice sent blood right to his cock.

“Just gotta take a leak, be right back.” You just snuggle deeper into the pillows, humming in understandment. Bucky has to put one hand on the wall in the bathroom, leaning over the toilet at an awkward angle trying to push his erection down with his other hand so he could pee. It took a bit of work, but he was able to go without making a mess. Now, Bucky might be a lot of things, but unhygienic isn’t one of them and before he goes back to bed he washes his hands.

Once he walks back into the room he sees that you’re more awake than before but still laying in bed. He hits the lightswitch on his way over and turns on the lamp, letting the soft glow illuminate your features. “What took you so long? Almost fell back asleep.”

Before he could answer, you wrap your body around his and feel his hard cock through his sweats. Pulling away slightly, your face gets hot. That’s why he took so long. “Shit, sweets, I’m sorry. It’s just, well, you were in my bed, and you look so gorgeous. Not that I’m expecting anything! But the image of you is fucking hot. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Your giggle catches him by surprise. “It’s okay, Bucky. Can’t imagine going from having sex all the time to being abstinent for a month.” With the soft glow of the lamp, you see Bucky’s blush. “Just don’t think I’m going to fix it for you though.” He shakes his head and chuckles lowly, pulling you back into him, keeping his pelvis away from yours even though his dick was begging for release.

Bucky doesn’t say anything back, but his hand moves to your waist, resting over your shirt. His thumb rubs small circles before he trails his hand up to your ribs and you can feel the heat of his palm through your shirt. For a few minutes he keeps his hand there, feeling your heartbeat, all the while moving his face closer.

He can feel your heartbeat pick up the closer he gets. You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and inviting. You’ve never been this close to his face, seeing all of his freckles up close. You don’t want him to pull away, not when your whole body is thrumming with need. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that Bucky could be this gentle.

He moves his hand up to your arm, delicately trailing his fingertips up and down, giving you goosebumps. Bucky is waiting for you to make the first move this time. The first time he kissed you was crass and unwarranted. The little gasp that leaves your lips when his palm rests on your cheek makes his cock jump.

Eyes fluttering shut, you lean in first. His plump lips meet yours and you moan into his mouth, not expecting his lips to be so soft and warm. You move your hands to his chest, pulling him closer to you, wanting to feel his whole body pressed to yours. You ignore the erection pressed against your stomach, completely lost in the sensation of his mouth on yours.

Bucky frees his other hand from under him and wraps it around your waist, pulling you on top of him. The pressure of his hand caused you to arch your back, gasping when your core meets his hard dick. Bucky doesn’t waste the opportunity to put his tongue in your mouth, groaning at the taste. He has to use every bit of self control in his body not to buck his hips up, but he doesn’t have to because you grind down onto him, searching for friction. The harder you kiss him, the more his will slips from him and he was the first to break the kiss, a trail of saliva still connecting you to him.

Both of you gasp for breath, having deprived yourselves of oxygen for too long. “Why’d you stop?” God, you were perfect. Eyes wide, pupils blown, kiss swollen lips - Bucky knew that he wanted to keep you like this all the time, having you look at him like that was addicting and he was already hooked.

“If we keep going I won’t be able to control myself and I told you that I’m going to prove to you that I’m in this. That I don’t want you just for sex. I’m going to treat you right, make sure you know how much I care first.” You have to bite your lip to stop the moan leaving you. That was the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. The fact that Bucky, the resident fuckboy, is denying sex because he wants to show you what you mean to him first has your cunt clenching around nothing.

You can’t think of words to convey how much that means to you, so you just slam your lips against his, kissing him with as much passion as you possibly could. Bucky has to use every morsel of restraint to move you off of him. “Sweets, you’re going to kill me with this.” The giggle you let out makes leaving his throbbing dick alone worth it, but you take pity on him and ask if he wants to go to the bathroom to fix his issue.

At first he declines, but he eventually caves and goes into the bathroom, shuts the door and handles his business. You scroll on your phone for a bit but you’re surprised when he comes back so fast. “Loverboy, this better not be a sign that you don’t last in bed, because when we do have sex, I want you to fuck me properly.”

As he flops back down on the bed, he groans. When, you said when, not if, when. “Sweets, if I hadn’t just came my dick would be rock hard again. You can’t say shit like that to me.” He rolls over, stradling you. “And sweets, I promise you, I’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember your name.”

You just raise your eyebrows, choosing to tease him a bit. “Well, based on the time you spent touching yourself, I’m not convinced. Hope your reputation hasn’t gone to your head because I’ll be honest if you can’t fuck me right.”

Bucky squints his eyes at you before leaning down, like he was going to kiss you again, but at the last moment, he pulls back and tickles your sides. Your laughter is easily one of his favorite sounds. “Bucky! Stop or else I’ll never have sex with you.” That makes him pause, even though he knew it was an empty threat and lays back down next to you.

“Okay, okay, sweets, I’ll leave you be. But I wouldn’t be opposed to you tickling me.”

“What, is this a kink that you have, being tickled?” He scrunches his nose while he laughs, knowing what he was going to say next.

“No, but I would love it if you would tickle my pickle.” He smirks like it was the best joke ever told, proud of himself. You groan and turn away from him so he can’t see your smile. “C’mon, sweets, that was a good one.”

If you turn around you know you’ll see his puppy dog eyes. “Buck, that was the worst joke in the history of jokes.”

“Ah, ah, I can hear your smile. You loved it.” You don’t respond, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you liked his joke. It’s silent for a moment and you are about to turn back around but Bucky talks before you can. “Do you mind if we spoon? I mean, you don’t have to stay overnight, but if you want to, ya’ know.”

“Well, it is pretty cold outside, and I would hate to have to walk all the way back. And who knows, I could freeze to death at my dorm. Better be safe than sorry.” Bucky knows what you're doing and plays along.

“Of course, sweets, can’t have my girl freeze. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t keep my girl warm.” You skooch back, pressing against his chest and his arms circle your waist, chin resting on your head. “Night, sweets, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Only if I don’t run away, loverboy.” You feel the vibrations of his chest as he chuckles before leaning back to turn the lamp off, falling asleep with your soft body pressed to his.

Over the next few months, Bucky proves himself to be the perfect boyfriend, always asking you how your day was, remembering all the little things about you, kissing you and holding your hand around campus, not giving a single fuck who saw the two of you. He wasn’t embarrassed to admit he was whipped.

“Buck, c’mon, this is the best fucking party of the year, you have to go. It’s gonna be packed with girls in slutty costumes, Halloween man, everyone wants to fuck everyone.” Bucky only rolls his eyes at Steve.

“Dude, how many times do I have to tell you, parties aren’t for me anymore. Hangovers suck dick and I have better things to do in my free time.” Steve doesn’t seem to understand how much Bucky loved you. He’s never said it, at least not yet.

“Like what, hanging out with the nerd who hasn’t put out in three months? C’mon, I know you want some pussy and it’s gonna be on a fucking platter tonight.” Bucky sees red, not giving a shit that Steve is his best friend. No one talks about his girl like that, no one.

“Steve, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you fucking know how much I care about her. If I ever hear you call her that shit again, I’ll put you in the fucking hospital. I couldn’t give less of a shit about how long I have to wait for her to know that I don’t just want a pussy to fuck, not anymore. I’m done with the parties and the random girls, okay. So get that through your thick skull.”

He doesn’t wait for Steve to answer, storming out of Steve’s dorm and walking away, not even caring where he was headed. He doesn’t know how he got there, but he stands outside of your door, raising his hand to knock. You always answer the door for him and this time is no different.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” You were so tuned into him, reading him like a book. Without waiting you pull him into your dorm, shutting and locking the door behind him, leading him to your bed. His jaw was clenched, eyes set. If he was a cartoon, steam would be pouring from his ears.

“Fucking Steve.” He kicks off his shoes and gets comfortable in your bed, you following right after. You would go anywhere he goes.

Cuddling up to him, you pull him into you and his muscles relax at your touch, body responding to yours without thought. “What about Steve? You two get into a fight?” You never really liked Steve, but he was Bucky’s friend and you would listen to whatever he had to say about Steve. He was just like Bucky was before he met you.

“Being a fucking asshole. You wanna know what he said to me?” Bucky doesn’t wait for you to answer, only turning his head to see you better before continuing. “Wanted me to go to the Halloween party tonight, talking about all the girls that want to fuck as if he doesn’t know that I’m with you.” That doesn’t seem as bad as you thought, thinking that they got into a fist fight. It doesn’t surprise you that Steve was still trying to convince Bucky to go back to his playboy ways.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. “He had the fucking nerve to say that I should go because we haven’t had sex yet, like I give a shit about that. Fucking disrespected you right to my face.” You couldn’t deny that you were turned on by the fact that Bucky was defending your honor even when you weren’t there, not letting anyone bad mouth you.

“And what did you say, Buck?” Fuck, your voice was breathy, heartrate picking up. You wanted to hear what he said, how he told his best friend off. Bucky didn’t seem to pick up on your arousal, still too heated from his argument.

“Fucking told his ass that if he ever says that shit again, I’ll fuck him up. No one talks about my girl like that, don’t give a shit who it is.” You swear you could cum right now. Why was that so hot? Maybe it was because you’ve never had a man that didn’t let anyone disrespect you, or maybe you just liked to see him mad.

“I want you, Bucky. Want you to fuck me.” It just comes out, shocking the both of you. Bucky whips his head around, eyes as wide as your own.

“What?”

“I want you to fuck me. I’m ready, know you don’t just want to use me.” Bucky’s dick is rock hard in seconds, all the anger in his body disapparating instantly.

“Are you sure you want this, sweets? Because I have no problem waiting.” Throughout the course of your dating, Bucky can’t count the amount of times that he’s been hard and left his cock untouched. It’s gotten to the point where the two of you knew he was going to get hard when he was around you, not that it bothered you, knowing how much you were affecting him, but Bucky’s used to ignoring his erection now and he has no problem waiting for it to go away if you don’t want to have sex with him.

“Yes, Bucky, I think I’ve made you wait long enough. And to be honest, if I make you wait any longer I don’t think you’ll last more than a minute.” The mouth on you marvels Bucky every time.

“Excuse me, sweets, but I’ll have you know I’m no two pump chump.” You only raise an eyebrow and Bucky huffs before kissing you again. It’s slow and hot. Bucky’s never kissed like this before, but with you he just can’t help but savor the feeling of your lips on his. He doesn’t want to rush, if he could he would kiss you forever, stuck in limbo, floating with only your touch to ground him.

You whine, hands pulling at his shirt, trying to get him to take it off. Bucky moves back, smirking at you. “Desperate, aren’t we? Just wanna feel me ‘gainst you, huh?” Teasing hasn’t been something Bucky really did, always hurrying to the main event, but he wants to make you crave him as much as he does you.

The glare you give him holds no heat, not able to be mad at him when he’s looking so damn hot above you. Bucky relents, just this once, and takes his shirt off, revealing his toned stomach. He sucks a breath in through his teeth when your hands land on his abs. “Holy hell, woman! Your hands are fucking ice cubes!” You giggle but don’t pull away, sitting up and moving your hands across his back, slipping them into his sweats, finding his bare ass and squeezing.

“Well, loverboy, warm them up for me.” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief, chuckling at you. He takes your hands out of his pants and lays you back down, letting his warm palms circle the soft skin of your belly under your shirt.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart? Gonna let me see those pretty tits?” Your cunt pulses at his words. Men that you’ve been with before haven’t talked to you like this, making you yearn for them.

“I mean, you can take it off but they’re not that pretty.” Bucky wheels his head back, clearly offended by your statement. For the first time, you shy away from his gaze. You weren’t exactly insecure about your body, but you also weren’t the most confident and you doubt that your body is better than the surplus of girls Bucky’s had.

“I beg your fucking pardon, sweets. I’m gonna need you to run that by me again.” Bucky lowers his face to yours, and you’re sure he is looking right through you.

“Well, I doubt they’re the best pair you’ve seen, Buck. Don’t roll your eyes at me either.” You catch the eye roll Bucky gave you. He wasn’t rolling his eyes at you, but rather the words you were saying.

“I can’t believe my ears, sweets. The smartest girl I’ve ever met is saying what is quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve heard. And that’s coming from the guy who is friends with Sam.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes and instead of saying anything back to him, you grab the bottom of your shirt and take it off, revealing your naked chest to him, foregoing a bra.

Like any man, Bucky gets distracted by the sight of your breasts on display for him. It takes him a second, but he shakes his head and comes back from his daze. “Fuck, sweetheart, you got the prettiest set of tits I’ve ever fuckin’ seen. Fucking perfect.” Bucky isn’t lying either, he really does think that you’re the most beautiful woman on the entire planet, every part of your body is perfection. “Should be a model, sweets, let everyone see how gorgeous you are.”

You feel the heat creep up your neck and rest on your cheeks. You aren’t used to being looked at like this. The look he’s giving you is so much different from when you first started working with him. It’s not filled with lust, although you can tell it’s there, but filled with awe and love. “Uh, uh, don’t look away from me. Want you to look at me while I make you cum.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before moving down to your neck, sucking on your sweet spot that he found the first time you made out. The little gasps and whines that leave your lips has his cock begging to be touched, but right now it isn’t about him, it’s about you.

You arch your back, pressing your soft breasts against his solid chest, drawing his attention away from your neck and to your tits. Trailing kisses down your chest, he swirls his tongue around your right breast, purposely avoiding your sensitive nipple. He doesn’t listen to any of your protests so you take matters into your own hands and grab a fistfull of his hair and jerk his head to where you want him to be.

The moan that leaves Bucky is pornographic, having no idea he liked his hair pulled that much. Bucky abides and takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. “Oh, Bucky, just like that, feels good.” Bucky has to buck his hips into yours, never hearing something so sexy in all his life.

His other hand comes up to grab your other breast, rolling your nipple in between his fingers, every so often switching to give each one the attention they deserve. The longer he plays with your breasts, the more you feel your panties soak and you can’t take it anymore, needing some type of release.

Bucky pulls away with a pop, the cool air hitting your wet nipples makes you gasp. “Baby, I need you to touch me.” You can sense the words about to leave his mouth and answer his unspoken question. “Touch my pussy.”

Letting out a deep groan, Bucky grabs the hem of your sleep shorts, pulling them and your panties down when you nod. Your hand jets down to cover your pussy when you remember that you haven’t shaved, not expecting to have sex with Bucky tonight. “Wait, I have hair right now, maybe we shouldn’t.”

Bucky just blinks at you. He can’t believe that you would deprive him of your pussy because of a little hair. “Sweets, I have been a patient man, but I swear to God if you don’t move your hand and let me see my pretty pussy I’m going to lose my mind. You really think I give a shit if you have some fucking hair?”

