#It's just that when James does it it's a sign he's not doing well

[kimmiessimmies]

Wistfulness (14/34)

As Sarah sat down again, she turned to James. “Mum wants to know if you’re bringing anyone to the funeral. And she added that as long as you’re not calling ‘that girl’ your girlfriend, it would be very inappropriate to bring her. Her words, not mine.”

“Seriously?” James asked, “Her mother just passed away, and this is what she’s worried about? That woman never ceases to amaze me…”

He shook his head, “Either way, no, I won’t bring anyone to the funeral. I assume that, by ‘that girl,’ she meant Leona, and Leona has moved away. I wouldn’t have brought her even if she hadn’t, anyway.”

Everyone now looked at James. “What?” He said.

“Leona moved away?” Sarah asked, “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay,” James said, sounding agitated. “Leona and I had sex, that’s all. Now, I’ll just have to do that with others. And on that note, please excuse me.”

He stood up and approached a girl sitting at the counter. His friends looked at him in silence.

[todayisafridaynight]

Since you mentioned it, what did you think of Speak No Evil? I was thinking of watching it myself :0

i really liked it ............ my friend scoffed at me when i told her i was watchin it so take my opinion with a grain of salt tho </3

[fazcinatingblog]

Wait since when does James wear a glove

[moonstruckme]

rooomate james. 😭😭 literally obsessed w himm!!

Me too I love him (and you!) sm <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 808 words

You don’t recognize James’ car until he shouts at you. 

“Hey!” 

You give a little jump, turning midair to find James smiling out the rolled-down window. 

“Want a lift?” 

“God, you scared me!” You backtrack and open the passenger door. The seat looks to have been tidied in a hurry, receipts and takeaway containers tossed into the backseat. “How’d you even know I’d need a ride?” 

James refrains from responding to give you an expectant look. You roll your eyes and buckle your seatbelt. Satisfied, he puts the car in reverse, setting his hand on your seat to look behind him as he backs out of the parking spot. 

“You weren’t home when I got there,” he says, “and then I remembered on Sundays you usually get off at eleven, so here I am. Is Art not with you?” 

“No, he wasn’t working tonight.” 

James doesn’t seem too disappointed by this. He pulls onto the street. You watch him, looking almost unconsciously for signs of wear and tear. 

Now that rugby season is in full swing, he’s gone not just during the day for training but sometimes overnight for away games. You’ve been alone in your apartment for the whole weekend while he played in London and then Bristol. It was weird. You think you’ve accidentally grown used to having James around. You don’t fancy yourself a very tactile person, and the urge to hug him isn’t terribly strong, but it’s there. 

“How was work?” he asks you. 

“It was fine. How were your matches?” 

“They were fine,” he imitates you, grinning. “No, it’s like I said. Winning the second one’s always better than winning the first and losing the second. It’s nice to end on a good note.”

He’d texted continual updates while he was gone. You sat on your couch, pretending to yourself or perhaps to some invisible, judgemental observer that you were watching TV when really you were entirely focused on James’ texts. You imagined him sitting in his hotel room doing the same, or maybe in a pub with his teammates, smiling at his phone each time you responded. 

Your imagination has become terribly overindulgent lately. 

“Honestly, I was pretty disappointed you weren’t home when I got there,” James says, a familiar teasing lilt to his voice. “I was hoping to come in and catch you wearing one of my jumpers and staring tearily at a framed photo of me.” 

You roll your eyes, but your face burns. You did use his shampoo, once. In your defense, you’d run out of yours, but you thought that it wouldn’t be so bad to smell like him, nice and fresh and comforting. It had foamed more than you expected. It did smell really nice, but it made your hair feel dry (boy shampoo always does that, you’ve no idea how James’ curls seem to thrive under such poor treatment) and you felt silly about it for days, lovesick in the most derogatory sense. 

Didn’t stop you from sniffing your hair occasionally, though. 

“You weren’t gone to war,” you reply. “And where would I get a framed photo of you?” 

James looks affronted. “I assumed you already had one. How did you get through the weekend without even a photo? You brave, brave girl.” 

“I actually threw a rager,” you deadpan. “Rented out your room to six people traveling through with the carnival and let them invite over all their friends. Did loads of hard drugs.” 

“Well, we all have different ways of coping.” He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder consolingly. You pretend goosebumps don’t skitter all the way down your arm from the brief touch. “And what a marvelous job you’ve done covering up your escapades!” He exclaims as you pull up in front of the apartment. “I haven’t come across the cocaine dust on our bathroom counter yet, so you must have really done a thorough cleanup.” 

“Keep looking, it’s around there somewhere.” 

James laughs. You’re slower getting out of the car than he is, and by the time you emerge he’s in front of you, pulling you into a hug. You think your bones liquefy. He’s warm and strong and he smells like his shampoo, both arms squishing you heartily before he lets go with a little laugh. 

“Sorry,” he says, bringing his hands to your upper arms, “I didn’t even ask. I just missed you, you know?” James has this look on his face, smile brilliant and eyes wide open. So saccharine sweet you almost can’t look at him. “Guess I got used to having you around.” 

You do your best to smile back. “Yeah, me too.” 

He squeezes your arms before turning to go inside. “You smell like Italian food, too. I don’t suppose you’ve cooked anything recently that’s still in the fridge? I’m beginning to think about second dinner.” 

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | LIKE LOVERS DO

REQUEST :  hiiiii :) if/when u can, smith like this with james or remus lupin? @bobs-fav-cat

(art is by gyung_studio on instagram)

SUM : you and James Potter are just friends —friends that act like they’re in a loving relationship.  

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; idiots in love ; james loves giving you princess treatment ; and you love returning his affections ; just friends being friends ; hehehe~ ; they’re in denial ; domestic fluff ; selfcare session ; biker james? ; james being a sweetheart ; reader being absolute wifey material! ; james and reader being so in love it’s sickening ; the type of sickening that makes you puke rainbows, glitter and love hearts ; mutual pinning! ; slightly based off a tiktok i saw once ; happy ending where they get together ; so much fluff ; scheming gremlin friends ; lily, dorcas and marlene as cupids for reader ; remus, sirius and peter as cupids for james ; idiots in love

LENGTH : 3.6k

“They should wear a sign,” Peter laughs as he and his close friends eye the pair of oblivious idiots across the room, “one that says ‘we’re actually together no matter how much we deny it’,” 

“You said it,” Sirius raises a hand and the two high-five each other before sniggering between themselves.

Across the hall stood you and James. It was a networking event disguised as a formal company party. And even though you and James weren’t each other’s dates to the event, James wore a matching tie to your chosen dress. The two of you unanimously decided to go with the excuse that you had both gone shopping for an outfit together and unconsciously bought matching things. It was only natural because you two were such good, close friends. 

From a distance, the three watch as you lift your left foot up through the high side-slit of your dress and draw attention to your unbuckled heel with a frown. James’ hazel eyes focuses onto your heel as well and immediately places his flute of champagne on a nearby table to help you, as if it was second nature to him; it is second nature to him— taking care of you. He’s kneeling down and re-buckling your heel for you as your hand tentatively places itself on his broad shoulder for balance. 

Once James is finished, he stands back up with a grin, takes up his flute with one hand and wraps his other around your waist to pull you into his side with a smile. Neither of you flinch at the closeness, in fact, you snuggle further into your best friend’s side and tuck your head under his chin so he can place a kiss onto the crown of your head. 

“Wanna bet on who folds first?” Remus speaks up with a devious smirk, Sirius and Peter eagerly voicing their predictions and placing their bets. 

“Oh Jamie!” you gasp and smile widely as your best friend presents you with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, “They’re beautiful,” he helps the floral arrangement into your arms with a satisfied grin, a fondness in his eyes as he watches you savour the scent of the pretty blossoms.

“My pleasure, my dear,” he regales dramatically as you giggle, “I passed by the florist on my way back from lunch at the pub with the boys and thought you’d like them,”

“I do like them,” you lean forward and kiss him on the cheek, “you’re so thoughtful, thank you for thinking of me, James,”

His warm smile softens further and he kisses your temple lovingly, “of course,” aside from the lingering scent of your shampoo and conditioner, James picks up on something more appetising, “what’s that delicious smell, angel?”

“Oh!” reminded of your earlier activities, you lead him into your kitchen where you proceed to find a vase for the arrangement in your arms, “I was baking—”

“Treacle tart!” James cheers and does a goofy little dance in the middle of your kitchen, his excitement obvious. 

“It’s almost done so you popped in at just the right time,” you giggle softly whilst transferring the arrangement into your chosen vase. With a pleased hum, James presses up behind you and places his large hands on the curve of your hips, his thumbs tenderly stroking up and down until he eventually pushes the hem of your shirt up, caressing your soft skin beneath. 

“Mmmmm… lucky me,” he whispers happily into your shoulder, where he begins trailing kisses up your neck. His words send a shiver up your spine and you resist the escalating urge to turn in his arms and lead his lips to cover and press against your own. 

You’re just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. 

James can’t get over how cute you are. 

Even when you’re doing the most mundane things, he can’t help but find you adorable. Like right now. Even with a bright green clay mask on your face, you are adorable, perched on his lap with your knees on either side of his thighs as you spread the same treen mask over his skin. 

“Stop moving, Jamie!” you chastise gently whilst stifling a giggle. 

“You stop moving,” he counters playfully and emphasises his words by placing his big hands on your hips and squeezing your curves briefly. Your only response is to laugh and do your best to continue applying an even coat onto his face. 

“….there!” you huff and set aside your tool to close the clay mask tub, “all done, no thanks to you!” He tickles your sides in retaliation as you climb off his lap and reach for your phone in order to set a timer. His antics were a brief distraction as you bless him with your tinkling giggles. 

“For how long do we keep this on?” 

“15 minutes,” 

He pulls a face, one that makes him look like a duck as he ponders over his thoughts. He looks so ridiculous, especially with the green mask on his face — it was only naturally for you to burst out laughing, “what should we do until then?”

“Stop talking,”

“Wha—?!”

“Not like that, Jamie,” you coo as he pouts dramatically, “we have to stop talking soon or else the mask will crack too much as it dries,” he makes a long noise of realisation at your words and nods obediently, zipping his lips before throwing away the imaginary key. 

No matter what he does, he’s always making you laugh. You’re sure that, even if you’re temporarily banning him from speaking, he would still be able to make you laugh and your clay mask will end up looking like a dried up riverbed. 

You have no complaints, though. 

You weren’t expecting it but you still weren’t too surprised when you see James waiting for you outside — just in time to pick you up after a night out with your close girl friends. He was wearing one of your favourite sweaters of all time, it was soft and big (big enough to make him appear deceivingly smaller than you know his figure is) and is the warmest thing you’ve ever worn. 

“James!” you call out, happy to see him. The build up of fatigue from the whole night melts off your aching limbs like powdered snow under golden sunbeams. Running to him, he greets you with his heart-stopping smiles.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers as soon as he has his arms wrapped around you. 

“Stop it,” you sigh into his shoulder, your face buried into the soft fabric of his sweater, “I look a mess after tonight,” 

He pulls away, enough to meet your eyes and examine your face without having to remove his arms from around you, “If this is you looking a ‘mess’, then I wonder what type of beauty you were earlier tonight,”

His comment makes your heart soar but you don’t let it show on your face, even when he wiggles his eyebrows comically to emphasise his flattering remark. Instead, you narrow your eyes at him before slipping out of his arms and biting your lip at the confused, pitiful whine he lets out. You don’t leave him miserable for long, however, as you’re quickly reaching down to lift up his sweater so that you could pull it over your head and burrow yourself inside. Like the living furnace he is, you’re greeted by such a comforting heat, you forget that you’re both still outside in the wet cold of the night. 

Throwing his head back, James laughs and wraps you up in his arms again, laying his cheek against the top of your head through his sweater. The first time you ever did this, he wasn’t shy about saying how much he loved it. And now, you’ve made it a tradition to do this often during the autumn and winter months. Admittedly, you loved cuddling him like this too; it’s more intimate and you love being surrounded by his warmth. It was a bonus that his scent literally has you in a choke hold under there. You’d happily suffocate on the smell of his cologne, laundry detergent and natural smell. But it also feels as though you’re falling into a trance by some alluringly scented spirit.

“As much as I love holding you like this, dear, I’m still on a mission to get you home safe so…” he looks down at you, hazel eyes turning soft at the adorable sight of you cuddled up to him under his sweater, “can my princess please let me help her into my car and drive her back home safely?”

You didn’t respond, only pouted and whined to express your dislike of pulling away from him as well as the warmth of his soft sweater. James knew instantly what to do. You two were best friends after all; it was a requirement for him to know all your needs telepathically. It was an awkward shuffling of limbs but James managed to slip off his sweater without needing to lift it off your figure and hoists you into his arms before you could start grumbling at the loss of his embrace.

“Not long now — my princess will arrive at her carriage soon~” he sings in a whisper beside your ear, smiling fondly at your soft giggles and adoring the way you wrap your arms around his neck to cuddle him close before needing to pull away so he can carefully sit in his car’s passenger seat. 

“Oh, come on!” Marlene gives an exasperated sigh as you examine the array of snacks laid out before you. In your peripheral, you observe how Lily doesn’t make any moves to stop Marlene from pestering you; instead a small smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, secretly enjoying and wanting to take part in Marlene’s badgering. 

“You come on,” you throw back with a light-hearted glare, “I thought we were going to buy snacks for movie night, not grill me on my friendship with James,”

“Friends, huh?” Dorcas arches a brow as Lily stifles a giggle beside her. All three were eyeing you mischievously as a heat flushes across your cheeks. 

“Stop it you guys,”

“We’ll stop as soon as you stop playing the friendship game with James!” Lily bargains, unable to hold herself back anymore, and you try your hardest not to roll your eyes while your cheeks flood with a familiar warmth. 

“We’re just friends,” it was a painful admission but you’d rather have what you have right now with James than ever risk sabotaging it. 

Marlene examines a strand of her golden hair as Lily leans against her side, “James acts more of a boyfriend to you than just a friend,”

Dorcas speaks up with a hint of impishness, “and I can prove it~”

“How?” you challenge, raising your chin ever so slightly in silent provocation. But Dorcas has no reaction, she just continues to smirk at you. 

“I’m gonna need your phone first,” you hesitate from the devilish sparkle in her eyes but eventually relent, cursing the weakness that was a result of your aching heart. Dorcas types away on your phone for a moment as Marlene and Lily peer over her shoulder and snicker at what they read. She doesn’t allow you to read the message she typed out before hitting send and handing your phone back

It takes a moment for you to get over your shock and look through the message she sent. It was sent straight to James, lovingly named as ‘My Idiot ❤️’ in your contacts, and it read: ‘James, this scary looking guy keeps following me around in the shop and it’s creeping me out! I can’t find the girls either 😰 what do I do?’. Your jaw drops and you can’t find any words to voice whatever it is you’re feeling; a mix of anger, upset, shock and creeping curiosity over what they have planned.  

Not a minute goes by and your phone is getting rapid notifications from James messaging you, he even tries to call you but the girls snatch your phone away before you could answer. They shake their heads at you and you huff, crossing your arms. You would have protested more from the rising anxiety you feel over having to lie to James but you were so curious. In the end, you reluctantly accept their plotting and try to prepare yourself for what’s to come.

For a minute, the message notifications stop from your phone and Lily feels her phone buzz from inside her bag. The three giggle as Lily rushes to take out her phone. From the side lines, you continue observing everything with your heart pounding rapidly in your chest. Lily types back a response and all three look up at you in unison, their eyes swimming with mischief.

“I’m setting a stopwatch to see how long just-friend-Potter gets here,” Marlene snickers and you groan, Dorcas and Lily giggling on either side of her. As much as you love them, they’re such a nuisance sometimes…

You could only guess that Lily sent him her location and now all of you were left patiently waiting for James to appear. 

Not even 15 minutes passes before James comes storming into view, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in all black and without his glasses. Even without his glasses on, when James glances over and catches a glimpse of you, recognition crosses his unfriendly features and he storms over. Within seconds, he’s pulling you into a warm embrace. 

“Oh thank god,” he breathes a sigh of relief and presses his face into your hair, “you’re okay… —are you okay?” you look up as he pulls away and searches for your eyes, squinting to be able to do so without the aid of his glasses. 

“Y-yeah, I’m alright. The umm, the creep disappeared a little while ago,” you muster a small smile of reassurance, still uncomfortable with lying to him, before managing to softly ask your burning question, “why aren’t you wearing your glasses?” habitually, you feel about for the breast pocket of the leather jacket he has on and pull out his circular specs. 

