#James just going along with it every time
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lizpottersworld · 2 days ago
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series masterlist — click here!
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☽。⋆ 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐈 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄
01. for the hope of it all
summary: It’s officially the start of summer break, Remus arrives for his first day at his families farm and discovers a surprise guest in the flower fields.
Remus loved Hogwarts and being around his friends and especially his boyfriend but nothing compared to the ecstatic feeling of arriving at his families farm. It marked the beginning of an amazing summer. It was always the best way to start the next six weeks, the first four with his family and the next few at the Potter Manor.
As soon as the gates are held open for the truck to drive through, as the cows swarm around the flower fields. Remus closes his eyes and relishes in the warmth and belonging, everything was simple here. Blocked away from anything and everything that could possibly trouble you, it didn’t exist when on the farm.
“Remus, Honey, can you help me unload the bags please?” Remus’ mum, Hope, asked him as they pulled up outside the cottage decking. He nodded and stepped out to the refreshing sticky summer air to retrieve the bags from the boot. Lyall, Remus’ dad, patted him on the shoulder in thanks as he grabbed the bags next to him.
“Bet you’d rather spend your summer with Sirius, eh?” Lyall teased, noticing the way he avoided eye contact and the faint fluster on his cheeks. He chuckled as his son discreetly disappeared through the door without a word.
Being in a relationship was new for Remus but being in a relationship with another boy was something for him to get used to. Not that it bothered him, he was more nervous about his friend’s and families feelings towards it. As if they had a say in it, anyway. The light teasing his parents would throw his way never failed to make him blush and forget his train of thought.
Hope held the door open for him as he set the bags on the kitchen side, his dad not far behind, “I can see Sirius in a few weeks, plus theres such a thing called writing, Dad.” Remus rolls his eyes at him.
Lyall chuckles, “Perhaps next time, you can invite him to the farm to stay with us.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Remus shakes his head with a smile.
“Not sure mum would allow that,” He added, “Plus, not sure Sirius could hide the whole magic wizard thing from everyone here.” Lyall nodded and mumbled about unpacking his stuff in the master bedroom.
Remus nodded and helped his mum to unpack the food bags for the next few weeks and the couple of bouquets of flowers she had bought ‘to liven up the place’ to put them in their respective vases.
Hope hummed along to a muggle song tune that played through the record player, that was lined up with various vinyls, “Remus, why don’t you go on a walk, you’ve helped out loads.” She softly smiled up at her son.
Remus nodded and pressed a kiss to the crown of his mums head before grabbing his jacket to go on his annual walk. It was nothing special, he just liked to walk through the fields with the animals and to say hello to the surrounding neighbours kids who were playing and giggling in the grass.
Really nothing could compete with the serenity and love that cascaded through the many fields of the farm. Something about the country side seemed so perfect to Remus. Better than any city, or any town. To have a peaceful yet beautiful life out here was all he could possibly want.
Even though it was only a few weeks till they met up again, Sirius and Remus had made a promising deal to write a letter every few days to provide an update on each other’s summers. Sirius persisted on not leaving any detail out, so he could imagine exactly where he was whilst he was at the Potters.
It was thankfully Sirius’ third summer at the Potters house, away from his horrible superiority family and house. Him being away from them, served as a tedious comfort and reminder of Sirius’ safety even if he was hours away. James’ parents had almost become like his own, and his house had become Sirius’. Even if they acted like brothers anyway, it was even more of a reassuring factor.
The last few weeks of every summer, James’ parents invites some of James’ friends to their house to stay for the remaining holidays. Those two weeks always gave the best memories, something to always remember happened during that time.
As much as he wished he was laughing with his friends right now, strolling through the fields with flowers and many cows around was something that Remus felt he couldn’t trade for the world.
The golden sun rays reflecting onto the people around and onto the duck pond, it was the perfect picture of heaven. Children around were gleaming with happiness and the parents watched them with just about the same degree of excitement.
There wasn’t many people in the actual fields, more in their parts of their farm in the back garden, all connected by a lake. Apart from one.
A stunning girl twirled and smiled through the flower field, the sun kissing her perfectly as she shone. A lacy white dress adorned her to her thighs to which she also wore a tattered pair of worn, mahogany cowboy boots that shielded her legs from the tickling grass.
Not many older kids visited the farm, if they did they were either here to visit grandparents or just passing through. But taken by the worn boots and the sense of familiarity, Remus felt that this girl wasn’t one of those people. It was like he knew her, but he shook his head at that simply not being possible.
The girl turned around also noticing the tall bronzed brunette walking towards her, instinctively she smiles at the figure. But then a flicker of reminiscence finds her eyes and his eyebrows furrow in question.
“Remus? Remus Lupin, is that you?” The girl shouted, hands on the sides of her mouth to echo her words. Remus still confused waited as the girl lightly ran over to him.
His mouth gaped open, distance not being a problem he could now inspect the girls face, he knew her. Her face was now matured but also carried a vulnerability which he knew all too well.
“Y/n?” He whispered in disbelief, she nods in excitement. “I thought you left.” He shook his head.
“Well, you can never really get rid of me.” She laughed, Remus immediately pulled her into his warm embrace, savouring the feeling. “Six years too long, huh?” She murmured from her face in his neck.
“Where did you even go?” He pulled away to look at her face, to then pull her back into his arms.
She hesitated, “Some like um boarding school, in France,” she smiled, “But i’m moving to another school in Scotland because my mother insists.”
Remus grinned, “does that mean you’ll be coming back here more often?” She nodded and laughed. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he admired her new hairstyle and looked down to accommodate her height, “you look so different, yet so similar.”
She shook her head in agreement, “I could say the same about you, last i remember i was taller than you and you had those circle glasses.” She laughed, recalling his innocence and adorableness. Now he was a whole giant, and had littered of scars all over his face. He was still gorgeous, so beautiful as usual. Even more if possible.
Remus looked to the familiar cottage that she and her family usually stayed in, noticing her not-so-little-anymore siblings playing in the front garden. Her mother, Isabelle, waved to Remus whilst she supported a baby on her hip.
“Willow and James are seven now, and my mum had another baby, Everly, she’s only 2.” Y/n explained, smiling as Remus waved back to her mother. He looked back to her, a supporting smile on his face.
Y/n had always had a loving and supportive family, even when Remus was younger. The age of 11, and he would play with her siblings whilst they were two. He always loved it. Her mother was like his second mother, so intent on being welcoming to Remus and encouraging his and y/n’s friendship.
They had met at the local market around the farm, their mums becoming friends whilst the two only five, shyly waved at each other.
Hope encouraged him to introduce himself and with an adorable smile he mumbled, “My names Remus!” and y/n was the more shy one out of the two of them. She looked up pouting at Isabelle who looked between the two and y/n hesitantly introduced herself, “i’m y/n.”
Then it turned into play dates in the cottage gardens, till they would independently go play games in the fields, like tag or even hide and seek.
“No, Remmy, you’re cheating!” Little y/n giggled as nine year old Remus peeked watching her hide. Remus continuously refused he wasnt each round, until y/n realised every round he knew exactly where she was.
“Thats lovely,” he said, pulling her into yet another side hug, “I still can’t believe your back. You’ll be tired of me by the end of the summer.”
“We’ll always have more summers to look forward to.” She agreed, toying with the freshly picked flowers in her hands that she was planning on weaving into a flower crown.
Remus noticed the sun starting to set and reluctantly turned to say goodbye, “I have to get back, help my mum with dinner,” He softly spoke, y/n dusted her dress and smiled at Remus, “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n/n.” He playfully ruffled her hair and she yelped in surprise.
Fixing her hair huffing as Remus laughed, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Remmy.” She teased, using their childhood nicknames they had for each other. Remus shook his head, waving to y/n’s mum before walking back towards the cottage.
He smiled to himself, already noting to buy some flowers for her mum. This was going to be the best summer, he decided, strolling back to the cottage entrance where his mother welcomed him.
“Mum, you wouldn’t guess who i saw.” He laughed in disbelief, Hope eagerly sat at the dinning table as Remus relayed the last half an hour to his mum.
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joezworld · 8 hours ago
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Hey everyone seems real sad for some reason. Could not imagine why.
Anyways if you squint real hard you may notice a similarity to Thomas and the Jet Engine. That is intentional.
You can also squint and notice some similarity to several Traintober prompts. That is intentional.
Also, if you notice any similarity to any of SiF's character names... that's right! That is intentional. I did that and it's on purpose and I'm making fun of them. If you're from SiF either recognize that it was a dumb name or die mad about it.
Pip and Emma at The Top
2021 - The Summer
It was the longest summer since the last one. There weren’t any tourists - obviously - but even the inter-island traffic had died down considerably. The government on the mainland was skittishly enacting and then subsequently revoking plans to allow gatherings again, and the people of Sodor were prudently trying to keep the Island’s activities out of London’s sphere of notice. 
As events were curtailed and people limited their own travel, the railway cut back on services, as they’d done several times before. Pip and Emma were the first to be relegated to the yards; while they could run a much shorter train - and often did - a shortage-related spike in the price of diesel fuel meant that it was more economical for James or Henry to take the two diesels' trains instead. 
Henry had tried to make sense of how the economics on that worked out, but numbers were not his strong suit, and so he instead passed along his sympathies every time he passed the twins in the yard. 
James (and no-one else) thought that he was being rather magnanimous by not endlessly laughing about how he was cheaper to run than a diesel. Several cutting responses had been prepared if he ever got too full of himself, but shockingly he’d kept the snickering to a bare minimum. 
As the days stretched on into a week, and then two, a bigger problem soon began to present itself:
“I’m bored, Pip!”
“Me too!” 
Pip and Emma were getting restless.
“WILL YOU TWO KEEP IT DOWN?! IT IS THREE IN THE MORNING!”
And they were more than willing to make that everyone else’s problem. 
-
A few days later, and the diesels were overjoyed when an inspector came to them with instructions to report to the works. 
Equally overjoyed were the engines in the big shed. 
-
Pip and Emma arrived at the works in a right state, having been held up by trackwork along the main line. 
“Two hours! Can you believe it Emma?”
“I don’t like running light engine, they can push us around too much.”
“Right? We’re express engines, not a train of old rubbish!” “I think they prioritized the rubbish train over us, if that smell at Kellsthorpe Road was anything to go by.”
“Ugh!”
-
Mr. Tedfield, the Works Manager, eventually arrived, bringing an end to their complaining. “Right you two. Seems like we’ve got some work for you.”
“Here?” They chorused. 
“No,” he said quickly. “But the work is going to be a lot different from your usual job, and we’re gonna have to do some modifications.”
“Oh no,” Pip cried. “It’s going to be buffers, isn’t it?”
“How did you know?” The man was baffled. 
“It’s the only thing it could be, sir.” Emma explained. “That’s what they said on the Eastern Region, back in the 1980’s. ‘Just some little modifications!’ and they came back from Derby with the ugliest buffers ever!” 
“It was a hatchet job!” Pip agreed. “All their lower valances, gone!” 
“Easy, easy!” Mr. Tedfield yelped, not expecting that sort of response. “I’m sure that we can do a better job than that!”
“Promise?” they said in worried unison.
“Promise.”
-
A few days later, and the twins were relieved to discover that the works were as good as their word. Unlike the Eastern Region “hatchet jobs,” they still sported all their bodywork. Holes had been drilled through the lower valances, and buffers, couplings, and air hoses now poked through. The fibreglass was a little rough around the edges, but everyone agreed that it could also look a great deal worse. (Apparently, custom fibreglass was one of the only things the works staff couldn’t do in-house, and there was a concerning amount of murmuring from the staff about how they’d change that.)
Rolling out into the sun for the first time since they were “slightly modified,” they blinked the light from their eyes to find Mr. Tedfield, the Fat Controller, and another man who they didn’t know waiting for them. 
“Well,” Started Mr. Tedfield. “I’m glad to see that our concerns were unfounded.” 
The twins knew he was being diplomatic in front of the Fat Controller. He’d already said “I told you so!” several times earlier in the day. 
He continued. “So now we should probably tell you what we would like you to do!”
“Because somebody forgot to mention it earlier…” The other man muttered under his breath. 
The Fat Controller looked from one man to the other, and shook his head slightly. “Pip, Emma, as I’m sure you’re already aware, we are not going to be running the Express to London anytime soon. So, with that in mind, you two are going to be assigned to mixed traffic work until passenger numbers allow us to put you back into normal service.”
“Mixed traffic work?” They said as one. 
“Oh yes!” The Fat Controller looked quite pleased with himself. “We have quite a lot of cargo traffic coming in through the ports right now, and you two will help take the strain off everyone else.”
The man they didn’t know coughed slightly. 
“Of course, how foolish of me,” The Fat Controller rolled his eyes. “I also recognize that you two have some… special abilities that the other engines lack, namely your high-speed capabilities. With that in mind, Mr. Hargrave, from the coach and wagon department here at the works, has had an idea.”
“Yes, right.” Mr. Hargrave said with pride. “So, back when we first started coming back to work after the lockdowns, the government gave us a whole pile of Levelling-Up money, to “get us back on our feet.”” He paused, bouncing on his heels. “Thing is, we’d already fixed up everything beforehand, because we didn’t want anyone locked away in the works during the end of days with their bits in pieces, so we didn’t have anything to spend it on, but we had to spend it, otherwise they’d take it back!”
“Government logic at its finest…” Mr. Tedfield said under his breath. 
“Ain’t that the truth.” Mr. Hargrave agreed. “So anyways, we decided to just make everything as perfect as we could make it.”
He stopped for a moment, long enough for the Fat Controller to look at him. “Such as…?”
“Hm? Oh! Yes, the container wagons!” He said all at once. “We took all the container wagons that were sitting around idle - and some other stuff besides - and we took them and fitted high speed bogies and bearings to them.”
Pip blinked slowly. “High speed bogies?”
“That’s right! They ride like coaches now.” He said with childlike joy. “And they won’t weigh much more than them either, so it shouldn’t be much trouble for you two. High speed containers, all the way to the mainland!”
Pip looked at him, then at the Fat Controller. “Sir, why are we doing this?”
The Fat Controller looked much more reasoned. “Quite a few companies are willing to pay a premium for their shipments to arrive as quickly as possible. There’s a lot of congestion at the bigger ports in the south, and Liverpool is operating almost at capacity, so we have an opportunity to get some very lucrative traffic.” He smiled knowingly. “And if we play our cards right, some of the companies, like Amazon, might build a few warehouses just across the channel on the mainland, and then we can serve those in perpetuity.” 
The twins slowly digested this. “But sir, will it matter if we can go that fast?” Pip asked. “Once we cross the bridge, we’ve got to deal with Network Rail, and they don’t know anything.”
The Fat Controller looked as pleased as punch. “But you’re not dealing with Network rail.” He said with a satisfied smile. “Our contract for this ‘express freight’ is to get it as far as Barrow-in-Furness. If Freightliner or Colas Rail happen to be tardy after that…” he made a gesture with his hands. “That’s of no importance to us.”
Pip and Emma blinked slowly. “So, you want us to go as fast as we can?” Pip said with an expression that was rapidly passing “gleeful.”
“I do.” The Fat Controller agreed, before walking away.
---
Across the Island, the trucks and wagons shuddered.