You just smile sheepishly at him before removing your hand. “There she is. Look at her, so beautiful ain’t she? Yeah, she’s dripping for me, knows who she belongs to.” Fuck, you didn’t expect him to be so enamored with your cunt. “Ya gonna let me touch my pretty girl?”

You gulp before giving a breathy yes and Bucky spreads your legs a little wider and brings his right hand up to your pussy lips, gently tracing them making you twitch and giggle. “Bucky, that tickles.” Bucky smiles and his nose scrunches before his thumb goes from your hole up to your clit. “Fuck, Bucky, rub my clit.”

He just stops his movement, resting his thumb on your bundle of nerves. “This is where I’m in charge, sweets, and I don’t think that was a very polite way of talking to the man who is touching you.” You huff, not used to taking orders from anyone, but you want him to keep touching you so you relent.

“Will you please, rub my clit, loverboy.”

Bucky clicks his tongue at you. “Now, sweets, that didn’t sound very genuine but I’ll let it slide this time because I want to see this pretty pussy soak your sheets.”

He starts to rub your clit from side to side, making you jerk your hips away. “Don’t fucking DJ my cunt. Circles, Buck, circles. You’re making me lose faith in you, babe.” Heat makes its way up his neck, his selfishness finally catching up to him. He doesn’t say anything, but switches up his method to what you said and you giggle at his confidence wavering.

His little slip up doesn’t slow him down, though, quickly finding the pace and pressure that seems to work best and draws those pretty sounds from your lips. Bucky knows that he isn’t going to be able to get enough of this, of you laid out before him, consumed by the pleasure he is giving you.

“You want my fingers inside ya? Cause I wanna feel my pretty girl cum around my fingers.” You can feel the coil in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t remember if you’ve ever gotten to the edge this fast. All you can do is nod, moans and gasps the only sounds leaving your lips.

When his first finger slips inside you, your back arches and somehow the moans leaving you get even sexier and Bucky slips another finger in. “That’s it, pretty girl, suck my fingers in. Doing so good for me, knew you’d treat me so well. Don’t ya think, sweets?” The way he talks to your pussy has you leaking more arousal out.

“Please, Bucky, don’t stop, keep going just like that. M’gonna cum.”

A jolt of excitement shoots up Bucky’s spine. He wanted to see you cum so bad. Using every bit of self control in his body not to speed up, Bucky kept the same pace, curling his fingers to find that spongy patch. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweets, need to feel my pretty girl cum on my fingers. Promise I’ll feed her my cock after.”

Bucky groans with each clench of your cunt around his fingers, more desperate than you for your orgasm. “C’mon, sweets, give it to me. Can feel your clit pulsing. Be my good girl and give me what I want.” That was all you needed to fall off the edge, trusting that Bucky would catch you.

Bucky’s sure that the sight of you cumming is the greatest thing in the world. He couldn’t dream of fucking you and not seeing you fall apart for him. He never stops moving his fingers, riding out your orgasm, only relenting when you push his hand away. It takes a few minutes, but you come back down, an open mouth smile on your face, eyes closed and Bucky falls even harder for you.

Blindly, you search for his pants, wanting to see his cock. “Bring him out, Buck, wanna see my new friend.” If it wasn’t for the orgasm he just gave you, Bucky would have been positive that you were drunk off your ass. Doubling over, Bucky cackles, not expecting to hear that come out of your mouth. “Don’t you laugh at me, loverboy, know your cock is huge. Let me meet him. Wanna put him in my mouth.” You give him a lopsided smirk.

“Don’t worry, sweets, you can meet him.” Bucky struggles to hold back his laugh. In all fairness, he did refer to your pussy as her, but the thought of you calling his dick him is hilarious. Nonetheless, Bucky strips the rest of his clothes off and you practically drool at the sight of his dick.

A little over average length, but thick as hell. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a cock that thick and you know he is going to destroy your cunt. Under his cock, his balls were heavy and full, the amount of cum in there building up just for you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him into you and Bucky has to catch himself with his arms so he doesn’t crush you with his weight.

You both gasp when his bare cock rubs against your soaking cunt. Bucky has to close his eyes and think about all the assignments he still has to complete to stop himself from cumming on the spot. “Want it inside me, please, Buck, give it to me.” Bucky is near the verge of crying when you grind your cunt on him.

All you want is for him to fuck you until you can’t see straight and so does Bucky, but it takes everything in him to put away, knowing that the next words to come out of his mouth aren’t going to be sexy. “Hold on, sweets. I have to get a condom first.”

You don’t like that one bit, wanting to feel him inside you with no barrier. “Don’t need one, ‘m on the pill.” That has Bucky about to cum all over the sheets and your pussy. He knows that he needs to be responsible, not only for him, but for you too.

“Sweets, I, well, I haven’t been tested since my last partner. I’ve never done it without a condom, but I don’t want to risk it until I get tested.” He hangs his head in shame, yet again his promiscuity is coming back to bite him in the ass. What he wouldn’t give to feel your sopping cunt choke his dick, hell only knows, but his statement seems to sober you up.

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably for the best.” You can’t meet his eyes, the conversation awkward enough even if you weren’t about to fuck. Bucky takes in a deep breath and huffs out, clearly not knowing what to do next so you decide to lighten the mood. “Well, loverboy, you better wrap that bad boy up so you can prove that you can actually fuck me like you said you would. Top drawer. I got the good ones.”

You got Bucky to crack a smile before he gave a small smack to your thigh and walked over to your nightstand to get a condom. You wolf whistled when you saw his toned ass. “Damn, baby, you’ve been holding out on me?”

Bucky wheels around and says some clever retort, but you don’t hear it, not when his cock swings around with him, bobbing at the sudden change of direction. Not only that, but with each step he takes, his dick bounces up and down. “Sweetheart, it’s all yours. Stare all you want but close your mouth before I put somethin’ in there.”

Bucky rolls the condom down his length, giving it a few pumps while he admires you laid out on the bed, naked and ready for him to fuck you. Before he climbs back into bed, you stop him. “Wait, loverboy, do a little spin for me, let me see him move.”

Throwing his head back, Bucky lets out a belly laugh, and he just so happens to make his cock and balls bounce. “C’mon, s’all I want.” When he calms down, Bucky relents and circles his hips a few times, his cock, although stiff, moves with his hips and you have to close your legs to try to relieve the ache in your core. “Fuck, need you now, Bucky.”

“Yeah, sweets, you need my cock? Does my pretty girl need to be stuffed with my cock?” No smart retort comes to your mind, only the need to have him fill you up. It’s been way too long since you’ve had sex and you know Bucky’s cock is going to ruin you for anyone else.

“Please, Buck.” Fuck, the way you’re looking at him, with wide, pleading eyes, and a pout on your lips has Bucky’s dick pulsing. He climbs on the bed, in between your legs. “How do you want me?” You’ve overheard Bucky relive his one night stands more than once in class, before he fell for you. He was always adamant that the only positions worth doing were the ones where he could see the girl’s ass, and how boring positions where he could see her face were.

Bucky stares at you for a second, cupping your face and leaning down to give you a tender kiss. “Want you just like this, sweets, wanna see you.” You swallow hard, willing yourself not to cry at how intimate he’s being. Despite your best efforts, tears well up in your eyes, making Bucky panic.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” His eyes hold so much love, something Bucky never thought he would feel for a partner. You wrap your legs and arms around him, clinging like a koala.

“Not a damn thing, Buck, just love you. Love you so fucking much it hurts.” Bucky feels his heart swell. If this is what it felt like to love and be loved, Bucky would spend the rest of his life trying to keep you, show you how perfect you are, love you as hard as he can and then some.

“Sweetheart, I can’t even put into words how much I fucking love you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, made me change from the asshole I was.” Bucky had his own tears welling up in his waterline.

“Buck, make love to me, show me how much you love me.” Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his dick, drawing a gasp from his lips, and line him up with your pussy. He presses his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes as he pushes in, cock stretching your cunt with every inch.

Crashing his lips into yours, Bucky tries to hide his moan, whiny and long, never feeling such intense pleasure. Neither of you can kiss, just gasping into the other’s mouth. When his hips are flush with yours, balls resting against your ass, Bucky has to stop. If he moves he’ll cum; he knows it. He’s never felt like he would cum on the first stroke, but the way your cunt hugs him has him doubting that he’ll last more than a few minutes.

You can’t handle it, the stretch of his cock almost too much, but you needed him to move. “Please, baby, move, need it.” The moan that leaves him is sinful and you involuntarily clench around him.

“Sweets, can’t. Need a minute.” His arms go to your waist, and he pulls you up, groaning when his cock shifts deeper inside you, and sits with his back against the headboard, keeping you wrapped in his arms, bodies pressed so close together you could feel every muscle. Bucky closes his eyes, resting his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and relishing in the intimacy of the moment, with your breasts squished against his chest, feeling every breath you take, loving your soft hands scratching his scalp.

“Do this with all the girls, loverboy?” The breathiness in your voice has his cock pulsing against your walls.

“Never, sweetheart, never. You feel so fucking good.” Bucky sounded like he was about to cry with how hard he was trying not to cum.

You wanted him to fuck you, pussy leaking down his thighs. You decided that if you annoy him enough he might just fuck you dumb. “Guess I was right then, loverboy can’t last in bed. Gonna tell everyone how I broke your cock, how fast you came for me.”

That seemed to strike a nerve and Bucky rolled over, pining you to the bed with his body. You gasped at the quick motion and the jostle of his cock. “Sweets, now is not the time to tease me. Use your mouth for something better.” He could already hear your, like what, so he cut you off before you could get anything out. “Like moaning my name while I fuck you.”

He doesn’t pull his cock out far, wanting to stay as close to you as possible. Pushing back in, he groans, having to will himself not to cum. You feel so good, pussy wrapped around him perfectly. “Sweets, love you so much, never wanna leave this pussy.” You whine, a jolt of pleasure going through your clit at his words.

“Love you too, Buck. Want to stay like this forever, want you.” It’s Bucky’s turn to whine, rutting into you, the coarse curls at the base of his cock rubbing your clit, the sensation of your breasts pressed against him new.

He can’t help it, you just look too pretty underneath him, grabbing both of your hands in his, lacing them together and putting them above your head and pressing his forehead to yours, staring into your eyes. His lips meet yours, both of your whines and moans mix together.

The constant roll of his hips is pushing you to the edge faster than ever before. You take one of your hands, still laced with his, and place it over his heart, feeling the erratic beat. The coil in your stomach is curling tighter and tighter. “C’mon, sweets, can feel you clenching ‘round me. Give it to me, cum on my cock.”

Bucky is doing his best to hold on, wanting this moment to last, to relish in the bubble the two of you have created. His moans get louder, his own orgasm creeping up on him. Wiggling your other hand out of his grasp, you run your fingers over the back of his head, crashing your lips on his before you fall off the edge, eyes rolling back and body quivering, his body the only thing grounding you.

He had to pull out, your pussy almost milking his cum out, but he didn’t want to cum just yet. He wants to make you cum again, this time while he looks at your face, seeing it scrunch up in pleasure. You didn’t seem too happy at him for pulling out, needing him to be as close as possible. “Keep fucking me, Bucky. I need you to cum for me.”

Bucky groans before guiding his cock back home, squeezing his eyes shut when he feels your pussy somehow got even tighter. Not wasting any time, he starts thrusting again, this time much faster, still rolling his hips, hitting your sweet spot every time.

Pulling his body away from yours, Bucky sits up, resting your thighs over his, keeping his dick inside of you, not missing a single thrust. With the new position, he can see your breasts bounce, but more importantly, how beautiful your face looks screwed in ecstasy. “So fucking beautiful for me, sweets. Love the way your pretty tits jiggle, look gorgeous when your getting fucked dumb on my cock, gonna keep you like this all the time.”

In this position, your clit is being neglected so you reach one hand down, desperate to cum again. Bucky quickly swats your hand away, replacing it with his own. “Ah, ah, I’m gonna make my girl cum. Just want you to lay there and look pretty for me. Can you do that for me?” You just moan in response, thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit, bringing you to the edge again. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes! I’ll do anything you want.” You feel Bucky’s cock pulsing inside of you, thrusts becoming sloppy and losing their rhythm. “Cum for me, Bucky, fill me up with your cum.” You both know that he is wearing a condom, but the thought of his cum rushing into your pussy, stuffing you to the brim, is enough to have Bucky emptying his balls into the rubber, groaning deep, almost whining your name.

He can’t stop thrusting into you, still rubbing your clit, desperate for you to cum around him. “Sweets, so much fucking cum for you, know you can take it. Fuck, cum for me, milk my cock, get every drop out.” Bucky was right, you looked absolutely divine when you came. At that moment you’ve never looked prettier.

Bucky never felt an orgasm that intense, leaving him weak in the knees. Collapsing onto your chest, not able to hold his own weight up. You huff, air being pushed out of your lungs, but you don’t mind, his weight soothing, helping to bring you back down from the high of your orgasms. You both lay there, hands stroking each other until you fully come back to reality.

“Gonna pull out, sweets, okay?” Bucky has never had his cock in a girl this long after he’s came, and it was getting too sensitive. Words don’t come to mind and you just nod your head dumbly, both of you hissing at the sensation.

Without a word, Bucky gets up and heads to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean himself up. All of a sudden tears well up in your eyes, body cold and craving his touch. He’s been so sweet to you for the past months, proving that he didn’t just want sex with you, but now he’s walking away as soon as you’re done.

The buzzing of your body goes away, dread filling you. Rolling over, you burrito yourself under the covers, facing away from the bathroom, not able to stop the tears from streaming down your face. It only takes a few minutes, but to you it feels like a lifetime, until Bucky comes back, sliding under the covers himself.

“So, sweets, what do ya’ want to do? I could go for a bite to eat myself. Don’t know when the last time you ate was though.” Bucky, on the other hand, was basking in the afterglow of the best sex of his life, already thinking about all the things he could do with you, all the ways he could get you to cum for him.

When you don’t respond right away, Bucky thinks you fell asleep. Leaving a kiss to the back of your head, he gets up and puts his sweats on, not bothering with anything else and heads to your kitchen. He doesn’t feel like making a full meal so he decides to just make a quick sandwich and head back to bed after eating.

You burst into full blown sobs when Bucky leaves, assuming that he left your dorm all together, having no idea that he was just outside. How could you have been so stupid to think that he really wanted you? Bucky goes to take a bite out of his snack when he hears your sobs, immediately thinking the worst - he hurt you, did something you didn’t like.

Rushing back into the room, Bucky climbs back into bed, rolling you over without warning. “What are you still doing here? Thought you left?” How could you ever think that he would leave you?