As you carefully clean his lenses on your shirt, he goes to explain, “I wanted to look scary so that creep leaves you alone,” you’re quick to realise that without his glasses he would be forced to squint so that it looks like he’s glaring. It also clicks in your head that he wore all black so he could look even more intimidating. It was unusual for him to wear just black, normally that was Sirius’ thing, but you’re not complaining; James looks really attractive dressed in black, his hair tousled around messily and without his glasses on.

“Thank you, Jamie,” he grins boyishly after you put his glasses back on for him, taking a moment to adjust them until they sit aligned and comfortable. By habit, you comb your fingers through his untamed hair and James, in turn, presses a kiss to your temple. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay, princess,” your heart skips a beat at the nickname — he’s called you that so many times but he’s reserved it especially for you and it makes you feel so special, “do you want me to give you a ride home?” he lifts up the motorbike helmet in his hand, which you immediately recognise. Your curious eyes meet his hazel hues and he smiles bashfully, “I borrowed Sirius’ bike to get here quicker…” he shuffles around his feet, nervous under your gaze —he hate lying to you too, “okay okay… I took his bike without asking but I promise to give it back as soon as I get you home safe!” 

You give a small giggle and wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into his muscular chest. It’s an embrace that James eagerly returns, petting your hair whilst speaking over your head once he finally spots your three friends. 

“Are you guys okay too?”

“Gee, thanks for the concern, Potter,” Marlene rolls her eyes as Lily and Dorcas crack up, “yeah, we’re good,” 

“Good, good,” James immediately goes back to focus on holding you close and kissing the crown of your head, affectionate and sweet. You could always rely on him to be there for you no matter what and the thought made butterflies explode into a fluttering haze in your stomach. 

Dorcas had proven her point. 

It was clear now that James prioritised you over anyone else. And you didn’t know whether to be flustered and scream for joy or melt into a puddle of goo. 

“She’s not my girlfriend so shut up,” James huffs and groans as he rolls over to lay on his stomach across the length of the sofa whilst Remus, Sirius and Peter sat in a scattered array about the living room. 

“Says the motorbike thief,” Sirius hisses playfully, shooting a superficial glare at his long time best friend/non-blood-related brother. 

“She really does act like your girlfriend more than your friend, Prongs,” Remus chimes up, setting his book aside as Peter offers him several cubes of chocolate. 

“I don’t get why you two don’t just date each other,” it was Peter who speaks up this time and James can’t help but roll his eyes that even Peter was on his ass about this. 

“That’s right! You don’t get it!” they wait for him to continue with a ‘so’ before demanding something but James just presses his burning hot face into a cushion and has a silent tantrum.  

“I’ll prove you wrong!” Sirius claims boldly and when James looks over, his biker friend was rapidly typing away at his phone, “I’ll give it around 20 minutes until she gets here,” 

James raises a brow, “Who?”

“Your not-girlfriend, of course!” 

“What did you say?” Remus asks what they were all wanting the answer to. 

“Oh nothing~ just that Jamesie-kins over here is really upset over something but doesn’t want to tell us why so we don’t know what to do to help him feel better,” Sirius fakes a pout and watery eyes as James gapes at him, horrified. 

“HOW IS THAT GONNA PROVE ANYTHING?!”

“If she gets here in 20 minutes then that means she prioritises your hurt feelings over going to her favourite over-priced restaurant with Pandora,” James’ eyes nearly bulge out. 

“That’s today?!”

Sirius’ devious smirk was answer enough. 

“I say 10 minutes!” Peter bets. 

“15!” Remus adds on.  

Remus wins the bet when you get there 14 minutes after Sirius’ text message was sent. Your arms are piled up high with James’ favorite junk food snacks, ranging from sweet to savoury. Over your shoulders, you wear your fluffiest blanket (James’ favourite) as a cape and rush forward to drape it over him. No time was wasted as you silently move around their shared flat at lightening speed, putting on the TV and switching to his favourite, comfort show, laying out his snacks on the coffee table and putting the kettle on before snuggling down under the blanket with him. It was a tight fit for the two of you on the sofa but neither of you minded; you were both cuddle bugs and enjoyed the closeness. 

“Get out, you three! Leave Jamie and I alone!” you speak for the first time to shoo the three boys away. They happily oblige, Remus smirking as Sirius and Peter cough up their betted amounts and close the living room door behind them. 

For a long moment, you merely stay there, your arms wrapped around James’ shoulders, one hand lovingly petting his hair as your other presses his face into your chest. James wasn’t shy about voicing how this was his most comforting position for cuddles and it made his heart race that you had cancelled your long awaited plans just to console him. 

“What’s wrong Jamie?” you finally ask, voice soft and slow with patience, “Sirius told me you weren’t feeling so well… but you’re not ill? Are you?” he feels you press the back of your hand against his forehead to check his temperature as he finally locks his strong arms around your midsection and pulls you even closer, “No you’re not, thank goodness,” he falls in love with the relief he hears in your voice. He loves falling in love with you over and over again; it’s so easy, “what can I do to help?”

He doesn’t know why he held back for so long. It was all so clear now. The fact that your eyes sparkled around him the way his did when he looked at you was so unbelieved before, he kinda just voluntarily blinded himself. But now, it was like he was seeing colours for the first time. James just can’t believe it took Sirius, of all people, to make him realise it. What a joke… he almost wants to laugh. But he can’t, not when his heart was ready to beat out of his chest for you. 

“Jamie?”

“…a kiss…” it was a whisper but you heard him so clearly. And he knows because he heard your breath hitch. 

“—what?”

“I want a kiss…to feel better,”

Not wanting to raise your hopes, you press a kiss to his forehead and your heart deafens your ears as it beats loudly against your eardrums. 

“A proper kiss,” he raises his head and pulls up to level his lips with yours, his hazel eyes melting your gaze, “like lovers do,”

You’ve waited so long for this moment that you couldn’t even fathom that it was actually happening and your entire world slowed to a standstill. It wasn’t until James had pressed his full lips against yours that you felt your senses come to life with so much intensity that you felt like you wanted to faint. But you wouldn’t dare miss your first kiss for anything. 

Like lovers do, you kissed. Like lovers do, you embraced. Like lovers do, you whispered sweet words, a life long promise, to one another, “I love you,” 

A/N : this started off as a timestamp that i sneakily wrote this request into (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ i didn’t know how to conclude it at first but i just kept writing and writing and now it’s finished haha! i hope you darlings enjoy the read! and i would also like to humbly tag my beloved moot @diputy for reasons she understands on a deep level (⸝⸝⸝• ω •⸝⸝⸝) ♡

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @fallencrescentmoon @topaz125 @xxrougefangxx @starchaser-lily @probablypossesedbysatan @agent-tempest @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

[lailau7904]

So y'all have seen the Williams F1 Logo before, yeah?

well get ready, becaues I am about to ruin your day!

where does one even begin with this. i am sorry in advance. -just a poor learning graphic design student, who simply tried to enjoy their saturday evening

The Logo

For anyone that doesn't know, here's the Williams F1 Logo. Entirely unedited, copied straight from Wikipedia:

Now like many fans, I actually quite enjoy this logo. I like the modern, sharp edges of it and it's simple yet intriguiging design. It's memorable, while also easily recognizable as a W. I also really enjoy the colour choice (this, however, is entirely a personal preference.)

(entire rant under the cut. please keep reading this took years off my life span.)

How did we even get here?

Let's start at the beginning. How did we even get here? Well I, a poor poor learning graphic designer, was watching this lovely video from Mr. V's Garage about bad F1 Logo's over the past 35 or so seasons. Very interesting, I can only recommend it (but you don't need to watch the video to understand this post)!

Now, to cleanse the palette at the end of the video, Mr. V included a top 10 GOOD logos from this time span, it was very kind of him.

On P4 of this "Good List," Mr. V placed the current Williams F1 Logo, as pictured above. At first I vaguely agreed with this, believing that he probably simply hadn't noticed one of the things that's been bothering me about that Logo since the first time I saw it up close.

The first sign of Trouble

So, what is this mystery issue, you might ask?

It's simple really. You don't necessarily notice it at a first glance, but something about that logo seems off. Taking a second longer, you may notice it yourself.

No, I mean it, take a minute and go look at the logo. It looks wonky as hell, doesn't it?

Well I can tell you the first thing that I personally noticed. The arms of the W aren't in line with the bottom half, see:

(Graphic by @girlrussell who was so kind to let me use it, as it is way prettier than the one I made)

It's a crooked W. There is no good explanation for this. The rest of the font is perfectly fine, geometrical shapes.

Anyway, the good person that I am I went to point this out to my partner ( @leftneb ) who proceeded to inform me that he, infact, was not aware about this and was, quote, "never going to unsee that."

Now, the good FRIEND that I am, I, of course, proceeded to rush into our broader F1 friendgroup to make them suffer for eternity.

What's the logical next step to take? Of course, fix the logo in Adobe Photoshop, you know, as a joke.

(Disclaimer at this point, I am not necessarily the biggest fan of Williams Management Team. I enjoy ALL their drivers this season. I do NOT enjoy James Vowels. Be warned.)(Also I am aware that he probably did not have an influence on the logo)

Trying to fix it. Oh god, I was so innocent back then

Trying to fix the logo in Photoshop is the worst mistake I could've made. THE worst path to take. I could've just giggled about making my friends suffer (which I succeeded in, by the way) and moved on. Instead I ruined a perfectly good Saturday evening, and for what? I don't know anymore.

Anyway, how was I gonna go about fixing the logo in the simplest way possible? Simplest way I could come up with: slap the thing in Photoshop and put two, mirrored boxes at each side to make the sides line up. Small issue, how do I make the thing actually even? Fix: line them up at the intersecting point with the bottom tips of the W.

Here's the result:

Hey, anyone care to explain to me why in THE LORDS NAME the arms are different sized? I mean, surely they weren't before. Surely, certainly, I must've messed up.

I double, I tripple checked. I made sure everything was lined up and made sense. But no.

It just couldn't be. Something was uneven in this logo, something even deeper. Something I could not have predicted when first taking a closer look. It was at this point I realized I had messed up. What rabbit hole had I stumbled across? Certainly, it couldn't get much worse.

And that's when I noticed.

(pictured above; my genuine reaction)

There's MORE? (oh god, the top isn't lined up)

I couldn't believe my eyes. This is the PINNACLE of the sport, and THIS was the logo of one of the competing teams? I mean, yeah, we have a Visa Cash App RB or a Kick Sauber or even a MoneyGram Haas which are all terrible logos, but at least they're CLEAN. (this has not been checked. If anyone wishes to ruin a nice Saturday evening, feel free to check them and tell me how wrong I was in the previous statement!)

But you can see that there is no end in sight for this post. I'm sure you're as scared as I was at this point. By now we were sitting in VC, discussing the horribleness of this logo. I had long informed my irl's about this, who take said design classes with me. And it was one of them who pointed out the next thing that had been bothering me, but I had not been able to put a finger on up to this point.

thE DISTANCE, HOW DID THEY FUCK IT?

I'm afraid I have to confirm your fears.

Yes, those lines are the same length. According to Photoshop, they're on the same level as well, so no flunking with angles.

The gaps of the arms to the main W are not the same. They're differently sized gaps.

It was clear to us, this logo is inherintely flawed. They're subtle issues, but once you pay attention you start to notice things. It all looks slightly wonky and off centre. And eventually, you get paranoid, and start comparing other angles and sizes. And you will keep finding things. This has ruined my life.

HOOOOOW

Honestly, I don't even know what to say. Yes, yes sadly those lines, too, are the same length. Just copied over from one side to the other and layed over on the same height. I admit, they're not layed over perfectly. I was honestly holding back tears at this point. But the point still stands, you can clearly see a difference in width.

Honestly, the only way I can explain it is that at some point there was a mess up of distance or proportions and whoever was designing the logo couldn't pin it down and tried to restore the visual balance by making manual adjustments. And in all honesty? They kinda did a good job, if that's what's happened. I mean, you notice the crookedness of the arms, and then maybe the difference in height, but the rest you probably will not notice if you don't spend too much time staring at it. (like some of us) And even those issues clearly aren't noticeable to the vast majority, considering I had to go point it out to a group chat for my friends at least to notice.

what the fuck is THAT?

Now, the thing about doing this investigative work of prooving a team you dislike is worse in more aspects than you previously thought, is that you do a lot of zooming in. And zooming in means you might notice bits that yours eyes simply overlooked before, because they were too small.

Here you can witness the top of the middle point, that, for whatever reason, really wants to touch the top border of the Logo. I'm relatively certain that's the highest few pixel in the entire graphic, considering earlier chapter "There's MORE?" I have no idea why it looks like that or why they thought it was necessary for it to not end in a clean point.

I just actually have no idea how to even describe what is going on on the top of the left arm. That left hand side, again, touches the side and is therefore the most-left-pixel in the graphic. I, once again, have no idea the purpose of this. However the RIGHT hand side also makes no sense, as it is the most prominent corner in the whole logo. There's pointed corners, and rounded OF corners, but nothing that is trying to form it's own colony in a distant land that hopefully isn't this god awful logo. I hope that blob gets away. I really do. You go king.

i'm loosing my mind

Anyway, the only reason I could come UP with those weird "reachy-outy-bits" was to establish the dimensions of the logo? But if that was the case, I don't understand why they managed to keep all the other potentially border touching corners clean?

Like, look. Those are clean, sharp corners with some clearance off the borders. I have no clue why they managed it here but not with the others.

guys. please.

Backtrackig a little bit, going back to the positioning of the arms.

Do I need to mention that those lines are both the same length and the same (mirrored) angle? I really hope I don't, because I don't think I could be making this shit up. Like, once you roughly know what you need to look for it just kinda becomes easy to find.

As said before, I genuinely do think that most of these issues happened in a chain-reaction. For example, the distances between the main part and the W wouldn't be as noticeable (and they do get noticeable once you start looking at it) if the angle wasn't fucked. And guess what, there's more fucked angles here! Which ALSO influence this specific area of the logo!

this is just embarrasing for you.

something something same line copied over and mirrored etc etc

It's not as visible but the angles defintely don't line up here as well. As mentioned before, these issues for the most part all influence each other. It doesn't really excuse the issues, in my opinion as a designer, because a big company like this shouldn't have these sort of issues in their logo.

So let's review;

to sum it up,

i cannot even BEGIN to explain to you how big of a fucking JOKE this FUCKING logo is. because, i thought to myself, to round the post out, hey, why not show ALL the issues i pointed out in one picture? that would round it out quite nicely, wouldn't it?

Yeah well, this logo sent STRAIGHT FROM HELL just could NOT let me rest. I had only done the lines visualizing the crooked arms in PAINT up until this point, i.e. I had only pulled both up individually. To make a nice "rounding out" picture I still had to add them into PHOTOSHOP. so i did. i pulled up the line. i mirrored the line.

THE ANGLE IS FUCKING DIFFERENT

none. and i mean NONE of my friends had noticed this before. i need you to understand that we looked at this thing with FIVE pair of eyes, and NONE of us noticed that until i thought to myself "Oh I still need to add these specific lines to have ALL the issues I pointed out in my SILLY TUMBLR POST in ONE image" and i get THAT FUCKING SURPRISE

I was PLANNING to round the post out with a statement on how obviously this isn't a serious post. Here, I even had it all written out already because I accidentally started writing it in the last paragraph:

Of course, this is nitpicking, and it's not that serious. I'm aware of that. AS MENTIONED most of these would not be noticeable if we hadn't gone specifically looking for them.

yeah, well, fuck that. i just spent two hours seething about this logo. i'm ending the post on this instead.

[amiableness]

dad!james going over to reader’s house because henry is sick and he’s panicking and she knows just what to do/she answers the door and she’s in one of james’ shirts that he thought was missing🤭

Dad!James Potter and Bsf!Reader ☼ 700 words

The knock on your door is urgent, almost desperate, and you freeze on the living room couch, heart skipping a beat as you’re pulled from the lighthearted rom-com playing on the TV. You weren’t expecting anyone, and at this hour, it’s only natural to feel a bit uneasy. But then, a familiar voice cuts through the silence, instantly easing your nerves. “Darling! Are you awake?”

You toss aside your blanket and quickly stand, glancing around your apartment with a wince at the clutter. But you remind yourself it’s James—he’d never judge. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror by the door, you tug down your cherry-print pink shorts and straighten your socks, which had twisted around your ankles while you were bundled up.

The smile on your lips fades the moment you open the door. There stands James, cradling a fussy baby against his chest, his hand pressed to the little one’s forehead, worry etched across his face.

“Oh god, darling. He’s got this rash,” He says frantically, “He’s been so fussy, crying nonstop, and no matter what I do, he won’t settle down. I’ve been trying for hours, but I just don’t know what to do anymore.” 