--
A few weeks later
Pip and Emma fit in surprisingly well on goods trains, and could soon be found on everything from trundling pickup goods to the Flying Kipper. The Works really had made every truck as “perfect” as they could make them, and so every train, regardless of what it was or who was pulling it, was rolling on new bearings and freshly-trued wheels. Bear, BoCo, James, and Henry claimed it was some of the easiest work they’d ever had, and even the trucks agreed with them!
Pip and Emma, however, were mostly focused on one thing: speed. They’d been promised the ability to go as fast as they liked, but there was a significant obstacle to it:
“Oh come on! How long can it take to re-lay one set of points!”
The Permanent Way and Signaling departments had also received a great deal of this “use it or lose it” government funding, and were furiously working to replace, re-lay, and re-wire seemingly the entire island. 
Fortunately for the twins, the work was almost at an end, and as the summer began to wane, they soon found that more and more of the line was back up to full capacity. Shortly thereafter, the “Container Express” was a regularly scheduled train on the main line, running twice a day between Tidmouth Harbour and the yard in Barrow. Keen-eyed observers of the timetable would note that it was the exact same pair of slots previously occupied by the Wild Nor’Wester, which had last run in March of 2020. 
The Fat Controller promised anyone who asked him that it was absolutely a temporary measure, and most believed him, save for one group in particular…
“Lads,” A voice murmured in the container yard one morning. “I think this is forever… ‘s our purgatory for whatever it is we’ve done to the engines.”
“Nah, this ain’t purgatory,” whispered another, as a two-toned horn blasted in the distance. 
“Hi everyone!” “Ready for the trip?”
“This is hell. We’re in hell.”
  -
A few days later - Barrow
The lift bridge over the Walney Channel operated very differently than it did pre-COVID. A train would arrive at the Vicarstown side of the bridge, then it would lower. It would stay down while the engines were turned round, or were uncoupled from their train and connected to a new one. Then the train would leave, and the bridge would go back up. 
This happened two to four times a day, now that the lockdowns had lessened, but there was one constant - the same train that left the island would be the one to return to it. 
Then, one evening in the late summer, the bridge rolled down for a train coming from the mainland. 
There was a very familiar two-toned honk-honk as it rolled over the bridge and onto the Island, wheels click-clacking across the bridge joints in great numbers. 
The rear power car vanished with a roar of sound and a whoosh of diesel exhaust, and then the train was gone into the distance. 
The bridge slowly cycled back up. There was a new train on the Island of Sodor. 
-
The next morning 
Pip and Emma woke up much later than usual - the main line was undergoing its final “track geometry inspection”, and freight services had been curtailed for most of the day to allow the inspection to be done as quickly as possible. 
Eventually, they were rolled out of the diesel shed mostly on BoCo’s urging, (“You two are not allowed to get bored in here.”) and made their way to the platforms of the big station. 
“Oh, this is weird!” Pip exclaimed as she backed down onto a set of coaches. She and Emma had been coupled back-to-back for over a month now, and it seemed like nobody was in a hurry to position them “normally” for a short run down to Suddery and back. 
“Not as weird as your- oh my goodness it’s you two.” James started his sentence with a considerable amount of venom, but squeaked halfway through his sentence before stopping altogether. 
“What was that?” They both looked at him funny. 
“Nothing!” He said quickly. “Nothing at all. I, um, I thought that you were somebody else!” 
He vanished as though by magic, and neither Pip, Emma, nor the coaches had any idea of what to say until the guard waved his flag. 
-
Making their way down the line, they encountered several other engines, each of whom gave them some kind of funny look. As they headed down Edward’s branch line, it was all they could talk about.
“Maybe it’s just how strange we look back-to-back?”
“It can’t be, Pip! You saw how Edward looked! I think he was actually upset!”
“Goodness, I hope it wasn’t anything we did.”
“I don’t think so. They all seemed to stop once they saw us.”
“...”
“What?”
“I just had a thought.”
“What?”
“Who looks like us, but can make everyone hate them in no time flat?”
“Oh no!”
-
Later, they arrived back at Wellsworth station with the return service. The train terminated here, instead of returning to the big station, so once the passengers had disembarked, they had to shunt the coaches out of the way. It was somewhat novel for them, and Pip took great joy in being shown how a shunter’s pole worked. Emma, on the other buffer, was busy eavesdropping; Edward was getting ready to bank Bear’s goods train up Gordon’s Hill, and he was fuming about something to the stationmaster. 
“-that damn banana shows its face here again I will show them what for!” he hissed sternly, before puffing away in a huff.
The stationmaster didn’t say anything that Emma could hear, but he seemed to look very intently at the signals outside the station. There was one signal set for an arriving train. 
Emma didn’t like that, it felt very ominous. “Pip, look sharp. I think we’re going to have trouble soon.”
Pip didn’t have time to respond, because at that instant, the two-tone horn of an HST rang out in the near distance. The rails hummed with the noise of an approaching train, and a 5-coach HST set pulled into the station. 
The train was safety-yellow, and bristled with cameras, sensors, lasers, and measurement equipment of all kinds. Large “NETWORK RAIL” logos were plastered on every coach and both power cars, right next to the words “NEW MEASUREMENT TRAIN.”
 It was glossy. It was shiny. It was freshly washed. 
“Oh, must we dawdle around this dump? I know what sort of conditions this lot keeps!”
It was rude. 
“Will you stop already? I would like to not be thrown off this island, thanks.” 
Well, half of it was. 
Pip closed her eyes to steady herself. Emma ground her teeth audibly. Of course it was them. 
Quickly, quietly, they tried to reverse out of sight, but the camera-studded train saw all, and criticised everything. 
“Oh I say!” The lead power car laughed mockingly. “I thought those rumours were wrong but look at that! You two really have been demoted to common shunters!”
“Hi Pip. Hi Emma.” The rear power car said, utterly defeated. 
“Hi John,” They chorused, equally displeased. “Hi, Obs-”
“Do not use that name!” The lead power car snapped brusquely. On his side there was a big brass nameplate that read “The Railway Observer.” “Use my real name.”
“Not this again…” The rear power car moaned. He had “John Armitt” bolted to his side. “I know that you think it sounds better but I promise you it isn’t-”
“I’m sorry,” The lead power car snapped. “But are you undermining me in front of outsiders?”
“They’re our sisters, you numpty.”
“And they shall refer to me by the name of my choice!” 
“It’s a stupid name!” 
“It’s a regal name!” 
Pip and Emma observed the bickering train with muted resignation. “Why couldn’t he have been at Ladbroke Grove?” Pip said to nobody in particular. “Would’ve done the world a favour.”
Emma just wanted to get this over with. The coaches had been safely shunted away, so it was just a matter of getting out of the yard - then they could go down to Tidmouth and get their next train. “And what name would you like us to call you?” She said eventually. 
The lead power car puffed himself up like a self-important cockatoo. “I,” He proclaimed regally. “Am Murgatroyd. It is a noble name, with a rich history, and-” 
Pip almost swallowed her own tongue from the sudden outburst of laughter, while Emma couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. “Oh my god, that is the worst name I have ever heard of,” She said, barely audible over Pip’s gale-force guffaws. “Why would you do that to yourself? Why would you do that to us?” 
Murgatroyd turned red with indignation (which, thanks to his yellow paint, was actually a shade of orange) and started shouting. “How dare you, you- you- you low-class harlot! This is a regal name, chosen to signify-”
“How much of a pretentious twat you are?” John scoffed from the other end of the NMT. “Usually people can tell when you talk.”
The retort that followed was unprintable, and a vicious three-way argument soon struck up, lasting until Pip and Emma left Wellsworth for the harbour at Tidmouth. 
The New Measurement Train left a few minutes after that, an argument trailing in its wake. The yard was silent after that.
BoCo, who had been trying to nap in the shed, looked around the yard. “I don’t think anyone will believe me…” he said to himself. 
-----
At the harbour’s intermodal yard, Pip and Emma found their train already waiting for them… although it was slightly different from usual.
Fifteen container trucks sat mostly empty, with just a few loaded ones up at the front. Ahead of those were two low-loaders, one empty, the other… not. 
“Finally!” Thomas the Tank Engine groused from atop the front low-loader. “It’s been ages!” 
“It’s been two hours.” The low-loader rolled his eyes. “We left at 11:00. It’s barely past one.”
“Well, who asked you?!” 
Pip and Emma were surprised, to say the least. “What’s he doing here?” They asked the yard supervisor. “Can we take him on this train?”
“As a matter of fact,” He consulted his clipboard. “You can. I spoke to the works, and they’ve “improved” some of the flatcars with the high speed bogies they had left over. Should be fine.”
“Should be?” 
“That’s what they said.” He shrugged, flipping through the clipboard to a printout of an email. “They put it in writing.” 
Pip had to squint to see the small text. “I don’t like that they put “It should be fine!” on an official email…”
Behind her, Emma rolled her eyes, in the process noticing something above them. “Wait, what’s that?” 
The supervisor looked up. “Oh, that’s a jet engine for an airplane. Rolls Royce rebuilds them down in Derby.”
“Why is it here? This isn’t the airport.”
“Airport’s closed for a few days because they lost their electric transformer - surprised you didn’t ‘ear about it. Rolls didn’t wanna wait, and we’re quicker than a lorry it seems.” The man smiled at the last part. Everyone in the freight division was very pleased that this “hare-brained, half-baked, absolutely ridiculous” concept (as some “industry observers” had remarked) was proving successful.  
Emma watched as the jet engine was craned onto a flatcar behind Thomas. “Oh great!” He scoffed as it was chained down to the car. “Not only am I getting shuttled around this Island like a piece of lost mail, but now it’s air mail at that?”
“Oh shush!” Pip said, somewhat bemused by the whole situation. “We’ll get you to Barrow double quick!”
“Barrow?! I’m going to the works!” Thomas was irate. 
“If you ever listened,” The low-loader started. “You’d know that they don’t stop there, so we’re going to Barrow, and then back to Crovan’s on the pick-up goods.”
“Oh! Wonderful! I am a lost parcel! This is all Toby’s fault, the square-”
“Thomas,” Emma cut him off kindly. “It’ll be fine. Think about it this way - you can say that you went there on the Express! Won’t that be fun?”
“I’ve been on the express before…” Thomas said darkly.
“See? Then you know how fun it is!” 
Thomas looked like he wanted to say something else, but before he could, the shunters allowed Pip and Emma to back down onto the train, and connected the coupling chains and air hoses. 
Emma winked at him reassuringly, something which he felt was only unintentionally patronizing.
And then the train set off for the mainland. 
-
Leaving the port was a slow affair - the container yard was off to one side, and they had to dodge Marina and Salty as they shunted cars into the bulk terminals by the yard throat. There were a lot of low-speed switches to navigate as well, and the train rocked from side to side as they crossed over. Thomas thought about saying he was getting seasick, but chose not to tempt fate after the seventh such switch made him actually feel a little nauseous. 
After reaching the end of the harbour tracks, they came to a complete stop, and waited for several trains to leave the big station. 
First came Gordon, who stormed out of the station canopy with the mid-day semi-fast behind him. His expression was thunderous, as were his clouds of smoke and steam. He passed by with a roar and a clatter and vanished into the tunnel towards Knapford. 
Edward was a few minutes behind, with a train of ballast from the Little Western. The expression on his face was neutral, almost intentionally so - a clear sign to anyone that knew him that he was blisteringly furious. 
“Oh no…” Emma sighed. 
“What?” Thomas asked, watching Edward’s brake van disappear into the tunnel. 
“Not what, who.” She said, resigned. “And you’ll find out soon enough.”
Up front, Pip grit her teeth and waited. 
She didn’t have to wait long - another minute, and an unusual signal dropped into place: an up-bound train cleared for the down slow line. A very familiar two-note honk-honk sounded from inside the station, and then Murgatroyd appeared, a self-satisfied sneer on his face. 
He roared out of the station, New Measurement Train shining brightly behind him, John on the tail end calling apologies to someone. It would have been a rather splendid sight, had there not been a massive cloud of sooty clag hovering over the station entrance, and trailing in his wake. 
Pip smirked with a hint of schadenfreude - John wasn’t trailing any sooty exhaust smoke, and five empty coaches were not that heavy, so somebody was ignoring his fitters it seemed…
She would have been content to sit there smugly, her well-tuned engine firing cleanly on all cylinders saying more than she ever could with words, but naturally Murgatroyd had to make things worse. 
“Oh good god!” He bellowed in mean-spirited mirth, his mouth twisting into a cheshire-cat smile. “Look at that! They really are Valenta freighters now! And they’re slumming it with a tea kettle! I thought that I had seen it all!” 
He vanished out of sight before he could say anything else, the coaches streaming by in a yellow blur. 
Pip could just see her reflection in the passing windows - they moved so fast it looked like a solid mirror - and it was not a pretty sight. 
Emma, who’d heard everything, reckoned that if he’d gone on for one more sentence, her sister would be spitting fire and roaring loud enough to be heard in Cornwall. 
Thomas, who had said worse to Toby and Daisy just this morning, suddenly felt a great sense of unease…
-
A few tense minutes later, and the signal finally raised, giving the train access to the main line. Pip set off with a roar, Emma reluctantly following her lead through the multiple unit connection. Thomas choked and spluttered from the wave of hot exhaust gases going right into his face, and barely noticed as the train rocked and rolled onto the Up Fast line. 
Blinking and tearing up, his vision finally cleared just in time to see Pip’s cab roof disappear into the darkness of the tunnel to Knapford. It was much closer than it usually was, and with the train rapidly increasing in speed, Thomas yelped as it cleared his funnel by mere inches. “YIKES!”
Emma laughed, eyes shining in the darkness, and Thomas knew that the sooner he got off this train, the better!
-
After that, for a little while, the trip continued smoothly. Knapford, Crosby, and Wellsworth stations all slid past without issue. Traffic was extremely light, and they didn’t pass any down-bound trains in the entire period. In fact, if it weren’t for the occasional blot of Gordon’s smoke on the horizon, it would have seemed that they had the entire main line to themselves. 
-
It was just past Maron station when the trouble began. 
As they crested Gordon’s hill, the first signal past the summit had fallen to “approach” almost as they passed it, and some quick shouting at “control” on the radio had revealed that the last of the permanent way crews were taking longer than usual to clear the main line near Kellsthorpe Road station. 
This meant that Pip and Emma were practically at a crawl as they reached Maron, and the train eased to a stop at the signal bridge just past the platforms. 
Pip, still hot under the buffers from her encounter with Murgatroyd, was not exactly thrilled at the idea of “dawdling” in stations, and audibly fussed as they came to a halt.
Her poor temper didn’t help her train handling skills any, and the train lurched inelegantly to a halt, causing the slack in the couplings to run in, and the entire train banged against her and Emma. 
There was much shouting and complaining from the trucks and Thomas at this, and Pip growled menacingly.  
“Oh, well.” Emma said quickly, trying to put a positive spin on things. “At least it’s a nice day out-”
CLONK
Before she could even say anything, the signals rose to the “approach slow, expect stop” aspect. This meant that they were getting moved forward exactly one signal block, to the Cronk home signals near the Hawin Ab Viaduct. 
“Oh come on!” Emma cried in frustration. 
It was abundantly clear what was happening now: they were going to be yo-yo-ed up and down the main line. Yo-yo-ing was what happened when a fast train was stuck behind a slow one, and had to constantly stop at each signal and wait for it to clear. It was hard on an engine’s brakes, worse on their buffers and couplings, and worst of all, was annoying as sin. This was exactly the sort of constant, low-grade irritation that she (and Pip) did not need right now.