“No, sweets, just went to make a sandwich. What’s going on? Why are you crying?” Bucky has never been so fucking scared in all his life, terrified that he hurt you.

“Thought you left after you got what you wanted. You just left me in the bed after we were done.” Bucky’s eyes widened, not expecting you to say that. He doesn’t know what he did wrong. He’s never stuck around after sex, confused at what’s going on with you.

“Sweets, I’m so sorry that I made you think that, but I don’t know what’s going on. Need you to talk to me. I don’t want you to think I don’t care.” Your bottom lip wobbled, of course he didn’t know about aftercare. It wasn’t his fault that he never had a relationship like this. It meant so much to you that he was asking how to fix his mistake.

“I get really sensitive after sex. It’s annoying actually, but I need to be held and told that you still love me.” You avoid his gaze, more tears making their way down your face, Bucky wiping them away. How could his perfect girl think that her needs were annoying or an inconvenience to him.

“Oh, sweetheart, come here.” Bucky pulls you into his lap, almost petting your hair. “You did so good for me, you know that? I love you so fucking much and nothing is going to change that, okay?” He pulls your head back to look into your eyes.

“It’s just that my last boyfriend said that he couldn’t look at me after sex, said he couldn’t see me the same way.” What in the fuck.

“Sweetheart, I need you to understand that I know that I’m the fucking luckiest man alive to be able to be with you any way you let me. When I look at you I’m so proud to call you mine.”

You bury your head in his shoulder, letting him hold you and whisper sweet words in your ear. For his first time doing aftercare, Bucky is doing great and soon you come all the way down. Pulling away from him you giggle. “Love you too, Buck. Thank you for that. I know some men don’t care about that. After they get what they want they leave.” Bucky hangs his head in shame, thinking about all the girls he made feel like they were worthless. “I know that you did the same thing, but the fact that you were so willing to change means a lot to me.”

Bucky knows that there’s a lot he has to learn about being in a relationship, but he wants to learn it all to be the man you deserve. He is going to treat you like the goddess you are for the rest of his life, he knows it, already planning on picking out a ring, because he’s gonna love you for a long, long time.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #fuckboy!bucky #bucky x f!reader #bucky fluff

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iamgonnagetyouback · 2 months ago

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𝟷.𝟷𝚔 || 𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: When James stays quiet, too quiet, on your first date, unwelcome thoughts start clouding your mind.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Angst with a happy ending, Reader overthinking

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: James Potter x fem!reader

♡ ꜱᴏɴɢ: You are in love (Taylor's version) by Taylor Swift

The day you asked James out had been one of those moments where your heart felt like it might jump right out of your chest. You were prepared for rejection, especially since you'd spent years by his side, watching him pine after Lily. But recently… something had shifted. He wasn’t staring at her in class anymore, his jokes about her had ceased, and most of all, he was spending more time with you—closer, warmer. Maybe you were imagining things, but you couldn’t shake the thought that he might finally be over her.

So, you'd asked him out. With shaking hands and a half-terrified smile, you’d blurted out an offer for dinner. And to your utter shock, James had blinked, cheeks flushing a light pink, and mumbled, “Uh… okay, yeah, I’d love that.”

And now, here you were, sitting across from him at a small booth in The Three Broomsticks, tapping your fingers nervously against the wooden table. James was quiet. Too quiet.

You shifted in your seat, trying to make conversation. “So, um… have you finished that Transfiguration essay McGonagall assigned?” It was a safe topic, schoolwork—something you two could always talk about. But his response was short.

“Yeah. Finished it last night.”

“Oh. Cool,” you replied, your voice trailing off.

You tapped your fingers again. James Potter never stopped talking. Silence wasn’t his thing. Which meant that he was uncomfortable. Which meant that this was a disaster. A pit formed in your stomach as you tried again.

“What about Quidditch? You excited for the next match?”

“Yeah, should be fun,” he answered, eyes flicking up to meet yours briefly before darting away. He was fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater, his knee bouncing beneath the table as he occasionally glanced outside as if he wanted to escape.

Panic bloomed in your chest. He didn’t want to be here. You were terrible. He didn’t like you back. He was probably still hung up on Lily, and he was just too nice to say no.

“I—um—James…” Your voice cracked as you reached for your purse, fingers trembling. You stood up abruptly, trying to hold back the tears that were burning at the corners of your eyes. “You know what? It’s fine. You didn’t have to agree to this out of pity. I get it. I mean, I know you’re still… still hung up on Lily, and I probably just made this really weird, and—”

“Wait, what?” James shot up from his seat, nearly knocking over his butterbeer in the process. His eyes were wide, panicked. “No, no, no, wait, you’ve got it all wrong!”

But you were already rambling, words spilling out in a jumble as you tried to explain how you understood, how he didn’t have to pretend. “It’s fine, really. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to feel guilty or anything. I know you’re probably—”

“Stop! Please, just—just sit down for a second, okay?” James’s voice was more urgent now, his hands reaching out as if to physically stop you from leaving.

You hesitated, your heart racing, before you reluctantly sat back down. “James, it’s okay, really, I—”

“It’s not okay,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now, softer. His hazel eyes were full of something—something raw and nervous and real. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not… I’m not hung up on Lily.”

Your heart stumbled at his words. “What?”

“I don’t like Lily anymore,” James said, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. “I mean, I did for a long time, but that’s… that’s not where my head is now. I like you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and confusing. “You… like me?”

He nodded, his cheeks turning pink again as he looked down at his hands. “Yeah. And that’s why I’ve been so nervous. I don’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to mess this up, and now I’ve gone and made you think I don’t want to be here, which is the furthest thing from the truth.”

You stared at him, processing his confession. “You’re… nervous?”

James let out a huff of laughter, looking a little self-deprecating. “Yeah. I’m never nervous. Except… except with you. Because this actually matters to me. You matter to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the earlier hurt and insecurity slowly melting away as his words sank in. He was nervous because he liked you. Not because he didn’t want to be here.

“Oh,” you whispered, feeling a bit ridiculous for jumping to conclusions. “I thought you were… you know, regretting this.”

James shook his head quickly. “No. Not at all. I just… don’t really know how to do this, apparently.”

A small laugh escaped your lips despite the lingering tears. “You’re usually so smooth.”

“Yeah, well, you make me lose all my smoothness,” he said, a lopsided grin finally breaking across his face, though it was still tinged with nervousness.

You felt your shoulders relax for the first time that evening. “You don’t have to be nervous around me, James. We’ve been best friends for years.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours with a softness that made your heart ache in the best way. “But this is different.”

It was different. And maybe that was okay.

“Maybe this whole diner thing isn’t for us,” James suggested after a beat of silence. “Too fancy, don’t you think?”

You chuckled, the sound a little watery. “Maybe.”

“Come on,” he said, standing up and offering you his hand. “Let’s go for a walk. I talk better when I’m moving.”

You smiled, taking his hand, and let him pull you up. As you walked out of the diner and into the cool night air, the tension between you melted away. James started talking—about everything and nothing, rambling on like his usual self. And with each word, you felt the warmth between you grow, the awkwardness fading into something much more familiar, much more comforting.

And as you walked side by side, listening to James fill the quiet with his endless chatter, you couldn’t help but smile. This was what you’d always wanted. Him, you, and all the things that came with it.

#james fleamont potter #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter angst #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ

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paigestrap · 7 months ago

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the surprise

anon requested

paige x fem!reader

warnings: smut (minors dni), lingerie, swearing

~3k words

summary:

you plan a surprise for paige but it gets ruined when she flakes to hang out with her teammates. realizing her mistake, she makes it up to you.

enjoy yall i made this instead of writing my 15 page essay 😵😵😵

you were so excited...

you had planned a surprise date with p for the entire day, it was your way of thanking her for the many amazing dates she would take u on and you couldn’t wait to spend the entire day with her. it was one of her days off and she had told you yesterday that she was super excited to spend the entire day with you. unfortunately, your plans and day were ruined when she had texted you this afternoon.

p: hey baby ik i said id hang out with u today but ice and kk have been begging me all day to do something with them do u mind if i go see a movie with them and then get food? i promise i'm all yours tonight ;)

fuck. your stomach dropped and suddenly all your excitement for your plans faded away. you didn’t know what to say to her, you really wanted to spend this time with her and you had made a big effort planning this surprise for her but you didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t spend time with her friends.

but you were also kind of… mad? it hurt you that even though she spends all her time with her teammates and sees them at practice almost everyday she would rather spend her free time with them than with you. it may have been a toxic mindset but it still bothered you. you decided to go with a passive aggressive response.

you: sure, see u later.

you sighed as you collected yourself, putting away the groceries you bought to make her dinner. and filling up a vase with water for the roses whose pedals you had planned to sprinkle in the bath after dinner. you hang your newly purchased lingerie set in the closet, feeling silly for going out of your way to do all this just to be let down. you changed into pajamas and threw a frozen meal in the microwave, preparing yourself for a day full of sulking and watching reality tv.

you saw that paige had responded to your message, but you turned your phone off, not wanting to respond to her. you sat in front of the tv and put on some shitty show while you pulled out your laptop to do some homework (aka what the writer of this fic should be doing right now instead of writing this 😭). at some point you drift off to sleep.

knock.

u woke with a start, not even realizing you had fallen asleep or how much time had gone by, getting up to answer your door.

it was your girlfriend with a look of worry and annoyance, soaking wet and panting at your doorstep.

“why haven’t you been responding? i called u three times and texted you a bunch???” she questioned you, the worry had mostly faded into annoyance as she realized you were perfectly fine.

“oh, sorry i haven’t been on my phone, i guess i fell asleep” you answered to your very unsatisfied looking girlfriend.

“you can’t just send me some passive aggressive text and then ignore me for two hours. that’s unfair babe, you’d be so upset if i did that to u” she said, exasperated. she was clearly upset with you, but you didn’t care to be honest because you were also upset. you decided then you should tell her how you feel.

“it’s not fair that on your day off you decide to spend time with the teammates you see everyday instead of your girlfriend who you can barely make time to see as is. i understand they’re your best friends and spending time with them is important to you but i was so excited to spend the day with you i even planned a surprise for you and i was just feeling really neglected,” you watch as her expression softens. she walks in, and gives you a hug and kisses your head. you hate to admit it but her display of affection and attention made you feel a lot better.

“you’re absolutely right, baby. i was a dick for that. i had a feeling you were hurt by the way you responded. i just got really worried when you were ignoring me and shit i literally left in the middle of the movie and ran here in the rain” she admits to you, still holding you and running her hand up and down your back. “i didn’t know you had something planned for us. i’m so sorry you must’ve been so disappointed and upset i know that’s how i would’ve felt so i’m so sorry i made you feel that way”

you move to look up into her eyes, sincerity plastered on her face, and your annoyance and anger towards her began to fade away. “it’s okay, you didn’t know that i had planned something for us and i was just being petty. i should’ve told u that i was bothered so it’s my fault for not being honest with you. i was just hurt,” knowing that all it took for you to feel better was admitting how you felt and her apologizing made you feel silly for ignoring her earlier in the day. this could’ve all been avoided if you had just told her how you felt.

“its okay baby i understand. if i'm not too late, id like to make it up to you. what was it that you had planned?” she smiled at you, still holding you in her arms.

“well, i was going to cook you dinner, and then i bought all these roses so we could take a romantic bath together and then, well, i had another surprise for later” you start to blush, remembering the set hanging in your closet that you bought with her in mind. you hide your shy smile by burying your face into her chest.

“oh yeah? what’s that, do i still get that surprise too?” she grinned mischievously, clearly understanding the nature of your last surprise,

“i haven’t decided yet, let’s first see if you can make it up to me,” you joke with her, knowing in the back of your head that the night would end with the set on your body and paige inside you.

“fair enough,” she laughed, also seeming to know the future. “can i help you cook at least? what’s on the menu?” finally breaking the embrace she makes her way to the fridge to look at what you had bought to make dinner.

“i was just gonna make spaghetti and meatballs, you can start the noodles if you want and i can start with the other stuff.” you walk towards her, planting a kiss on her lips, “thank you for coming, P. i love you.”

she smiles and kisses you again, cupping your cheeks in her hands and looking at you endearingly “of course, my sweet girl, i’m excited to spend tonight with you. especially for whatever you have planned at the end of it” she winks and playfully slaps your ass, heading for the cabinet where the pots are to start the water. you bite your lips and blush, knowing what’s in store.

dinner preparation goes smoothly for the most part. other than the two times you stopped for a make out sesh, and paige’s incessant comments about how hot you looked while cooking her dinner. she really knew exactly how to rile you up and it was so infuriating and sexy at the same time.

you are so worked up by paige’s advances and endless flirting that you can barely think at all once you set the table and finally sit down to eat. she knows the effect she’s having on you and that only fuels her more. “you’re so fucking cute when you’re worked up, just wanna make u like this all the time”

“you are beyond annoying paige, seriously, do u enjoy making me suffer?”

“yes,” she deadpans, staring at you with a look that practically undresses you on its own. you cross your legs, feeling the heat in between your legs increasing. if paige notices she doesn’t say anything, and you enjoy the rest of your meal together without anymore teasing.

when dinner is over she insists on cleaning up the mess and even though you try to object she shoos you away. you head into your room with the roses to draw the bath. your stomach stirs knowing you and her will be in it together soon. you add the bath salts, leaving it smelling amazing in the bathroom, and slowly and carefully drop the pedals into the water, desire seeming to rise with each pedal you drop. you finally light a few candles you had brought in the bathroom and turn off the lights.

as if on cue, paige enters the bathroom. looking around the room and then at you. “this is adorable baby. i love it. thank you so much for doing this for me.” she walks over to u and plants a kiss on your lips, her hands meeting either side of your waist as she looks in your eyes. your heart melts.

you break away from her and begin to undress, and her eyes never move from you as you take each piece of clothing off. her piercing stare making the color of your cheeks pink. once fully undressed you make your way into the bath, the hot water shocking your skin and not helping your growing desire for the blonde girl whose gaze was still fixed on you. you look at her, wanting her to join you so you can finally touch her. she understands and undresses as well smirking at you as you stare shyly at her beautiful body.

“like what you see?” she teases you as she pulls her final layers off, her naked body on full display in front of you.

“i’d like it a lot better if you were in here with me, hurry up” you say impatiently, wanting to touch her so badly. she finally joins you, scooting to the back and leaning on the bath walls, opening her legs so you can lay in between them. you allow her body to engulf yours as you lay the back of your head on her chest, savoring every inch of her skin that’s in contact with yours.