“C’mere, angel.” You step forward, extending your arms, and James, without hesitation, hands his son over to you. Henry squirms, his tiny face scrunched in discomfort, his fussiness evident as you cradle him gently, trying to soothe him in your embrace.

Wordlessly, you step into your apartment, and James follows behind you and locks the door, “I’m sorry. I should’ve called you.”

“No, no. It’s okay. You know you’re always welcome. Did you call his doctor?” You sit back on the couch, examining Henry for signs of what might be causing his discomfort.

“Uh, no? I wasn’t sure when exactly you’re supposed to call. Does the fever have to get to a certain point?”

“I’m not totally sure,” You mumble. “I’ve never had to call a doctor about a baby before.” As you continue to gaze down at Henry, you gently trace a finger along his warm cheek. He squirms in your hold, his lips puckered and a droplet of drool pooling at the corner of his mouth. Noticing the rash James mentioned, an idea suddenly strikes you. Carefully, you lift Henry’s lip and find your suspicion confirmed.

“Jamie,” You say with a reassuring smile, glancing up at the concerned James, who is pressed close beside you. In his anxiety, he’s practically nestled against your back. “He’s okay. It’s just teething.”

“Teething?” James asks, leaning over your shoulder as he reaches for his son. He uses his thumb to lift the infant’s lip and spots the faintest hint of a tooth beginning to emerge. “Shit. How did I not think of that?”

“You were overwhelmed with him not feeling well. It’s easy to miss something like that.” You glance over your shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile, and James stares at you a second too long. He’s never experienced you so close, smiling at him with such tenderness while holding his son, and his mind goes completely blank.

“Actually,” You hum, standing up with Henry still held close to you. “I’ve got teethers in the fridge because I thought it might be helpful to have some on hand. Y’know, just in case.” You mumble at the end, feeling shy about the fact you went out and bought those for Henry.

“You bought—” James’s voice trails off softly as he watches you walk into the kitchen, his son expertly cradled on your hip. You bend down to retrieve a yellow teething ring, and when you turn around to hand it to Henry, James notices that you’re wearing one of his missing shirts. It’s black, with the hem tucked into your shorts’ front. The only reason he recognizes it is the well-worn fabric and a hole near the collar.

He hopes you took it intentionally, rather than just accidentally grabbing it, thinking it was yours.

“I hope that isn’t too much.” You say with a shy smile, glancing up from Henry, who is contentedly sucking on the teething ring.

“No,” James says a bit too quickly. “Nothing you do is ever too much.”

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

[sweeterelease]

regulus needs someone to kiss. pandora got him into this stupid muggle romance novel and while he can admit it's good writing, all the kissing going on inevitable makes him remember his past experiences, experience. he can't get his brain to stop comparing every affectionate scene with the three-way incident he had with barty and evan in third year. it wasn't even a kiss for merlin's sake, just awkward lips and cheeks pressing against each other, honestly, what were they thinking?

anyway, now he can't help the memory coming back whenever the male lead grabs his partner's face in his hands, it's actually a problem. so he'll listen to dorcas' just kiss someone else, that way those bastards won't be your only reference. dorcas is always right, maybe it could work. the issue now is where in earth does he get someone to kiss him?

he'll figure it out tomorrow. now, dinner is ready and he'll do pretty much anything to get his mind off the book’s happenings for a bit. regulus came in later than usual, the great hall is filled and it's kind of hard to walk through the sea of people, so he bumps into someone's back. shit, a gryffindo— oh hi reg, are you looking for sirius?

regulus stares into james potters' eyes, the boyish grin, he ponders. do the cons outdo the pros in this situation? would the consequences be worth it? hmm. james calls his name a second time and waits patiently, after a couple of seconds without response his eyes wander around nervously.

would you like to kiss me? he finds himself asking, in the middle of a crowded room, with his friends waiting for him at his house's table and his older brother looking at him curiously from across the hall.

james blinks once, twice, three and four times. he clears his throat and sorry, don't think i caught that right? it sounds out of breath, regulus can't tell if it's a good or bad sign.

regulus repeats himself, not sure what's so difficult about a yes or no answer. he continues with i need, um— experience, regulus feels a growing blush at that, definitely not a good sign.

experience. james calls, it's then when regulus catches the deep crimson around the older's cheeks, nose, neck? merlin, it's everywhere. is it really that embarrassing to be asked for a kiss by regulus? well then.

right. i apologize for asking that was— hands wrap around regulus' neck to pull him up. he can't do much but melt into james' embrace and take his kiss.

regulus blinks, he expected james to kiss like he does pretty much anything else, big, loud, unapologetic, and without holding back. but this kiss is tender, a tentative brush of the lips, almost fragile, and he holds regulus like he's made out of glass, like he's sad it has to end. frankly, it's sweet.

james pulls back and stares into regulus eyes, searching. he's shaking, regulus notices, and it takes until his feet meet the ground again to recover from whatever spell this man has put him through, actually— he's not sure it's over quite yet.

was that 'experience' enough? james rasps, brown eyes now glued to regulus' lips. he snakes both hands up the taller's back to mirror the ones still holding his jaw, relishing in the shivers he feels erupting. regulus stares into james potters' eyes again, the slightly bruised lips, he ponders.

no.

[cactus-cuddler]

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 ✭ 𝑨𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub! virgin female reader

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Plot: There is no specific plot. Bucky and the reader like tease and are both dangerously attracted to each other

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: explicit sex, use of nicknames as "good girl", "slut" and "whore". Daddy kink and dirty talk. I don't think there are any other warnings.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 4.5k (sorry)

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ Author's note: sorry for any mistakes that may be there, English is not my first language! And sorry if the scenes may be badly written, it's been a long time since I wrote a smut between a woman and a man.

I write this ff because today I turn 18 (Happy Birthday to me!!) and I want so sign it. From today I can interact with all the "minor DNI" posts!!

I don't care if you are minors, read it if you want <3 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

James Buchanan Barnes. The very mention of this name can make your heart race, recalling his powerful presence, his toned physique, and the intense gaze he fixes on you whenever your paths cross. Your thoughts often wander to him, an obsession that fills your mind in the quietest hours of the night.

Yet, despite the thoughts that consume you, you're still a virgin. You’ve never found someone you were willing to give your heart to, let alone something more intimate. You've had relationships, but each time, you’ve held back, refusing to let things go beyond harmless flirtation. The thought of being vulnerable like that has always kept you at a distance. But with him, it’s different. There’s something about Bucky that makes you reconsider everything.

Your relationship with Bucky is hard to define. Sometimes you get along well, but other times, you find yourself wishing he would just disappear. And then there are moments when you wish he’d stop arguing with you altogether, using his frustration in ways that words can’t express. Is that too much to ask?

You’re curled up on your couch with a cup of hot chocolate in hand and a blanket to ward off the winter chill. As you flip through the channels, trying to find something to watch, your phone buzzes with incoming messages. Seeing his name on the screen sends a pang through your chest.

Teasing him has always been your favorite game. You start a random movie, not really caring about the plot, as you wait for him to arrive. The distant sound of a motorcycle engine signals that you're in trouble now.

When the doorbell rings, you open it, quickly masking your excitement. He’s standing there in his pajamas, and you can’t help but giggle. His pants have a childish space motif, and the matching sweatshirt does nothing to diminish his appeal. You’re wrapped in a blanket, so you're not much better off in his eyes.

"Popcorn?" he asks, and you invite him in. As he sees the movie already playing, he reminds you of his earlier request. You shrug and sit on the couch, munching on the popcorn he brought.

“You’re a bad girl,” he says, taking the remote to choose something else to watch.

“Just the way you like them,” you reply with a smirk.

You and Bucky work together in the same company, nothing out of the ordinary. You handle the computers and accounting, while Bucky works with metal. His vibranium arm would be perfect for his job, but he rarely uses it. "Oops, I’m right-handed, I do it without thinking," he says when someone asks why he doesn’t use his more powerful arm. You’ve seen how he looks at women, and it stirs something within you—a mix of jealousy and curiosity.

You first started talking after you accidentally spilled coffee on his white shirt a few months ago. To make amends, you offered to clean it, using a trick you’d read in a 1950s magazine titled "How to Be the Perfect Housewife." Not that you’re aiming for that role; you detest the idea of being confined by outdated gender roles. Patriarchy is disgusting! You would never want to marry a man in your life who confines you to a house with four children, a dog, three cats and a cactus to take care of alone.

Your conversations started off innocent enough, but things took a turn when you began texting late into the night. You both started teasing each other, pushing boundaries just to see how far the other would go. It became a game, one where neither of you wanted to lose face, even as feelings began to creep in.

So, how did he end up at your place tonight? You’re not sure, and it worries you. He’s never been to your house before. Sure, he’s given you rides home after work, a habit that started after the coffee incident. It became a routine, all because you playfully challenged his chivalry. “You? A gentleman? Don’t make me laugh,” you had texted him one morning. That very day, he was waiting outside your building, opening the car door for you. "It doesn’t mean anything," you had said to him in thanks. But tonight feels different.

The movie he picks is just awful. It’s filled with scenes of sex without sense.

“Is this too much for you? Should I change it?” he asks each time, and you just shake your head. In your life you see, read and write stuff more scandalous.

“How boring, if done like this even sex becomes boring," Bucky complains about another sex scene with the missionary position.

“You talk big, but I bet you couldn’t do any better,” you say, challenging him, not realizing what you’ve just started.

“With just one touch, I could make you scream my name,” he says, his voice low and intense. You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks, but you’re not backing down.

“I’d like to see you try,” you whisper, the challenge clear in your voice.

He looks at you, his gaze lingering, but then he sighs and turns back to the movie. “I’m a gentleman,” he says softly. “I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

You feel a wave of frustration, mixed with a sense of longing that you can’t quite shake. You don’t want him to be a gentleman; you want him to see you as more. You’re a ruthless woman, you won’t give up easily. If you are not satisfied with him, well you will do it yourself. In front of his eyes.

You take off your blanket and lift your shirt up to your hips and pull your panties off throwing them on the floor. You lie down on your back and put your feet on his knees. You put two fingers in your mouth and suck them in front of him. ‘He provoked me’. You repeat yourself so you don’t feel guilty about what you’re about to do.

You do small circular movements on your clit and slowly start to sigh for the pleasure you are causing yourself.

“Bucky..." you say between moaning as you start to penetrate your little cunt with two fingers. Bucky is doing everything he can to hold himself back. His erection thills in his boxer asking to be released and enjoy for you and your warmth however he does not want to give up. It will not look but has solid moral principles and not taking your virginity is one of those.

“Bucky… please fuck me with your cock,” you say clenching your couch with fingers to hold back your spasms. This provocation has hit the mark, his erection is now painful and not releasing it could drive him crazy. Reach out to your face, sweat drops are playing on your forehead. He orders you to sit down and you perform. You are sitting one next to the other and you have your leg over his to allow him free access to your pussy.

"I won’t take your virginity," he announces by passing his thumb along your big lips. An unsatisfied grunt comes out of your lips, you want more. Much more than that.

“Why not?" you complain "I want you Bucky, I want to shout your name" add grumbling.

"It would be a nice show, believe me sweetheart but I can’t deprive you of your first time with someone you love," he says. In a flash all the previous excitement fades away as if in a spell. You close your legs and ask him to leave. "You can’t decide what’s right or wrong for me" you told him by pulling out your voice. He’s made his choice, and for tonight, that will have to be enough.

As he leaves, you find yourself wondering what it would take to bridge the gap between you. Because despite everything, one thing is clear: you want more from him, and you’re not sure how much longer you can wait.

The next morning, you wake up hoping that the night with Bucky was just a bad dream—a nightmare you could shake off with a shiver. But as you lie there, staring at the ceiling, you realize that it was all too real. The memory comes rushing back: you, vulnerable and exposed, touching yourself in front of him, moaning his name, only to be met with rejection. Your cheeks flush with a mix of shame and frustration. How could I have let myself go like that?

But there’s another thought that creeps in, unbidden. Despite everything, a part of you finds it almost sweet that Bucky doesn’t want to take your virginity unless it’s something more than just lust. He wants you to save it for someone you truly love. But the truth is, you do want it. You want him. The image of his lips on yours, his hands exploring every inch of your body, flashes through your mind, and you feel a pang of desire so intense it nearly takes your breath away. You’ve fantasized about him for so long—wondered if he could fulfill the dark, desperate needs you’ve kept buried. You’re sure you wouldn’t regret giving him your first time, so why should he?

‘Maybe he doesn’t want me,’ you think suddenly, the possibility of hitting you like a bucket of cold water. ‘Maybe I’m just a game to him, someone he can tease and torment without ever really wanting.’ The thought is unbearable, twisting in your gut like a knife.

You force yourself out of bed, deciding that you won’t let these thoughts ruin your day. Before work, you brew a hot cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine will give you the energy you need to push through. You can’t face Bucky today—not after last night. Instead, you opt for your favorite mode of transport, the one so many dismiss as the “poor man’s commute.” But you’ve always found the train comforting, a place where you can disappear into your thoughts without the pressure of small talk or the need to keep up appearances.

The ride is uneventful, the rhythmic clatter of the train soothing your nerves somewhat. When you arrive at your stop, your office is just a short walk away. You’re early—too early, really—so you take your time, letting your mind wander as you stroll. The morning air is crisp, and the world feels strangely peaceful. ‘Why can’t my mind be this calm?’ you wonder, but of course, it’s not that simple. Last night’s events linger, casting a shadow over everything.

Just as you’re about to step inside, your phone rings, the sound jolting you out of your thoughts. His name flashes on the screen, and your heart skips a beat. What does he want now?

"Y/N, come down now or we'll be late!" Bucky's voice snaps through the line, sharp with irritation. You can almost see the frown on his face, the way his brows would knit together. But with a calmness that surprises even you, you tell him you're already at the office, having taken the train.

"I hope you're joking," he growls, his voice low and husky, sending a familiar shiver down your spine. Even when he's angry, it's a voice that could melt you.

"Sorry, I should have warned you," you reply, hanging up before he can say more. The truth is, you didn't want to face him this morning, not after last night. The thought of seeing his cold blue eyes, remembering how they watched you with a mix of desire and restraint, makes your chest tighten.

You greet your colleagues warmly, slipping on your glasses as you sit at your desk, but your mind is elsewhere. The memory of Bucky's gaze, the way his hand almost trembled before he pulled away from you, keeps playing on a loop.

Hours pass in a blur of work until lunchtime, when Bucky suddenly appears at your usual spot in the break room. The moment you see him, your heart skips a beat. His presence fills the space, commanding and intense. You watch as he approaches, your colleagues' chatter fading into the background.

"I need to talk to you, Y/N," he says, his voice a mix of urgency and something deeper-something almost vulnerable. His eyes, however, are still guarded, a wall you've never been able to fully break through.

Your colleagues exchange knowing glances, smirking, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Without a word, you follow Bucky out of the room, conscious of the curious eyes behind you.

He leads you to the women's bathroom, and as soon as the door closes, he turns to you, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry," he begins, but the words seem empty, as if even he doesn't believe them.

"For what?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart is pounding now, and you don't know if it's from anger, confusion, or the mere proximity to him.

"For last night. I have no right to tell you who should take your virginity," he says, but you quickly cover his mouth with your hand, the heat of embarrassment rushing to your face.

"Don't say that out loud!" you hiss, glancing around as if someone might be listening. The idea that anyone might hear about your inexperience makes you cringe.

His lips curl into a smirk beneath your hand, and he gently removes it, his fingers brushing your skin in a way that sends a jolt of electricity through you. "Do you still want it?" he whispers, leaning in close enough that you can feel his breath on your neck. His voice is dark, teasing, but there's something else there too-a hint of uncertainty, as if he's afraid of your answer.

Your breath catches as he presses his knee between your legs, his hands firm on your hips. God, why does he have to be so confusing? You need him, but his mixed signals are driving you insane.

"You have to understand, I don't want you to regret anything you do with me," he murmurs against your lips, finally adjusting his knee just where you need it. Your body responds instantly, a wave of heat pooling between your legs.

His words are laced with concern, but also with a promise of something darker. "Even though it may not seem like it, I really care about you," he continues, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek, a gesture so tender it makes your chest ache. You feel small under his gaze, like a puzzle he's trying to figure out. And yet, in this position, you're certain you could unravel completely in his hands.

"The day I fuck you, I want to hear words like 'I love you, Daddy' coming out of your mouth. I don't want it to be a simple one-night stand, okay?" he finishes, pulling back just as quickly as he came, leaving you breathless and reeling.

As the door closes behind him, you're left with the echo of his words, your thoughts spiraling. 'How can he have this much control over me?' you wonder, struggling to steady your breath. Your heart is racing, your body still humming with the desire he left behind. Until yesterday, you were convinced your relationship with Bucky was built on mutual dislike and a twisted game of dominance. But now, you're not so sure. There's something deeper-a need, an almost primal urge to possess and be possessed.