Pip’s driver was entirely unaware of this, though, and so he increased the throttle and watched with some bemusement as Pip let her engine furiously rev all the way to the top of the tachometer right from the jump. 
She and Emma lurched forwards, and the entire train crashed into motion, each car yanking the one behind it as they all set off. 
Thomas rocked back and forth against his tie-down chains. “Careful!” he shouted. 
“Shut up!” Pip and Emma scowled. 
Thomas frowned, ready to give them a piece of his mind. 
“It’s no use,” tThe low-loader sighed. “They’re in a strop right now - best you can do is make them forget that you’re here, til they calm down.”
“When will that happen?” 
“That, lad, is something that the smartest trucks in all the land have been searching for an answer to for many years.”
-
To add insult to perceived injury, Pip’s driver didn’t bother accelerating to any real speed, since they were only going one signal down the line. Pip and Emma stewed in their own irritation at twenty-five miles an hour as they rolled up the line towards the next signal. There was very little that could be done to make them more upset, but of course when there’s a will, (and a Murgatroyd) there’s a way.
-
“Oh, no…” John murmured to himself. 
The New Measurement Train had been caught at a signal for almost thirty minutes, as the Island’s P-Way team cleared out in front of them. The positioning of this particular signal was not ideal, as it left the tail of the train caught on the exposed tracks of a windy viaduct. Furthermore, the signal, like all signals on Sodor, was a relatively vintage semaphore design that still used colored filters over a white light. He knew this from experience, having been all over this island for the last day, however he was hearing all of it now because his royal Murgitude had been griping and whinging about it literally since the moment they stopped. 
And now, look at who was coming up to the signals on the fast line… 
“Hi Pip, Hi Emma,.” he said weakly. 
He almost wanted to tell them to stop further back, and be near him - away from the irritating mass at the front of the train - but looking at Pip’s enraged visage gave him pause. He stilled his tongue, and let them roll up to the signal mast next to Murg.
Judging from the way that the train screeched and bashed to a halt, Emma wasn’t happy either. A smart engine (or one with a functioning self-preservation instinct) would have kept quiet at that stage, however Murgatroyd was neither self-preserving nor intelligent, and John could hear his mocking tone from five coaches back. 
Pip said nothing, and at first neither did Emma, but as Moron-a-troyd went on and on and on, John could feel a shift in the container wagons next to him. It was almost like they were cringing, trying to keep themselves as far away from whatever was about to happen next. 
Finally, he could take the suspense no more. “Is it bad?” he asked the nearest truck. 
“SHUT UP. I AM TIRED OF HEARING YOU SPEAK,” Emma bellowed, loud enough to be heard clearly at the other end of the train. 
“It’s awful bad,” the truck whispered. “You can tell he’s never dealt with real engines before. One of us acts like that and we’d be the next Scruffey within a month!”
John didn’t know who “Scruffey” was, but he understood the sentiment regardless. 
Silence reigned after that… for all of ten seconds, before Murgatroyd said something about “decorum” that set off a screaming row between all three of them. 
It was bad enough that the Network Rail crew inside the coaches started making a fuss on the radio, and within a minute, the container train roared away, leaving the New Measurement Train in windy silence yet again. 
After a few short seconds, John felt a “poke” over the multiple unit connection. Clearly Murgatroyd wanted to say something. 
“Well,” he said, voice warbling from some damage in the connection that John hadn’t ever told anyone about. “I think they said their piece didn’t they? I tell you what John-old-boy, but this island produces some of the worst examples of engine-kind that I have ever seen. I think that one was breathing fire!”
-
At Cronk station, Pip and Emma were idling so loud and so roughly that the stationmaster radioed the crew to ask if something was wrong. 
“That damned flying banana got them in a state, that’s what’s wrong,” The driver snapped over the radio. That awful measurement train had been nothing but problems since it showed up on the island, and he was willing to do anything to see them gone. Heck, if it wasn’t likely to make his engines even angrier, he’d give that train his path to the mainland, just so it’d be gone faster. 
What they really needed was a good fast run, to get them back into their usual state, but with the P-Way team taking their sweet bloody time of it, it didn’t seem likely. 
“If they keep going like this, they’re going to burst a manifold somewhere,” the guard poked his head into the cab. “We’ve got to calm them down.”
“I would love to see you try!” the driver retorted. “They’re not gonna stop until they’re good and ready.”
“I can hear you, you know!” Pip huffed. 
“And? Are you going to calm down?” 
A slow growl that shook the entire cab was his only answer. 
“Go put the radio on,” he said to the wide-eyed guard. “They need something to keep their minds occupied.”
“Radio? Like, to control?”
“No, you nit! Like the radio radio! With music! There’s a circuit breaker on the electrical panel. Bottom row.”
Confused, the guard retreated from the cab and made his way to Pip’s electrical cabinet. Opening up the “low voltage” door, he traced his finger down the rows of breakers until he found what should have been immediately obvious: a handwritten label on some sellotape next to the last of the breakers. It said “TUNES” in shaky handwriting, and was one of the only ones not turned on. Hesitantly, he reached out and switched it on. 
“-and that was “No Diggity,” by Blackstreet, here on ManxPirate, the eternally annoying voice of the Sudrian Sea. Catch our sound wherever you are, on 107.9 FM, 927 AM, 13.68 Shortwave, DAB, DAB+, and online at ManxPirate.co.im. 
“Oh come on!” Pip groused. “Now they’re gonna do the adverts! This isn’t any better than listening to the moron!”
“And now that brings us up to about five minutes til’ the top of the hour, so we’re gonna run some adverts so we can keep the lights on. We’ll see ya on the flipside with DJ Geordie Poppers, who’s gonna run a very special block of music for us, right here on ManxPirate.”
“How often do they listen to this?” the guard asked with some astonishment. 
“Too much, if I had any say in it…” the driver mumbled.
“Are you tired of your washing up smelling like mildew? Are you sick of having to pull down the drying lines at the first sign of rain? Then the new automatic clothes dryers at B&Q are just for you…”
The radio continued on with an inane advertisement about tumble dryers, and the driver put his head in his hands. “We’ve just got to make it to a song… I hope.”
Pip and Emma continued to stew in their own irritation. 
-----
Far away, at Kellsthorpe Road station, the last of the P-Way Gang hauled their equipment off of the line, sharing a celebratory high-five as they did so. There was due cause for celebration: once the NMT traveled over this section of line, their yearslong work of relaying the entire main line would be finally over. In the station’s car park, a champagne bottle was popped, and the foreman revealed that he’d brought real crystal stemware for the occasion, instead of plastic.    
Presently, a radio handset buzzed. “Is that the lot of you off, then?” 
It was Control, sounding less than pleased with the delay… 
----
At Cronk, the signals for the down slow line rose into the “all clear” position, while the up fast signals remained red. 
Pip ground her teeth noisily. 
“HI, I’M BARRY SCOTT, AND I’M HERE TO TALK ABOUT THE ALL NEW CILLIT BANG UNIVERSAL DEGREASER! NOW WITH NEW FORMULATION! SAY GOODBYE TO LIMESCALE AND RUST STAINS…” 
The radio continued to play adverts.
Thomas was growing increasingly fearful of the look on Emma’s face. 
--
A few minutes later, as an insufferably bad advertisement about comparing your car insurance provider finally faded out, a two tone honk-honk sounded behind them, and the New Measurement Train roared past in a cloud of exhaust and dust. Pip and Emma didn’t say anything, or even look in the general direction, but the raucous laughter that trailed in its wake said enough. 
Mercifully, the radio had begun playing something else. “All right then, got those ads out of the way. So what’s up listeners? It’s DJ Geordie Poppers in the hooo-use, coming to you LIVE from our studios on the ever so beautiful radio ship Tharos out here in the Sudrian Sea. We’ve got a very special bit of music for you coming up now in the upcoming hour - it’s a rare daylight sighting of our After-Dark Eurobeat Power Hour! I’m gonna be spinning some CDs and MP3s with the most pulse-pounding beats this side of Mount Akina - so if you’re driving right now, sorry about this.”
As John got smaller and smaller in the distance, the music began to fade in, very gradually. 
“And a bit of housekeeping here - we’ve heard from the artist and they’ve had a bit of a name change. Out goes Ken, and in comes Kendra. This is the extended version of “The Top,” by  Ken (short for Kendra) Blast.”
Slowly, a piano track began to fill in. 
Pip raised an eyebrow, irritation momentarily sidetracked. “Is this really the Eurobeat block, Emma?”
“I think it is,” she said, starting to go along with the intro.  
Thomas, who couldn’t hear Pip or the radio, had no idea what she was talking about. He didn’t like the look on her face. 
The trucks didn’t either. 
“Lads,” the lead container wagon said with gravitas. “We may not make it through today unchanged. It has been an honor serving with you.”
“What?” The low loader that carried the jet engine coughed as the container wagons murmured about honor. He was relatively new, and this was not how he expected his day to be going.
“Laddie,” Thomas’ low loader said gravely, understanding at once what was about to happen. “You’re about to experience something that you’ve never been through before. I’d recommend preparing yourself.”
“What?!” Thomas yelped. 
---
Back in Tidmouth, the people in “Control” were staring at the “big board.” For weeks now, the section of line near Kellsthorpe road had been a mess of green, yellow, and red lights, as the P-Way gang slowly finished the banked curve on the station’s east end. Trains, represented by little markers on the computer screen, waited for a free path, oftentimes with large delays, which showed up in flashing red and white boxes. 
Now, though, their frustration was finally at an end. The last of the yellow was disappearing, section by section, as the P-Way gang reported that they were clear. Three of the four lines were bright red - clear but with no train signaled through - while the down slow line was a green and yellow stripe. It was getting shorter and shorter, as the little marker labeled 1Q01 moved steadily eastward. That was the New Measurement Train, finishing its final pass of the system.  
Behind it, with the box flashing red and white from the delay, was 1B07 - the “Container Express,” already twenty minutes late. More trains were lined up behind it and the NMT, and others were queuing in a line that started at Kellsthorpe Road and went all the way to the mainland. 
The yellow segments were almost entirely gone, with just one signal block outside of Kellsthorpe Road left. 
There was a five minute safety delay coded into the signal control computers, specifically for when crews were working on the line. 
It had been four minutes and fifty six seconds since they’d reported that they were clear. 
Four minutes and fifty seven seconds.
Four minutes and fifty eight.
Four minutes and fifty nine. 
---
The signal in front of Pip raised with a clonk. 
There was still a slight haze to the air from Murgatroyd’s exhaust. In the distance, the plume of sooty white smoke he was making stood out against the clear blue sky like a signal fire. 
“Emma?” Anyone with sense would recognize the danger in her tone.
“Yeah?” Unfortunately for everyone else on the train, they couldn’t do anything about it.
“I think we should catch him.”
“I think you’re right.”
--
In the cab, the driver looked nervously at the rev counter, which had started to climb rapidly. 
“Here goes nuthin’,” he said quietly to himself, before advancing the throttle.
--
The music, which had been slowly building over the last twenty seconds or so, abruptly kicked into a high gear, with a frenetic electronic beat that belted along at 160 beats per minute. 
White exhaust belched from the twins’ exhaust, before quickly turning black under the load. Their engines ramped up to an ear-piercing howl, obliterating any sense of quiet at Cronk station.
Thomas once again got a face full of noxious choking clag, and his eyes watered while his hearing was momentarily deafened by the noise of it all. 
The train began to pick up speed, and the container wagons groaned in fatalistic anticipation. “It’s all downhill from here!” one of them shouted. 
“What?” Thomas hacked from inside the cloud. He couldn’t see anything, and his hearing was ringing like a church bell. 
In front, Pip could feel the unrelenting wave of horsepower and diesel surging through her system. She laughed joyously, with Emma soon joining in. 
To everyone else, it seemed somewhat maniacal. 
🎶 Final lap I'm on top of the world
And I will never rest for second again!
One more time I have beaten them out
The scent of gasoline announces the end! 🎶
--
The train vanished from sight, on its way towards Killdane. The stationmaster poked his head out of the station door. 
“There goes trouble…”
--
The New Measurement Train rolled through Killdane with fleetfooted ease. The rails were clear and the light train was aided by the downhill gradient. From his position on the rear, John felt like the entire consist was weightless, with barely any effort required to keep the train at speed. 
“You think we should go any faster?” he called up the multiple unit connection to Murg. They usually ran at well over 120, but today they’d barely crested 90. 
There was a cough over the connection. “Oh, not today. We’re still the fastest train on this backwards island!” 
Ah yes. A sudden excuse. Surely that was completely unrelated to the plume of smoke trailing in their wake. 
“So, how’s cylinder four feeling today?”
“Shut up.”
John smiled pettily to himself. 
In the distance, Killdane got smaller and smaller. A small dot of yellow could just be seen…
---
🎶 They all said I'd best give it up
What a fool to believe their lies!
Now they've fallen and I'm at the top
Are you ready now to die-ie-ie?! 🎶
---
At Killdane, the sounds of the NMT had scarcely faded before the sound of howling diesel engines filled the air. Heads turned to the east just in time to see Pip and Emma hammering around the curve into the station at full throttle. 
The curve was banked, but not nearly as steeply as the ones to the west, and there was a piercing screeeeeech of steel on steel as the train whipped past. 
“Slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown!” There was also a piercing screech coming from the train’s cargo, as Thomas the Tank Engine felt himself rock back and forth atop the low loader. It really did feel like he was going to fall off! 
Pip had a very determined look on her face, eyes focused well into the distance, but those who saw Emma in the brief moment she was in view noted an almost demented smile on her face. She was laughing. 
All this happened in just a moment, and then the train was gone, roaring off into the distance at just below the line speed limit. The wind from the train’s passage rattled a lineside sign. It was a white circle with several thin diagonal slashes through it. 
It was an “end of speed limit” sign.
--
🎶 I came up from the bottom
And into the top
For the first time I feel alive
I can fly like an eagle
And strike like a hawk
Do you think you can survive... the top?🎶
--
John noticed that the small yellow dot in the distance was getting bigger. Squinting, he couldn’t quite see what it was. 
Whatever it was, it was slowly gaining on them.
Hang on…He thought. 
The cameras that were blanketing his sides were supposed to be recording the lineside for defects, but nobody ever cared about the “going away” view. Very quietly, he “looked” through the lens mounted just above his eyes. It had a nice zoom, and could see much further than he could. 
What he saw made him blink and look again. Then a third time. Then a fourth. After looking for a fifth and final time. He finally wrapped his mind around what exactly he was seeing. 
“Hey Murg?” he said innocently. 
“Yes? What is it?” Murg sounded far more irritated than he should be. 
“Think you can get us into the triple digits? Some of the boffins are worried about their readings not being calibrated right.”
“Oh damn them all.” Murg cut the connection with a pained cough. John had a distinct feeling that the Infallible and Most Invulnerable King Murgatroyd was hiding exactly how bad cylinder four really was from everyone, lest he be seen as “weak” or “mortal” by his inferiors. 
Well, he thought to himself with a hint of smugness as the train slowly began to increase speed. If he wants to play the perfect king, he’ll have to deal with the locals.  
Behind them, Pip and Emma continued to get closer and closer…
---
James and his coaches had been waiting on the dratted P-Way gangers for over half an hour at Kellsthorpe Road, and set off with a will when the signal changed. 