“you’re so pretty baby, can’t believe you’re all mine” she moves your hair away from your neck and places soft kisses along it, trailing down to your shoulder. soft whimpers leave your mouth as your body reacts to her touch, each kiss intensifying the desire that's been brewing all night. "have i made it up to you yet baby?" she whispers in your ear.

your brain goes fuzzy, barely able to think with her sinful lips and voice in your ear, "i'm not sure, i think there might be something else you could do to make it up to me" you try to tease her, but your voice betrays you as it comes out breathless and in between moans.

she laughs, and then whispers again in a low and seductive voice "oh yeah? whats that baby? tell me" she ghosts her finger around your nipple with one hand, and traces circles around the sensitive parts of your stomach, all while continuing to kiss your neck. you are fully gone at this point, shamelessly whining while she works you into total submission.

"cant. not right now. the last surprise. still need to show you." you are so worked up and words are not coming easy at all. you desperately want to get out of the bath and into your set so she can fuck you senseless in bed.

“okay baby, we can get out now. wanna go get that surprise ready?” she puts her hands on your shoulder and stops kissing your neck, you let out a whine at the absence of her touch, but find yourself slowly coming back to reality.

“yes, you wait in here and drain the water and i’ll let you know when you can come in” you say, making your way out of the bath and wrapping a towel around your figure. she nods and pulls the drain while getting out of the bath.

once in your room with the bathroom door shut, you make your way over to your closet and pull out the set you bought. it’s a light purple babydoll slip dress and a matching thong, there’s a bow in the bra part that can be untied to uncover your tits. you bite your lip as you feel your pussy get wet just thinking about her reaction. slowly, you put it on, making sure everything is in order and the bow is pretty for her, even though you know it won’t be tied for long.

“okay. you can come out now, i’m ready” you stand awkwardly, impatiently awaiting her presence and reaction to you. she opens the door and her mouth drops as soon as her eyes meet you. she stands there for a while, unable to say or do anything in awe of you.

“you’re amazing” she says, eyes running you up and down as she takes you in. she is star struck.

“come here and touch me please. make up for today” you whine, feeling so small under her gaze and so needy for her touch. she walks over to you, fingers touching all over you as she gazes at you perplexed.

“so fucking beautiful, all for me” she whispers, one hand cupping your cheek and another snaking its way down your back to grab your ass. her hand moves to the bow covering your chest, and slowly, she pulls the cloth until it unravels and your tits are on full display for her. she shamelessly stares at them, fondling one in her hand and running her thumb around your nipple, eliciting the most obscene noises from you as she does so. "your tits are a masterpiece, cant believe theyre all mine," she admits. both of her hands grip your thighs as she hoists you into her arms and lays you down on the bed, fully on top of you. "want me to fuck you in this baby? is that what you want?" she asks you, hands running up and down your thighs.

"yes. paige. oh my god please." you beg, laying all your desires out in front of her as you let her take full control. she kisses you passionately, hands traveling the expanse of your body and touching you in all of your most sensitive spots.

"so worked up for me huh? tell me how i can make it up to you baby, i'll do whatever you say", she says in a low voice in between kisses, hands traveling dangerously close to the place you need them most as she plays with the band of your panties.

"please fuck me paige, i need you in me right now" you beg, barely holding it together. her hands grab your underwear and she pulls them off of you, leaving your wet and throbbing pussy on full display. her fingers slide in between your folds, rubbing your clit and feeling your wetness.

"youre soaking baby, all because of me yeah? im gonna fuck you so good my sweet girl, make you forget all about what happened" you can barely hear her lude remarks as she rubs your clit. you fear you wont last long with how good her fingers are making you feel.

she slips two fingers in you, your wetness allowing them entrance with ease, she curls her fingers in you as your walls clench around them, touching your sensitive spot as she does so. your hips rut in reaction and moan her name loudly as she rakes in and out of you, "thats my good girl, so fucking loud for me," her pace quickens as she feels you tightening up against her. she knows youre close and is making no effort to prolong your orgasm, wanting to make you feel as good as possible. she moves her thumb to rub up and down against your clit, increasing the sensation as your body reacts to both points of contact.

you were so close, your body in her full control and needing release. "paige. please, faster. im gonna come" you plead. she moves right next to you and sucks on your neck while speeding up her pace inside of you,

"anything for you baby, you can come for me, i love you so much." she whispers, pace quickening as her fingers travel deeper inside of you .

her voice in your ear telling you to come is all you need to send you over the edge. you moan her name as you orgasm and she continues whispering, "so so good, all mine, love how you feel when you come. you look so beautiful right now baby" she slows her pace as you ride out your orgasm, kissing your neck as she continues talking you through it.

as you feel the waves of pleasure subside and you start to come back to your senses, you kiss her for a long time, whimpering in her mouth at the same time. she slowly pulls her fingers out of you, pushing them in your mouth as you lick up your mess. she lays down next to you, holding you in her arms.

"yeah. you definitely made it up to me" you say looking at her and pecking her lips.

"oh, there's more where that came from. i'm all yours tonight baby." she smiles, hand cupping your cheek as she kisses you lovingly.

it was going to be a long night.

#hope yall enjoy #please gas me up or ill delete this #paige bueckers #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige #smut #wlw smut #wlw #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #wlw post #paige bueckers x reader smut #paige bueckers gf

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eubybubble · 11 months ago

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arguing with slytherin boys / pt.2

ft. Tom, Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo

warnings: curse words, mentions of abuse, addictions

Theodore Nott

You wanted to help Theo, really. His smoking wouldn't have angered you if he wasn't going through two packs in a day. It was genuinely hard to express your concerns without sounding like a parent or authority figure. But as you attempted to have yet another “serious conversation” with him, you initially thought it was heading toward success. Turns out you just misunderstood his mocking tone as softness and surrender.

“Ah, so you care about me? Answer me, amore, are you my mother? Then tell me, why do my habits piss you off that much?” he advanced towards you, slowly cornering you until your back met the cold wall. You closed your eyes in a desperate attempt to pretend it's a nightmare, hoped for it to end sooner and start again. But it was real, and Theo barely controlled himself “Am I not good enough for Ms. Perfect? My “addictions” shouldn’t worry you, can’t you understand?” His fist landed just an inch away from your face.

Tom Riddle

You decided to drop in and check on Tom since he hadn’t been talking to you for a few weeks now. He was busy working on some project. You made a cute lunch and even drew his portrait with watercolor. You couldn’t contain your excitement as you hurried to his room. What will be his reaction? Did he miss you too? Reality hit harder than you could’ve ever imagined. He eyed you and things in your hand with a little to no interest.

“Just how many times did I tell you not to disturb me? Not to meddle in my business? I don’t need it," he stated firmly. His words rang in your ears, and you didn’t listen much as he continued, “I was right, in the end relationships proved to be troublesome trivia. It was nice to know you. But now, leave.”

Mattheo Riddle

You’ve been avoiding him for the last few weeks after hearing rumors about his ties to dark organizations and massacre in the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Now, he was confronting you. Can’t really escape when he’s towering right above you in the middle of a dorm room.

“Are we even dating at this point? ‘Cuz i feel like I’m a fucking joke to you, not a boyfriend” Mattheo calmly stood in front of you, staring at you with eyes full of hatred “Little bird told me you’re afraid of me. Why, is it because my surname is Riddle? I thought you weren’t that dumb like others to judge me on my family relations which I don’t give a fuck about” he spat out the last words. His lips curled in disgust as he shoved a box full of your gifts and memories into your hands, leaving you dumbfounded in the solitude of your room.

Lorenzo Berkshire

The last few weeks have been tough for every seventh-year at Hogwarts. Tables were cluttered with heaps of homework and essays, and an unhealthy number of coffee mugs in common rooms weren’t surprising anymore. Amidst this academic crisis, your boyfriend was the most affected one. He had to maintain his top spot, not for himself but for his parents.

You were genuinely worried about him and tried to help him unwind a bit, but he consistently refused and distanced himself even more. When you suggested going to Hogsmeade, he suddenly snapped, growling in frustration

“Just fuck off. I have a lot to manage, and you're being a burden right now. Can’t you spend a minute without me?” He kept ruffling his hair and rubbing his temples in annoyance. “I need a break” He didn’t care to explain what break he needed and didn’t even look at you as he left the common room in a hurry.

a/n: yes, i like making people suffer and yes there’ll be part 2 with Draco, Blaise and Regulus

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girlgenius1111 · 4 months ago

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no time

jenni hermoso x reader. jenni is feeling neglected by how much time r is spending away from her, focused on football and getting her degree. jenni decides r is avoiding her, and pulls away too. eventually, it all becomes too much for r, who is feeling the pressure from everyone and everything. i would say teeny amount of angst and majority amount of fluff. for all the underfed jenni girls 😌😌

-----

Jenni knew you were busy. She knew you had a million things going on, and that the lack of time you’d been spending her was probably completely unintentional. A more insecure part of her worried that it was intentional, but she tried to quiet that part down. The Spaniard came across as a very outgoing, confident individual, and for the most part, she was. In her relationships, though, she had an issue with asking for what she needed, just like you did. She craved your attention and your company, but something inside of her just… wouldn’t let her ask for it.

And it wasn’t like Jenni wasn’t trying to spend time with you. She’d come into the office while you were studying, trying to convince you to take a break. In the past few weeks, the answer had been no. You were drowning in school work, with practices picking up in frequency and intensity for the team. When you did have time to focus on school, you were always rather exhausted. Adding another 2 classes to your course load this term had been a mistake if you’d ever made one. Instead of the two you normally took, sometimes three, you were taking four. Four more classes, and you’d be done with your degree, fulfilling your promise to your parents to have a backup plan in case football didn’t work out. Maybe you didn’t deserve a degree. It was pretty idiotic to come to the conclusion that four classes wasn’t that much more than two.

Jenni had never cared for school, getting it done as soon as she could. She loved you, a lot, but she couldn’t really comprehend the deeply ingrained need you had to get your degree, and get perfect marks. She was supportive nonetheless, but she didn’t really quite understand what another two classes would entail. For the first part of the term, it had been manageable. Now, things had piled up, and you were absolutely drowning.

You were a perfectionist, and you’d do anything to make sure your university work was perfect, your football was perfect, at the expense of everything. Even your own wellbeing. And, apparently, Jenni’s wellbeing too, although you weren’t quite aware of the toll your lack of time spent with her was causing.

It was really a lack of communication that caused things to bubble over.

Jenni felt neglected. And you wanted nothing more than for her to pull you away from your late night study sessions and remind you to put yourself first, because you were sure you couldn’t do it yourself. If either of you had just spoken to the other, it would have been resolved so easily. Jenni would have realized that you needed her, but were too stressed to really know what you needed. And you would have realized that giving Jenni space wasn’t some kind of gift for her, and that she would be happy to sit next to you while you studied and just keep you company. Communication was an area that your relationship tended to struggle, though. It was a work in progress, and this situation clearly presented where there was still progress to be made.

-----

As you typed away at your computer, you again wondered why on earth you had added classes. Another term would have been worth it, if only to avoid this hell. It was Tuesday, and you had 3 essays due on Sunday. The week was stuffed full of training and extra workouts, though, and then the team was traveling for an away game. Everything had to be done by Friday, or it wouldn’t get done, and that wasn’t an option.

Not only did it have to be done, it had to be perfect. There was no possibility of halfassing any assignment. You’d tried before, but you always ended up redoing it until it was perfect, and it was just much easier to do it the first time around.

You had just finished the first essay, which was at the very end of the page limit. It was up to your standards, you decided, reading over it once more before turning it in. You should have felt relieved, that one of the things hanging over your head was now completed. Instead, you could only look to the next essay, and the one after that. And the exam next week, the project the week after. It was so easy to get overwhelmed if you thought too hard about everything, so you did your best to focus on each task one at a time.

Perhaps it was this very narrow view of your life that had you not really thinking about your girlfriend in the other room. She’d been waiting for you to emerge from the office all afternoon, only getting you to take a short break to eat.

She just wanted to spend time with you. Catch up on a show, or hold you on the couch and talk. It didn’t make any sense to her, why couldn't you just put the schoolwork down for one night, and pay attention to her. Maybe you would have, if she’d just asked for it. Instead, she sat quietly in the living room, trying her best not to cry as her feelings began to overwhelm her. Was she really that horrible to spend time with? That her own girlfriend preferred mindless busy work to being with her?

Deciding to end her pity party, she wiped at her eyes, checking in the front hall mirror that there were no visible tear marks, before she made a very pathetic attempt to get your attention. It wasn’t very late, but training had been grueling today, and Jenni knew that if she was tired, you must be exhausted.

“Mi amor?” Jenni called from the doorway of the office. “Are you coming to bed?”

You didn’t even turn your head away from the screen in front of you for a full 20 seconds, and when you finally did, it was to stare almost blankly at your girlfriend. “Huh?”

“I was just- I’m going to bed now. Goodnight.” Before you could reply, Jenni was turning around and heading down the hall towards the bedroom. No goodnight kiss, no request for you to join her. You blinked after her, struck by how cold she’d just been with you. Now that you thought about it, she’d been like that for a few days, and you hadn’t noticed.

You turned back to your outline, copying lines from your notes mindlessly as you tried to figure out the source of Jenni’s frustration. Of course, you settled on yourself. You were a disaster at the moment, and you knew that. The only logical thing you could come up with was that Jenni was just… annoyed with having to deal with you like this. There were only a few weeks left of term, and you decided to try to bother her as little as possible until then. Once school was over, for good, you could go back to being the smiley, relaxed girlfriend Jenni was used to. The one Jenni preferred.

You had very little clarity of when you fell asleep. One second, you were typing away, eyes drooping. The next, you were facedown asleep, your face smushed into your keyboard.

Jenni managed to fall asleep without you next to her, but did not remain that way for long. After only two hours she woke, frowning to herself when she realized the bed was still practically made on your side. With a sigh, she dragged herself from bed and walked down to the office, prepared to drag you to bed if she had to. Even if you were avoiding her, she had to put her foot down somewhere; this was bordering on unhealthy.

She trudged into the office, lips curving into a small smile as she noticed you out cold on your laptop. It didn’t look very comfortable, and the quiet inhales and marks on your cheek told her you’d been asleep for a solid amount of time.

“Amor,” Jenni sang, her voice soft and loving as she roused you from a deep sleep.

“Jen?” You picked your head up, blinking groggily up at her, and winced at the knot that had appeared in your neck. You’d fallen asleep, you realized. It was dark in the room, and Jenni’s face was half hidden by shadows. It was unreadable, and you cursed yourself internally for immediately breaking the promise you’d made to yourself just a few hours prior. The promise to not make Jenni suffer through your stress along with you. She must be so upset with you, having to come check on you like you were a child. Still, Jenni was kind and you knew that the way she carefully picked you up and cradled you to her chest didn’t mean she still wasn’t annoyed. It didn’t mean you weren’t being too much for her, it just meant Jenni was a good person.