The day you finally give in to him won't be gentle. You can feel it in the way your bodies clash, in the intensity of his gaze. It will be raw, fierce, and everything you've secretly craved. And when it happens, you'll be ready to let him see every part of you-the parts you've never shown anyone else, not even yourself.

After work Bucky takes you home, you decide to let go of what happened because now you know that he wants you as much as you do. He wants to be there for you and give you everything you can give.

"I've been thinking about what you said all day," you admit, adjusting Bucky's seatbelt. It feels tighter than it should and you think it's the reason you're short of breath when in reality it's the man in the driver's seat who's gripping the wheel in a way that's too erotic for your tastes.

"What conclusion have you come to?" he asks without taking his eyes off the road. The way his jaw clenched when he spoke and the hint of a neat beard on his cheeks spark some very perverse thoughts in you.

"I want you Bucky, so much. It wouldn't be a one night stand, I know I'd be addicted to your body pressing against mine," you admit bravely and a smile lights up his face.

“Show me how much you want me,” he taunts you.

You decide to please him without using your sharp tongue and you reach out to the crotch of his pants to feel what you have dreamed of so much. Under your fingers you feel him slowly swelling and as you feel it you bite your lip to hold back the excitement that is growing inside you.

You unzip his pants while he is still driving, you notice that he has slowed down and on his face you notice the desire he has for you. As soon as you free his cock you notice that your fantasies did not do him justice. It is definitely bigger and thicker than the one you imagined you rode every night. You wet your hand with saliva - as you have seen done in many pornos - and you start to touch it enjoying the heat on your hand.

You make small movements with the palm of your hand and the idea that someone could see you does nothing but excite you more. You are not an expert, you do not know what he might like more but despite this the movements of your hand are decisive.

"I knew you were a good girl," Bucky says from behind the wheel. Seeing how he's reacting to your touch excites you even more. His breathing is no longer regular, you see his expression satisfied by your touch and when you notice that there are only a few meters left to your house you almost feel sorry.

You start to pump faster, you have decided to challenge yourself and you want to make him come before you get to your house. As your hand increases the speed his sighs become faster and faster and when you see from his look that he is close to that point you take off your belt and lower yourself towards his big cock and take his tip between your lips until your mouth is filled.

"Such a good girl," he says to you while parking the car and you look into his eyes smiling, swallowing all his seed and licking your lips to show him that you liked it.

He fixes his cock in his jeans and then follows you into your home. He intends to return the favor you have done him and will really make you scream as he always threatened while he was teasing you. Once the door is closed behind you, you begin to kiss with desire. Your tongues touch and search for each other and feeling your taste mixed with his cum gives him another throbbing erection despite the orgasm of a few minutes ago.

“I knew there was a whore inside you looking for my cock," he tells you in a hoarse voice. Your body is on fire, you need him to give you more. He makes you lie down on the same couch where he rejected you less than twenty-four hours ago and begins to undress you hastily without paying attention to your clothes. He scatters everything around the room and when you are finally naked in front of his gaze he admires you in amazement.

You are perfect. Your body is perfect in his eyes. Every little imperfection that you see in it are things that he loves. You are a Greek goddess in his eyes and every part of you belongs to him and you both know it. From the day you stained his white shirt with coffee you already knew it would end like this.

He starts taking your breasts with his big hands, only his mind knows how many times he has wanted to touch them, bite them and suck them and now everything is possible. With his metallic hand he holds one of your nipples tightly, the cold touch of his hand makes you arch your back with pleasure and in the meantime he sucks and bites the other nipple making you want even more. Your gasps are music to his ears, your body is like an instrument in his hands and with every touch he is able to let out those little sounds he loves.

“Bucky, please I want more,” you beg with the help of your needy gaze.

"What a needy whore, isn't you?" he sneers and you nod to agree with him. You want to be his whore for tonight and for all the nights to come. He leaves a trail of kisses all over your body and then lingers on your pussy. The place where you need him to focus.

With his thumb he begins to touch your clit and in the meantime his gaze is fixed on your face dominated by pleasure from that insignificant touch. While with his thumb he continues his work with his middle finger he begins to penetrate your cunt going deep to feel how wet you are just for him.

"What a wet pussy we have," he compliments and then licks your juices from his fingers and satisfied he licks his lips.

He makes you sit with your back to the backrest and positions himself between your legs, placing your legs on his shoulders. As he enters you with two fingers, he begins to lick your clit while your hands are firmly on his head. You push him closer to you while desperate cries escape from your lips. Before that, you had never felt anything more pleasurable. His tongue moves expertly on your tight pussy sucking the right spots and alternating with licking.

“Bucky… I’m about to come,” you tell him between sighs of pleasure.

"Good girls only come when they are told, you are a good girl aren't you?" he tells you after taking his tongue off the place he was devouring with pleasure. He puts his fingers in your mouth and you impulsively suck his fingers taking all your flavor away from him. Your pussy is sweet and the taste and smell make Bucky ecstatic. He starts to undress too, letting his erection come out, now it seems even bigger than before and you don't know if you'll be able to take it all. But you know you'll make it, you want to show Bucky that you're a good girl. Good girls can take all the cock.

Before filling your pussy Bucky positions himself between your breasts and you squeeze them around his hard and veiny member. He starts moving with restrained rhythms while you stick out your tongue to lick the tip when you have the chance.

"You have no idea how much I've dreamed of being between these tits," he tells you between thrusts. Your hot tits around his throbbing cock are an incredible sight. Then Bucky takes a condom from his jeans pocket and orders you to put it on him.

You tear it off with your fingers and place it on the tip of Bucky's cock and then with your lips you cover that member with the condom.

“You're my good girl," he says, caressing your cheek. Then with a brusque gesture he turns you around and you find yourself doggy style on the couch with your legs wide open. He spits on his fingers and lubricates your pussy and then he enters you. Slowly and trying to get you used to it, it's still your first time.

His thrusts are slow but firm. It's not enough for you, you want more.

"Bucky..." you say between sighs.

"I know, baby... let your pussy get at ease to my big cock," he replies, putting his hand around your neck and then touching your breasts with the nipples still hard and stained by him. As soon as he notices that you no longer feel any pain, he increases his speed. He fills you up completely, making you scream with pleasure, he doesn't give you time to make you understand that he's sending your mind into a spin.

"Bucky... I'm going to..." you can't finish your sentence because he slaps you on the right butt. The slap sends you into paradise.

"You can only come when daddy tells you to," he replies, slapping you again, this time on your left ass cheek making you scream in pleasure.

After many deep and fast thrusts you feel the orgasm inside you, holding it back is fucking hard but you don't want to disobey Bucky, or rather, your daddy. He has taken away all your sharp responses with his cock turning you into a perfect whore for him. Like you always dreamed.

"Come for daddy, doll," he orders you, he's almost ready to come too but he wants to do it to you. On top of your body. You don't have to be told twice and you come on his big cock and as soon as he comes out of you he takes off the condom and orders you to get on your knees in front of him.

He starts touching himself in front of you and explodes in an orgasm on your beautiful face throwing away every single ounce of purity you had left. You lick your lips hoping to be able to take some of his cum and be able to taste it again like in the car. He grabs your neck and kisses you with fury. Your mouths both taste like the sex you shared and you can't be happier.

“You did really well,” he tells you and you bite your lip at the compliment. “I'm proud of you," he adds, giving you another long, longing kiss.

You go to take a shower to wash your sweaty bodies but "by mistake" Bucky's cock enters your pussy again and fucks you in your shower again giving you the second orgasm of the day and again by mistake his cock ends up in your mouth and Bucky teaches you how to give a blowjob that satisfies him. As soon as you finish the shower you slip into your bed, he wants to be with you after what you have shared and once in bed you fall asleep hugging each other.

The next morning, thankfully a Sunday, you devour everything you have to eat. You were so into sex that you didn't have dinner last night and your arguments resume but end with you rolling around in bed.

This new perspective excites you more than it should, every argument now corresponds to a perfect fuck and now to shut you up Bucky will put his cock in your mouth. "What a beautiful whore you are when you suck it," and these dirty words help you get an orgasm. Bucky says good girls like to be called whores and you are one.

"You're all mine," he tells you while you're sitting at the kitchen table where you've just finished eating, he said he wanted dessert so you you decide to propose yourself as a meal. You took off your panties and without being asked he was between your legs sucking and licking his sweet dessert.

"I love you daddy," you say closer to your orgasm, those are Bucky's favorite words. They make him understand that everything about you is his, your heart, your perfect cunt, your mouth and the rest of your body.

[777heavengirl]

AM - Chapter 1

Snap Out Of It 

Sirius Black x reader Chapter 1/3 Warnings: angst?, smoking, suggestive themes, fwb to lovers word count: 4,684 masterlist

Currently playing: Snap Out Of It by the Arctic Monkeys

Chapters i, ii, iii

Sirius Black does not care. He doesn't care about who you date or hang out with. He does not care that when you smile the corner of your eyes crinkle or that he made you laugh so hard once you actually cried. Sirius does not care that the pink hair clips Remus got you for your birthday matched your lip gloss, as well as the underwear you wore on his birthday. He doesn’t care that you don’t protest when he doesn’t want you spending the night. He doesn’t care that you risked the wrath of Walburga Black by sneaking into the Black household during the summer, just to help heal his wounds as they were so extensive he could not do it alone. He doesn’t care that you always wink at him before your quidditch matches. He doesn’t care that you ditched him to hang out with a no-name blond from-

Sirius didn't want to remember what house he was in, much less his name.

The Gryffindor common room was warm and fairly empty. While the marauders never wasted an opportunity to run around Hogsmeade for a couple of hours, it had been the collective decision, dictated by the foulness of Sirius’s mood, that the lot would stay in the castle today. At least for the first part of the day. It was now 5 in the afternoon.

Remus slapped his book closed, nothing short of exasperated. Although sitting crisscross on the large plush armchair and reading had helped negate the hostile vibrations Sirius had been emitting the past hour, enough was enough.

“If you’re going to pout all day about Y/N’s absence, invite her to Hogsmeade yourself instead next time,”

“Is that where she is? Hadn’t noticed,”

“You are a terrible liar Pads please spare us,” James groaned from the ground, his back against the bottom half of the armchair Remus sat on.

“I don’t know why you think I give a rat’s ass where she is or who she’s with right now,” Sirius knew he was really stretching it now, his tone hadn’t exactly come across as calm and nonchalant. Quite the opposite, his brows had furrowed his face into a scowl and Remus had taken this as his sign to leave, getting up from his chair, James sluggishly crawling into the now empty spot.

“Y/N is not yours Sirius,” Peter frowned at the boy. Sirius’s clenched jaw and hard stare did nothing but spur Peter into rolling his eyes. “You don’t get to be upset when you insist there is nothing between the two of you and then expect her to be at your beck and call,” Peter swiftly got up after, not wanting to even hear what Sirius had to say. They were best mates, but that didn’t mean that any of the marauders wouldn’t tell Sirius Black when he was being an asshole. Peter grabbed his coat from the back of the couch, as he and Remus made a beeline to the common room door, no doubt to make their way to Hogsmeade, enough of the day had been wasted. The fat lady's singing, as she so often fancied doing, perforated the room briefly as the boys opened and closed the door.

“Seriously mate,” James shook his head. ‘You need to snap out of it”. Sirius looked up from his spot on the couch, his legs could now stretch with Peter’s absence and he took the cushion Peter had been hugging to put between his back and the arm of the couch. He couldn't help but stare at the ceiling. James started speaking mindlessly about anything, really, the new prank they wanted to try out, if he should ask Lily Evans on a second date or if it was too soon? I reckon she enjoyed it though. James knew quite well Sirius hadn't been truly listening, but he didn't mind. Not really anyway. He knew his friend quite well, he knew the feelings the boy was trying to repress were bound to bubble up sometime. He had caught Sirius staring at you the entire time you had been at Hogwarts. His eyes trailed after you since you were 11. Since you met on the train.

It wasn't like James didn't know what had been happening recently either. You had been attached at the hip since the ripe age of 5. He was your closest confidant, you joked you were actually cousins. Siblings. He had known about the spirals of conflicted feelings you had fallen on during your fifth year. Much to your own dismay, you liked Sirius Black.

James had a low-key way of encouraging it, even knowing the casanova tendencies Sirius had started to display. The way you bounced off of each other, the jokes, the irony, the stolen glances. The way Sirius's touch always seemed to drift towards you, small pushes after jokes, sweeping you off the ground as you landed, snitch still in your grip. You'd have to be blind to not see the chemistry the two of you had.

Maybe Sirius needed glasses.

James did, however, regret encouraging you. Since April of your fifth year til now, February of your sixth, you had been tangled in Sirius's bed sheets. But not his heart. He wouldn't allow it. And you acted like you didn't either. James held you a good couple of times, as the sobs broke your chest and endless tears poured from your eyes. It isn't his fault Jamie, promise me you won't be mad at him. He couldn't exactly bring himself to let your heartbreak roll off his back, but he didn't want to expose your feelings. So he kept his mouth shut and went to crazy lengths to make sure Sirius wasn't seeing anyone else. Pulling Sirius into crazy unprompted schemes, setting up the girl of the week with someone else, and putting all sorts of spells to lock their door during parties. This one had left them locked out and sleeping in the common room quite a few times. Remus hadn't been happy.

James had tried his best.

Sirius continued to stare up, eyes glazed over as he tried to count the cracks in the ceiling of the common room. He wondered if you were having fun. If the unnamed blond made you laugh. Had you laughed to the point of tears? He doubted it, he looked a bit dull.

Sirius Black did not care that when he asked you if you were going on a date, you blushed, waving off his statement like it was a cloud of smoke.

-

You didn’t want to piss off Sirius. That actually wasn’t the goal at all, because who the bloody hell cares what he thinks? Yet you couldn’t help but think of him while you sat in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.

He'd hate this place.

The tea shop was a cute place, it frankly was. It was a rather twee location, filled to the brim with bows and frills. You stared holes into the lacy napkins and sugar bowls. You didn't particularly dislike it. It was cute and you had grown to cherish the pinks and bows, that came with what some defined as femininity. But you enjoyed such things in moderation. And in secret. A lacy napkin stuck out slightly from your small handbag pushed down in a hurry. It would be nice for your scrapbook.

It was the date spot for the hopeless romantics. Or the pushy ones too. You didn’t peg Mr. Jacob Brown as one to frequent such places, but you wouldn’t say no to a free meal with a handsome man.

You weren't usually into blondes though.

You shared the same table as him for Potions. Slytherin and Gryffindor were mixed in this class and you had a feeling Slughorn was regretting this fact as the term trudged along. Jacob was not what you expected. He was one of the more quiet ones, if you squinted he reminded you a bit of Peter. Demeanor wise at least. Jacob's kind eyes found it hard to look straight at yours as he caught you after class, you wouldn't have heard him calling you if he hadn't been in front of you. You could feel Sirius's eyes burning holes into the back of your head as he wanted at the classroom's door while you talked with the tall boy. You opted to ignore him as you listened to Jacob stutter out how he'd be delighted if you would be up for going to Hogsmeade with him on Saturday. You didn't need to say yes though,

You did.

His tall stature, golden blond hair, and tanned skin quite contrasted not only your dear friend Peter but a certain boy you were trying painfully hard not to think about. Jacob was quiet and kind, with a knack for exploding whatever was brewing in his cauldron often. But when you met up with him at Hogsmeade, the frigid February air bitting your cheeks, it was like he had come loose, his usually tense demeanor relaxed and warm. He complimented your outfit quite thoughtfully too.

You wondered if Sirius would like it too.

"Did you hear me Y/N?" You blinked, fuck.

"Merlin no, I'm sorry Jacob I got distracted," he lightly chuckled at the apologetic twist in your face "The frills y'know?" you said with a circular motion of your hand. The boy couldn't help but laugh.

"I was just asking if you liked your dessert, you've barely touched it" his lips spread into a small smile as you glanced at the abandoned oversugared pastry sitting in front of you. It wasn't bad, but much like this place, the cloying taste was sticking to your gums.

"No, I did! But maybe we should've shared it I feel like I'm going to go into a diabetic coma," you let out a laugh, standing up, prompting him to do the same. "Do you want to maybe go for a walk?"

His lips split into a wide smile as he dropped the change of galleons onto the table.

"You're a blessing, let's go,"

Maybe this would go better than you had thought.

-

"So?" James wiggled his eyebrows, throwing a look over his shoulder briefly, catching a certain Slytherin staring from the other side of the hall. Jacob turned as red as the Gryffindor table runner. "How was your date with the shy lad over there?"