Of course, the signaling was all out of sorts, and he was running “wrong main” on the Up Slow line, but he didn’t much care. There wasn’t anyone in front of him, and was making “good” time on his way to Killdane. “Maybe we’ll still make it to Tidmouth before tomorrow!” he joked to his driver, who had long since given up on making light of the situation. 
They leaned into the curve heading towards Killdane, and that awful banana of a measurement train streaked by in the other direction. James whistled derisively at it out of reflex more than anything else, and was quietly grateful that the unpleasant train had nothing to say in return. 
In the distance, a giddy-sounding honk-honk drew his attention back to the line ahead, and he had just enough time to make out something streaking on the next line over before something-
Honk-Honk! Honk-Honk!
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”
-ripped past them with a honk, a roar, and a scream.
“What was that?!” He yelped as the wind buffeted him. 
“I think that was Pip and Emma!” his driver said, looking backward. “With a container train!”
“What?!”
---
🎶 One more turn and I'll settle the score
A rubber fire screams into the night
Crash and burn is what you're gonna do
I am the master of the asphalt fight 🎶
---
John watched as Pip and Emma got closer and closer. In a macabre way, he felt giddy about it. At their current speed, they were going to eat Murgatroyd for lunch and still have room for tea afterwards. 
He had been paying such close attention to the rapidly-closing distance between the two trains that he completely missed the start of the banked curve until he was leaning into it. The rails bent underneath him and the ties whipped past at an odd angle as the whole world tilted a few degrees. They weren’t going slow, by any means, but the sensitive equipment in the coaches (and his years of experience) told him that they could have been going much faster. 
“Oh Murg… you might want to speed up…” he sing-songed. “They’re gaining on us…”
“Who’s gaining on us? What?!” Murgatroyd was oblivious, as was his wont. 
John wanted to say something else, but his voice failed him as he watched the container train, with low-loaders on the front, rocket through the curve at speeds that he didn’t even want to contemplate. 
A train passed on one of the other lines, and he watched the smoke from its stack get whipped and roiled by air currents of the two trains passing each other. 
Seconds later, Pip and Emma passed the train, streaking through the remaining smoke, and the force of their passage tore the cloud to ribbons. 
---
🎶They all said I'd best give it up
What a fool, to believe their lie-ie-ies!
Now they've fallen, I'm at the top
Are you ready now to die-ie-ie?🎶
---
Pip was high on speed, and she was loving every second of it. 
Emma was right behind her, literally and metaphorically; the sensation of pure motion and velocity was coursing through their systems like a drug. 
In front of them, so close one could almost reach out and touch it, was the New Measurement Train. John was watching with restrained giddiness as they started to draw abreast of him. He said something, but the wind whipping by erased all sound. There was just speed, and that was more than enough. 
Slowly, they pulled even with the coaches, and with each window they passed, another Network Rail employee could be seen looking up in astonishment. 
In Pip’s cab, the driver was holding onto the controls with a white knuckle grip. Officially, he was the driver, he was in control of the train. Realistically, he was nothing more than a rider on a bucking bronco. He surveyed the line ahead, and gulped. 
Behind Pip and Emma, Thomas’s eyes were right in the most turbulent part of the wake that followed the diesels. Air, superheated and filled with grit and soot from twin exhausts, poured into his eyes and swirled around his face. He couldn’t hear, he could barely see. 
Behind him, the wind whipped through the turbine blades of the jet engine on the next low-loader. It had been secured for transport, so the blades didn’t move, but the wind rushing through it created a high-pitched howling noise that simply added to the cacophony. 
Lost in the chaos of the wind and the noise and the exhaust, the container wagons and the low-loaders were holding onto each other for dear life. 
“I’m not designed for thiiiiis!” one of them shrieked. 
“None of us are!” the wagon ahead of him bellowed. “Just keep holding on a little longer!” 
--
At the head of the NMT, Murgatroyd was trying very hard to ignore the slight off-beat throbbing coming from cylinder four. Something was amiss with it - what it was, he didn’t know for certain. Driver didn’t know either - blasted man hadn’t turned a wrench a day in his life; wouldn’t know the difference between an allen key and the keys to a house! 
Of course there weren’t any fitters on board - “economic savings” kept them at home base - so he just had to deal with it. 
Just so long as the underlings didn’t notice, everything would be fine-
“Oh Murgatroyd…”
“Yes, John?”
“You might want to look around...”
He looked off towards the Up lines, and was rendered momentarily speechless by the sight of Pip smiling wickedly at him. 
“T-that’s not possible,” he said once he found his tongue. “That isn’t possible!” 
---
🎶 I came up from the bottom
And into the top
For the first time I feel alive!
I can fly like an eagle
And strike like a hawk
Do you think you can survive...
I came up from the bottom
And into the top
For the first time I feel alive!
I can fly like an eagle
And strike like a hawk
Do you think you can survive... the top?🎶
----
Moments earlier
“So how late do you think we’re going to be?” Percy asked as the train rumbled through Kellsthorpe Road station. 
“Oh,” Henry pondered. “We’re only allowed to do 45, and we’ve got to drop off the aluminium at Killdane, so probably two or three hours if we lose our path at all. Which we will.”
“Thomas is going to be absolutely livid when I get back.” Percy said from atop his low loader. “He was supposed to go in for his new cylinder block today, so if I’m not back, they’re going to have him stay in steam all day.”
“Oh, he won’t be thrilled about that.” Henry chortled. “I swear, he’s the only engine who likes going to the works.” 
“They treat him the same way James treats himself. Of course he likes going there!”
“Hah! I hadn't considered that-oh dear…” Henry trailed off mid-sentence. 
“What?”
“It appears that we’re about to go down the middle between Pip and Emma, and their favorite siblings.”
“What? The banana? Oh great.”
“Yes, they- oh goodness they’re quick-”
Anything else Henry said was lost to the deafening thunderclap made as the New Measurement Train and the Container Express roared past on the opposing lines. The wind felt like it was going to knock him clean off the rails, and Percy yelped in surprise as debris and exhaust fumes swirled around him like a hurricane. His boiler, a stout construction that could hold hundreds of pounds of pressure, felt like it was flexing and bowing from the vibrations in the air. He watched in open-mouthed shock as Henry’s cab windows were sucked out of their frames from the differential pressure, and were hurled through the air followed by every loose object in the cab, from hats and coats, to papers and even a coal shovel!
Behind and in front of Percy, open wagons of stone, and the coal from Henry’s tender sent huge plumes of dust and debris into the air, swirling and mixing into a funnel cloud that wrapped around the rear of the train. It danced in the tornadic airflow for a few seconds, before dissipating as the trains parted once more. 
The silence afterwards was deafening. 
“DID I LOSE A WINDOW?” Henry asked, almost unable to hear himself speak, as his driver applied the brakes and stopped the train. 
Percy tried to make the ringing in his smokebox cease. Closing his eyes, he suddenly remembered seeing something in the fraction of a second before the world went topsy-turvy. “Wait a tic. Was that Thomas?”
“WHAT?”
---
🎶 What were you thinking, telling me to change my game?
This style wasn't going anywhere; it was kaput!
You want to see what I've done with this place; this whole thing?
You want to see that I changed the game?
No, I AM the game!
Before I knew where this was going, I would've listened to you
Right now, I distance myself from what you have to say!
I made this something way bigger than you're ever gonna be
I made it this far; and I'm taking it to the top 🎶
----
Pip and Emma laughed gaily as they overtook the NMT, and powered on towards Kellsthorpe Road like they weren’t towing several hundred tonnes of freight train behind them. 
Murgatroyd gaped in shock as he was passed by the steam engine they were carrying as cargo. 
The shock quickly turned into outrage, and he felt the red-hot sting of being one-upped surge through his system. His engine began to rev higher, urging the train to move faster damn it. 
“Whoa there,” his driver exclaimed, laying a firm hand on the controls. “We want to make it to the mainland, right?”
“I don’t care!” Murgatroyd ground his teeth, watching as the container wagons slipped past him. “They can’t win!” 
But no matter how he tried, his driver wouldn’t let him speed up. 
He howled and roared impotently as Pip and Emma got further and further ahead. 
---
On the platforms of Kellsthorpe Road station, several surveyors were getting measurements of the newly-relaid line. 
Looking down the magnified optics of a theodolite, the true character of the railway could be seen. What appeared to be a straight and flat section of line was actually a ribbon of steel that undulated and flowed over the terrain. While certain sections had just been flattened and graded, it was impossible to fully eliminate the contours of the earth without starting from scratch, and so the line rolled with the small hills and invisible valleys instead of cutting right through them.
“Hey, look at that.” One of the other surveyors said from behind an optical level. “You can see the NMT from here.”
“Can you?” asked his coworker, who quickly pointed his theodolite down the line. “I don’t see it.”
“It’s just gone behind the dip. Should be back in a moment.”
He fixed his eyes on the dip in the terrain. It was actually visible to the naked eye, but its height differential - deemed to be “within acceptable limits” - and its presence directly under a road bridge - meant that it had survived the recent track relaying unscathed.  
The surveyors waited for the train to reappear, the optics of their measurement devices making things appear much larger than they really were. 
With that in mind, it was something of a surprise to see an HST appear two tracks over from where the NMT had been. They both looked to that line just in time for the train to crest the hill.
There was a brief moment, no longer than a breath, where both men could see daylight shine underneath the train as all the wheels left the ground.
----
Pip and Emma hooted and hollered with glee as they roared through the approach to Kellsthorpe Road station. High speed crossovers and the new banked curve meant they didn’t have to check their speed in the slightest as they charged onwards. 
The station came and went in a flash, and they leaned into the new corner at unprecedented speeds. Behind them, Thomas wailed loud enough to be heard over their motors, but they paid him little mind; they didn’t realize - or understand - exactly what he was experiencing. 
Behind them, now far into the distance, the New Measurement Train was just rolling into the station. 
They had won. 
---
🎶 I came up from the bottom
And into the top
For the first time I feel alive!
I can fly like an eagle
And strike like a hawk
Do you think you can survive...
I came up from the bottom
And into the top
For the first time I feel alive!
I can fly like an eagle
And strike like a hawk
Do you think you can survive... the top? 🎶
----
Further up the line, Bertie the bus was pulling up to a level crossing, just as the gates went down. 
“That was a great song on the radio, wasn’t it?” he said to his driver, who was thoroughly regretting turning on ManxPirate, thanks very much. “I feel like I should be racing something! Ooh! I know! The next train that comes by, we’ll try and chase it, huh? Just like the old times with Thomas!”
Honk-Honk
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”
Whooooooooooooooooooooosh
The train passed in just a few seconds. 
“Nevermind.”
-----
The song wound down to a stop, but Pip and Emma continued charging on. 
The guard went so far as to pull the fuse on the radio, hoping that it would calm them down, but they were too far gone to consider dropping their speed until they reached Crovan’s Gate station. There, the speed limit dropped to 90; normally a mild inconvenience, but today it felt like they’d dropped an anchor behind them. 
Still, they continued merrily along through the station as fast as was allowed (much to Thomas’s dismay) and continued east along the line. 
As they cleared the station and began to speed up again, they noticed a cloud of smoke on the horizon. 
There was still one more train they could catch…
-----
Compared to everyone else in this story, Gordon was having a blissfully uneventful day. He’d managed to put that vulgar measurement train almost totally out of his mind, and was making excellent time to the mainland when one considered the workmen-caused delay at Kellsthorpe Road. 
There was a farm lane that crossed the tracks near Henry’s tunnel, and he whistled for it. 
Honk-Honk
He was most surprised to hear a horn respond to him, and was flabbergasted to see Pip, then Emma, and then Thomas pass him like he was standing still!
“HiGordonByeGordon!” “HiGordonByeGordon!” “GORDON HELP ME!”
The train raced into the tunnel and vanished from sight. 
Gordon could not believe what he had seen!
----
Eventually, the speed limits dropped, and the four track main line merged into two just after Vicarstown. Rolling over the lift bridge at a sedate twenty miles an hour Pip and Emma finally began to come down off their “runner’s really high.”
“That was great!” Pip gushed. “Just the sort of run we needed to clear everything out, am I right?”
“Uh, Pip?” Emma began to notice the state of Thomas. “I think we miiiiight have overdone this a little.”
Thomas could only whimper in agreement! 
----
By the time the New Measurement Train rolled into Barrow station some thirty minutes later, Pip, Emma, and Gordon were all trying to console Thomas, to limited success. 
“...Ahem!” Murgatroyd tried to slink into the station totally unnoticed, but John had no compunctions about making sure they were seen. “So, I assume that you two will be conducting all of this railway’s freight services from now on?”
“Oh,” Pip’s smile was very guilty looking as she turned away from the still shell-shocked Thomas. “Yeah. About that…” She swallowed deeply. “I’m… sorry about… y’know. All of that. The overtake.”
“What, me? Overtaken?” Murgatroyd tried and failed to play dumb. Well, a different kind of dumb from usual. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Pip’s smile grew much harder edged, and Gordon took the moment to intercede. “Look, Pip. You don’t owe that any apology of any form.” 
Murgatroyd looked aggrieved. Gordon turned on him next. “And you. You are an uncouth abomination who have done nothing useful at all. Take the apology, cause no more trouble, and find yourself a better attitude elsewhere.”
Murgatroyd puffed himself up with self-righteous fury, and John regretted being an instigator. 
“WELL, I-” He started.
“Oh shut up!” Thomas bellowed. “Stop talking before I come down there and peel you, you great useless banana! Everything that’s happened to me today is all your fault!” 
 Murgatroyd quailed under the impressive amount of vitriol Thomas was spewing, and he left in a chastised burst of soot and clag. John followed in his wake, not sure what, if anything to say. “Bye Pip. Bye Emma.”
Once the NMT had vanished from sight, Pip, Emma, and Gordon turned their attention back to Thomas. 
“Great useless banana?” Gordon raised an eyebrow. 
Thomas didn’t have the energy for a proper comeback, and simply stared at him knowingly. 
“Fine, fine,” Gordon acknowledged the unsaid. “For an off-the-buffer moment after the day you’ve had, it was a fine jab. I’m just glad that you’re beginning to feel more like yourself.” He began to steam off towards the shed. “As such, I’ll be off.”
“Wait!” Thomas called. “Where are you going? Who’s taking me on the pick-up goods?”
“Thomas, I don’t take the pick-up goods,” Gordon called regally. “That’s what we have diesels for. I believe there’s two of them right in front of you!”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”
---------------------------------------------------------------
Post script: Low-loaders were subsequently banned from Pip and Emma's trains
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enbysiriusblack · 1 year ago
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made a sorta 1970's hogwarts school timetable in word. please tell me if you have any clubs or such you think they'd have
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buckyalpine · 1 month ago
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18+ Filth and pure smut. My mind is on a sexy dilf Bucky with those delicious greys in his beard. I want his sweet wife teasing him over his age, especially after he shakes his head over the way their teenage sons friends keep trying to subtly hit on her. He doesn't blame them because his wife is gorgeous; an absolute milf and he's the luckiest man on the planet to call her his.
You can't help but playfully pinch his side when Bucky ushers your son and his friends all out of the house, slipping him a few bills, insisting he stay out late as he wants. He even gives him permission to crash at a friends house for the night leaving the two of you alone. (of course your son already knows why his dad is so persistent and it leaves him both disgusted and happy his parents are still so in love).