“Let’s go to bed, sí?” She cooed, carrying you down the hall.

You nodded into her chest, allowing yourself a moment of comfort. You fought against the tightness in your throat and the moisture in your eyes as you realized just how exhausted you were, not wanting to make the situation any worse. Warmth filled your girlfriend’s chest at the feeling of having you so close to her again, but that feeling faded quickly when she placed you down on the bed, and you immediately rolled to the edge of your side. As far from her as possible.

This cemented it in her mind, honestly. That you were avoiding her on purpose, using your school work as an excuse. And you were only more sure that she was tired of how much stress you brought to her life when she didn’t curl her body around yours, as she normally did. Both of you were miserable as you drifted off, completely incorrectly convinced that the other person was angry.

-----

You were not a morning person, but your girlfriend was. It was your daily routine at this point for her to wake you up in the morning, a mug of coffee in her hand and a soft smile on her face, dimples just barely peeking out. Or, you’d wake to her curled around you, her breaths steady puffs on your neck. Never, never, did you wake to nothing. No Jenni at all. Your alarm went off, and you groaned, feeling that the few hours of sleep were not enough. You were barely conscious, rolling onto the other side of the bed in search of your girlfriend’s warm body. Nothing.

Waiting a beat, you listened for her footsteps coming up the stairs. Nothing. Minutes passed with no appearances from the striker, and you rolled over towards the bedside table, grabbing your phone. Her location showed her already at the training grounds, a full hour early. You pictured her taking free kicks from all over the pitch, the same scowl on her face she always got when she was worked up about something. You loved that scowl, despite the cause of it. You liked to make it turn into a huge grin, one that brought out the dimples on her cheeks.

God you missed her. Suddenly, with full force, you missed her deeply. Though you’d seen her last night, it felt like you’d been gone for weeks. You supposed you had, too caught up in your school work to think of much else. You wondered if she missed you, too, or if she was glad for the break.

No way to know, you decided, even though there very clearly was. Deciding that you could get a bit of your next essay done before you had to get ready for training, you dragged yourself out of bed and down the hall to get some coffee. There was some left on the counter for you, in a mug that had Jenni’s face on it, a joke gift she’d given you last christmas. On the very rare occasions Jenni had to leave the house before you were up, she almost always left a little note. Sometimes it was something cheesy and adorable, and other times it was just a heart. Today, there was nothing but the mug, the coffee inside already cold.

------

When Jenni entered the house after dinner, she was feeling kind of guilty for being so distant the past few days. Especially after seeing how exhausted you were the night before. With the whole day to think about things, she realized maybe she should be more worried than upset with you.

She’d left before you were even awake. Obviously, you couldn’t discuss anything at training, and you’d gone straight to the library after to work on your essay. Jenni had made herself get out of the house, getting together with a few friends, texting you quickly that she wouldn’t be home for dinner.

She knew she’d been a bit immature and that she should have just communicated her issue to you. Before you, she’d never felt needy. Now, though, it felt like any time away from you was difficult. And the distance she’d forced in the past few days hadn’t made her feel better like she thought; she hadn’t gotten used to not being around you. Instead, she just missed you even more. Maybe she would have talked to you, honestly, if she hadn’t been convinced that you were upset with her, tired of her.

She couldn’t hear the clicking of the keyboard coming from the office, and that would have been her first guess as to your location. Moving further into the house, Jenni looked around, finally spotting you in the living room. You weren’t lounging in the armchair, watching a show, like she’d been expecting. Instead, you were curled up into a ball on the sofa, sobbing into your hands. It was loud and painful, and the brunette was sure that you hadn’t even heard her enter the house. There were papers scattered around you, your computer set aside, still open to the essay that just wouldn’t get done.

The small sounds you were making in between each sob broke Jenni’s heart, and it only took her a minute to unfreeze, and cross the room.

“Amor, hey,” she cooed, crouching down next to the sofa and trying to tug your hands away from your face. You jumped slightly, feeling your face burn with embarrassment. You thought you’d have more time to hide your breakdown before Jenni got home.

“Go away.” You murmured, attempting to move away from her. Jenni was strong, though, and before you could move very far, you were being pulled into her lap.

“No. Talk to me.” Jenni encouraged, finally getting a look at your face. Her stomach dropped as she realized just how exhausted you were, and just how upset. Your bottom lip trembled as you tried to stop your tears, fighting against the urge to lean into your girlfriend. If the past day had taught you anything, it was that Jenni didn’t need to deal with your stress. That was the reason she must have been pulling away, and you wanted to respect her obvious need for space.

“I’m fine, Jenni, just go to bed. I’ll be in later.” Your voice was raspy from crying, and Jenni’s brow furrowed.

Shaking her head, she leaned in to place the gentlest of kisses on your cheek. “Cari, I am not going anywhere until you tell me what is wrong.”

Again, it felt like every part of you was begging to collapse into her. You just couldn’t do it. “You have enough on your plate. Don’t worry about me.” Even as you spoke, tears ran down your face, and you sniffled pitifully.

Jenni rolled her eyes in response, her slender fingers pushing your hair away from your face. “I love you, I am going to worry about you. Especially when I find you like this. Now tell me what is wrong so I can fix it.”

There was nowhere for you to look but at her, and her eyes were so earnest and so concerned, you gave in. “I-I’m just so stressed, Jen. I can’t- there isn’t enough time for me to get everything done and I’m so tired and I can’t do this anymore I’m losing my mind, and I’m too much for you and I just-”

Jenni became laser focused on the end of your rambling sentences, her hands working frantically to run through your hair and caress your face in comfort. “No, you are not too much for me, mi amor. Never. Why would you think that?”

Looking at her with wide eyes, you wondered why she was lying. “You’ve been avoiding me these past few days. You’ve barely been here, you left this morning without even waking me, I-”

Shaking her head rapidly, Jenni felt guilt tugging at her. She should have known better, should have known you’d never do anything to hurt her, but yourself? That was another story. “Amor, you’ve been avoiding me for weeks. I was only trying to give you space.”

“I was trying to give you space.” You choked out. “I thought you were tired of me.”

“No, mi amor, no.” Jenni sighed, gripping you by the shoulders and internally cursing herself. “I thought you were tired of me. You’ve been so busy, and I just thought you wanted to spend less time with me.”

‘No, I didn’t want that.” You shook your head, shrugging her hands off your shoulders, only to wrap your own arms around her abdomen and bury your face in her neck. “I was just so busy and so overwhelmed, I didn’t want to stress you out.”

With a gentle hand on the back of your head, Jenni pressed you in closer to her and left a kiss on the side of your head. “You do not stress me out. I want to help you when you are stressed, but I cannot do that if it feels like you do not want me around.”

You nodded into her neck, knowing she likely felt the tears running off your face and onto her skin. “I’m sorry.” You whimpered.

“It’s alright, cari. I’m sorry too, I should have noticed you were stressed.”

When she only got a shrug in response, she leaned you back from her and studied your face closely. “What’s going on, hmm? School doesn’t normally get you like this.”

Subconsciously, you tried to match the rise and fall of your girlfriend’s chest, willing yourself to just calm down so you could have a conversation. “It’s the extra classes. It’s way too much, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m barely getting everything done and it’s building up and-”

“Extra classes?” Jenni asked, her forehead wrinkling in confusion.

You blinked at her. You’d told her about the extra classes… right? Admittedly, Jenni didn’t listen very hard when you talked about school, so it was entirely possible she’d just missed it, but she always remembered the important things. “I told you. I’m taking four this term.”

“Four! Why would you do that?!” Jenni exclaimed, her face so comically surprised, you had to fight a smile. “You didn’t tell me, amor.”

“I did!” You argued back. “So I can finish school this term instead of after the next one.”

Jenni shook her head, her face turning slightly stern. “You did not tell me. That is too much, mi amor, why would you do that? No wonder you’re so overwhelmed.” She tutted.

You thought hard, your eyebrows scrunching in a way Jenni found downright adorable. “Oh. I decided when I was home with my family for the holidays. I must have told them and forgotten to tell you…”

You looked at Jenni wearily, wondering if she’d be upset. Instead, she was chuckling at you and shaking her head. It was very you to forget something like this. Jenni liked to joke that you spend all your brain power on football and school, and there wasn’t any left over for common sense.

“Sorry, Jen. I thought I told you.” You mumbled, face turning red with embarrassment. Maybe your girlfriend would have been annoyed, if she wasn’t so very in love with you. All your quirks, though, were just silly to her, endearing. She had become horrifically soft for you, she realized.

“It’s okay, you didn’t do it on purpose.” Jenni said kindly. “I understand now, why you’ve been so busy. But, amor, if it is too much, why don’t you just drop a class? Or turn in a few assignments late. You only need a certain grade to pass, no? Not everything has to be perfect. You have to give yourself a break.”

It was everything you’d needed to hear, and still, everything you refused to believe. You couldn’t drop a class, couldn’t get less than a perfect score. You didn’t deserve a break, not until everything was done. Jenni’s face fell as your eyes began to water again, and she worried she said the wrong thing.

A flood of words spewed from your mouth, trying to help her understand what you didn’t even really understand. “I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to take a break without someone telling me to, I feel like my body is shutting down Jenni, I’m so tired,” you sobbed, once more pressing your face into her chest, likely staining her shirt with tears. She was quick to wrap you in a hug, hushing you quietly.

“Oh, mi amor.” She sighed, stroking her fingers through your hair. “I’m so sorry I didn’t realize you were having a hard time, I’m sorry I didn’t help.”

That felt like an incredibly ridiculous thing for her to apologize for, and you told her so. “You shouldn’t have to do that, you shouldn’t have to take care of me like that”

“Of course I do. I want to. That is what partners do, no?” She replied incredulously, using her sleeve to gently swipe the tears off your face. She hated to see you cry, but she loved how long your eyelashes got when they were wet with tears; it made your eyes look bigger, somehow, and it always made her want to hold onto you and never let go.

“You don’t have to.” You argued weakly.

Jenni kissed you gently instead of replying right away, her soft lips pressing into yours telling you more than she could probably convey with words. “I’m going to, cariño.”

“Okay.” You whispered, effectively convinced by her kiss, knowing Jenni well enough to know that if you agreed with her, she’d kiss you again. And she did.

“We’ll start now then. Let’s take a break. We can lay on the couch and take a nap and then order dinner in.” She was already shutting your computer and carefully putting your notes into a pile, before placing it all on the table.

“But my essay,” you argued halfheartedly, knowing you would probably only be capable of writing incomprehensible sentences at this point. The striker turned back to you, a stern look on her face once again. Jenni shook her head firmly, her thumbs running back and forth across your cheeks in an incredibly soothing manner. “No essay is worth this. You need to take a break, and rest.”

“I- I don’t…”

“Hmm? You don’t what, amor?” Her voice held a challenge, almost begging you to argue with her about needing a break. She didn’t understand, but she wanted to, more than anything.

“I didn’t finish.” You whispered. “I don’t deserve a break until I’m done.”

“Cariño,” Jenni sighed, gently pulling on the back of your neck until you’d tucked your face in against her. She kissed the top of your head, mumbling her next words into your hair. “You are not a machine. You deserve a break whenever you need one, and you need one right now. No arguments.”

And though it felt all wrong, you let Jenni remove all your study materials from the room, putting them god knows where. She returned, sliding onto the couch and pulling you so you were laying in her arms.

Once your favorite show had been put on the TV, you looked up at her, chin resting on her chest. “I’m really sorry you felt so neglected, Jen.” You murmured. Now that you were no longer panicked about not getting your essay done, guilt had flooded you. “I wasn’t trying to avoid you, I promise. I’m so-”

“It’s okay, mi amor.” Jenni smiled. Now that her insecurities had been relatively addressed, [and now that she felt ridiculous for having them in the first place,] her only focus was on getting you to relax. Incidentally, that meant you would be spending a fair amount of time with her going forward, and that was a win for the striker. “I do not want to hear any more about it, si? All is forgiven.”

Jenni’s ability to forgive was one of her best traits, and you knew that when she said she forgave you, she meant it.

“Now, for my plan.” She continued, smiling almost mischievously at you.

“Your plan?” You asked wearily.

“Si, my very smart and well thought out plan.” Jenni grinned. “We are going to make a schedule. There will be Jenni time and study time, but not too much study time.”

“What about too much Jenni time?” You smirked.

She frowned at you. “That is not possible.”

You laughed, laying your head back down on her chest. “Anything else?”

“And now it is nap time, because your eyes are falling shut and you slept for three hours last night.” Her arms locked around you, allowing no escape. Not that you wanted one.

“Okay.” You mumbled, squirming slightly until your face was tucked into her neck, blocking out the light of the room. You drifted off quickly, lulled into sleep by Jenni’s hands rubbing up and down your back, and the rise and fall of her chest under you.

Jenni waited an entire hour to order dinner, thinking that she could wake you when it arrived, if you weren't already awake. She got the message that the food had been delivered a half hour after that, trying to wipe the stupid grin off her face at the way you were curled up on top of her. How she could have ever doubted your love for her, she wasn’t sure.

“Amor? The food is here.” She whispered, pushing your hair out of your face enough to see that your eyes were shut, your face relaxed. Giving up ridiculously quickly, she settled into the couch, allowing you to stay asleep. The food could wait. You needed the rest, and your girlfriend was more than happy to be a pillow for you, for as long as you needed her to be.

------

as if i would study if i was jenni's girlfriend, and not spend the whole day looking at her like 🙂

#jenni hermoso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics

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dragonmuse · 1 year ago

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Keep It In The Box : An Essay on OFMD Season 2 and the Failure to Heal

(here in is my season two reaction. It contains many many spoilers. It's also about 3k words long so you know what you're getting into.)

“See, I have a system for dealing with all the terrible things I've seen. There's a box in my mind, and I put the things in the box..” -Frenchie, Season 2 of Our Flag Means Death

…..and then he never opens it. Chekov’s locked box has no key in season two.

On first watch, it seemed clear to me that Frenchie’s declaration was a narrative plant. Clearly the whole season would be about that box of pain and trauma being opened, sorted through and at least the beginning of healing. The show had developed a reputation after season one of being kind and focused on queer narratives of healing from childhood. Ed and Stede’s parallels in their childhood traumas were frequently on display through season one and were repeated in flashback throughout season two. Jim’s season one arc about becoming someone who doesn’t think just of revenge and can now forge meaningful connections was profound, beautiful and often funny. Izzy is an antagonist because he doesn’t want Ed to move on or stop acting like the trauma-response version of himself. The antagonist wants to stop healing. The point is to grow, to change, to learn how to love. It’s one of the things that made season one work for me at the time, despite reservations about pacing and tone.