James could feel Sirius glaring at him from his spot next to you. He hadn't left your side since you came back, an easy smile on your face much to his dismay. You had come just in time for dinner, meeting the boys as they came down.

"it was really good," a smile broke on your face, your hand still felt warm with the ghost of Jacob's. You couldn't help but contrast this new boy and Sirius. The way he asked to hold your hand, Sirius only ever threw his arm around your shoulders, the way he seemed sincere and upfront with his intentions, the way he complimented you at every turn. Genuinely too, his big brown eyes showing nothing but pure kindness.

You struggled to find a time Sirius had genuinely complimented you. One that wasn't from in between his sheets.

"Well don't just spill it all at once," You couldn't help but roll your eyes at James. Impatient fellow wasn't he?

"Well, he took me to Madam Puddifoot's" a collective groan came out of all the boys' mouths.

"So cheesy-" Peter laughed at the thought,

"He's a bloody wanker if you ask me, reject him while we're ahead," Sirius mumbled as he popped a grape into his mouth, regaining his failing appetite. You shook your head, cheeks tinted red. Of course, Sirius would say that. You couldn't even imagine him in that tea shop, much less even considering that you may have liked it. You couldn't help but frown. Although you had a good time, you secretly wished you were out with Sirius instead. You wished he'd compliment you, you wished he'd open the door for you and ask you your favorite flavor of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor bean. You wished he'd hold your hand, you wished he'd kiss your cheek as you said goodbyes. You wished he liked you enough to be bashful at the thought of asking you out.

You wished Sirius would just ask you out.

"Well, I'll have you know I quite enjoyed it," Sirius suddenly didn't feel hungry again, pushing his plate away. "after the abusively sweet dessert caught up with me, we went for a walk," Remus couldn't help but push the plate of food back in front of Sirius, giving him a pointed look.

"We talked a whole lot, he asked me stuff I don't think anyone has ever asked about me before like really detailed stuff," you couldn't help but pause as you thought about it, his interest in the things you liked, your favorite quidditch team, what you thought of your divination class.

"He asked to hold my hand-"

"Who the hell does that?" you failed to notice the kick James sent into Sirius's shins. He kicked back.

"I just haven't had a good time like that in a while, he was so genuine" James and Peter smiled widely, Remus slowly breaking into a smile as well as they all stared at your face. It was obvious you were happy, the way you hadn't stopped repressing a smile, the small bite of your lip as you thought about it more.

James wasn't going to let Sirius ruin it. As Sirius opened his mouth to speak James stepped on his foot as hard as he could.

"We are all very happy it went well," Sirius let out through the pain, and immediately James took back his foot.

"Thanks, Black," you hadn't called him that in ages. Sirius felt his heart clench, as well as his throat. He'd prefer if James stepped on him again.

You didn't last much longer at the Great Hall, waving them goodbye as you went up with Lily and Mary, spilling all the details to them as well.

"You're the bloody wanker Padfoot," James hissed, Sirius rolled his eyes as he pushed his plate of food away. Remus rolled his eyes too. It was like they were taking care of a child at this point.

Sirius stayed quiet, as he rested his cheek on his hand. Eyes looking for the blond on the far side of the Great Hall. He still didn't know which house to look in.

"Don't do anything to the poor boy" Remus frowned, Sirius always had something to bite back with. Always some quip, some remark. But he stayed silent.

Sirius stared blankly at Remus. He didn't know why. But the truth was that he wanted to beat the boy to a pulp. He didn't have a reason. You weren't his, he made sure of that. The kilometer-long distance he put between you and his heart. He didn't have any reason to be jealous, it wasn't his place. There had to be something wrong with the guy.

When he broke your heart you'd run back to Sirius.

-

Sirius didn't care. He didn't care that he could hear your giggles from the other side of the potions classroom as you helped the blond boy. He didn't care that you had disappeared the last two weekends to hang out with him. He heard from Remus you were trying to teach him how to fly. Imbecile.

He didn't care that he hadn't kissed you in two and a half weeks. Not since the day the boy had asked you out. Sirius Black was perfectly fine and did not at all care that you ran to hug Jacob after your latest victory. The boy had been waiting for you at the changing room's door even if it had been a win against his own house. Leaving Sirius standing in the middle of the pitch, being dragged inside by James. Sirius didn't care that you were missing from the victory party thrown later that night. He saw your names floating together on the map, they mocked him as he tried to swallow the knot at his throat. The rest of the night felt like a blur, like the entire world flew around him and he remained still.

In the two weeks since the date, you had drifted so far from his grasp. He missed the smell of your hair, you always smelled vaguely of vanilla. It was spicy and intoxicating and he could never get enough of it. He missed your laughter when he made some stupid joke. He missed having you in his arms. He missed how soft and supple your skin was. He missed the way your lips would curl up in a smirk when he said something vaguely snarky, or when they roped you into some scheme that would definitely land the lot of you in detention. The way you rambled on about constellations and everything else that crossed your mind when you sat at the top of the astronomy tower. The way you would rip away the occasional cigarette from his mouth, talking about these not being the muggle habits he should be picking up, you'd always take a quick drag before putting it out.

He didn't care that he felt a pit at the bottom of his stomach for two weeks.

"Do you think he'll ask me to be his girlfriend?" you felt juvenile even asking, your words had been barely a whisper, they hung heavy in the common room as Lily, Alice, and Frank as well as the marauders all lounged around. It was fairly late, so the place lay otherwise empty. Your arms hugged your legs as you sat in the far corner of the couch, staring directly into the fire not wanting to see anyone's face. You usually were overjoyed at spending time like this, with all of your friends. Alice and Frank's relationship had brought the girls closer to the marauders as Frank was already a close friend. You no longer had to divide your time between your friends and James got to be around Lily.

James was delighted, of course, patting Frank's back with an I knew we were friends for a reason Frankie dear, the first time the girls stuck around to hang out.

But you had felt a tension lately, even with Lily and the rest of the girls. Like they were hesitant about your blooming relationship. Like they all knew something you didn't. Like they were waiting for some other shoe to drop. The smiles Lily shot your way as you talked about the boy and how well he treated you, were the same type of smile she used to give Marlene when she was delusional about some girl last term and didn't have the heart to tell her. James looked at you like you might break any minute, nervous to speak about your romantic affair. Sirius was completely avoiding you. You were scared you were reading too much into the compliments, into the attention you were receiving.

The tension came to a close when James spoke, his body was taking up 90% of the couch you were on, and he lay on his side. You knew his eyes stared into Lily's curled form. His foot poked yours as he spoke lowly,

"What makes you think he wouldn't?"

"Well-"

"None of that," Alice spoke up from Frank's arms on the opposite couch. He slowly fed jellybeans into her mouth as she spoke, the varying flavors making her face scrunch up every so often. "you're so lovely, and if he can't see that and commit then I'll blast him to hell myself," Lily hummed in agreement from her spot on one of the armchairs, sleep tugging at her eyelids.

"Cheers to that," Sirius spoke from his spot on the carpet, spread like a starfish in front of the fire. James wanted to kick his head in the fire. Sirius would probably welcome it at this point. He felt a knot form in his throat at your words.

Peter snored from the armchair next to Lily's.

"There's no reason to think he won't Y/N," Remus said softly from his spot also on the floor, his back resting on the front of the sofa seat, directly in front of you. You carded your fingers through his hair, and he shot you a small smile. You felt pathetic. You stared into the fire.

It wasn't as if Jacob hadn't been clear. He was really into you, and every second that he was free he'd find an excuse to be around you. Even when his housemates looked at him like he was mad. You felt a swirl of emotions clawing at your throat, almost to the point that you couldn't breathe. You wondered what Sirius thought. You hadn't talked in so long.

You almost felt bad at taking every ounce of attention Jacob gave you, you felt terrible. Like you were using him. Godric were you using him?

Were you using this poor boy to get over Sirius?

No! you liked him, he was kind and he never smirked nor got under your skin. He didn't laugh at you or drive you up the wall with his winks and smirks. He was nice and kind. He was kind yes. Probably what you liked best, one of his best qualities. And let's not forget how agreeable his face was, his strong features and dirty blond hair. And his parents were Americans! You didn't hear that often…

You thought back to December. When Sirius read to you in French, with your head on his chest and his fingers running through your hair. The grounds had been covered in white, cold seeping in through the windows. The words on the page, although foreign to you, rolled off his tongue with ease. Sirius had joked that this would be your Christmas present. He chuckled as you covered your face when he took out a little red box from his bedside table.

You fiddled with the thin golden bracelet he gave you that Christmas.

You felt like you were fighting back tears.

-

"Thought you'd be in love and giggling on some corner of the castle," Your feet dangled from the top of the astronomy tower, and although the security of the metal bars made sure you weren't going to fall, the lack of ground under your feet made you feel at the mercy of the air. Your fingerless gloves did little to stop the biting cold and your fingertips looked pale but you moved them nevertheless, taking the lit cigarette out of your mouth. Your large jacket and the sweater you had stolen from their dorm helped a bit, but you had sat unmoving for a good thirty minutes. You briefly thought of a professor finding you frozen in place the next morning. "I also remember you saying we shouldn't be picking these habits up hm?"

Sirius sat on the floor next to you, feet also dangling through the metal bars. His own jacket was zipped up to the top and the black leather material shone under the light of the moon. This was a different jacket from the one he used when he rode around on his stupid muggle motorbike. It was big and the leather looked soft and worn. His pajama bottoms couldn't be providing him with enough heat though… That wasn't really your problem, was it?

He took the cigarette from your fingers taking a drag.

"Not like you ever listen to me Black,"

"I hate it when you call me that," Sirius passed it back to you, his voice low. The cloud emanating from your lips turned and mixed with Sirius's in front of you. The crescent moon highlighted the swirls of smoke dancing in the air.

"And I hate smoking-"

"Then why are we here?" He hummed as he took the cigarette from you, taking another drag and putting it out on the side of the tower.

"Why are you here?" for the first time since he had arrived you turned to look at him. He did not turn to look back. His side profile was enviable. His defined nose, the plump lips, the way his pearly pale skin contrasted against his coal black hair. It was shorter than usual. His mom had maimed his hair during the two days he passed in his household during Christmas. He was trying desperately to grow it out again. The moon seemed to make him almost black and white. It was like watching a monochromatic film, and you were hooked on it.

You thought of the brown tinge his hair had during the summer months.

"Get bored of the blond yet?" you scoffed, taking out the pack of Player's No 6 cigarettes from your jacket pocket.

"He has a name, not that it matters to you" The ribs of the wheel on the lighter scratched at your thumb as you flicked it quickly, but the flickering warmth made your thumb feel like it was finally shedding a layer of ice. You lit your second cigarette of the night.

You really did hate smoking. You didn't answer his question.

Sirius moved his hand to take the cigarette from your mouth, as you let out the smoke. You moved his hand away, offering the pack instead.

He took the container in his hand and chucked it through the air. You watched with wide eyes as it disappeared through the air, the shadow of night covering whatever hint of where they may have landed. He took the cigarette from your lips and took a drag.

"What is up your ass Black?" you snarled at him, you felt your lips quiver as he finally looked at you one of his insufferable smirks on his face.

"You shouldn't be smoking love, it ain't good for ya," he took another drag and offered you the cigarette once again.

You felt like you were going to blow a fuse. You brought your legs back from the brink, tucking them in and using the bars as leverage to swing yourself up. Your fingers clutched the lighter in your pocket tightly. Sirius stared at the spot you had been sitting at.

"You're such a prick Sirius Black," he finally turned to look at you "You can never let me be happy, you won't even let me have my cigarettes,"

"come on love-" you scoffed, you could feel the hot tears welling up in your eyes.

"Dont 'love' me, you're so selfish" You could see his jaw clench, his chest rising as he took a deep breath in surprise. "go find yourself someone else to satisfy your needs, you will not keep me in this vicious loop any longer,"

You made to leave but turned back "His name is Jacob by the way, and I am not in love with him but he doesn't make me cry Sirius," he could see the trail of tears down your cheeks, the glow of the moon reflecting off of them. It was like you were crying starlight. He had never hated his name falling from your lips more than he did this moment.

"And that's all you do," he felt the bile crawling up his throat,

"You make me cry."

[hatchetmanofficial]

Hi I just played this game recently but I'm curious about the lore and idk where to find it i see a lot of people mentioning boss stu (I keep reading stfu) and idk who those are do i have to read all the asked questions to get the lore going on or I can find it somewhere else? (Anyway here's a squished alan holding a red flag)

MDHM LORE (no spoilers for the actual game):

This is only going to cover the backstories/extra details and the world of MDHM but does not touch what is going to happen in the game. Some TW for the lore, will contain stuff like substance abuse, suicide, toxic relationships, gore and child abuse.

Alan is the main love interest of the game. He is an assassin who lives in the woods in the town that set in the game, far from society but occasionally visits when he has "important" stuff to do. He is the second youngest of four brothers. Claude, Jules, and James. Alan has a pretty strained relationship with them especially after their mother passed away from suicide. Alan ran away during high school and has no connections to the current culture in the modern world.

Erika is a new college friend/classmate you encounter in your English class. She is the only adopted child of two dads with whom she is currently keeping secrets to not disappoint them. She works as an employee in the local skater rink and volunteers at the rescue cat shelter. Erika is very fashion-forward and is pretty smart when it comes to problem-solving and has a hobby of solving mysteries. She has a six-legged cat named Loki and lives with her roommate Rosie.

Stu is a child friend who harbors feelings for the player. He hasn't been in contact with them since they left for college as he stayed in their old town behind. He has an older sister named Toni who also left for university, his mom, and his dad who had a pretty unhealthy and dysfunctional relationship until he moved out. Stu lives in a frat house on school grounds and is a part of a band called the Critters of Wreckage (CoW). Stu struggles with pornography addiction as well as drinking as he became very isolated after not talking with the player.

Carver is Alan's coworker. I have not revealed much about him, other than he has the most trauma, especially during childhood, out of everyone. He has an estranged past he can't quite remember after being hired as an assassin. He is missing pupils but is still able to see. He has a fascination for experimenting and dissecting his victims, even though he really isn't allowed to. I would love to point out that Carver doesn't call the player "Guinea Pig". That name is for his OWN person of interest who he has yet to find. He still calls the player "Doe-Eyes" simply because Alan calls them that. His real name is Calvin and he is 31 years old.

Stitches is another coworker of Alan and Carver. Not much is known about him. He isn't human although he appears to be. Stitches, is in fact, made up of three different body parts from three different people. His head, the torso, and his legs. Stitches was created by Boss.

Boss is, obviously, the boss of Alan. No, he doesn't have a name as he simply just goes by "Boss". He is older than the town, older than time actually. He doesn't have much of a physical form but used roadsigns as a body for him to use. He communicates through images or texts from the signs.

Buck is Alan's dad. He doesn't know that Ophelia has passed away since their separation and is still in love with her. He hasn't seen Alan either but still wants to connect with his son.

[milunalupin]

— all-american

james potter x reader ★ 869 words

"Can you two stop giggling? People are staring."

The boys followed the tallest Marauder through the streets of muggle London, on their way to some American diner Peter had told them about. The purebloods couldn't help but 'ooh' and 'ahh' at all the unusual things they didn't have back in their world. A large neon sign came into view, the 'C' in 'Nick's Diner' flickering on and off. The loud jingle of the bell as they opened the door announced their arrival, only a few other patrons scattered around the diner. A voice from somewhere back in the kitchen called out.

"Welcome in, take a seat anywhere you'd like!"

They decided on a red leather booth near the back corner, a 'Taxi Driver' poster plastered right above the table. The black and white checkerboard flooring and jukebox made it feel like they were in that film 'Grease' their friend Lily makes them watch every other week.

"Evening boys, how's everyone doin'? My name is Y/N, can I get anyone started with a drink?"

James thinks he must've gotten hit by a muggle car crossing the street to get here because he believes he's seeing an angel in person. You just look so pretty, in your little red dress and white apron, curly hair tied up in a ponytail. Your smile. Merlin, he was going to need to get his eyes checked again after dinner because your smile was truly blinding. Were those wedding bells he was hearing?

"I think James over here is good, all that drool should last him a good week or two."

A hard slap on the back took him out of his daze. His eyebrows pinched together and he was about to say something back to Sirius when he realized he was drooling, quickly wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater before turning back to you with red cheeks and a sheepish smile.

"A Coca-Cola for me, please."

You think the blushing boy before you couldn't get any cuter. You grinned and nodded, telling them you'd be back with their drinks as you strolled back to the kitchen.

Once James finally took his eyes away from your swinging ponytail, he was met with three shit-eating grins. He glares back but their smiles do not falter, causing James to scoff with furrowed eyebrows. "What."