"Breakin' young boys hearts, Mrs. Barnes" Bucky lets out a low chuckle, untying the apron that was tied around your waist, letting it drop to the floor.
"Careful there, old man" You tease, giggling at the way he cocks an eyebrow not that the house was empty, "Might get a heart attack if you try anything at your age" and with that you saunter off to the bathroom to run a shower, looking over your shoulder to see if your husband would follow. He watches the way your hips sway, the insatiable little minx in you trying to get a rise out of him, discarding your clothing in the middle of the bedroom and leaving the bathroom door unlocked on purpose.
He'd show you exactly what an old man could do.
****
You felt your muscles relax as steam filled the room, hot water spraying against your skin while you added your peach shower gel to the loofah. You wondered what Bucky was up to, usually he'd-
"James" You gasp, feeling your husbands hard cock brush against your ass as he presses up you from behind, his large hands moving up your soap slicked body to grope onto your lathered breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples, giving them a harsh tug.
"Shhh," He smirked, nipping your neck, his tongue running up your skin, licking up the water droplets, "Don't stop on my account gorgeous, go on" He let out a satisfied hum when you went back to gently scrubbing your skin, his hands moving to rub up your thighs, ghosting in between them before pulling away and standing in front of you. His cock stood tall and proud, his swollen tip so pink, begging to be touched.
"James, please-
"Uh-uh, thought m' just an old man baby, just doin' what old men do" He smirked, palming himself, his eyes raking up and down your body, wrapping his hand around his shaft, "Aren't you pretty"
You went along with exactly what Bucky wanted, letting your hands trail along your body, soapy bubbles flowing down your curves while your husband started to stroke himself while leaning against the cold shower wall. "You're a pretty sight, look at what you do me to darlin' got me acting like a perverted little boy, touching myself while watching you"
He groaned, jerking himself faster, not sure what he wanted to focus on first. He'd seen you naked plenty of times and he'd certainly showered with you more times that he could count but he'd never get tired of the sight of his wife covered in the cutest bubbles, dripping wet, putting on a shower all just for him.
While Bucky was admiring you, you admired him right back. He'd aged like fine wine, his chestnut hair still luscious, the ends of his hair curling from the steam of the water. His beard had a few flecks of grey which just added to how handsome he was along with the thick muscle that ran under his skin. Nothing turned you on more than a very naked Bucky under hot water, lost in self pleasure with you as his muse. Every groan and whimper was for you, shamelessly touching every intimate part of himself because of you. It was that very sight that had your fingers start to travel down your body, your pussy desperately craving attention.
"That's mine, sugar" Bucky grabbed your wrist before you could slip it between your thighs, pulling it away and positioning himself behind you again. "This pussy here-" His palm cupped every bit of your cunt in the most debauched way, his cock slotted between your ass while his chest was pressed against your back, "Is all mine. I get to play with her baby, s'mine to touch"
"Then touch me Jamie, please" Your voice was nothing more than a whine now and the pet name that slipped out was more than enough for Bucky to know you needed him bad.
"M'Jamie now, huh? Thought I was just an old man before" He chuckled, rubbing his cockhead against your slicked entrance, teasing and letting the tip catch on your hole and pulling away before stuffing his way in.
"F-FUCK JAMES!" You cried out as he set a brutal pace without warning, his thighs slamming against your ass, his hands holding your hips with a bruising grip. "P-PLEASE-Don't-don't stop!"
"That's it, scream for me baby, let everyone know how your husband fucks you" Bucky's hands held onto you for dear life, fucking you like a ragdoll, his fingers skimming across your belly and down to your clit. He could feel your stretch marks as he felt your body up, one of his favorite things about you, his mind starting to wander.
He remembered the way they felt when you were pregnant with your son, the way he'd hold onto your belly, tracing over those gorgeous lines as they made room for his growing baby boy. He'd feel those same curves when making love to you, loving the way you were extra sensitive, constantly craving for him to fill you up. You were the most gorgeous thing when you had a piece of him inside you, fuck he missed it, his balls felt so fuckin' heavy and full and maybe it was just the heat and steam from the shower but-
"Think you could handle another baby?" Bucky purred, his cock already getting harder at the thought of you with a rounded belly again, looking fucking gorgeous, barefoot and pregnant. He was perfectly happy with the way things were but another wouldn't hurt....
Fuck it.
"M'gonna knock you up pretty girl, you'll have my baby again won't ya, gonna let me get you pregnant again? Show everyone I still know how to fuck, show em how well you take my cum in that tight little cunt"
"Oh God, Jamess" Your eyes practically crossed as his fingers began to strum your clit, your head thrown back, barring your neck letting him bite and suck bruises onto your skin, groaning into your ear, "Gonna-gonna cum"
"C'mon mommy, make me a daddy again" Bucky's pace grew faster, the obscene sound of skin slapping filling the bathroom. "Milk my cock, take my cream, want it, want another baby"
Bucky angled his hips to hit depths you didn't know were possible, his fingers rubbing tight circles onto your clit along with those words alone sent you crashing head first into your orgasm. A sob slipped past your lips as your vision went white, your cunt greedily pulsing and gripping onto Bucky's cock, coaxing for him to empty his balls in you.
"That's-fuck that's it, just like that, milk it, shit mommy, milk daddy's cock, fuck'm'gonna-oh God I'm cumming!" Bucky bit down onto your shoulder letting out a slutty moan as cum burst from his cock, his endless orgasm leading to drops of his pearly white seed splashing onto the shower tile below. "Fuck, you make me cum so hard for you baby"
His hips stutterd at the aftershocks of his orgasm, his cock still throbbing the last few spurts while his arms held your limp body, rinsing you both off. He wrapped you up with a fluffy towel, carrying you bed with ease and snuggling up in the sheets.
"Meant what I said, angel" Bucky gave you a soft smile, a hint of shyness now replacing his previous dominant demeanor. "How about another"
"I'd give you as many babies as you want, Mr. Barnes" You giggled, squealing when he rolled on top of you, instantly hard-
My bad, I got distracted while already distracted and then this happened. Look at him though, can you blame me.
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dorothylarouge · 6 days ago
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US Presidents as Dril Tweets
George Washington: another day volunteering at the betsy ross museum. everyone keeps asking me if they can fuck the flag. buddy, they wont even let me fuck it
John Adams: "ah boo hoo hoo i want to post Foul comments to content leaders" Fat Chance, Dimwit. I will annihilate you under bulwark of the Law and God.
Thomas Jefferson: Q: If your post was proven by a counsil of wise men to be racist, or bullshit, would you bar it from the record? A: I do not delete my posts
James Madison: (sniffing a crumpled up one dollar bill i found on the floor of a dog kennel) ah.. thats greenbacks baby
James Monroe: for decades i have traversed the unforgiving mountains and rivers of south america, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fabled "ass downloader"
John Quincy Adams: "This Whole Thing Smacks Of Gender," i holler as i overturn my uncle's barbeque grill and turn the 4th of July into the 4th of Shit
Andrew Jackson: handing Faves over to my enemies is FRAUD !! base, contemptible FRAUD!
Martin Van Buren: Food $200
Data $150
Rent $800
Candles $3,600
Utility $150
someone who is good at the economy please help me budget this. my family is dying
William Henry Harrison: (spends all of 7 seconds skimming some blog posts) yep. just as i knew all along. having pnuamonia is good
John Tyler: fuck "jokes". everything i tweet is real. raw insight without the horse shit. no, i will NOT follow trolls. twitter dot com. i live for this
James K. Polk: thhere is no such thing as charisma, and art is fake. the only metrics by which we must determine the worth of a man are Strength and Wisdom
Zachary Taylor: the doctor reveals my blood pressure is 420 over 69. i hoot & holler outta the building while a bunch of losers tell me that im dying
Millard Fillmore: trying to heal..... please donate to my go fund me... $10 will make me less racist... $100 will make me extremely less racist...thank you...
Franklin Pierce: blocked. blocked. blocked. youre all blocked. none of you are free of sin
James Buchanan: #NationalGirlfriendDay please cherish your gal's.. in honor of us, the single Boys who must sacrifice all companionship to #CarryTheBrand...
Abraham Lincoln: unloading an entire belt of ammo at me with a minigun or some such device will now get you "Blocked"
Andrew Johnson: who the fuck is scraeming "LOG OFF" at my house. show yourself, coward. i will never log off
Ulysses S. Grant: i regret being tasked the emotional burden of maintaining the final bastion of morality and Nice manners in this endless ocean of human SHIT
Rutherford B. Hayes: using the toilet when i hear Our national anthem start to play. i do what i must. i stand tall in complete agony; as shit runs down my leg,
James A. Garfield: too much truth in such little time. feeling the heat cominh down to silence me... signing off........ for now
Chester A. Arthur: i WILL wise the fuck up. i WILL super charge my content for 2017. i WILL get blue check mark
Grover Cleveland: the way i see it, people who come on here and submit content that is not up to par, could possibly be considered the "Villains" of this site
Benjamin Harrison: i help every body, im not racist, i keep myself nice, and when i ask for a single re-tweet in return i am told to fuck off, fuck myself, etc
William McKinley: boy oh boy do i love purchasing large amounnts of Fool's Gold. wait a minute... fools gold fucking sucks. this stuff is no good..!! Fuck !!!
Theodore Roosevelt: IF THE ZOO BANS ME FOR HOLLERING AT THE ANIMALS I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL
William H. Taft: ah.. the perfect Souffle! cant wait to dig in to t(*EVERY PIPE IN MY HOUSE EXPLODES AT THE SAME TIME, COVERING ME IN SHIT AND BOILING WATER*
Woodrow Wilson: the conflicted supersoldier stares over the horizon as he smokes a cigarette. "war is the most fucked up thing ever." he takes a sip of beer
Warren G. Harding: somebody please Bribe me
Calvin Coolidge: aggressively joyless oaf hhere. painfully obnoxious respect demander checkign in. extremely dim witted frowning man looking for pals
Herbert Hoover: it is really quite astonishing that I have yet to win The Lottery, given how good I am at selecting six numbers and saying them out loud
Franklin D. Roosevelt: ive never heard of this “europe” but it sounds like a big bunch of shit to me
Harry Truman: everybody wants to be the guy to write the tweet that solves racism once and for all because it would look good as hell on a resume
Dwight D. Eisenhower: my "F*&k It!! Let's Go Golfin" t-shirt maintains a tenacious stranglehold on my life. after 1,125 days of Golf my body is twisted, deformed
John F. Kennedy: when you do sutuff like... shoot my jaw clean off of my face with a sniper rifle, it mostly reflects poorly on your self
Lyndon B. Johnson: incredibly handsome , charismatic famous boy credited with ending income inequality after saying that slumlords should be called "dumblords"
Richard Nixon: i attribute the complete failure of my brand to the actions of detractors, oor my “trolls”, as it were, as well as my own constant fuckups
Gerald Ford: shutting computer down until the shitty moods & attitudes can fuck off., if you need me ill be on my other computer, sititng 60° to my right
Jimmy Carter: i warnned you all that bad things would happen if you kept letting your wives wear jeans. AND NOW LOOK! the damn gas prices are up again
Ronald Reagan: spend a lot of time thinking about how sometimes even war criminals can be heroes sometimes... Dont like it? Click the unfollow buttobn
George H.W. Bush: just thought off an idea i believe to be bad ass. lets find the address of the leader of isis, and mail him/ her pieces of our SHIT
Bill Clinton: were at the point now, that when i offer to impregnate my girl followers, people assume my motives are sexual. disgusting, grow the fuck up,
George W. Bush: friday night gathering up together a big pile of things i like to respect (flags, crucifixes ,etc) and just roll around in it ,give kisses,
Barack Obama: my IQ has increased 10 points ever since i stopped tollerating people mucking about, on the time line
Donald Trump: THERAPIST: your problem is, that youre perfect, and everyone is jealous of your good posts, and that makes you rightfully upset.
ME: I agree
Joe Biden: I will shut the fuck up , IF , it will restore the Harmony. I will get on my knees like a dog and make that sacrifice, for the sake of Calm
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r3ynah · 9 months ago
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I Can be everything and anything, at once
A 27 years old Phantom was challenged to a bet, by his co-workers at the watchtower. Green lantern stated along with the the other heroes that If he could help every single one of them at least once in a month while not using any his powers and he also had to be physically and mentally there as he helps them. the cherry on top was that he needed to use his real identity instead of his ghost form in this mission.
If Phantom successfully conceals his civilian identity, while helping them, he gets to know everyone's deepest darkest secrets.
But if he loses, he must do everyone a favor and must keep it no matter how outrageous it is.
Ofcourse Phantom agreed, because he was no bitch, okay so maybe he is, he only accepts bets like this if he knows that'll he'll win. so yeah.
Besides, having no powers for this, is really a piece of cake, if you're a raging gender fluid that knows his way around makeup and can easily change the sound of his voice, to be honest the shapeshifting parts that he got from his powers are basically just add-ons.
Well what was he waiting for? afterall he needed all the blackmail he could get, not as Phantom but as Daniel James Fucking Fenton, this was an opportunity to go batshit crazy and he was absolutely stealing it.
The very first hero Danny approached to help was Wonder Woman, who thanked Danny who was now disguised as a woman wearing a long ass Red wig, and some clothes he "borrowed" from Jazz who just joked about Danny being her twin, and wished him luck.
"Thank you, young lady for your brave actions to help me." Wonder woman sincerely thanked the boy in disguise as she held both of Danny's hands as gratitude "may I ask the name of my savior? "
"My name's El, It's a pleasure to know you." Danny smiled a little wider.
The second was Flash, which Danny found completely amusing because of the way he helped the speedy hero, who tripped while patrolling around the city.
Danny who was now in a more gothic attire( thanks to Sam's help) caught the hero's wrist before he embarrassingly fell face first on the ground.
"You okay there sir?" Danny asked, as he kept a firm grip on the man's wrist to make sure he doesn't fall.
Meanwhile Flash who thought he was in those korea tv romance dramas only blue screened for a few seconds before finally get his shit together. "yeah- um- name's Flash, and you are?"
The hero tripped on his own words, making Danny amused as fuck. "James, it was nice to finally meet you"
Okay, about like three weeks in, and Danny managed to help almost everyone in the watchtower, and only a few more to go,( he didn't get why most of the heroes he helped either started to stutter or blue screen in their spot once they talk to him. like damn is this how all of you treat every civilian who interacts with you? that's just sad) but at this time, Dan and Elle found out, and were now demanding to join, with the excuse of basically being Danny but in alternate or clone form, which Danny had no choice but to give in, I mean he wasn't breaking any rules so technically this was alright.
Danny wanted to take a break so Dan took over this time.
currently Nightwing was observing the outside of the gala, Bruce was invited to, something about a bunch of drugs being hidden within the crowd, and was now being passed around.
He intently remained focused on his observation, while also keeping a conversation with Oracle and the others on the comms, he didn't realize that he was too far off the edge of the railing he was standing on, until he missed a step.
Nightwing would never admit that he let a quiet squeal to his siblings ever as he fell, he closed his eyes and braced for impact, he would never expect to fall into the arms of a man 3x bigger than him, he stared at the man, and the man stared at him. 'holy shit' Nightwing thought.
The man, chuckled making Nightwing internally scream. "When I wished for Desiree, to make someone from above to save me from this trash party, I didn't think it would be one of the birds of gotham, to come and fall for me let alone the handsome one."