So naturally season two should follow suit. It’s a kind show! About healing and falling in love!

For the first several episodes, the remaining crew on the Revenge go through a gauntlet of trauma, forced to do and receive violence at Ed’s whims as he careens from self-destructive behavior to self-destructive behavior. This is the wounding setup. It was dark, but it seemed like it would have a payoff and at first it did.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful moments of the season comes in one of the small respites in those early episodes as Jim recounts Pinnochio to Fang to soothe him through his grief. That was the show that I expected. The kindness of that moment struck me very deeply. It gave me some understanding of Archie too, who seems to fall for Jim right at that moment.

That scene is the show season one promised. Season two led with packing Frenchie’s box full to bursting. Here is the fight to the death between lovers, there is a first mate who is mutilated and rotting in the very walls (the rot of the Revenge itself), and there is the storm of Ed’s rage and pain that threatens to consume all of them.

So surely these remaining episodes would concentrate on finding the humor in healing from those moments. That is the setup. Frenchie has a box. The box must eventually open.

Except time and again, all the characters who suffered are told that the only way to deal with what they’ve been through is to stick it in the box and never open it again.

Pete tells Lucius that he’s unable to move on and needs to let it go. Izzy has a story about a shark. Ed’s apology to the crew which doesn’t even contain the words ‘I’m sorry’ is just…accepted. I kept waiting and waiting for a meaningful apology to the people Ed had hurt the worst with his actions, but it seems all we get is Fang saying ‘eh, no problem, I got to hit you back so I feel better’.

The playful theme of ‘pirates are just violent sometimes’ from season one becomes a grinding horror machine in season two when every atrocity visited on someone is forgiven because the narrative needs it to be. Ed and Stede spend more time making amends with each other over the bloodless night on the beach than either of them spend trying to repent for their actions towards anyone else.

And let’s talk about Ed. Arguably this season pivots on his narrative, on his path to healing and growth. A path that starts at a very low point. His moment in the gravy basket, deciding he wants to live because there are still things to live for is so great! So one might assume that what would follow would be him pursuing those things, making amends, making connections. He and Stede have a wonderful moment, talking about being whim prone and how they’ll work to avoid that, build a relationship by going slower.

Yet, at no point do either of them stop following whims. They never heal or learn from what’s happened to them. They both keep running from thing to thing, particularly Ed. It’s a whim to sleep with Stede, it’s a whim to run off to fish, and the finale gives us just more of their whims. Ed drops fishing as fast as he picked it up. He finds those leathers in the ocean, murdering the symbolism of leaving them behind. Even the inn is a whim, one of those things Ed decided he’d be good at without evidence. And Stede joins him in that without a single on screen conversation about it ahead of the moment.

Ed needs to heal himself and to do that he needs to confront what he’s done and do the work to heal the wound. Instead, he doesn’t meaningfully apologize to anyone, besides Stede and Fang. Despite Izzy’s dying words (we’ll get to that), not only do we never see the crew caring about Ed, working to make him family in the same way they do with Fang and even Izzy, he also doesn’t choose to stay with them. So what is the point? Where is the healing? Or does even Ed, beloved main character, have to live with it all stuffed in a box?

He ends the season in the leathers he threw away, in a relationship that’s barely stabilized, going to live in a house which we are told by the narrative (in that they are very very clearly paralleling Anne and Mary with Ed and Stede or why do we even get that whole Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? episode) will only end in them setting fire to each other to stay warm.

But Vee, I hear you cry, it’s a ROM-COM. This is all meant to be ha-ha funny and you are taking it so seriously!

Cool beans. Then why the hell isn’t it funny? Healing is often filled with comedy because people deal with pain with humor. You can heal and laugh at the same time. The finale especially is almost entirely devoid of laughs, almost entirely devoid of joy until the last minute for that matter. The episode that should show off with a flourish how far everyone’s come, mostly serves to show that no one has grown.

Okay that’s Ed. I want to talk about Lucius next. Our former audience surrogate (that’s taken away in season two when he doesn’t get enough screen time to perform that role and no one takes his place) really goes through the wringer. He experiences many many terrible things, including sexual assault (which is made into a grimace-laugh line that doesn’t take away from it’s seriousness because oh hey, that can be done as it turns out). He’s nervous, he’s smoking, it’s clear he’s suffering.

There’s a beautiful moment where Pete tells him ‘hey, I was also in pain. I grieved’ and that’s great. It’s good that Pete sets a boundary about Lucius not obsessing over the past to the point of occluding their future.

We even get our comedic moment where Lucius pushes Ed off the boat (still not apology, but I’d lost hope for that by then) and that doesn’t help enough. So Izzy comes in with a shark and the advice that you just have to move on.

Just…you know. Play pretend. Forget.

Shove it in a box. Ed didn’t take my leg, a shark did. Ed didn’t kill you, a shark did. Live with the person that tried to murder you because it’s your fault you dangled your leg over the side of a boat. That is the show’s message. I thought on first watch, that surely this would also come back up and be explained that you can’t live that way, that that is no way to heal. That it would become clear that this was no way through. You cannot make everything into sharks.

Lucius can move forward and still carry pain. He can still want a meaningful apology and still want to talk to his lover about what he’s dealing with while moving forward toward a brighter future.

And what of the flirtatious promise of relationships and connections being the way to heal? Look to Oluwande and Jim, whose heartfelt romance from season one was relegated to the bins of history in favor of a narrative that made him a brother Jim once had sex with. They could have had Archie AND Oluwande, who in turn could also have Zheng, but that never seems to be an option. With a single short conversation, they are broken up with, despite a brief tease at the birthday that they still ‘dance’ together, it never actually manifests. Jim and Archie never talk about what they went through. It’s swept under the rug as fast as knives are lowered.

Lucius also no longer flirts with other people, the solution to his pain is to propose and get married (but not too married, lest we forget that they’re two men, they don’t even get to be husbands or even the more respectful mates, no. They’re mateys.) This season proposes that the only happy endings are monogamous ones, where no one talks about anything painful that went before.

To ensure that message, beyond assuring the success of Oluwande and Zheng’s relationship, Jim and Archie almost entirely disappear from the narrative. Sorry you guys were given layers of trauma and no growth and not even much to do this season, we need to make sure that everyone remembers Oluwande is the break in Zheng’s day so when he says that to her five minutes later we know exactly what he’s referencing. No time for Archie to learn what an apology is or for Jim to get one line in with Oluwande that isn’t affirming their newfound broship. Must do more flashbacks to things we just did two episodes ago!

The show even dangles the conversation of the Revenge being a safe space. Why would any of them ever feel safe when the man who tortured them is allowed to walk among them and they are expected to forgive and forget? What’s safe about that? The ship is never made safe for any of them, but that’s never addressed.

And Zheng! Amazing, hysterically funny Zheng! She loses her ships, her entire way of life, the kingdom she built for herself and then…she doesn’t even get to captain the Revenge. We don’t know what becomes of her fleet, of her plans, her ambitions. Don’t worry about it, she has a romantic partner and isn’t that what every lady wants in the end?

(But Vee, I hear you cry again, there will be a season three! Maybe it will be All About Zheng! To which I say: then why did they present us with the most series finale feeling episode ever? If there’s more, I have no idea where it’s going. BUT VEE: BUTTONS AS SEAGULL ON THE GR- Fine. It’s time.)

Let’s talk about Izzy Hands.

Izzy manages more healing than anyone else this season. He reaches his lowest point, suicidal in the bowels of a ship that’s become a prison (very much in contrast to Ed’s suicidal low). The person he loves most in the world has shredded him physically and emotionally (and if you’re in the camp that thinks Izzy deserves the abuse that Ed gave to him, I would really like you to sit quietly with yourself and ask why you think there is ever anything anyone can do to deserve that treatment). He’s low, he shoots Ed to protect everyone, and then seems to plan to drink himself to death, mourning his losses.

And then another beautiful moment! The crew move past their own pain to help him. They work together for the first time and it’s to give Izzy mobility back. He treasures it. He cries over it. He uses that kindness extended to him to reach a new understanding of Stede and help him succeed, doing the work to make real amends. He sings in drag, he’s vulnerable and beautiful, celebrating the side of himself that he must’ve loathed in the first season. He’s an elder queer man, coming into himself.

He never gets an apology though. (‘Sorry about your leg’ without eye contact is not an apology. There is no responsibility taking, no acknowledgement of the weeks of torture that came with it.) Izzy also never really has an honest conversation with anyone about what it means that the man he loves punished him so severely for the crime of trying to protect the crew (yes, lest we forget, Izzy lost his leg because he was trying to keep Ed from re-traumatizing the crew and himself).

Izzy does all this work, but even he’s not allowed to take it out of the box. It’s a shark, not Ed. Ed is just ‘complicated’ (the language of abuse here is so upsetting and I think not even intentional).

And then he dies. His last act? To apologize to the man who tortured him and shot at him. To have done all this work, to take on all the blame. And then die.

In a rom com.

This show ends in a profoundly unfunny moment of telling the audience: this is the one character that did the work, that made amends, that tried his hardest to accept the parts of himself that he had a hard time embracing and formerly embittered him. He’s fully accepted his queerness and turned it into beautiful music. He’s disabled, and he worked hard to accept that. The man he loves will never love him back, so he worked hard to make Stede able to meet Ed on an even playing field. The Giving Tree gave up its limbs and its trunk, and it’s not even allowed to be a stump to sit on.

Kill the queer elder, who has managed to figure out how to live and in his own way how to heal. Kill him before he manages to teach anyone else how to meaningfully move forward (he almost gets it with Lucius, almost, but it’s meant to be rule of three, you know. Cigarette..shark…and then…and then fuck it, Lucius doesn’t even get to say a word at his funeral).

The message of this season again and again is that there is no healing, just moving forward. Like a shark. Like a bird that never lands.

That is not a kind show.

Season two is not a kind season.

It splinters people up and jams them back together without purpose or reason. It tells everyone who experiences pain that they should shove it in a box and not deal with it. No one who really needs one gets an apology of any sincerity. No one puts in the work to gain forgiveness. (Ed wearing a onesie is not The Work. Ed fixing a door is not The Work. Ed broke people that the show wants us to care about. Ed never does the work of making those amends. He fires off a Notes app apology at best. After all, it’s what he told himself via Hornigold in the gravy basket: you move on or you blow your brains out! Good thing he took his own advice and therefore had to change nothing to get his just rewards.

I would’ve taken just fifteen minutes of Ed trying to actually make amends. It could’ve been hilarious! Imagine awkward Ed trying to dance around what he’s doing with Jim and the two of them having a knife throwing competition about it. Or him and Frenchie attempting to make music together, writing a song about the raids they went on! It’s not just the crew robbed of their healing because of this, it’s Ed himself. He never meaningfully changes or makes amends. How is he any different at the end of the finale then he is standing on the edge of that cliff with Hornigold? He hasn’t moved on, he hasn’t healed. He tried one thing (fishing) that doesn’t fucking work and then he runs right back.

No one leaves this season better than they went into it. They’ve lost an elder queer, they’ve lost their joyous and queer polyamory, they’ve lost a chance for meaningful reconciliation with Ed and Ed lost any chance of looking like he gave shit if they did. Stede grows enough to accept the crew’s beliefs as important and then leaves them behind without a care.

Izzy gets a beautiful speech about piracy being larger than yourself. Ed and Stede, within twenty minutes of that speech, leave piracy. They are incapable of giving themselves to something bigger, apparently. They haven’t learned to be a part of a community. They haven’t healed from their childhood trauma or their fresher wounds. They are still just following their own whims.

Zheng’s life work is in tatters, but it’s fine, she has love. Oluwande and Jim aren’t together, but it's fine because they both have dedicated monogamous partners. Lucius was deeply scarred by what happened, never recovers much of his first season personality, but hey he got-well it’s not married exactly- but you know good enough!

Frenchie, who has a box forever locked in his head, is captain. Because the key to success is to lock it all in a box and never open it. What a message. What a show. Conceal, don’t feel. Smile because it’s a happy ending. Don’t mourn the dead, don’t try to tell people what happened to you (they will literally run away or cry too hard to listen and really you’re just bumming them out), and any meaningful change you make is only rewarded with death.

Frenchie is now a pirate captain with a box in his head full of trauma that’s never been opened, leading a crew with more wounds than scars. Wonder how that could turn out? Wonder how many years before he might want to retire and then happen to run across a gentleman pirate. As if no one learned anything at all.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #the strangest message sent #and no idea if it was on purpose #I kind of think it wasn't somehow #but boy howedy did it come across

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prongsiepotter · 7 months ago

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down bad | j. potter

summary: you're so in love with james potter but he's a little too good at giving you mixed signals that it might actually ruin you

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: angst, a little fluff if u squint, and so much longing & yearning. omg so much of it

a/n: i am unfortunately completely obsessed with taylor swift's new album, so everything i'll write in the near future will be based on one of the ttpd songs (yey!) & this one's based on 'down bad.' feel free to send requests if u want pick the next song for me x

──────── 𑁍︎ ‧₊°

"So he just said no?" Mary all but hisses. Marlene shushes her, glancing around the classroom before leaning down from where she's sitting on your desk.

"Are you sure it didn't mean something else?" She rests her hand on yours. "Maybe it was just a misunderstanding. He wouldn't…he just wouldn't, right?" You smile weakly at her, then shake your head. She squeezes your hand.

"The note was pretty clear," you say with a soft sigh. The sentence rolls off your tongue with unhidden bitterness. "Sorry, can't. Need to catch up on some assignments."

You would show it to them, so they could see for themselves and maybe divert their sympathetic gazes from you. But you had set it on fire right after reading it, just like the other two notes friendly rejecting you. You still aren't sure why you did it. After all, you did just tell Mary and Marlene that you're fine. At least you will be. You should not be this devastated over some guy.

Even if that guy is James Potter.

James who is now strolling into the room with his mates, looking as invincible and full of life as he always has and always will.

Quickly, you force a smile at the girls and pull out the chair next to you. Marlene, bless her, gets the hint and lightly shoves Mary's shoulder to have her take the seat. You're going through your book bag, pulling out your inkwell when four bodies make their way past your desk.

"Ladies," comes Sirius cheerfully loud voice as he bows at the waist because, of course, he does. Peter and Remus aren't as dramatic with their greetings. The latter, however, does take the time to slow down in front of you until you look up and return his kind smile. Belatedly, you realise perhaps you shouldn't have done that. You lock eyes with James, who's right behind him.

He sends you an easy smile and a wink. Like he's letting you in on another one of his rare secrets. You're not sure if you're smiling back, but it's almost a given that you are.