Dinner goes by in a flash with the friends enjoying their meals and sneakily changing the music from the jukebox, wands hidden under the table. The boys notice they just so happen to have a very attentive waitress, your lovely self coming around to their table often. It was interesting that even after they'd finished eating, you would appear to fill their almost overflowing cups with water or drop off extra napkins. James did nothing but send a dopey grin your way, and he does consider talking to you but freezes the second your big brown eyes stare back at him.

Remus groaned as he watched his friend be so pathetically consumed by you, setting down his now empty mug. "Prongs, tell me. Are you going to ask her out or just sit there with your tongue out like Padfoot begging for someone to throw him a bone?"

"I do not beg!" The dog animagi sputtered, hitting the dirty blonde beside him, "Tell 'em Pete!"

"Piss off Moony, it's not that easy. She's perfect."

Your shift was over, and truthfully it could've been worse. The table of four boys really made up for the more sour customers you had earlier in the day. The disappointment on your face was obvious when you had gone to clean their table and there was no number left behind on any of the napkins.

After finishing your closing duties you walked out the back door and turned the corner to find a large eagle owl perched upon the diner's bike rack. It wasn't too common to see owls in this area, but the shine of its feathers and well maintained claws tell you it's not from around here. Taking careful steps towards the bird, you offer your hand. It expanded its wings and flapped them twice at you before butting its head against the palm of you hand. You smiled and smoothed the beautiful creature's feathers back, now realizing there was an envelope sitting between the owl's talons. Taking the envelope and opening it up, you find a letter written to who you presumed to be yourself.

Dearest Y/N,

You have me infatuated with your beautiful smile and killer table waiting skills. I'm pretty funny and can show you a good time. Not like that though, unless you wanted t

What I mean to say is, I would throw all of England's tea in the ocean again if it meant I could win the honor of taking you out. On a date that is, not like killing you. I promise to make the night magical. I'll come by the diner next week with flowers and hopefully you don't punch me in the face for being a creep.

Yours,

James Potter

Smiling to yourself, you gave the owl one last pet and a thank you before pulling your wand out and disapparating home.

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

six | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Why aren’t you hitting me?” James asks. 

The safety mat under your feet does little to assuage your fears. James Potter is perhaps the last person on earth you’d expect to hurt you, and yet you can’t shake the image of him deflecting your punch and sending you reeling. 

With his lovely curls slicked away from his face, his nice mouth, the curve of it where he’s smiling encouragingly, you don’t really want to hit him. 

“I can’t,” you say. 

“Yes, you can. One day you might have to, and I need to know you can do it without breaking your own hand.” The no nonsense tone he’d tended to sport when you first met barely three weeks ago is seemingly gone, replaced by a friendly, almost cavalier tone. Like this is fun. “It won’t hurt you much, I swear. And you should get your revenge. I hit you pretty hard.” 

“You didn’t hit me,” you say. “The door did.” 

“It was my fault.” He smiles, readjusting his stance with feet planted firmly against the mat. 

“James…” 

“Just hit me,” he says. 

You tense your fist around your thumb and hit him square in the chest. It’s not a punch by any means, a weak landing of your knuckles that doesn’t move him. Still, you’re surprised with yourself, checking his face for a sign that you’d done any damage. 

“There are so many people who’d love to punch me,” he laughs, nodding to your hand, “you can do better than that, if only to do what they couldn’t.” 

“I don’t want to hit you, James.” 

“I know, you have to. Come on, it’s easier than you think. You bring your first back to your shoulder and you move into it, okay? Use your weight to do the work. You’ll never hurt anyone if you don’t.” 

“I’d rather not, though.” 

“I know that, too, but you might need to. God forbid you be in a situation where I’m not there to protect you,” —here he does something strange with his eyebrows you’ve yet to encounter, sending a straight shot of butterflies through you, their wings fluttering in the soft part of your throat— “but you don’t have to be defenceless if I’m not. Give me a good swing and I’ll make sure Marlene has that pear ice cream at dinner tonight.” 

“Marlene would make it if I asked,” you say unsurely.

“But if you hit me, I’ll ask for you.” 

“You can be very manipulative.”

“Sometimes. Alright, hit me. Or I’ll tackle you again. You didn’t like that last time.” 

Obviously you hadn’t enjoyed being tackled, because James hadn’t hurt you, he’d simply overpowered you. In one sense, it had been panicky to realise you were at someone’s mercy. James had grabbed you simply behind the back with your chests pressed together and hooked his calf behind your legs, taking them from under you, and following you to the ground. You didn’t like it because he didn’t hurt you, he’d pressed his weight into yours with an arm tight across your chest, just under your throat, and you could smell his hair. Smell almond or jojoba or– or something warm. 

It isn’t that you have feelings for James. You don’t know him well enough. But having someone like James pressing down on you was impossible to ignore, consciously and subliminally.

You really don’t want to do this, drawing your arm back, tightening your first two fingers. James’ eyes widen, his lips falling open as you hit him hard enough to bruise a half inch from his heart. He stumbles and you follow, before flinching back hard, tucking shameful arms to your chest. 

“Sorry!” you burst. “Fuck, sorry! I thought you were ready!” 

“I was ready.” James grins widely. “Awesome. Do that again, yeah? Let’s have one on the cheek this time.” 

“I am not punching you in the face.” 

“You could always aim somewhere softer. The point is to incapacitate me. Hitting me in the chest won’t do that.” He rubs a hand into his shirt, the dark compression material barely moving. “You might have bruised me, though. I’m a good teacher.” 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say. 

James deliberates. He tips his head back, showing you the rather nice point of his chin and his neck. A beauty mark sits nestled atop his Adam's apple. 

“Alright. Sorry. No more hitting. Maybe we’ll give the offensive a break for a while and go back to defence again in a few days?” he suggests. 

You relax. 

You’re wearing clothes you’re not used to, a compression shirt like James’, a pair of dark trousers of a similar material with loose ends. Sirius had done some online shopping with you, not worrying as your elbows brushed. He pointed at things and you’d given weak yesses or resolute nos. The total had climbed and climbed, and Sirius had taken your choking for self-preservation. “Not to worry,” he’d said, grinning, “the royal coffers will pay for this lot.” 

It doesn’t feel real. Endless money with no limit nor reason. He’d opened Curry’s swiftly after and asked you what laptop you wanted for uni. He’d attempted to goad you into two. 

It’s alien. All of it, even James across from you where he’s sitting now to put his trainers back on. He doesn’t feel anymore real than the day you met, this handsome, tall boy tasked with keeping you safe. You’ve never been someone’s number one priority. 

“Come and put your shoes on, lovely.” 

You’re not sure how to cope with that, either. He and Sirius both seem quick to coddle when you’re distracted, and you’re distracted often. You shrug away your thoughts, relaxing your tight shoulders as you cross the empty gym to sit next to him. Your trainers are new, too, a sporty pair that cost more money than your last three pairs combined. 

“It’s nice to have new things,” you confess, “but odd.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I’ve been wearing the same pair of converse for two years. I had one pair of proper shoes, and one bag. One purse. And I didn’t mind it, just… just, it makes you feel sick sometimes when you want stuff. It’s embarrassing.”

If James is surprised at your sudden admission, he doesn’t show it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of in wanting things,” he says, hands braced on his knees, “but I can guess why you might’ve felt like that. We try not to think about the things we want because that can make not having it worse.” 

What couldn’t you have? you think, searching his expression for a hint. 

“I’m glad it’s nice,” he furthers, tapping his heel against yours. “They look good. Are they comfortable?” 

“They feel like I’m wearing socks half the time.” 

James nods appreciatively. “Well, get them on. We’ll nip into the pharmacist before we go home, do you have your sunglasses?” 

“It’s too grey outside for sunglasses, we look ridiculous.” 

“You look like the front page of every newspaper. Ever. In the entire western world. Here, put your hoodie on.” 

You and James leave the gym with a wave to the women at the front desk and begin down the street. James hates the city obviously, wrinkling his nose at the grey cobbled streets and all of its sooty puddles. He walks from place to place rigid as a tentpole, swerving in front of you the second that someone looks at you too long. You wonder if this is what having a boyfriend is like. James is constantly making sure you’re safe, that you’re on the right side of the pavement, that you’re warm and fed and smiling. But you don’t suppose a boyfriend gets paid to spend time with you, nor do they spend nights on the lumpy sofa in the living room when they’re too tired to drive home at the end of a long shift. 

You think without wanting to of James climbing into bed with you, a split second of his warm arm over your back, and shake it away as he pulls you into the pharmacy. 

“Can you look at something else?” you ask, turning to him as you pull off your silly sunglasses. 

James raises his eyebrows. “Whatever for?” 

“I need stuff.” 

“I know you need stuff. You asked me if we could come here. Which, by the way, you don’t need to do. You’re supposed to boss me around.” 

You look over a shelf of shampoos and deodorants and begin reading their labels. James took you shopping the day after you got back, but you’d been stuck in your old ways and what you didn’t skimp on, you forgot. You eye a large bottle of shampoo that brags deep moisture for your hair type and take it from the shelf, then the matching conditioner, and then its hair mask. Your shoulders curl forward, worried James will think you greedy or sad or something in between, but he just says, “Pass them here, Princess.” 

“It’s fine, I can–”

“I’ll have them. I’ll go get a basket.”

He scoops everything into big hands and walks back to the pharmacy’s entrance. 

It’s a big pharmacy, modern, with white walls and bright fluorescent lights behind shelves. You catch yourself in a mirror next to a stand of cosmetics and wince. You look odd in these sporty clothes. Your nose is shiny. 

You wipe your face with your sleeve and stare at the cosmetics with no clue what to get. Should’ve asked Sirius to come. Or better yet, someone who regularly wears makeup. Only thing is, you don’t really know anybody who does. 

“You don’t have to rush,” James says, joining you at the makeup section, such a long walk from the shampoos. “Did you sprint down here?” 

You’d speed-walked past the sexual health aisle actually, but James doesn’t need to be privy to that information. “You don’t want to be here all day.” 

“I want to be exactly where you are. If that’s looking at lip gloss, then so be it.” 

You smile, a little shy, a little rueful, and turn your attention back to the lip glosses in question. There’s browns and pinks, blush-rose red and moodier cherries. “I don’t…” 

“That one,” James says, poking a barrel with confidence, “would suit you. And this one, too. You’ll look lovely.”

You don’t know what to say. The colours he’s chosen get added to your basket without comment, after you’ve wrestled it out of his unwilling hands. You spend a few minutes spready tester shades of concealer against the back of your hand, where James again recommends the one that matches your skin tone best. He leans behind you, and he does his job, sweeping the aisles and giving the shop a long up and down every once in a while, but for the most part he acts like he’s there to be there. 

You get to the bit of the pharmacy you’d come for initially, the shorter but well-stocked supplement and vitamin aisle. Realistically, you aren’t going to take ten different vitamins a day, and with Marlene’s cooking it isn’t as though you need them, but there are things you’ve always craved. Biotin and collagen, for healthier hair and nails. Multi-nutrient sachets for every day, the good stuff, and so expensive your eyes initially skip over them. 

Your hand hesitates in front of a box and James makes a warm humming noise. 

“They look promising.”

“I’ve never had them before.”

“I have a killer magnesium deficiency,” James says. “I usually take the magnesium and zinc, but that throws my copper out of whack.” 

You can’t tell if he’s messing with you. You smile at him, not quite stickily but getting there, your cheeks appled with it. “Not your copper.” 

“It’s not funny, Princess. It makes me want to sleep all day.” 

“Not funny,” you agree, grabbing the box of sachets and placing them atop the new electric toothbrush you’d fancied. You feel gluttonous and weird with it, because you don’t suppose you really need one, but James had only said That’s a nice colour. 

“James,” you say, meandering with him toward the tills, “you didn’t need anything, did you?” 

He grins at you like you’ve said something different. “I have everything I need, don’t worry.” 

“You sure?” 

His eyes seem lighter, then. Amber flecks in the browned honey of his irises. “Promise.” 

He tries to get you to visit the perfume counter, but the basket is getting heavy and you’ve spent enough as it is. Not even a tenth, a hundredth, a thousandth of what you have now at your disposal, but so much more than you ever would’ve before. 

The lady at the till eyes James behind you. She beams when James opens his wallet and passes you the card you were given by Sirius for expenses, and laughs when you refuse to take it. “I have mine,” you say, “this is all for me, I can pay.” 

“Technically it’s your upkeep,” James argues. 

“James.” You pass the cashier your card as James frowns. 

“I wish my boyfriend offered so quickly,” the cashier says. 

You go hot all over, but before you can tell her James isn’t your boyfriend, he’s laughing and taking the handles of your heavy pink carrier, pulling it toward him as the cashier sorts your receipt. “I shouldn’t have tried, really.” 

“It’s the thought that counts.” She hands you your receipt. “You should to let him pay, chick, especially if he’s offering.” 

“Maybe next time,” you appease. 

You’re still flushed when you and James break outside again, the cold a blessed relief. James lets your pink bag rest in the crook of his arm, while the other hovers behind you, looking around the street unhurried. “Anywhere else you want to go, chick?” he asks. 

You laugh. “She was nice.” 

“Very motherly.” 

“I want to go home, I think. Did you need anything else?” 

“I do all my shopping when I’m not working.” 

“When aren’t you working?” you ask genuinely. “You spend more than half the day at my flat, and when you leave– if you leave, it’s night time.” You give him a sideways glance. “I have nothing else to do today.” 

James contemplates this. “I– I’ve been meaning to get Sirius a gift. It’s his birthday next week, did you know?” 

“No! When?” 

“The third.” 

“What does he like?” 

James beckons toward a neon signed music shop. “He loves music. Music and the macabre, you know, like, horror movies. And he reads, despite what he might have you believe.” 

You fall into step. “Alright. You’ll have to tell me what to buy.” 

Again, he gives you a look like you’ve said something different, like you’ve said something lovely. 

“I can do that,” James says. “I won’t steer you wrong.”

—

Later that evening, after another tentative hour in the car with James’ patient coaching, you return home to shower. It’s luxurious and strenuous simultaneously. The new hair mask is fragrant and silky between your fingers, leaving the bathroom thick with its smell, the warm air clouding the windows. You hurry between the bathroom and your bedroom in a bath sheet and pretend you don’t notice James’ head tipping in your direction. 

“Everything alright?” he calls to your bedroom door. 

You spy on him through the gap. “I’m fine. Sorry I took so long.” 

“Remus has asked if he can come early and have dinner with us.” 

“He doesn’t need to ask!” you call, closing the door soundly. 

It will be nice to have Remus for dinner. He doesn’t have to tell you what fork to use here, you only have one kind, but he explains the heritage or main flavours of each dish and doesn’t make you feel embarrassed when you don’t know the Genovian Marlene uses. Honestly, you hadn’t even realised Genovia had a language, a hodge podge, Remus says, of Italian and French. And Remus has a steady voice that feels evidence of his more humble background —he’s like you, you’ve found out, working class and humbly brought up. He attended their boarding school on a scholarship of academic prowess, and served as a prefect for all seven years. 

“How exhausting,” you’d said. 

“With those two? You wouldn’t believe it.” 

His disdain was feigned, mostly. It’s why you’re excited to have him for dinner. When the boys are together, they end up telling you stories about their hijinks at school, and you get to peek into the window of their lives, see their fondness for one another in praises and shoulder squeezes and their ridiculous nicknames. 

You haven’t managed to ask about them yet. They slip out every once in a while, and in multiple variations. Moony, Moons, Moon and Pads, Pad, Padfoot. Remus’ you’ve deduced from a story they told, how Remus could be oh so moody when he wasn’t very well, like a wolf, a werewolf. Isn’t that clever for a gang of twelve year olds? Lupin, the wolf boy. You have a feeling it didn’t start out as a particularly kind nickname, but it morphed into a loving moniker later on. Sirius’ nickname, however, you’ve no chance at working out. Padfoot? 

And Prongs? You assume James had a nasty run in with a fork. 

You dress in soft, new clothes. Prongs, you think, doesn’t suit him at all. The James you know is only ever prickly when you’re at risk. He doesn’t flinch when you panic, never hardens. He has a soft hand for your back whenever you need a pat. 

Your socks slide on the living room tiles as you make your way in. James is clicking away on his phone, a dark business phone with many, many buttons. It’s dwarfed by his hand. He swears under his breath. 

“Everything okay?” you ask softly. 

James looks up and his gaze snags on you, his head tilted to his phone and his eyes steadfast where they look you over. “Fine. Nice shower?” 

You’re rich now. Every shower is nice, the boiler turned to a high six, hot water neverending. 

“It was good. Where’s Sirius?” 

“I’m actually not sure.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” 

“No. And if it were I wouldn’t know anyways.” He turns back to his phone. “He’s a slippery one, Pads,” he murmurs, “I couldn’t really keep track of him if I tried.” 