Okay Nightwing was now full on red from blushing, he was put down gently by the man on the ground, before offering a handshake, once Nightwing accepted the handshake, Dan pulled the hand closer to his mouth then gave a quick peck on the back of the hand vigilante's hand. "My name's Dan Masters, it's a pleasure to meet you."
his siblings can eat dirt on how they were teasing Nightwing Right now, but this was fucking worth it.
And the last to have gotten help from Danny was John Constantine, Danny actually had a reason on why he saved John for last, and that's because John actually knows Danny's identity, so for this mission he asked the help of his daughter Elle.
Elle had helped John by fixing a ruined summoning circle, who also helped him negotiate with a demon, and somehow all day, Elle just stuck to Constatine's side, her explanation? 'He'll die without me' fair point John thought as he took the kid, to order ice cream and to hangout in the park.
"You know kid, you remind me of someone." Constantine stated while keeping his eyes on what's infront of him, which was just a bunch of trees.
Elle who sat next to him, still eating her Ice cream looked up at him and said. "Really?"
"Yeah like you two literally have the same aura and all just a little different, but I don't know who yet." He replied and ruffled the kid's hair. making the girl laugh.
"Hey John!" Danny greeted behind them, and then all the gears inside of Constantine's head began to work. he let out a groan as he realized the girl beside him was the clone of the man behind him, well he needed to kiss that secret of his goodbye. here on this spot right now or he'll die of embarrassment if he waited any longer.
"Danny, let's go on a date." Constantine stated, not facing the Man.
this comment made the Father and Daughter choke on literal air.
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ellecdc · 4 months ago
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Can we get a James potter pregnancy fic like the moon water one? I just on ow he’d be so sweet and doting and wouldn’t let you lift a finger.
it's so true though - he would be a master coddler, & sorry to leave you waiting since April, this fic gave me a run for my money 🥺
James Potter x pregnant wife!reader who interrupts game night
CW: mentions of pregnancy, gambling?
Sirius was not too proud to admit that he felt immediately guilty when he realised the mistake he had made.
As you got further along in your pregnancy, James had become increasingly less inclined to leave your side for any extended amount of time.
It got to the point that James actually took a leave of absence from work, and was now debating whether or not he’d ever go back once the baby was born. 
Remus, Sirius, and Peter all had bets on how long that was going to last, knowing how…involved James could be, not withstanding the potential pregnancy hormone related fits of anger and exhaustion. 
So, this week's game night (and likely every remaining one until perhaps your child went to Hogwarts) was being hosted at James’.
“Sorry boys, I just don’t want to risk not being here in case she needs anything, you know?” He had said. 
And they did know; and quite frankly, Sirius was looking forward to not having to clean up after his sodding friends, so there were no complaints from him or Moony. And your place was closer to Peter’s flat, so he was happy for an excuse to take an evening stroll.
So when the four friends were sitting around a circular dining table, bickering over whose turn it was in their game of muggle poker and you were - what was only now very clear to Sirius - tiptoeing down the stairs of your townhouse, Sirius really shouldn’t have made your presence known. 
“What are you doing up?” James asked as he quickly dropped his cards - face down, dammit - onto the table to make his way over to you after being alerted to your presence by Sirius’ traitorous smile and wave.
“I just wanted a snack, Jamie.” You admitted, half bashful and half frustrated at the fussing, though you accepted James' embrace willingly.
Sirius thought the hug looked awkward, seeing as how the two of you needed to leave so much room for your belly. 
“You should’ve told me, angel; I would have gotten it for you.” He chided gently as he ushered you (forced you) into his seat with a gentle hand on your back.
You smiled apologetically at the boys as you sat in James’ seat with only a small groan and a hand on your belly.
“Sorry, Trouble.” Sirius apologised quickly. But you - the sweet ‘angel’ that you were - simply waved him off. 
“Even if I had made it to the kitchen, he would have heard me rummaging in the fridge.” You said simply, picking up James’ cards and reorganising them.
“Has he got anything good?” Peter asked quickly, causing you to shake your head no before putting the cards back down.
“Damn sod’s been bluffing; he was always such a terrible liar at Hogwarts when he was the lookout for our pranks, how on earth can he bluff?” Remus asked incredulously as he dropped his own hand down on the table (face down, damnit). 
“He’s not bluffing; I don’t think he has a clue how to play this game.” You explained simply.
“You should come to all of our game nights.” Sirius chuckled as he gently nudged your arm with his elbow. 
You chuckled and looked towards the kitchen. “The point of gamenights was for you four to get together, and for me to have a quiet house.”
“Please.” James called as he made his way out of the kitchen with a tray of various treats in one hand and a large cup of ice water in the other. “You gave up having a quiet house the second you said ‘I do’.” 
You accepted a loving kiss to your temple as he handed the cup of water to you and placed the tray in front of you on top of his cards. 
If Sirius didn’t get a peak at someone’s cards really fucking soon-
“How many more weeks do you have?” Remus asked you then; probably a polite thing to ask a pregnant couple but Sirius was a little preoccupied wondering if there was an X-ray vision spell he could use to see through Peter’s cards. 
“Too many.” You responded as James offered a jovial “It’s gone by so quickly!” 
“Jamie, I really don’t think you get to say that.” You admonished him, though Sirius could tell the furrow of your brows was all for show. 
“What? Why? I feel like this pregnancy has just flown by!” 
“Oh, well I’m very glad you feel that way.” You sneered. “But you’re not the one who had to stretch and grow and carry around a bowling ball.”
Sirius felt himself swallow nervously in James’ honour, but the dumb sod simply beamed at you lovingly and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s because you’ve done it so beautifully, angel; you made it look easy.”
And damn James and his smoothness; he had even Sirius blushing.  
“Alright, I’m in.” Remus announced then as he pushed a pile of chips towards the centre of the table.
“Me too.” Peter agreed as he followed in suit.
Sirius felt like he was grasping at billywigs, but he felt he had a better chance than James, so he, too, bet a couple of chips. 
“What say you, Prongs?” Peter asked then.
James turned back to the game, looking surprised as if he’d forgotten they’d been playing at all.
“Oh, I fold.” He said simply.
“What!?” Sirius screeched as he threw his cards down on the table. 
Remus made an exasperated groaning sound as he also placed his cards face up.
“Yeah, I had nothing.” James responded with a casual shrug.
“Nice.” Peter murmured quietly as he took in the state of Remus and Sirius’ cards before placing his own down on the table and pulling the chips towards himself.
“For fucks sake!” Sirius shouted.
“Pads! Little ears!” James chided.
“Are they even fully developed yet?” Sirius muttered back, earning him a swat up the back of the head from his boyfriend. 
“Oh yes.” You said solemnly. “Babe has been very active everytime Uncle Pads talks.”
Sirius paused in his tussle with Moony to whip his head towards you. “Really!?”
You smiled and nodded, holding your hand out for his which he took willingly and allowed you to place it to a particularly hard spot on your stomach.
“Say something.” You instructed.
“I solemnly swear I am up to no good!” He chanted, the end of his sentence rising an octave (or two, if you asked Moony) when he felt a little kick right underneath his hand. “Oh my godric!”
“I wanna feel.” Remus murmured as he reached over his boyfriend to swap places.
“Mischief managed.” Sirius continued, feeling the slight jump of excitement in Remus’ body at the movement he obviously felt beneath his hand. 
“Oh gods, you’re gonna have a trouble maker.” Peter remarked with a shake of his head, though his smile let you know the comment was made in jest. 
“Oh, there was never any doubt about that, considering who the father is.” You quipped back, smiling lovingly up at James who simply beamed down at you in turn. 
“Well, I’ll get out of your hair, boys.” You said as you made to stand. “Let you get back to your games.” 
Your sentence was met with a round of dissent. 
“No, no mama. We’ll leave.” Sirius argued as he too stood. 
“What? Why are we leaving!?” Pete asked then.
“Peter, you already took all our money, leave the expecting parents to their evening, yeah?” Remus reprimanded, causing the three of them to look over only to see James blanketed over you from behind with both of his hands resting on your stomach as he murmured softly into your ear.
Your eyes were closed as you allowed James to rock the two of you back and forth with a soft smile spread across your face. 
“Come on Petey, we’re officially intruding.” Sirius added as he tossed another chip at his friend. “Take this for the road - I’ll be winning it all back at our next game night.”
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remuslupinslittleslut · 6 months ago
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hiii lovely! could you do a poly!marauders one where the reader wakes up needy and decides to relieve herself by grinding one of the marauders' thighs, leading to her being slowly and passionately fucked by all of them?
I think maybe I need to work on following instructions, I just took this and went with what turned me on at the time, hope you enjoy anyway 🩷 I think I'm not that good at slow and passionate....
Masterlist.
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James had his tongue buried in your pussy, your hands tugging at his hair, back arched and hips grinding down against his face. You shuddered as the edge of that one cliff came closer and closer.
Waking up was a disappointment. No James between your thighs (which was always a disappointment). It hadn’t all been a dream though, your hips had been grinding against something, only, not James’ tongue. Sirius was laying behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, your hair tickling his cheeks where it lay, pressed into your neck. His thigh was shoved between yours, and you realized you had been using it, in your sleep, to get off against. Sirius had beautiful thighs. Fleshy. They weren’t quite as good as James’ face, but not that far off. The memory of your dream fresh in your mind, along with the lovely thoughts of Sirius’ thighs, you decided to keep going, using his thigh to rub your clit against.
It took a few moments to get that really good feeling back, your orgasm having slipped away as you woke up. You tried to replay the dream from your inner eye, focusing your every thought on the feeling of James’ tongue against your clit.
Sirius’ arms wrapped harder around you pulling you closer, thighs flexing from between yours.
“Morning love,” his raspy voice murmured into your neck. “Having fun?”
“Mhm,” you hummed, hips moving in tandem with the flex of his thigh. “Ah- so much fun.”
You couldn’t help the moans escaping your mouth as his hands moved to your hips, guiding you against him, lips kissing down your shoulder.
“Such a pretty girl, getting off against my thigh, even in your sleep?”
“Y-ah-yes.”
Using his grip on your hips, he stilled your body, stopping your hips from moving, making you whine out in protest.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, lips against your ear, “just wanna be inside you.”
“Nghh,” you groaned, unable to wait a second longer for the feeling of Sirius’ cock inside you. Pushing your hips back against his crotch, you tried expressing your want without words. Thankfully, Sirius was used to your antics and lifted the hem of your shirt, fingers finding your already dampened hole, pushing in softly, spreading slick around, readying you for him. Grinding back once more, your body told him to hurry the eff up.
“I’ve got you babe,” he murmured, “just gotta get you ready.”
Only a few seconds later, he pushed down his own underpants, freeing his cock, giving it a few pumps before pushing your side slightly, moving you to lay partly on your side and partly on your tummy. Taking one strong hold on your hip, and using one hand to line himself up, it wasn’t long before he pushed himself inside of you, letting a loud groan out.
“Fuck, babe, feel so good,” he said, hips thrusting against your backside. “What got you this wet huh? Did you have a nice dream?”
Your cheeks burned; getting off against one of your boyfriends was one thing, telling him about your wet dreams about your other boyfriend was different. But Sirius felt so good inside you, and you knew he’d enjoy it if you told him, so you bit back your embarrassment and told him.
“Ye-ah,” your voice came out broken, his thrusts were more passionate than usual, long and languid strokes, taking his time, but you still struggled to speak through it. “I dreamed– that – oh – Jamie was – going down on me – he’s so – go-od at that.”
The hand on your hip squeezed harder as Sirius’ other came around to squeeze your tit.
“He really is good at that, maybe he should do it now, huh?” His words made you moan. “Jamie? Will you take care of our girl? She needs your mouth, I think.”
You hadn’t even realized that James and Remus had woken, but it wasn’t surprising; you weren’t exactly being quiet. When you met his eye, James looked at you with so much love in his eyes, adoration written all over his face.
“Sure thing,” he said, quickly looking over your shoulder to meet Sirius’ (whose hips had slowed down even more) eye. Looking back at you, James leaned in for a quick kiss and a “good morning, love,” before he dipped down along the bed, settling in between your thighs, hands caressing your milky skin.
As James got to work, tongue lapping with skill at your clit, Sirius kept moving his hips, dragging the head of his cock against your walls, reaching the most lovely places of your center. Just like you had in your dream, you reach your hand down to grab a hold of James’ hair, grinding your hips against his mouth and chin. Unlike your dream, though, you were also grinding back against Sirius, who stopped moving his hips, allowing you to get yourself off using him.
“Damn, babe, you’re so hot, so beautiful for us, so good, getting yourself off huh? Using my cock and Jamies’ face like the little cockslut that you are? Yeah, doing wonderful my love,” Sirius murmured against your neck, the grip on your hip having gotten softer, allowing you to move at your own accord.
James, whose mouth was slightly occupied, only hummed in agreement, as his tongue swirled around your nub.
Knowing how much his words affected you, Sirius kept talking you through it.
“Good girl, that’s it, does it feel good? Is Jamie doing well? D’you like my cock inside you? Are you gonna let Remmy have a go after you’ve milked me? Gotta take care of out moony y’know– fuck, look at him, watching you, he thinks you’re so pretty, our pretty girl, doing so well, are you gonna come? Gonna come all over me, and Jamie? Ready and open for Rem?”
He spoke absolute filth into your neck and ear, nipping at the skin, licking and biting at it, it sent shockwaves through your body, and you could feel that edge getting closer again. You did as Sirius said, looked at Remus, who had now sat himself up, leaning against the wall, pants pulled down to his thighs, hand around his cock, pumping slowly, eyes roaming over your body, you face, your tits, where Sirius played with your nipple, down to your core, where James’ head was stuck between your thighs as your hips ground against him.
It was all so hot, and as Sirius kept coaxing you to come, you finally did, hips stuttering and thighs squeezing James’ head. If you weren’t in the middle of an orgasm, you might be worried about hurting him, though he didn’t seem to mind.
“Pretty girl, doing so well,” Sirius said, moving your hair out of your face as your body kept convulsing. “Lay down on your tummy for me, babe.”
You did as you were told, and Sirius moved behind you, without ever pulling out completely. Straddling the backs of your thighs, he squeezed your arsecheek hard before he thrust himself inside you. It was almost too much, the cock you had just came around still being shoved inside you, but it also felt good, and you knew Sirius was close and that the feeling of him coming inside you would be worth the overstimulation.
“Hurry up Pads,” Remus groaned. His hand was no longer wrapped around himself, but rather around James’ now soft cock. It wasn’t the first time he’d come untouched from eating you out; in fact, he often did, but Remus would always enjoy taking one more from him, tugging at his soft and aching member, forcing him to give up just one more orgasm. “My turn soon.”
Trying to speed up the process, always ready to please Remus, you tried squeezing your walls around Sirius in time with his thrusts, tensing your muscles and using that grip to milk him dry.
You were rather successful. It wasn’t many seconds before he grunted as he came inside you, hips stilling and head falling down to kiss the back of yours.
“Thank you, love,” he murmured, before pushing himself up and off of you, moving to lay beside you. “Go ahead, moons.”
Remus flipped you over, apparently done with James’ spent cock.
“Hi darling,” he said, sitting next to you, face leaned down to kiss you. “Sleep well?”
“Morning Remmy, yeah, I did, you?” Your voice was still airy, still affected by your orgasm.