He takes his seat behind you, laughing blithely at a joke Pete just told, and it's all so painfully charming that you want to die. You fear he will always make you feel like this. Like you're somehow the chosen one. It's such a sickening feeling, you can't help but whip around and look at Mary, pleadingly. Though, you're not sure what you're pleading for anymore.

She shoots you another unbearably sympathetic smile, looking like she's close to cooing at you. You sigh, hiding your face in the crook of your arms.

You can't help but think how easy it would be to just cry right here. It's embarrassing to admit, but you've done it plenty of times over the weekend after you had seen James out at Hogsmeade with the others. Miserably, you had realised that he was, in fact, not too busy working on his assignments. He just didn't want to spend time with you.

You almost let out a sob.

A hand rubs your back and you know it can only be Mary, but you let yourself believe that it's the universe consoling you, as if to say there, there because there's nothing fair about this and she knows it, but there's nothing she can do it about now, can she?

History of Magic passes in a blur. Before you know it, you're in the library, pouring all of yourself into an essay that you normally couldn't have cared less for. But you're willing to do whatever it takes to keep yourself busy. You know your thoughts will stray the moment you're lying quietly in bed anyway, awaiting another sleepless night.

You finish the sentence and look up, satisfied with your work. Apparently it's been a while since you've torn your gaze away from the parchment before you, seeing how stiff your neck is. You knead at the uncomfortable knot in your shoulder while looking around the library. It's relatively full today with every other seat being taken.

Which makes it all the more irritating when your gaze snatches on a figure sat at the other table right across from you. He's not even looking up, head bent over a book, but you would recognise that mop of unruly dark curls anywhere. James must've seen you when he came in, but that might have just been your hopeful self speaking.

Begrudgingly, you resume your writing and it takes everything in you not to look up every few minutes. To glimpse the slight furrow in his brows and the small pout of his lips as he's carefully reading every paragraph. You know he's likely looking for something to prepare for a prank. Normally, you would simply go over and ask him what he's up to. You know he'd happily tell you. But you're glad to have at least a little bit of pride and dignity left that keeps you rooted in your spot.

Seemingly not enough though since all you can think about is that there's no way he doesn't know that you're right there. It really does make you want to bang your head against the table. Maybe that would finally catch James' attention.

Pathetically, you glance at him only to notice that he's packing his things to leave. The tip of your feather goes back to the parchment so fast, it almost pierces it. You haven't got a clue what you're writing, too busy tracking James' movements from the corner of your eyes.

You watch him stand up, walking down the length of his table towards the door down the hall on his right. Then he stops. You hold your breath. James seemingly hesitates before fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He turns left and walks towards you. You're staring at your hand as it writes illegible words, completely out of your control, when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey," James whispers when you look up, giving you a familiar grin and small wave. It's an innocent gesture, sweet, but there's almost something hostile about this encounter. Like you have no choice but to let him occupy every single one of your senses. You stare up at him, a matching smile sweeping over your lips before you can think better of it.

That's when you notice the scarf he's wearing and its frizzled ends. It's yours. You know it is.

Did he not give it back to you after one of your nights out together on the stands? After you had flown on your brooms, so close to the sea of stars that you could've dipped your fingertips in them? You could almost hear the echoes of your windblown laughters as the memory pushes itself into the foreground of your mind.

James is sitting still, rosy-cheeked, watching you with curious eyes while you babble on about the Leo constellation. He had just told you that you could do whatever you want to him—another quite maddening thing to casually say to someone—and now he's apparently keen on staying true to his word by letting you wrap your scarf around his neck.

It took some convincing before he'd finally accepted it from you. You promised that you wouldn't be cold with your high collared sweater, but James only gave in when you had accepted his wool hat in exchange.

He had carefully put it on you, smoothing down your hair and pulling out some loose strands to frame your face, mumbling something about how much lovelier his hat looked on you than on him. You told yourself that he surely must've known what it did to you when his knuckles brushed your cheeks. Right? Surely.

James pokes your side, chuckling, as if he sensed that your mind was drifting elsewhere. He cracks another joke, saying that if you were the one to teach him Astronomy, he might actually pay attention in class. He says it like it's a deal and you feel inclined to do whatever it takes to hold up your side of the bargain.

You laugh helplessly, feeling drunk on a little bit of everything; the stars above, James' gentle laughter, the familiar smell of broom wax and crisp winter air. This must be cosmic love, you think to yourself. Your breath clouds in front of you, becoming one with his. All the while, you're too aware of James' shoulder bumping into you, his leg pressed against yours. There's no one out here but you two.

You have all the room in the world, but James chose to sit this close to you. Probably close enough for him to hear your heart pounding. Did he do it for a reason? You'd love to know.

"You don't need me to pay attention in Astronomy," you find yourself saying in response, something daring laced in the drawl of your voice. His eyes flash, bright and a bit wild. It's the same look he gets after you challenge him to a race on your brooms. His grin grows wide, carefree, and oh so lovely.

"Please." His face comes impossibly closer and you lean in without another thought, eager to take whatever it is James will give you. You feel his breath on your lips.

"I will always need you, Y/N."

Somehow he makes it sound genuine.

Then he winks and leaves you a horrid, forsaken mess. Somehow he makes that feel like a nice gesture too.

Incredulously, you stare at him as he leans back, elbows resting on the seats behind him. James Potter, you think weakly, what are you doing to me? Not for the first time you ponder what you would do if you can't have him. You almost double over from the striking pain in your chest.

Then he points out another constellation and you nearly forget all about yourself. He's good at that. Never ceasing to show you that the world is bigger than the two of you. Making you forget and remember that you might be in love. Because what if you were in love?

James cups the back of his neck, then points towards the door of the library, almost shyly letting you know that he's leaving. You nod slowly, still dazed. A small smile crosses his lips before you watch him round the corner, his back disappearing from your sight.

You blink, letting out a ragged breath. You feel like you got the wind knocked out of you. Like you just lost your twin. Someone who knows you like no one else ever will. Someone who might just be your better half. Someone who sometimes makes you feel like they want nothing to do with you.

It's ridiculous, you think bleakly to yourself, you're so down bad.

And James Potter makes it feel like a curse and a blessing.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #marauders fanfiction #marauders #taylor swift #ttpd #the tortured poets department

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rainydayathogwarts · 8 months ago

Note

something cute with neville please? like an awkward crush moment in class?

Kiss and Tell - Neville Longbottom

Also I didn't make this an in class thing but yas... Gryffindor!Reader

You knew Neville liked you. So did all your friends. In fact, pretty much everyone who crossed paths with you or Neville knew he liked you. But for his sake, such as your own, you never mentioned it, instead enjoying the attention he gave you and giving him soft smiles before quickly turning away from him so he couldn't see you internally panic, all your blood rushing to your face.

Despite both being Gryffindors though, you almost never encountered each other in the common room, often being separated by your different friend groups, or spending the night differently. It just so happened that on nights you had Quidditch practice, Neville would be in the common room, but when you were free, he was no where in sight. Thus, when you stumbled down to the common room late at night to finish your herbology essay, you were shocked to see Neville, sitting by the fireplace with his friends.

Other than the group of dorm mates laughing quietly, the common room was mostly empty, excluding a few 7th year students who widely intimidated you. You rushed to the long table next to the bookshelves, searching for the herbology book you'd purposefully left there the night before in hopes of encouraging you to get your work done. You had been unsuccessful. Finally laying your eyes on the thick textbook, you sighed, slumping down on one of the heavy, uncomfortable, wooden chairs at the very corner of the table.

Rubbing at your temples, you predicted how the night would go; you'd sloppily write one paragraph before your eyes would start to wander around, another hour passing by before you'd realise that you hadn't written enough for a full essay, but would half-ass a conclusion anyway so you could at least submit something. Oh, well. You scoffed at yourself, picking up your quill. This is unsurprising. After writing about a paragraph and a half, you're essentially copying down the words from the textbook blindly, leaning your head on your free hand.

"Y/N?" Your head snaps up and you inhale deeply, realising you'd zoned out as Neville begins to apologise for disturbing you. "No, no- Neville it's fine, really." You watch as he pulls a chair out at the head of the table and he catches your eye, pausing his movements. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask. Do you mind? If I sit?" His cheeks are rosy and you try to stop yourself from smiling, but you feel the tug at the corner of your lips nonetheless. "No, sit, Neville. Please." As he sits, you can't help but glance back at where he was sat with his friends, and notice them all staring straight at you. They definitely put Neville up to this, you register, as they all abruptly turn away from you, realising you'd caught them.

"Herbology?" Your head snaps back at Neville, nodding at his words. "Do you- well, do you need help?" You shake your head at him, pushing the paper aside. "No. I'm done with herbology for the night. Forever, actually." You both laugh at your words, and duck your heads away from each other, avoiding eye contact. You reach for your open ink bottle at the same time Neville does, pushing it towards you. You're too busy staring at where your fingers touch to grasp the fact that some of the ink has splattered out.

And suddenly, Neville's hand is pulling away from yours and he's panicking, and he's apologising and trying to find napkins. You're sat still during all of this, only perking up when Neville scurries back with tissues, leaning over you to wipe the ink off the table in front of you. He's close to you. So close you can smell his cologne. One of his hands grasps the back of your chair as he bends over slightly to clean the dark wood. You look up at him, admiring the way his usually neat hair falls into his face, mustering the courage to place your hand over his, immediately putting a halt to his movements.

"Neville. It's okay." You begin to stand, and he steps back so you're free to do so. When he tries stepping back further to give you space, you reach your hands out to grab the hem of the sleeves of his navy jumper. You step closer to him so your chests are nearly touching and lean in slightly. You hesitate, giving him enough time to pull away if he wanted to, but he doesn't. Moving one of your hands up to his shoulder, you lean in close enough to graze your lips against his lightly before fully pressing them against his.

The kiss is short. You pull away to watch his reaction, but don't get to take a glimpse at his face because he's grabbing you by the hips and tugging so you're completely pressed up against his body, your lips meeting his once more. This kiss is longer. Both your arms come up to his shoulders this time, one hand playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. You feel his goosebumps on your fingertips, letting him pull away from you, panting heavily. You smile, one of your hands coming back to your face to wipe some saliva off your bottom lip.

Neville is smiling broadly, his face nearly as red as his dorm mate's hair. He makes eye contact with you, but you can see him struggle to maintain it. Your hand snakes into his, and only then do you hear the cheers from beside the fireplace coming from his friends. "Um, I - Go out with me?" Even though he's staring at his shoes now, you giggle, leaning over one last time to kiss him on the cheek. Whilst still close to him, you whisper "I'd love to." Before releasing your hand from his and beginning to leave, only to remember your things on the table.

You're too giddy to feel embarrassed about having to turn back around to grab your stuff, running up to your dorm once you're done, and slamming the door behind you. You freeze, afraid to have woken up your dorm mates, but when three heads poke out from the curtains around Lavender's bed, you realise the only thing you interrupted was a gossip session.

Throwing your books on your bed, you trip over your feet running to join them, a story of your own to tell.

A/N: To everyone reading this fic who follows me, I'm so sorry I haven't posted in FOREVER. I have been so busy with everything, but I'm on holiday and will write as many things as I can. Love from mina xx

#harry potter #hogwarts #rainydayathogwarts #gryffindor #neville longbottom x reader #neville imagine #neville longbottom fic #neville x reader #neville longbottom #neville fluff #neville longbotton x reader #hogwarts x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #wizarding world #harry potter fluff #lavender #lavender brown #platonic!lavender

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vivwritesfics · 10 months ago

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Soooooo Carlando idea just reader feeling a little left out, because they’re always together during race weekends and she has to stay behind for college. So they try to make her feel better and spoil her a lot

It’s busy an idea I wanted to share, you don’t have to write anything if you don’t feel like it. Also I really love your writing and the way you write Max and Lando is amazing

im so sorry this is so late, it's been hectic (aka i kept starting series and falling in love with them)

She wanted to go to their races, she really did. But it was her final year of university and there just wasn't time.

The boys wanted her there, they really did. At the start of their relationship she came to almost every race, but that changed when her university became more and more demanding. Where she used to be able to write essays between rounds of qualifying, it was no longer possible.

She still kept up with the racing, watching from her bedroom while she got on with her essays. She saw them having fun between the races, playing football in the paddock together, and she couldn't help but feel left out.

She missed them tremendously. The periodic phone calls weren't enough for her anymore. But she'd never say anything to them. They were out there living their dreams and she was doing the same. If that meant sacrificing time together, so be it. It would all be worth it in the end.

Although she didn't say anything to Lando or Carlos, they started sending her gifts throughout the race weekend. They got her presents from wherever in the world they were that weekend and tried to spend as much time as they could with her before they went back to racing.

Still she missed them. She missed having fun with them and seeing them together just made things worse.

After this particular race when they got home, Carlos was the first through the door of their apartment in Monaco. He dropped his bags as Lando walked in and walked over to their girlfriend, kissing her cheek.

"Hey baby," Lando called, walking towards her with a small bag.

"Hey boys," she replied as she moved the laptop off of her lap and stood up. She wrapped her arms around each of them, giving them kisses.

Lando held up the small bag. Inside of the bag were several brown paper bags, all full of souvenirs. Fridge magnets, a shot glass, a novelty bottle opener (that wouldn't open anything), Lando and Carlos knew the sorts of things she liked. Not flashy, that was key.

"We missed you," Carlos said, wrapping his arms around her.

They knew she missed them, and they missed her too. All the time they were home, they made sure she knew that she was loved.

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ineffable-suffering · 1 year ago

Text

The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie

Otherwise known as (*takes a deep breath*): A completely inflated close-up look at various dialogues and events of Season 2 that prove that the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Meeting Cotillion Ball was supposed to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley

Look, the point's been made before but that's never kept me from making it myself again, still. In fact, even I made it before, at the end of one of my other metas. But I feel like it's absolutely worthy enough to get its own soppy, way-too-long post. And I do love it so very much to write ridiculously long essays on something that could easily be condensed into a short paragraph.

So, here we go! Snuggle up, get cozy, settle in and, most importantly:

(Word count: 3.177 | Reading time: ~13 minutes)

As I already said above, I laid out a similar case in my meta about why Aziraphale is somewhat of an unreliable narrator. I'll try and recycle it here briefly, so I can further make my point.

When Aziraphale arrives back in London from his Edinburgh journey, he seems oddly happy and giddy for the fact that he just had a rather odd and threatening encounter with Shax. I explain in my other meta that this is because he just spent the last hours of his drive reminiscing on the thrilling and romantic magic show adventure of 1941 and also the fact that he just found out that Crowley has been replaced by Shax and no longer works for Hell.