You feel as though you’ve caught him at a bad time. Restless, you turn away from him and head for your small kitchen, unsurprised to find Marlene still cooking and the continued remodelling of your kitchen. Old countertops find themselves housing new oiled cutting boards. Your grody cooker seems small beneath a HexClad Dutch oven, where oil bubbles and spits lightly, dough cuts set on a baking sheet beside it. 

“Hi, Marlene. What are you making?” you ask curiously. 

She grins at you from over her shoulder. “Apple cider doughnuts. I’ve made cinnamon sugar, do you mind it?” 

“What’s the thermometer?” you ask. 

She laughs at you lightly. She’s used to you dodging questions. “Just making sure I don’t set your house alight. At home I can do this by eye, but it’s finicky with your oven. She’s temperamental.” 

“Sorry.” 

Marlene waves a hand. “You want to try?” 

“I’ll just be in your way.” 

“No, you won’t. Frying doughnuts is fun, here. I’ve put each of them on a bit of greaseproof paper. They slide right off.” 

Marlene doesn’t usually take no for an answer. She’s not bossy, but decisive. You’re hesitant at first of the boiling oil and the greaseproof paper doesn’t cooperate when you try it, but eventually you’ve freed a crispy bit of paper from the dough, watching patiently as Marlene turns the doughnuts. She tells you about the dark colour you’re searching for, “I’ve put apples in the dough, see, so they’ll come to a brilliant dark colour without burning. We’ll have them with ice cream or whatever you like.” 

”James told you I wanted it?” you ask shyly. 

“James didn’t mention you at all, he just begged a bit for it. He can be quite pathetic when he needs to be.”  

“I resent that!” James calls. 

Sirius and Remus arrive in their usual pair, Remus tall and light to Sirius’ tighter darkness. Remus wears glasses today, black thin frames perched atop a scar on his nose. Sirius is being himself, poking at them and reminding Remus that just because he is an insufferable swat doesn’t mean he has to look like one. 

“You’re worse than insufferable,” Remus says. When he sees you, he brightens. “Ah, Princess. James hasn’t injured you, that’s brilliant.” 

“And you clearly haven’t killed him in a motor vehicular disaster,” Sirius says cheerfully. “Praise be.” 

“We’re both fine,” you say. 

“Were you worried about us?” James asks. 

“I wasn’t worried about you, James,” Remus says with a smirk. 

You eat as you have every day for the week since you’ve been home: around the coffee table, five plates and drinks rearing to get knocked over and ruin it all. Your knees press into Remus’ on the left and Marlene’s on the right. James sits across from you now that Frank’s shown up for his night shift, digging in with vigour, beaming around his fork as Sirius gives him a good nudge. So many people in your crammed flat. It doesn’t seem real. Half the time, they’re just here to keep you company. 

Paid to keep me company, you think, biting your tongue as you do. This isn’t… real. 

Something taps you under the table. James’ hand, you find, long fingers pressing soft into your kneecap. You quickly lift your head again to find him frowning at you mildly. Okay? he mouths. 

“Bit my tongue,” you say. 

“Ouch,” Remus says. 

James pokes his lip with his tongue. “Be careful,” he says eventually. 

You ignore whatever it is he’s not saying and pick at your food instead. For dinner, Marlene has made a traditional Genovian pasta dish heavy with red pesto and steak. It isn’t what you’re expecting, used to the paler whites and greens of the last week's worth of dinner. James couldn’t be enjoying it more, and Sirius has pledged his undying love to Marlene three or four times since you sat down. 

“Jesus, I barely miss Genovia when you cook like this,” he says. “I will happily serve my country.” 

“Unlike before, when you were here unhappily,” Remus teased. 

Sirius looks you dead in the eye. “Princess, I would follow you anywhere. Marlene is an added bonus.” 

“I– I really wish you guys wouldn’t call me that.” 

Sirius looks gently chastened. “Sorry, sorry. It’s muscle memory at this point. If I called Princess Julianna by anything but her title, she would’ve had me drawn and quartered in the royal courtyards, is all.” 

“And the rest,” James snorts. 

“I try not to address her at all,” Remus says to himself. 

Everyone laughs. You join in a second later, wondering about your unknown cousin. “She was rather spoiled, wasn’t she?” you ask. 

“You’d think she’d tone it down some. Her royal status is rather tenuous, you know.” 

James gives Sirius a look. Careful, it says. 

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“Well, she’s a royal by marriage, not blood. We explained that, didn’t we?” 

James had said it was complicated. You’d been too startled about your own royal status to inspect it any further. “She’s not a Renaldi?” you ask. 

As it’s explained, your uncle (uncle! who is indeed royal by blood, and the eldest son) forwent the throne when it became clear he wouldn’t be allowed to marry a divorced lover otherwise (reminiscent of certain British scandals). Said divorced lover already had a daughter, a young Julianna. And so your uncle remained a prince but not a king, and Julianna became a princess, to the ire of half the country. 

Traditions have changed in time, but Julianna still lacks Renaldi blood. 

“It drives her mad,” James says. He’s leaning back against the armchair now, dinner finished, a big glass of apple cider in his hands. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say. “Sorry, I sound horrible, just. She wasn’t super friendly.” 

“It would’ve been better for everyone if she was,” Sirius says. 

You wait for him to continue. Marlene prompts him, “You think so?” 

“Well, yes, I suppose. Anything is better than a country ruled by Baron Riddle. Evil, loathsome man. He thinks that nobody knows he’s had a nose job, you know.” 

“Who’s Baron Riddle?” you ask. 

A hush falls around the table. You look down at your plate, eyes on the red shine of pesto and olive oil where it’s grown cold on your plate. A hunk of soft bread is discarded beside it. You poke at it with your nail until crumbs flake away, lips parted, not sure what to say. “Is he–?”

“He’s a bad man, Y/N,” Sirius says. His voice has turned soft but not thin. “He’s prejudiced and cruel. If nobody of Renaldi blood takes the throne when your grandmother steps down, he’ll rule Genovia. And he’ll run it into the ground.” 

James isn’t looking at you when you drag your head up. He downs the last of his cider and stands up, murmuring about clearing the table as he carries his and Sirius’ plate to the kitchen. 

“I didn’t know,” you say. Well, you’d known someone would ascend to the throne if you didn’t. But you didn’t know about Riddle. A guilty heat builds in your throat. “I had no idea.” 

“James asked us not to tell you,” Remus says pointedly. 

“She has a right to know,” Sirius says. They glare at each other, but the heat in Sirius’ voice doesn’t rescind. “What? She does. She’s a grown up.” 

You shake your head. “Thank you, um, for telling me. I’ll just take these out, should I?” You gesture to the plates and stand up quickly. You can’t escape the feeling that Sirius is very angry with you, and you don’t want to face it, so you escape the room instead. 

James’ shoulders are tense in the kitchen. He scrapes his plate clean into the food recycling bin, offering his hand without looking for your own. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

“Of course.” 

Silence blossoms like an achy bruise. 

“James–”

“Thank you for having me for dinner, but I really should be going now. I promised my mum an overdue call.” 

He’s angry. 

You cringe away from him. “Okay. Yeah, no problem.” 

“Okay. Stay safe while I’m gone, yes? Remember your panic button.” 

Your hand inches up to the opposite wrist, where your tennis bracelet of sapphires sits tightly. You’d forgotten all about the panic button embedded in disguise under one of the gemstones. 

He smiles at you briefly, and in a minute or two he’s gone. Sirius goes out after him, leaving you and Remus and Marlene to the heap of dishes, a bad taste lingering on your tongue that has nothing to do with dinner. 

[c0mbatchameleon]

@jegulus-microfic April 21st, prompt: run, words: 1160, nsfw

aka regulus comes until he cries? that’s basically it yeah (+t4t jeg)

He shouldn’t cry.

It’s what Regulus has heard since—well, as early as he can remember. Crying is a vulnerability he can’t afford, a sign of weakness, and the Black family are anything but weak. Don’t be a baby, they’d say—to the literal fucking baby.

The last time Regulus cried was when he was 7 years old, he thinks—his mother certainly made sure he never did it again. And even long after he left that house behind, left his family and everything they stand for, found a new family, found a new home and new self unrestrained by hatred and abuse, transitioned, finally became comfortable with himself, his identity—after all of it, this is what he’s held onto. The belief that he shouldnt cry.

At least, it was what he held onto.

Now, as Regulus finds himself bent over the kitchen counter, nails dragging down the cool granite that he’s pressed flush against, he’s beginning to think crying isn’t so bad after all.

The tears started falling after his second consecutive orgasm, streaming freely down his face as he convulsed around James’ strap. James only slowed his thrusts to something deep and drawn out as he leaned forward and cooed, “That’s it baby, let it out,” hot breath cascading down Regulus’s ear and neck, hand stroking his hair gently. Languid kisses pressed down his neck and shoulder as he twitched and softly gasped in overstimulation.

He barely got a chance to catch his breath before—

“How ‘bout one more for me, yeah?” And just like that, James was drawing out and ramming back into him with a brutal pace. Regulus let out a choked gasp as his vision whited out, back arching, legs shaking. All he could respond was a tear-streaked string of oh fuck oh fuck oh fu—ah—please as James continued chanting soft praise and encouragement, railing him into a new fucking plane of existence.

That leaves him here, hurtling head first towards a third orgasm and choking on intermittent sobs and moans in rhythm with James’ thrusts. Each one is hitting that spot that sends a line of white-hot electricity up his navel, fraying his nerves until his entire body feels like an exposed wire. His hands grab for purchase on the countertop, unsuccessfully, as he tries to drag himself up, away, anywhere to put distance between himself and the onslaught of pleasure-pain that’s spreading like a fire across his whole body.

But James only digs his hand into Regulus’ curls and pulls, the other wrapped around the front of him so Regulus’ cock grinds into it with each movement of their hips. “Where are you trying to run off to, love?” he teases as his grip tightens and holds Regulus in place.

“Oh fuck— I can’t—“ Regulus’ own moan cuts him off, loud and lacking shame. “S’too much,” he whines.

“But you love it, don’t you?” Soft lips trace up behind his ear. “You don’t want me to stop, love, do you?” Regulus’ eyes roll back into his head. The hand presses down further on his cock and another sob escapes him. “C’mon, tell me how much you love it when I take you apart like this,” James coaxes, pulling him up further by his hair so that he has to balance on his forearms, his head falling back.

And, here, in this state of over-saturated, pure white static bliss where Regulus can barely distinguish reality, the world around him, anything other than James’ hands and James’ lips and James’ sweet-honey voice and James and James and James, the only thought he can form amidst the haze is the one James has supplied for him so graciously, so giving as always: that he loves it.

You love it, don’t you?

And Regulus does.

He loves having his walls taken down, brick by brick until he’s bare, surrendered to pleasure and to release. God, he fucking loves this release. The kind he never allowed himself before, the way it washes over his whole body and builds up like a dam, the way it flows in and out of him, completely open, running rivers down his face and sending shocks out from his core, chest heaving, bones melting, transcending his own body and yet more grounded in it than he’s ever been. He’s nothing but skin and shaking muscle and neuron and nerve ending and pure, unfiltered feeling, and, yes, he loves it. So, he does what he’s told and voices it, let’s it flow out of him like the rest of the dam, frantic and breathless.

“I love it, I—ah—oh—I love it, I love it I love it I—fuck—“

“That’s good, that’s right, fuck, you’re doing so well, baby. You look so pretty when you cry like this” James praises, breathless now, tone soaked in awe and pure adoration as he watches Regulus repeat the phrase like a mantra, an oath, a prayer, the words melting together to the point of near incoherence: I love it I love it Iloveitloveitloveitloveloveitloveit.

“That’s it, I know, baby,” he tugs on Regulus’ curls again, pulling him up against his chest. The new angle makes his cock drive deeper into Regulus, drawing a strangled moan out between his quick, gasping breaths. “Why don’t you show me how much?”

His fingers move in quick circles on Regulus’ cock, other arm wrapping around his shoulders to hold him up. “C’mon, let go for me one more time, Star.”

The simple order is all it takes. When Regulus comes, it’s with stars behind his eyes and tears flowing freely and a scream tearing through him, head hanging back on James’ shoulder, back bowed, clenching down on silicone as shudders rack through his body in waves. James works him through it with a slew of there you go and so good for me and so perfect and show me how good it feels, baby, that’s it.

He collapses back onto James, boneless, and breathes. Shakily. James squeezes him tight. All that concentrated flame has simmered and spread out into something soft and warm and buzzing all throughout his body. A small whimper escapes at the feeling of James pulling out, his core still throbbing around nothing.

James scoops him up easily, laying him down gently on the couch in the next room, and kneels down to cradle his face with his hands.

“Okay?” he asks softly, kissing Regulus’ forehead.

Regulus keeps his eyes closed and smiles in delirious dream-state bliss, just barely aware that he’s still sniffling. “Love it,” he mumbles, and James snorts as his thumbs swipe back and forth under his eyes. His head is still cloudy, his body floating somewhere with it. “Love you,” he adds dazedly.

“Always so sweet after you come,” James remarks. “Think if I get you to five next time you’d propose to me after?”

If Regulus had the energy, he’d roll his eyes. Instead, he reaches out and runs his hand through James’ hair, down the back of his neck, along the scars on his chest, down his arm where he grabs his hand and pulls it into his own chest, body curling around it like he’s hoarding it. James doesn’t seem to mind. “We’re already married, James,” Regulus mumbles. “I literally proposed.”

James chuckles softly, fondly. “I love you, too, Star.”

[moonstruckme]

Whimsical!reader x Shy!remus 🤭🤭🤭 like the boys always try and get Remus to go out with them and he always tries to say no but James promises that Lily has a friend Remus might get along with and Remus is just so entranced by Whimsical!reader that he starts to come out of his shell and James is all 😏 “If I would’ve known it would end up like this I would’ve had you bring her around sooner, Evans”

Thanks for requesting my love!

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader ♡ 933 words

“You can’t go home before ten,” Sirius insists, stepping through the front door as James chats with the party’s host, some co-worker of Lily’s. 

“I can go home whenever I want,” Remus says gruffly. 

“Give us an hour at least,” James negotiates as he breaks away from his conversation. He takes the lead of their little group automatically, navigating them through the house to the patio out back. “Lily’s friend is really sweet, I think you’ll like—hi!” His face splits open as he catches sight of his girlfriend, waving. 

He hurries over for a kiss. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart.” 

“I saw you this morning,” Lily reminds him, smiling against his lips. 

“Too long a period of separation. Terrible.” 

Despite the fact that they’re really being very tame, Sirius groans loudly. 

“You live together,” he complains, “don’t you think you could do this another time?”

Lily rolls her eyes at him, but James straightens, recalling his primary aim of the evening. 

“Right, this is Y/N,” he gestures to you, sitting with your feet tucked underneath you on the couch. He supposes you’ve found somewhere to stow your shoes away for the evening. “Y/N, this is Sirius” --Sirius shoots you one of his roguish half-grins. It slips a bit when you smile and nod politely, seemingly unaffected-- “and Remus.” 

Remus raises his hand in a little wave, but it does nothing to dim the lustrous smile you send him. James nudges his friend your way, going to sit with Lily and leaving Sirius to go in search of drinks. 

Lily’s done her job well. She’s chosen a quiet spot, tucked away at the fringes of the party, where you can enjoy the music without having to shout over it. James watches furtively as you take to Remus instantly, asking a steady stream of questions in your quiet, serene voice. Remus seems a bit tense, as if wary of some unknown form of verbal attack, but James is assured that he’ll relax soon. That tends to be your effect. 

You’re an odd bird, but mellow in a way James suspects will appeal to his reticent friend. Over the years, he’s found that Remus doesn’t need to be pulled from his shell so much as he needs people to crawl in there with him. You seem like you’d be exactly the right fit. 

“Neither of you are subtle,” Sirius says, returning with drinks for the three of them. “They’re going to scare if you keep staring at them like that.” 

“Shit.” Lily turns quickly, accepting her drink and fixing her attention deliberately on Sirius. “Do you think they’ve noticed?” 

“No,” James says. He has to hide a smile in his drink as you take one of Remus’ hands in both of your own. Remus’ face has turned stop-sign red, but you’re oblivious, running your fingers over his palm with tender care. “I think they’re too caught up in each other to pay us much mind.” 

“What the hell are they doing?” Sirius leans against the back of the chair Lily and James are sharing. 

Lily is visibly restraining herself from turning around to see what he’s talking about. James laughs, dipping his head to kiss her freckled shoulder. 

“I think it’s a palm reading.” 

“Oh, she’s freaky good at that,” Lily says. “I mean, I don’t want to believe in it and I don’t think I do, but she hasn’t been wrong yet.” 