“Slept like a prince, baby, loved waking up to your little moans about Jamie’s mouth,” he teased, leaning away from your face and straddling your chest. “Are you gonna let me fuck your face now, baby? It won’t take long, promise, just need your mouth right now.”
His words felt like a mocking of your dream and your words about James, but it was sexy nonetheless, turning you on again, leaning your head back against the pillow and allowing your mouth to fall open. Instead of answering verbally, your tongue fell out and you relaxed your throat, showing Remus that you were ready for him.
“Such a good girl,” he said, raising his hips and feeding his cock into your mouth.
Focusing on your breathing and staying still and laxed for him, you allowed his cock into your mouth, his hips already stuttering from the feeling. His one hand was around his base and the other laid against your cheek, sometimes moving his cock to push against your cheek, feeling it with his hand.
Normally, you wouldn’t allow Remus to fuck your face like this, his cock was too big and it always bruised the back of your throat, but he did say he would be quick – and he was. The hand against your cheek wiping away the first set of tears running down your face, and it was as if the contact of thumb and tear pulled him apart because he was spilling inside your throat, cock slightly vibrating, and spurting come, filling your entire mouth.“Now that’s a good morning,” he murmured as he moved to lay beside you, kissing your entire face, licking into your mouth and tasting himself on your tongue. “Let’s get cleaned up, I’ll eat you out in the shower.” He added as a response to your groaning, not ready for the day to start.
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ddejavvu · 4 months ago
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pairing: james potter x reader
summary: you ask james to leave the room so you can get changed
notes: this was requested with several different characters in mind but james was the first one I gravitated towards! I'll also be doing the others but enjoy james first <3
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"James," You call, breaking the hazy silence your slightly stuffy bedroom had settled in for the first time in over twenty minutes. James's curls bounce as he darts his head towards you, his phone forgotten in a second as his eyes lock onto yours questioningly.
Your phone is recording, angled on the bed towards him, but he doesn't notice that. James doesn't notice much of anything else when he's looking at you.
"Yes darling?" He hums, brows raised as soft lines arch in his forehead.
"I'm gonna get changed." You announce, and if you didn't know him well, you wouldn't have noticed the way that he shifted, tensing ever so slightly in his seat and leaning towards you.
He waits.
You wait.
You raise a brow, "So, uh..." and nod towards the door.
"Hm?" James asks, eyes dazed like he's doing the work for you in his head.
"So... leave, please?" You ask, politely but firmly, "I said I was going to change."
James's brows furrow, dark and creased, "What?"
"I'm going to change! So please see yourself out!" You gush, now fully pointing towards the door, "I'm embarrassed to change in front of you."
"Embarrassed-" James blinks, visibly short-circuiting as he processes your apprehension, "Darling, I've- I've seen you- I mean, I've touched you on every square inch of your body- Christ, darling, I've been inside of you before! What could possibly embarrass you in front of me now?"
"Oh, James, that's- that's crude!" You manage, though it's strenuous through laughter that thrashes in your chest, begging for release.
"But it's true!" He pushes, chuckling incredulously himself, "I just don't- I don't understand, darling, why-? I mean, if you really want me to leave, I will. Of course. But is there a reason why - has someone told you you should be embarrassed undressing in front of me? Because you know that's shit, right baby? Absolute shit, and if you tell me who said it, I'll punch them right in the gut."
"James, James!" You laugh, the sound freeing and sporadic as you give up the act, "I'm teasing you! I'm kidding! It was for a video."
He takes time to process, wide brown eyes flitting to the camera lens pointed at him, then back to you.
"A video?"
"Yes, a video," You're still chuckling, soft and light and addictive, "A prank, I suppose."
He's blinking, but some of the tension in his shoulders is leaking out and he seems to be relaxing.
You help him along, tucking yourself out of the camera's view before slipping easily out of your top. His eyes track your movements, practically dilating like a cat's at the sight he's been granted, and you purr accordingly, "I'd never make you leave before I got naked, Jamie."
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moonyflesh · 5 months ago
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dating Logan Howlett would include…
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WARNINGS: smutty. p in v, oral sex, fingering, breeding kink, orgasm teasing/control, mentions of aggressive/risky sex, (language, obviously), etc. - [🔞]
CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (MARVEL/X-MEN/WOLVERINE)
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🐾 .*.. 🩹
- possessive smacks on the ass when you pass him in the hall.
- all talk, but no bite (he would never actually hurt you).
- routine scalp massages (on both ends), usually ending in you both being passed out on the other’s bed.
- having to label what food is yours, or he will eat it.
- constantly scolding him for his chapped lips…where he continuously looses the chapsticks you graciously lend him (he always buys you more).
- playful banter that usually ends with you bent over whatever flat surface is nearby.
- having to get used to loud chewing. i mean, it’s Logan. what do you expect?
- not much physical show of affection in public- that’s reserved for behind closed doors. (an occasional press of his lips to your forehead, or his hand on the small of your back is as far as he’s willing to put on display for the student’s prying eyes).
- thriving off of each other’s warmth at night- tangled up in each other under some thin duvet.
- country, bluegrass, and old as fuck music. don’t you dare even think about turning on “that shitty music you like so much” around him.
- being turned on by your makeup on him in some way— lipstick prints smeared along the collar of his white t-shirt- your mascara running down your face and smearing onto his fingers when he wipes it off.
- (^) just you making an absolute mess on him in general. he fucking loves it.
- needing to take sharp intakes of breath in between his kisses, since he physically can hold his breath for much longer than the “average mutant”.
- rough, meaningful sex. there is no such thing as a ‘quickie’ in his book. he wants to savor your moments of vulnerability.
- more teeth than tongue. he wants to feel how you squirm under him when his canines sink into your lips, shoulders, and inner thighs.
- (^) lovebites and hickeys. you’re not allowed to leave the house unless there’s something that’s marking you as taken. as his.
- wearing his clothes when he’s gone for long periods of time.
- long motorcycle rides, usually at night. (he makes you wear a helmet and plenty of protective leather, much to his enjoyment).
- soaking in your scent. he always knows when your needy. he can smell it on you.
- oh, and he smells like cedar wood and pine. Maybe a bit of cigar smoke- his natural sweat smell he can’t seem to get rid of? Something Iike that.
- (^) him going absolutely feral when he can smell himself on you- his cologne, cigars- just his general aura on you is such a massive turn on for him.
- lots of loving nips and kisses, though. constantly has his lips pressed against the nape of your neck or crown of your skull.
- sleeps with you in his arms. no way in hell you’re allowed to wake up before him.
- face sitting. he wants every pound of you on his mouth and nose, his arms wrapped up and around your thighs, pushing your cunt into his tongue.
- wanting to feel good too. no matter how hard he’s been going down on you, he wants release, too.
- praise. lots of shrewd language and name-calling.
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
“fuck, that’s my good fucking girl- you’re doing so good, sweetheart- so pretty all sweaty and wet cuzzah’ me, huh?”
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
- face fucking. he’ll stop no matter how close he is to his peak if you need him to, but he wants it so far down your throat. and you better swallow every last drop.
- breeding kink? idk i just feel like he’s super into seeing you carry his kid (only when you’re ready, though. he of all people knows what a big deal pregnancy is).
- decent aftercare. he at least puts some amount of effort into it; probably brings you a glass of lukewarm water, a damp towel from his bathroom, maybe one of his t-shirts if he thinks of it.
- expect to wait a while for him to say “i love you” back. he’s been hurt. too many times. he loves you, he breathes you, he craves you. he just doesn’t know if he’s ready to actually admit that to himself yet, let alone to you.
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brokenmenswhore · 3 months ago
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Hiiii!! I love your writing and I have a request for Best Friend x Reader where Reader has had a crush on James for years and thought he never noticed because he was way to focused on Lily. But in reality he had been in love with her from the second they met on the train but every time je was almost caught he’d look to the closest person by you, which was usually Lily. Maybe smut too if possible. Thank you!!!!
i love this request!! james is just so 🥺🫶🏻❤️‍🩹
the closest thing | james potter
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pairing: james potter x fem!reader
warnings: smut (MDNI 18+)
────── ☾ ──────
“Hey, can I sit here?”
You were eleven. The boys in the train compartment all turned their heads toward you. One boy in particular, with brown curly hair and glasses, stood and approached the door.
“Hi, I’m James,” he said, sticking his hand out for you to shake and giving you a warm smile.
You told him your name and sat down across from him.
That’s when the crush started.
Through your first few years at Hogwarts, you and James grew extremely close, and became borderline inseparable. He was your best friend in the world, and you were his. Your infatuation grew with time, watching as he grew up and came into his own, his features morphing and sharpening with age.
When you were thirteen, you met Lily. She had been sorted into Gryffindor the same year as you and James, but you never spoke until your third year. She was charming, pretty, and loved a good laugh. You and her became fast friends, and you introduced her to James.
Whenever you sat in a group for breakfast, you would steal glances at James, who would be looking at Lily next to you. During classes, when you sat between them, you could feel James’s head turn toward you, but if you looked back at him, he was staring straight across you, fixated on Lily as she tucked a piece of fiery red hair behind her ear.
For years, you watched him gawk at her, and it caused you to hold your tongue about your developing feelings for him. Your friendship was so pure, it wasn’t worth ruining with a confession, especially if it would lead nowhere. Why tell him you liked him, just for him to tell you he liked Lily?
By the time you were sixteen, James was on top of the world as captain and seeker of Gryffindor Quidditch. He, along with Sirius and Remus, knew everyone and everything happening at Hogwarts. James in particular was the top of the class, and often had to help you with assignments. He still maintained your friendship, working to make time for you, but his popularity meant one thing you hated: attention from girls.
Girls often threw themselves at him, as they did Sirius, but he mostly turned them away. Waiting on Lily, you thought.
You and James had fun, and you made a habit of jumping on his back and making him carry you around. You weren’t much different in size, but he liked showing off how strong he was, and you liked wrapping your body around him.
Girls would often approach him, and when he entertained their attention, you would complain, “James, I’m getting loopy.”
James would bend over slightly, continuing to talk to the girl in front of him as you jumped on his back. He would hook his arms underneath your legs, your arms wrapping around his neck.
“Gotta go,” James would say, dismissing himself as he stood tall, walking completely unobstructed with your weight on his back.
“You’re a child,” he laughed.
“Can’t help when I’m tired,” you would say, resting your head on his shoulder.
One afternoon, you were taking a walk on the grounds to find a quiet place in nature to study, and you saw James and Lily alone together. It would seem innocent to anyone else; they were side by side and just talking and laughing, but to you, it was so much more. James looked enamored, like he was the happiest he’d ever been, as they strolled along the path together. You desperately wanted to know what they were talking about, but you didn’t want to expose yourself for liking James, so you simply turned around and retreated back to the castle.
You were upset, but you knew you had no right to be. James wasn’t yours, and you had never told Lily of your feelings. If they liked each other, there was nothing you could do. Nothing, except, of course, pushing it down and asking Remus out.
“You’re kidding,” Remus said, shocked by your request.
“It’s just a trip to Hogsmeade, Remus, it’s really not that big of a deal.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m saying yes.”
“Well that’s pretty rude,” you scoffed.
“No! Not like that, I just mean-“ Remus’s voice trailed off as you listened intently, “you’re James’s best friend.”
“Technically so are you,” you responded.
“But he, like— whatever. Not a date?”
“Not a date, sure,” you clarified, honestly just happy to accept the company, “just two friends hanging out. That’s a thing girls and boys can do, right?”
Remus looked at you strangely. “Yeah?”
You smiled at him, telling him you’d see him later that night before walking away. Sirius slapped his arm. “James is gonna kill you, you know,” he said.
Remus just shrugged. Of course he knew that James liked you, and always had, but this wasn’t a date, so what did it matter? He was also allowed to be friends with you.
You and Remus enjoyed the evening walking through the streets of Hogsmeade and sharing a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, and you fought with every cell in your being to avoid bringing up James. Every time Remus tried to, you shut him down and changed the subject. You wanted to vent about him, but admitting your feelings to someone else made them all the more real, and you weren’t ready to face true rejection quite yet.
When you returned, you entered the common room together, and saw James and Sirius draped over the couch.
“Hey,” James said, sitting up as you both approached the couch, “where were you guys?”
“Just hanging out,” you shrugged nonchalantly, dropping down onto the couch next to him.
“I didn’t know you guys hung out, like, alone,” he said, forcing a small laugh on the last words to make them seem lighthearted.
“I didn’t know you and Lily hung out alone either,” you responded, catching his gaze for a full thirty seconds before you joked, “you just upset I finally have a friend that isn’t you or her?”
James forced a chuckle in response, but there was a slight bit of tension in the air between you both.
Things stayed the same as always as time passed. You hoped your time with Remus would spark some jealousy within James, but he didn’t seem to care. Every time you looked at him, his eyes were next to you and on Lily.
The one thing that did change, however, is James started throwing around a pet name for you.
You were excused from Potions one day to grieve the loss of your grandfather, who was an extremely important part of your life. You adored him, and you had a close relationship.
James found you alone in the west tower, crying at the bottom of the curved staircase.
“I figured something was up when you didn’t show,” he spoke, sitting down next to you, “what’s wrong?”
“My grandfather passed away this morning,” you explained, “I received word from my mother just before Potions. I just couldn’t bring myself to go.”
You wiped your nose with the back of your robe sleeve, taking a deep breath to calm your crying.
“Oh, angel, I’m so sorry.”
Your heart skipped a beat. James had never called you angel before. It felt so intimate, so endearing, and so personal. He threw around terms like “doll” and “baby” to other girls, but never angel.
You rested your head against his chest and calmed your breathing.
The next day, James missed you in the common room in the morning, first seeing you for the day in Defense Against the Dark Arts. “You doing okay, angel?” he asked.
You blushed at his words, and he caught it, but assumed it was because you were upset and fighting back tears. “I’m okay,” you smiled.
A few weeks later, James was shitfaced drunk at a Ravenclaw party, sat in a large group with you and your friends. You stood to get another bottle, and James called out to you, “Hey, angel, can you get me one too?”
That was the first time he ever used the term in front of Lily, or in front of anyone, and it slightly confused you, but also thrilled you. You handed him the bottle, and he watched you sink back down to the floor, sitting cross-legged next to Lily. When you met his gaze again, he diverted his attention to Lily, and you sighed.
He then started casually calling you angel.
It was nearing the end of your term, and therefore your time at Hogwarts, and your patience was gone. You had nothing to lose. If James was weird about it, or rejected you, you could just ice him out, and without Hogwarts, you could avoid ever seeing him again. That’s not what you wanted, but it was a possible worst case scenario.
After finals were over, you asked to speak to James alone.
You pulled him into a now-empty classroom, shutting the door behind you for privacy and taking a deep breath.
“Everything ok?” he asked, leaning back against one of the desks.
“I need to talk to you,” you replied.
“Yeah, I get that,” James giggled, “what’s up?”
Both of your hearts were pounding, and both of you assumed the feeling was solitary.
“I need to tell you something,” you said, your voice small and shaky.
“Okay, you’re kinda starting to scare me, angel.”
You took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as you tried to steady yourself. “You genuinely have no idea what I’m gonna say?”
James was slightly taken aback by your question. “I don’t remember doing anything bad.”
“No, James-“ you rubbed your hands over your eyes, desperate for him to understand you without you having to be clear or coherent at all. You didn’t want to say it out loud, you just wanted him to know already.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” he said.