Ergo: We have a hopelessly lovesick Principality at our hands, who's practically swooning over his serpent who saved him, his books and his magic show all those years ago.

Ergo:

✨This✨

Realistically, Aziraphale should probably be a tad worried about the eery encounter with Shax, in which she definitely had the upper hand on him. But well, if you spend many-a hours driving across the serene countryside (Edinburgh is about an 8-hour drive from London), pondering on one of the craziest, sticky-sweet romantic adventures of your not-life life, well ... things tend to turn a little rosy around the edges. Head in the clouds and all that. Light shades of grey!

Alright, onwards: Once the angel, filled to the very brim with fond memories and butterflies, gets out of the Bentley, he's kindly met with a face full of verdant plants and a very in-character-grumpy Crowley.

Fhwack! Way to burst the rosy bubble.

Seriously, the absolute lightning speed with which Crowley storms out to vacate the bookshop the very second Aziraphale arrives makes me giggle every time.

Let's make a first small (who am I kidding) diversion into analysing the following conversation in unnecessary detail ...

... simply because I enjoy quoting dialogue as an accurate reference in my metas. I'll also highlight certain passages I want to comment on in individual colours so I can back up my thoughts with them below. Alright, their little chinwag goes as follows:

Crowley: "They you are! I was worried something might have happened to you." Aziraphale: "No, nothing happened to me. Very uneventful journey indeed. No strange things at all." Crowley: "Good. That's what we wanna hear." Aziraphale: "Um .. everything okay with- ah.." *nods to the bookshop* Crowley: "Oh, yeah, fine. He's singing to himself. I think he must have been asleep. I heard snoring coming from his bedroom–" Crowley, to the Bentley: "Did you miss me? I bet you did." Aziraphale: "... I'm sure it did." Crowley: "So, any more clues from the mystery of the missing archangel?" Aziraphale: "Not exactly. Or, if there are, I haven't yet cracked the case. But I'm certainly hot on the trail of something." Crowley: "I'm sure you are. Oh, by the way, the whole sudden rain and awning thing was a complete washout." Aziraphale: "Sorry?" Crowley: "You know, project making Nina fall in love with Maggie. I failed, it's your go." Aziraphale: "I see. Well then, Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Monthly Meeting, here we come!" Crowley: "You're really hosting the meeting?" Aziraphale: "Absolutely! And I can guarantee you, it will be a night to remember."

At first glance, this has little to do with the plot of this meta but actually, it folds into my point very nicely! However, it's not time for that yet, so we'll just state the facts as they are for now and then bring them back 'round later when we need them. That being said: For the love of Someone, will these two ever manage to simply tell each other the truth of what happened instead of thinking they can protect each other by lying about it all the time? Hrmpf. As a big fan of open communication myself, I'm close to developing a stomach ulcer with the amount of false truths being spewed here. (Then again – and yes, that is another, way larger meta I'm currently cooking up – it plays so very perfectly into the whole Jane-Austen-Pride-and-Prejudice tragic miscommunication theme that this entire Season has, so I understand the point of it.)

Very uneventful journey indeed, Aziraphale, except for the fact that you were ambushed by a demon who told you she was Crowley's successor, knows about the rumors of the two of you being an item as well as what went down in 1941 (that almost had both of you exposed) and also seems to have figured out where you and your demon boyfriend are hiding Gabriel, all in the span of about a minute. No strange things at all, nooo!

And Crowley's "Oh yeah, fine" is a total lie too. Again, we see him make an absolute run for it before Aziraphale can even enter the bookshop. After all, he just once again witnessed Jim have a Gabriel-flashback, speaking of the Second Coming, while Crowley was alone with him. As fumingly angry he is with the amnesiac archangel – he's also absolutely terrified of what might happen (to him and Aziraphale) should Jim regain his memories. So, no wonder he's quick to vacate the premises after witnessing Jim's rather eery memory flashback (and was, just like Aziraphale, threatened by Shax mere moments later, lol).

But no, nothing out of the ordinary happened to either of them. Tip-top. Absolutely tickety-fucking-boo.

Alright, let's get back on track with the actual topic of this meta. Certainly hot on the trail of something, hm? At first glance, it might seem like Aziraphale is talking about the fact that Gabriel was in company of someone whenever he went to the Resurrectionist Pub. (The clue!) However, I don't actually think he is talking about that. Why? Because, and this slipped my mind too at first, he never actually follows any of this information up, does he? Yes, sure, he went to Edinburgh, found the capital-c Clue and then returned to London. But what does he do with it? Nothing. He doesn't keep investigating this hot trail because that's not the important thing he realized during his journey. No, the more important clue Aziraphale found during his trip, is that Crowley no longer works for Hell and that he is also very much irrevocably in love with him and must confess this at the earliest given chance. (The latter part isn't necessarily a new discovery for Aziraphale, but it surely is fuelled by the fact that he just realized Crowley's out of a Hellish job and simply hasn't told him yet.)

This exchange just the perfect indicator for the fact that Aziraphale, at no point during his drive back, was thinking about the Maggie and Nina mission. He has no idea what Crowley is talking about once he mentions it and seems surprised, even, that he would. Even though they just talked about it on the phone when Aziraphale was still at the graveyard. Which is another important piece of evidence because it means that the last status update Aziraphale got of Mission Lovebirds, was that Crowley had sensed an opportunity to make them fall in love – and had then hung up on him. Why is this important? Because it means that until that very point of their conversation, Aziraphale did not know that Crowley's attempt had failed! There would have been just as much of a chance of Crowley's weather miracle actually working out and Maggie and Nina already having skipped into the sunset happily ever after.

So, riddle me this:

Why would Aziraphale spend the entire ride back from Edinburgh plotting "a night to remember" (because clearly, he already had the entire Ball planned out down to a T in his head since he goes into action right away after arriving) if he didn't even know yet that Crowley's attempt had failed?

To be very clear here: We're not talking about Aziraphale driving on the M1 to London, having a silly little idea for putting on some good music, miracle-ing Nina and Maggie to dance to it and watch them confess their love–

No.

He planned an entire actual Cotillion Ball with very particular location design that involves re-arranging the entire bookshop, specifically designed individual outfits for (almost) every single attendee, topped off with a live band, hors-d'œuvre, drinks and an actual choreographed group dance.

During one car ride.

Where's the party planner Aziraphale AU? I'm waiting!

Now, sure, we know that it's still quite important for Aziraphale to convince Heaven of the faux-reason they gave for their accidental ✨25-Lazarii miracle✨. But if we're all honest, this all seems to be a tad much just to make two random humans fall in love, even for that.

Glittery ball gowns and suits? Red and gold wall curtains? A modified language filter? Bloody vol-au-vents?

Talk about over the top ...

Once we start S2E5, Crowley is still surprised at the mere fact that Aziraphale is actually planning to organize the Monthly Meeting – and he doesn't even know yet that it's gonna be the most extravagant ball-boogaloo that the Whickber Street Community has ever seen! Aziraphale wanting to organize the meeting alone, is enough to render Crowley incredulous, because Aziraphale never mingles with the other shopkeepers. He usually actively avoids them and any sort of social encounters as much as he can because he doesn't care about the bloody Christmas lights, alright?

These things seem mundane and uninteresting to him, obviously, since all he really cares about is hoarding his book collection in peace like the little hedonist he is and drawing as little attention as possible to his none-business business.

Oh, right, speaking of books:

Let's take another unnecessarily detailed look at the whole Whickber Street invitation scene:

Aziraphale realizes very quickly that he's not the only one who's quite unenthusiastic about the blessed Chritsmas lights. And despite his very persuasive methods of temptation ...

... he has to take some more drastic measurements. And those are?

That's right: Giving away his books.

I'll repeat it again, slowly: Aziraphale is willingly (!) giving away or lending his books to pretty much complete strangers to, allegedly, make two other humans strangers fall in love.

Seriously, who is that angel and what has he done with our prim, fussy, hedonistic Aziraphale that protects his books with the vice grip of an eagle carrying his precious prey?

Believe in the importance of Mission Lovebirds as much as you will, but we're talking about Mr. A.Z. Fell here who, over the past millennia, has pretty much spent every day actively working out methods to stop people from purchasing as much as a single paperback from his holy shelves.

And yet: the 1965 September Dr. Who Annual? Given away. The first edition of Expert at the Card Table that was S. W. Erdnase's personal copy? Lent away to grubby human hands to fondle around with.

Let's do another coloured dialogue diversion (don't worry, it's not as extensive as the last one):

Crowley: "You just did what I think you did?" Aziraphale: "I'm not prepared to talk about it." Crowley: "You gave away a book." Aziraphale: "I had to! Maggie and Nina are depending on me. They just don't know it yet."

Crowley backs up my point: This is a huge deal. Aziraphale does not sell his books – let alone give them away for free. We're all shocked! Flabbergasted!

And the explanation Crowley and us get just ... doesn't satisfy. Something and someone sure is depending on this Ball and doesn't know it yet. But it's most definitely not Maggie and Nina, folks.

You know for whom Aziraphale would give away his books in the blink of an eye, though?

Mhm, that's right.

This pretty old serpent.

I want to take a minute to show you the reaction again that Aziraphale has upon entering the very same magic shop him and Crowley went to in 1941 to acquire the Bullet Catch:

You ... you need a minute there, angel? You're sure looking a little ... affected.

And I mean, well, no wonder. He reminisced about that very memory four hours last night. To him, this shop is where the most turbulent, ecstatic, adrenaline-fuelled and romantic night of his life began. And it shows.

I've made my point in my other meta series about how Aziraphale is an incredibly nostalgic character. He romanticizes so many things in his memories – especially the parts that feature Crowley. So, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest that he's once again willing to loosen the tight grip he has on his book collection to get the successor of Will Goldstone's Magic Shop, the shop that started it all for him, to come to his fancy Ball.

As we watch Aziraphale and his little lap dog demon pat around Soho, I'd like to take another second to point out that he goes to seven or more establishments before he even invites Nina.

... and he only does so because she starts talking to them on the street. Almost like he'd forgotten about it. Why not ask her at the very beginning? To establish whether or not he'd have to book-blackmail her too?

"Perfectly ordinary invitation with no hidden agenda of any kind", except that he's using you and Maggie as a pretence to resolve his own clusterfuck of a relationship-miscommunication Jane-Austen-style so that he can then hopefully confess his undying love to his demon not-boyfriend boyfriend.

Marvellous!

You'll forgive me another short diversion but my God, the whole exchange at the Marguerite's restaurant with Crowley literally cat-call-whistling Aziraphale over to him (and Aziraphale checking if he meant someone else first, I–)? I am weak. So, so weak and

However, this is also when we get a snippet of Crowley finally revealing the truth in place of his "Oh, he's fine"-lie earlier and telling Aziraphale that he's actually pretty scared Jim might turn back into Gabriel and smite him altogether. And Aziraphale's response is, in a cosmic sense, (remember the pink paragraph now) so hilarious:

"Have you thought of just talking to him?"

Yeah, have you? Have any of the two of you? Just thought about talking? To each other? About anything?

'pparently not. But hey, it's all good because remember what the ultimate remedy for star-crossed lovers simply misunderstanding each other is?

Bish, bash, bosh, problem solved!

Back at the ballroom bookshop, Aziraphale sends Crowley to invite Maggie in order to, in my opinion, not spoil the Ball-y surprise for him. (Inviting Maggie only now?! Wouldn't she be one of the only two guests who really should attend? Why the short notice? If she's really that important for the Ball you're planning, hm?)

On top of this, we see Nina almost not attending the Ball meeting after her partner broke up with her and Crowley being the one who coincidentally runs into her and ushers her into the bookshop before Shax and her "legion" of demons start creeping up on them. Again, if this hadn't happened by pure coincidence, Nina would have left to go home and this whole Ball would have taken place without her, rendering the apparent sole purpose of making her fall in love with Maggie useless.

Why doesn't Aziraphale care more for both of them to attend and be there? Why is he instead busy fussing over everything looking perfect and wonderful and doesn't even seem to notice that both Nina and Maggie are really late to the meeting?

Well. Well.

The answer's in the title, babes.

Alas, Crowley safely gets Maggie and Nina to join them, Mr. Brown is the only one who doesn't get a miracled outfit (fussy, petty angel, you just don't like him, do you?), Jimbriel stuns with glamour and flirt (and whatever sexually suggestive thing he does with his cheeks) and the Whickber Street Ball is a-go!

Sorry, I just had to chuck this in again because Crowley's face here absolutely kills me every time. He looks so confused, I am hollering.

And the heart eyes Aziraphale is making at Nina and Maggie now that they're actually here?

Oh, bless it, angel.

He's all like "Oh look, it's working! Jane was right! It's all going to be resolved, all the misunderstanding and quarrels! Crowley, where's Crowley–"

Ah yes, there he is.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is an angel who is not listening to a single word being said right now. No, in his head, Aziraphale is already down on one knee, pouring his heart out to Crowley after they just danced the night away.

Oh, yes, right. The dancing.

Parallel much?

But well, as marvellous and beautifully romantic as her stories tend to be, it turns out that Jane Austen isn't always right after all. Because before we know it, the perfect night shatters into many-a tiny pieces (literally).

And once again, fhwack:

... the rosy bubble bursts.

Let's take one more deep breath so I can make my final point:

In S2E2, Aziraphale explains to us very exactly what Jane's Balls (hrhr) used to be about: Solving miscommunication and confessing love to one another.

During his car journey back from Edinburgh, Aziraphale:

doesn't know Crowley's Mission Lovebirds had failed

remembers 1941 and just how badly he's in love with Crowley

and also realizes that they seem to have been wildly miscommunicating for quite some time now. (Crowley didn't even tell him he basically got let go!)

So, what does maddeningly strong love plus a want to resolve all the miscommunication equal? That's right: A night to remember! A Ball to change it all! A dance, a vol-au-vent, a confession. And, ideally, a happy ever after. Because:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man angel in possession of a good fortune Jane Austen collection, must be in want of a wife demon husband.”

The Ball was never for Nina and Maggie. As a byproduct, maybe, yes. But the whole rest of the glimmer and glamour, the careful, romantic planning and set up of it all, the book-bating the other shopkeepers– that was for Crowley and Crowley only.

And oh, if only it were as easy as in the books.

*whispers* I'm sorry, I had to.

***

Your honour, the tinfoil-hat crackpot defence rests. Feel free to share thoughts (and prayers) if you want to!

Au revoir! 💗

#good omens season 2 #good omens #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens s2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #my own meta #the bloody vol-au-vents made me do it #aziraphale has balls #truly #jaune austen ball #it is a truth universally acknowledged that this show is going to drive me out of my mind #azi just wanted his silly little love confession #but then he had to surrender the angle #bummer

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