James raises his eyebrows at her. “That’s a lot, coming from you.” 

His girlfriend scowls, sipping her drink. “I don’t like it.” 

“I can’t believe Moony’s blushing just from her holding his hand like that,” Sirius marvels. He shakes his head, astounded. “This has got to be the most prudish flirting I’ve ever seen.” 

“I’m not even sure she’s trying to flirt with him,” James admits. “I think this is just the way she is.” 

Sirius scoffs. “Whatever it is, it’s working. Look at his mouth.” 

James does. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Lily evidently can’t stand it any longer. She turns around, but frowns when she sees nothing. “What is it?” 

“He’s got his tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth,” James explains, leaning over to align her vision with his. “See that little bump? That’s his tell. He’s trying not to smile.” He sits back, smug. “He likes her.” 

The more James watches, the more obvious it becomes. The faint flush that’s spread across Remus’ freckles, never really going away. The way he holds eye contact with you unfailingly, when ordinarily he’d be dropping his gaze. The tongue-tuck, which slips up occasionally as a bashful grin lifts the corners of his mouth. 

James doesn’t know you as well as Lily does, but he thinks you must like Remus too, from the way you keep talking to him without ever looking for your friend to come rescue you. Soon the conversation seems to have found its rhythm, with Remus contributing as much as you do. He starts teasing you, a familiar hand on your knee or a quirked eyebrow at something you say, and you eat it up. Your laughter tinkles like windchimes, floating over the party even after he, Lily, and Sirius have stopped paying attention. 

You move closer together over the course of the night. James’ one-hour stipulation passes, then another. Eventually, Lily is ready to go home and Remus hasn’t brought it up once. Probably distracted by the whisper of air separating his nose from yours. 

James whistles softly. “Evans, if I’d known this would go so easily I wouldn’t have you bring her around a long time ago.” 

[artsninspo]

FORGIVELESS - VII - I DON'T MIND WHO'S WATCHIN' 👀

Full Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

RIO MASTERLIST

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: ~3.2K

Warning: NSFW 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️

Summary: This ones longer than most and steamy. Our two philanderers are in Mexico together where make up for lost time wink 😜 they're confronted with unexpected feelings and events.

VII - I DON'T MIND WHO'S WATCHIN'

Having recovered your suitcases from baggage you assess yourself in the airport mirror making you presentable. You can feel your heart beating violently in your chest at the stakes. As excited as you are to see Rio, you feel a little … Okay, a lot nervous. He hasn't spoken much about his family and why would he? But you were here now and wanted to make a good impression at the very least. But how would it look? What would they think of a woman that hasn't even signed the divorce papers, off on a getaway with her … boyfriend? Looking at your left hand the impression from years of wearing your wedding set is still there like a brand.

Don’t let James ruin this for you. You tell yourself juggling all the emotions. Just have fun with Rio. You add silently before looking yourself over in the mirror again and settling on confidence. Grabbing your bags you wheel them to the arrivals. The luggage you borrowed from your mother is hardly your usual style but it does the job. You look for a gentleman in a suit holding your name when you feel him behind you.

“You're crazy if you think I’m letting you get in a car with a stranger looking like that mama” He says, placing a peck on your neck as he takes his hand pulling you against him slowly at your waist. The effect on your body and mood is something worth studying. Closing your eyes and allowing yourself to relax.

“I missed you” you confess turning to face him and he smiles.

“You hide it well, you don't blow me up” Rio comments, not used to your restraint.

“You told me not to.” you remind him as he leans in stealing a kiss. It’s possessive and a bit of a show. You push him away playfully when you hear whistling from the other travellers. You can feel your cheeks burning.

“That was before I knew you, doesn't count” he shrugs casually rolling your bags to a truck.

“So I can call you whenever I want?” you ask as he gets your bags in.

“Mhm” he nods and you initiate a hug needing one really bad. Over the past few days you've missed the intimacy and physical connection the two of you share. Especially after being deprived of it for so long. Rio indulges you having missed the contact himself. He was out in the world living like a pubescent boy unable to control his needs, hornier than ever with only one person in mind. There was no point thinking of other women, they wouldn’t do it for him like you could. When you separate he gets the door and you get in. Rio walks around the front of the vehicle and pulls out of the lot. The console between you is big but it doesn't stop him from resting his hand on your thigh.

“What’s the plan for Today?” you ask.

“Rehearsals, but I’m not in the wedding party so I’m free,” he winks. His mind is already where yours is headed.

“And tomorrow?” you clarify.

“The wedding and reception. Day after I’m whatever you're on before heading home” he shrugs.

“Are you and your cousin close?” you ask and Rio’s hand leaves your thigh gripping the wheel as his jaw sets in frustration. “Sorry if I over-”

“Don’t apologise” Rio mutters, taking your hand and kissing the back of it before setting it back where it was. “We’re opposites, I’m here for my grandma. She raised us together and she’s old so I’m not gonna give her a headache by being a no show” Rio explains, omitting the more painful parts of the story. Reaching over you run your fingers against his stubble as he drives.

“I’m on whatever you’re on” you repeat.

“Nah, you stay squishy like a gummy bear. Put your feet up, relax and enjoy the vacation. Don't worry about me” he says.

“Friends don’t have a party when one of them is dealing with something.” you tell him.

“Friends?” Rio raises a brow and you shrug not knowing what other title to give him.

“You’re always there to listen to me” you add and he smiles again. And you move your hands from his facial hair to the top of his ear.

“You’re not allowed no other friends then” he comments and you laugh. Rio waits for you to push harder, settling in surprise when you don’t. In his experience women almost always wanted to title things. Arriving at the luxury resort you both hop out and attendants grab your bags. You walk up stairs to a treehouse style villa with nearly panoramic views in the main bedroom. It’s gorgeous and modern while somehow still feeling warm. You go to the window to admire the view of the jungle all around this villa.

“This is really really nice Rio” you turn to find him sitting on the bed. It’s huge and there's only one. Also, there are two luxury boxes beside him. “Rio” you ask unsure.

“You were sad and I know women like presents so I picked you up bags to match mine” he says casually. You smile leaning in to kiss him.

“Thank you” you smile as he places one of the boxes in your lap. Whenever James bought you gifts in the past he required a production of near hysterical praise while Rio almost hated acknowledgement of his kindness. With James there was always an occasion, with Rio it was just because. Your head spins trying to make sense of the man in front of you as you open the boxes to find a luxury duffle and carry on. “Thank you” you repeat overwhelmed by the gesture.

“Hey, mama, don't do that, don't cry” he says, reaching for you. He holds you and it's whiplash. His words and actions are the polar opposite of how he presents himself. The ‘I dont care facade’ is in stark contrast to how he treats you. Wiping your eyes you fight to keep the tears back.

“You're not allowed to have other friends either” you mutter and he laughs, his heart warming at you taking possession of him too.

“I don’t need any,” he  says to affirm your feelings before smothering you in quick kisses. You sit across him with your arms around his neck looking at him before he comes in for another kiss. He kisses you soft and slow, taking his time. Rio needs to savour every moment after so much time away. He needed to feel you. Feel your walls wrapped around his manhood, and our body writhing under him in pleasure. He kisses you deeper drawing out the seduction as he catches your bottom lip between his teeth pulling slightly. It’s just the right amount of pressure before he draws you out again, sucking your tongue. The kiss trails down your neck as you reach into his pants to make him feel as good as he's making you feel. Your hand moves in autopilot without a clearer view. His manhood comes to life in your hand as you wake it up stroking your hand lazily. Rio yanks your top down freeing your tits, his appetite for you insatiable as he places your pebbled nipples between his teeth kissing every part of your body that is sensitive to pleasure. Your strokes pick up along his length causing him to stop kissing you. Your eyes lock as rugged breaths take over. His eyes go low before closing in ecstasy from the pleasure you're beginning him. 

You're nearly on your knees about to blow him when the phone rings out. Panting Rio picks it up with his eyes still trained on you. He frowns in frustration. You see he’s trying to be free of his boxers and inside you. His body's reaction to yours makes you a little crazy. 

“Mmm” he sounds into the receiver clearly displeased.

“Alright, I’ll be there” he says before handing up pissed. Rio pulls you up from between his legs ready to kill Nick.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“Early family dinner before rehearsals.” he snaps pulling his pants back on.

“Rio!” you whine, needing it.

“Don't look at me like that” he says with a harshness to his tone. Standing you look at yourself in the mirror and curse.

“What time?” you ask.

“Now, I’m late” he says getting on a watch before his shoes. You feel something is a foot and head to your luggage.

“What are you doing you don't have to come, mama.” he says.

“I’m coming to Rio, blame me for you being late” you say, finding a dress that should fit the occasion nicely without being too much. “Give me five and say we got lost” you suggest heading into the bathroom and when you don't hear the door slam you smile. He listened. Five minutes later you emerge needing a little help with the zipper. You look and smell delectable and if it wasn’t for his granny Rio would be inside of you. You slip on a pair of flat sandals and hold his hand. Looking up into his eyes you see he’s grateful. You walk with him to the dinner venue and find a table full of people whose expressions change at the sight of you.

“Sorry we’re late” you apologise knowing RIo isn't going to. Eyes light at the sight of you and you lock eyes with the bride who gives you an accepting nod as Rio finds his seat pulling out your chair. You sit first and he follows.

“You’re not late …” The man beside the bride says.

“Y/N” you smile and he holds his hand out.

“Nick” the man introduces himself.

“Y/N, don’t worry. We’re very happy to have you and Christopher here with us” the bride says and you shake her hand rejecting her soon to be husbands hand out of respect for Rio.

“Thank you for the grace. You're gorgeous by the way” You tell her honestly and she beams. You hope you've lessened tensions.

“You too” she smiles as you settle back in your seat you find Rio sharing a look full of animosity and place your hand on his thigh. It’s twenty more minutes of talking before the first course is brought out and you realise the last minute invite was a ploy from Nick, his cousin. Dinner is delicious and Rio and his future in-laws' families both seem nice enough. However, the animosity between Rio and Nick is thick and something everyone seems to tiptoe around with the two men only falling in line for their grandmother who seems to be the families matriarch. Everyone mixes for a while after the dinner but Rio keeps you close until his grandmother beckons him. You look through the album of engagement photos when the Bride appears in front of you Marisol, which you learned from conversation and the table setting.

“There's a site with an itinerary for the wedding with all the dates, times, locations and shuttles. I won’t let Nick’s petty ruin my day” she smiles, handing you a card with a QR code. 

Smiling, you place it in your purse. “Thank you”

“All I ask is if Nick pokes too much you try and wrangle the bear, only this once” she whispers.

“If we’re talking about Christopher. I can't control him” you speak frankly.

“No but he likes you. I’m a shrink. I know these things. Their issues are deep rooted, they dont like eachother but they love each other” she sighs motioning to Rio and Nick being admonished by their grandmother. You smile and find her doing the same. “I may not need you to wrangle the bear” Marisol smiles watching their grandmother raise her pointer to Nick.

“Thanks and don’t stress before your big day” you smile.

“Thank you. Not that you need it but we have several makeup artists for the family pictures tomorrow. Me and a few girls will be making a little trouble tonight if you want to come.” she offers.

“She’s busy Marisol, shrink someone else” You hear from Rio as he resumes his position behind you. Marisol smiles.

“Nice speaking with you doll. Rio, I like her. Be a gentleman like we know you can be, not an ass” Marisol smiles before walking away. You look up at Rio to find him wearing a smirk.

“She’s nice” you comment.

“She’s an angel with a saviour complex to marry a case like Nick” he whispers in your ear making you smile before kissing your cheek.

“Can we go now?” you ask.

“No, grandma found out I wasn't at the wedding party. Now, I am” he comments and you pout.

“Then after the rehearsal?” you propose with the innuendo in your expression. Rio smiles when he sees the want in your eyes is as great as the want in his.

“Don’t look at me like that” he warns, pulling you in closer. You send him puppy eyes. “Shhh” he whispers as you wear him down. The beach is turned into a church for the destination wedding. Honestly, it's breathtaking. The walk through forces you to revisit bittersweet memories and as they go through the vows and how things are supposed to go you slip out to call your mom.

“Hey baby”

“Hey, I forgot to call to tell you I got in okay. Rio brought me to the hotel and then we got roped into a family dinner and a rehearsal” you tell her.

“How's the weather?” she asks but her tone is off.

“What's wrong?” you ask and she sighs deeply.

“A friend of James and the friend's wife were apparently at the airport and saw you kissing Rio. James called livid.” she says and you shake your head as your heart starts racing. “You have nothing to be guilty about. I’m just warning you baby-girl, he knows” she explains and you nod acknowledging the jig is up. 

“Thanks for telling me”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m going to re-join the festivities. I'll talk to you later. Thanks for telling me” you tell her.

“I love you”

“Love you too mom” you smile heading back to the dress rehearsal only to find Rio on high alert.

“You okay?” he asks first.

“Mhm” you nod.

“Come on, this shitshow is over” he says, wrapping his arm around you.

“Rio we need measurements” Nick shouts.

“Why so he can fuck up my suit?” Rio mutters as his grandma interjects that she has them already. “You look too good in that dress mama” he mutters trailing behind you.

“Look even better when you take it off me” you wink.

“Hey, before we go at it. Thanks for today” he says, arriving at your door with the key. You’re a little confused.

“For coming?” you ask.

“Nah, for coming with me to the brunch and diffusing the situation. I know you have your own stuff and you don't need to deal with mine too so I appreciate it.” he says.

“You don't have to thank me Rio, you're already getting lucky” you tease.

“Throw in a little extra” he winks joking too. You know that once you open the door neither of you will be leaving the room until morning. Heading in first you smile in excitement knowing you're about to have sex with the best. Your chemistry is through the roof and so is his appreciation for you, his gifts, attention to detail and voluntary acts of service. There's nothing to worry about in his presence, a feeling you don't know if you've ever truly experienced before.

“How do you want me?” you ask, stepping out of your slippers and headed to the bed. Locking the door behind him Rio’s eyes track you.

“Stop right there,” He says. 

The answer is simple, his mood is rare. Seeing you smiling among his family did something to him. He needed to show you appreciation for having his back today. He wanted to watch you lose control as he went deeper. Your back is arching to accommodate his size. The glow that would come off of your skin as your body grew warmed from his touch. He presses a button to draw the shades and another to dim the lights. Before closing the distance to you. You can sense that tonight is different. You take a deep breath in, admiring the man standing in front of you. His hands go to your shoulders slipping the straps of your dress off. When Rio’s done undressing you're happy you're wearing one of your new sets. His eyes look sated already. Like it means the world to him to have you here with him, like he knows you bought the set you're wearing just for him. Rio’s head dips to your neck and he kisses sloppily before the pressure threatens to leave hickeys.

“Rio” you whisper, breaking the contact to kiss his lips. 

“Mmm” he groans, leading you to the bed.

“I need you” you whisper needy. His eyes shut firmly. He breathes heavily to try and calm down. There's no room for more foreplay than the past few days have been.

“Ok baby” he mutters and you go to turn knowing he likes to take you from behind. A firm hand stops you from turning.

“I want to see you” he says through rugged breaths and low lids. Without words you oblige feeling your body heat again. Rio kisses you deeper as you position you comfortably in the bed. Years of yoga make any position easy. Only, tonight isn't about flexibility or stamina. He needed to be inside you. It’s exactly where you need him. Your legs open instinctively, your body humming and ready for him. He springs free from his boxers and your eyes find his. 

He gives you another slow sloppy kiss before pushing your panties aside. The look he gives you makes your toes curl. Familiar fingers test the waters with teasing strokes. Proof of your anticipation is coating the fingers that end in his mouth. Placing one hand down Rio guides his manhood into you. His brown eyes hold yours watching as you adjust to inch after inch of him. 

Time slows as your body acclimates, growing more comfortable and aroused by the contact and his size. His eyes close once he's fully in and you pull him into a kiss tasting his effect on you. Your tongues dance as his strokes go from shallow to deep.

His eyes never leave you, the vulnerability of it ignites all of your senses. Every touch is electric. Every moan felt deeper and deeper. Every lude comment or lustful whisper makes each of you more reactive. Your eyes open and close in sequence as he strokes deeper and deeper until he’s rooted. Rio’s eyes open and his body stiffens. You watch arousal build as yours does too. He smiles just as his orgasm rips through him. Warm heat oozes inside of you before spilling out. Without breaking the intimate connection, Rio is now on his back with your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you as he stares at the ceiling in a post-coital daze. His hand trails over your back and it feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. Your heart is full, body is sated and you feel safe.

Authors Note: Hopefully this is the beginning of your 🇲🇽 expectations. How did you enjoy them reconnecting. How did you like to see Nick. What do you think happens next?

NEXT CHAPTER

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