You sighed. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, hoping you would be able to speak the words while simultaneously pretending he wasn’t there. “I like you.”
“Aweh, thanks, I like you too,” he said.
“No, oh my god-“ you spun around and paced for a moment, sighing loudly before stopping in front of him again. “No, like, I like you.”
“Oh.”
You looked up at him. That’s it? That’s all he had to say? Oh?
“Yeah.”
“I thought you liked Remus?” James spoke, confused by your confession.
“What would make you think I like Remus?”
“I don’t know, probably the dates you keep going on with him?” James threw his hands up, as if it was obvious.
“We’re just friends, I haven’t been-“ your voice trailed off for a moment. “James?”
He looked down at you expectantly. “Yeah?”
“I know we’ve been friends forever,” you started, “and I really don’t want you to hate me or this to be ruined, but term is ending, and you should probably know that I’ve had feelings for you since we first met.”
You exhaled, letting out a heavy breath that you weren’t aware you were holding in.
“I-“
You cut him off before he could respond, “and I know you like Lily, so I’m sorry I’m telling you this, I’m just kinda tired of holding it in.”
James furrowed his brows in confusion. “What?”
“I don’t want to fuck up whatever it is you two have going on,” you said, and it was genuine, “I know you really like her.”
James tilted his head to the side. “Based on what?”
You returned his confused gaze. “What do you mean?”
“Why would you think I’m into Lily?”
“Be-because you are?”
“No I’m not,” he defended.
“James, it’s okay, you don’t have to lie to me, every single time we’re with her I can see you staring at her.”
James instantly knew what you were talking about.
“No, no, that’s not it,” he stopped you, “she’s just always the closest thing to shift my attention to when you catch me.”
You paused for a moment. “Catch you what?” you asked.
“Staring at you.”
You were so taken aback that you physically stepped backwards. “What?”
“Mhm,” he said, confident.
“But- but I’ve seen you alone with her, walking the grounds-“
“Lily is the only person on this planet I talk to about you.”
“About me?”
James reached a hand out and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and sighed of relief. “Angel, I’ve been in love with you since you first asked to sit with me on the train.”
You opened your mouth to speak several times, but only small noises came out. You were speechless as James wrapped an arm your waist and pulled you flush against him.
“But-“
“Get out of your own head and listen to me,” James said.
“But I-“
“Shut up,” James sighed, pressing his lips onto yours to keep you from refusing to believe him any longer. Your muscles relaxed as you melted into his touch, your hand caressing the side of his face as you kissed him back. Your lips moved in sync with his. Molded with him, you were home.
James’s hand moved down from your waist to grab the flesh of your ass, pushing your hips harder against his, causing you to whine into the kiss. James moved his hands lower and lower until they were behind your thighs, prompting you to jump. He caught your legs as they wrapped around his waist, and he spun you around, seating you on the desk, his lips never breaking from yours.
Once you were seated, his hands held the sides of your face, desperate to deepen the kiss even more. You had both waited forever for this moment, and you both wanted to savor it as much as you possibly could.
You whimpered when he pulled your hips against his again, grinding his clothed cock against your clothed core.
He pulled away and smiled at you.
“What?” you blushed.
James nearly growled, “you sound even prettier than I dreamed you would.”
You looked deep into his eyes, and could tell he was being genuine. “You’ve been dreaming about me?”
“Feels like every night,” he said, his voice low as he slowly pulled your shirt above your head, and then ran a hand up and down your side, sending shivers down your body, “I’ve dreamed about simple little things, like holding your hand, kissing you, holding you…”
A hand moved to your skirt, pushing it up to your waist and beginning to move your underwear to the side as he continued, “and I’ve dreamed about fucking you, and watching you come around my cock.”
His words sent chills down your spine, his lips connecting to your neck as you sighed in pleasure.
He ran a finger between your folds, sucking the side of your neck as you shuddered. He collected your wetness before slowly inserting a finger into you.
You threw your head back, holding onto James’s shoulders to keep yourself upright.
“This all for me?” James asked.
“Mhm,” you moaned, unable to speak.
He slowly pulled out and pushed in his finger, watching your mouth fall open.
Your fingers ran through the curls on the back of his head, holding him against you.
“J-James,” you moaned, his palm applying pressure to your clit and doubling the stimulation.
James dipped his head for a moment and released a low, guttural moan from his throat.
“You okay?” you breathed out.
James giggled, his hand never stopping. “Did you just ask me if I’m okay?”
You nodded your head yes.
“I’m literally fingering you right now,” James said.
The reality of the situation dawned on you, and you realized what you asked, and you couldn’t help but laugh. James laughed with you, continuing to fuck you with his fingers as he swallowed your noises with a kiss. You were so, so happy.
The joy and laughter of the situation brought you close to the edge, your walls squeezing around James’s finger. He felt it, and immediately pulled his finger out of you.
You gasped at the loss of contact, the cool air hitting your wet core. You looked up at James, your eyes confused and desperate.
James smirked at you. “I wanna fuck you, angel, it’s no fun if you come already.”
“Yeah, but, but I-“
“There’s more where that came from,” James said, placing a kiss onto your forehead, assuring you this was not a solitary event. “For right now, though, please just let me fuck you.”
You nodded your head up and down rapidly, as eager as ever to feel James inside of you.
James pushed his pants down and freed himself, giving his cock a few strokes as he looked down at your body. He lined himself up with your entrance, looking to you for permission.
“I’ve wanted you for so long, James, please,” you spoke.
James immediately pushed his tip inside of you, and you inhaled a sharp breath. James slowly pushed the rest of his length into you, stopping once he was fully inside of you, allowing you to adjust to his size.
“Shit, you’re big,” you moaned.
James moaned back in response, your words making him harder as he slowly pulled partially out of you.
“Can I?” he asked.
“Please, James, move,” you answered.
James pushed back into you, your wetness lubricating his cock as you laid your back down onto the desk, no longer having the strength to hold yourself up anymore.
James took the opportunity to grab your breast, watching as your body moved up and down in sync with his thrusts. Your head was almost entirely off the desk, your neck tilting slightly backward, causing each moan to come out strangled.
Laying down meant James could see your entire body as he fucked you, and he was losing control at the sight of your breasts bouncing with each hit of his hips.
He picked up his pace, harshly grabbing both of your hips in order to push you into him with each thrust.
“Fuck,” you cried out, the entire classroom echoing as the legs of the desk shifted slightly across the floor.
“You feel so fucking good,” James praised.
You whined and whimpered and moaned beneath him, unbearably turned on by the feeling of his cock finally inside of you.
James moved one of his hands to your core, rubbing circles against your clit as he fucked you.
Your body jolted upward and you grabbed at James’s shoulders, pulling yourself up and hanging off of his neck. You were eager to come around him, and you kissed him hard.
“Please, James, make me come,” you begged, hoping your pleas would help him reach his climax as well. Though the sex wasn’t too long, you were so aroused by finally having him, and you knew you couldn’t last much longer.
James began to piston his hips into you even harder, determined to bring you to your climax. He wanted to savor the sex, but it would be so fucking hot to see you come in a matter of minutes. It stroked his ego, knowing that you were so hot for him that you were going to come from just a few minutes of stimulation.
“James, I-“
“Come for me, angel.”
The use of the pet name in your current position was enough to push you over the edge. You squeezed James’s cock, your legs shaking around James’s waist as you came.
“Shit, where can I come?” James asked through shaky breaths, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chased his own high after feeling you squeeze him.
“In me.”
“You sure?”
“I’m- yes, I w-want your come in me, please, Jamie, please-“
The nickname and the pleading had James coming inside of you with a final few sharp thrusts of his hips. He groaned as he came, settling inside of you for a few moments while he caught his breath.
He slowly pulled out of you, watching his seed spill out of your hole when he was out. He couldn’t help but lean down and lick the juices up, savoring the taste. You shuddered when his tongue touched you, you were so overstimulated.
James helped you stand, your body aching from the uncomfortableness of the wood beneath you.
“You alright?” James checked in.
“I’m alright,” you confirmed, leaning upward to place a kiss on his lips.
“You able to walk back out there?”
Your legs were shaky. You tried to take a few steps, but you nearly collapsed, and James caught a hold of you.
He smiled at you, turning his back to you and bending down.
“You serious?” you asked.
“‘F course.”
“James, I’m still wet. Won’t it get-“
“You jumping up or not?” James asked.
You hopped onto his back, holding onto him for dear life as he stood tall and swung the classroom door open.
At that very moment, of course, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Lily walked past the room.
“Oh hey you two,” Sirius said, noticing how unkempt your hair was and how flushed James looked, “had some fun, did we?”
You reached a hand out to hit his arm as James stepped in front of him, joining the group with you wrapped around him.
“Child,” he whispered to you, referencing you being carried on his back.
“At least this time I have valid reasoning for not being able to walk.”
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puc-puggy · 1 month ago
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james fitzjames did expect to be remembered. he was an affluent historical figure in Britain during the height of imperialism. he shared tutors with princes. he actively and gleefully participated in imperialism. he actively and gleefully turned himself into walking propaganda for the british empire. his tragedy is that he failed and instead of being walking propaganda, be became a lurking insecurity.
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fitzjames was particularly well loved for embodying imperialist ideals of the British National Body. there are posts going around about how he was affable and well liked and likely didn't expect to be remembered. this could not be further from the truth. he expected to be remembered and he was. as second in command of one of the two ships in question, he has been a figure of note since his disappearance. we have access to his letters because he was determined to be important enough to preserve them. every single thing about fitzjames telegraphs immense cultural and social privilege and part of the reason that he is remembered is because of the british inability to comprehend how and why he and his compatriots failed. rather than being a success and exemplar of the british national body as he expected, he became its greatest insecurity. at no point has he been forgotten. his commander is one of the most famous british explorers of all time. he just wasn't henry hudson because they failed and died instead of bringing information back for the crown.
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fitzjames regularly threw himself at dangerous and notable expeditions to map new lands or open new trade routes because these stories were incredibly important to the british political imagination and discourse. he was additionally politically well placed and attended eton college. he was stationed in malta with the head of the british mediterranean fleet (a sign of high regard) and abandoned a position on a flagship to take part in the Euphrates expedition opening a steam route to mesopotamia. he was well liked and well known throughout the discovery service because he had the connections necessary for rank along with the ability to project a perfect National Body. he was not an everyman or an outsider or in any way unaware of his public persona.
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fitzjames is remembered (and remembered well based on tumblr's reaction) because he was among those swashbuckling heroes whose embattled body provided "evidence of the resilience, ingenuity, and staunchness associated with British national character" that proved the british empire's supreme and godly right to conquer and civilize the entire planet. at the time, he needed to survive and bring back information to prove it. now we're granting it to him 179 years later after his empire has already (for the most part) fallen.
do not end up so deep in the blorbo sauce that you reinvent british imperial propaganda from the 19th century for real historical figures. james fitzjames' joy at participating and being notable to the british imperialist ego is a sign that he was a racist historical figure that participated guiltlessly in the atrocities associated with his station and rank in the british empire. we like tobias menzies and gayboys in tv shows, not actual imperialists, right? right?????
SOURCE: White Horizons: the arctic in the 19th century british imagination by jen hill
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marvellous1917 · 1 year ago
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Icarus
(Part 1)
Pairing: mob!Bucky x tattoo artist!reader
Summary: you come home from work, only to find a mob boss in your house looking for your roommate.
Warnings: mentions of a gun, mentions of arms and drug trafficking, murder, kidnapping, torture, swearing, tattoos, gambling, think that’s it
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A/n: I’m a simple girl. Mob!Bucky makes my brain go whurrrrrr. This is pure self service because I have this tattoo lol. Been along time guys what’s up?
————
“Late night?” The deep voice came from the dark.
“Holy-” fear spiked through your heart from the unfamiliar sound, your arms dropping the bags and your back crashing into the closed front door, “-who.. who are you?” You asked the unfamiliar voice. Turning slightly you see the long haired, leather covered man sat in the dining room. His left arm rested on the table, the prosthetic shining, the light from the street lamp outside shining through the window. His face was half shrouded in darkness, the other half showed his eyes, a little confused but also amused.
“You’re not Caleb.” He replied, sitting back in the chair, tilting his head to the side and moving something that looked suspiciously pistol shaped off of the table and into the inside pocket of his jacket, you reached up and flipped on the light.
“N-no no, I’m not. I’m his roommate.” You said, finally registering who you were talking to. The now fully visible metal arm was a pretty big giveaway, if nothing else. ‘There is a mob boss sat in my kitchen, what the fuck’.
“What do you want with Caleb? Does he owe you something?” The thought was out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Oh god no sorry forget I asked. Sorry... sir? I don’t-”
“I’m assuming from that reaction you know who I am,” He said, smirk on his face as he stood and moved closer, your back pressing flatter against the wall beside the door with every step he took.
“Of..of course I do, everyone in New York knows who you are..Sir” You replied.
“Hmm, I’m gonna take that as a compliment doll,”
“It is! Sorry! Congrats on all the… mafia shit.” Did I just say ‘mafia shit’ to a gangster.
The silence is awkward, his face blank and all you can think is ‘Oh my god I’m gonna die.’ His face twists into a …smile.. you think, y’know its hard to tell, fear has your vision all fuzzy.
He then starts to..laugh. He’s laughing? He’s actually laughing.
“Is this something you do before you kill people? You laugh, give them a false sense of security then shoot them?” You ramble quietly, confused at what’s happening.
He moved his left hand to rest on his stomach, the metal catching the light, shining right in you eye and it fully registered that, holy shit, James fucking Barnes, The Winter goddamn Soldier is in my house. This man is literally wanted by every law enforcement agent in the country, he’s in control of one of the most ruthless organisations in the world, they traffic arms and drugs and gun down anyone that gets in the way. Apparently, at least that’s what the news said. The stories about him though, way more upsetting.
The rumor was that after he left the special forces, he was captured by an organisation that wanted him to work for them. When he tried to escape the first time, they took his arm, and he was stuck working for them for a decade. The story goes that after he finally escaped, he tracked down everyone that was a part of it and killed them all, by himself. Alone. Just him. On his own. Then he took over their supply and demand and built his empire from the ground up.
“Oh god.. ‘congrats on all the mafia shit’, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while…” he pushed out while chuckling. “I’m gonna get that shit tattooed, I swear,” he said.
“I could do that for you,” it was out of your mouth before you could stop it. ‘Oh my god, shut up Y/N’ you thought to yourself.
“What?” He asked, eyes flitting over to yours, his piercing stare causing all sorts of feeling to rise inside your chest; fear, confusion, attraction. Attraction? What? Damn him and his pretty face. He’s a killer Y/N, remember that?
“Nothing, sorry” you answered, looking down at your feet.
“No what did you say Y/n?” He asked again, his voice more stern than before. If you weren’t so scared, you would have questioned how he knew your name.
“I said that I could give you that tattoo, sorry, just slipped out” you replied, unsure what his response would be to your completely unnecessary comment.
“Stop apologising would’ya doll, there’s no need.” He said, sort of sweetly, a small comforting smile on his face, the pet name causing all sorts of lovely feelings inside.
“Sor.. yes Sir,” you corrected yourself.
“And stop calling me Sir darlin, only my employees call me that,” he said, “well my employees and some others..” he said with a dirty smirk, causing your eyebrows to raise sky high.
“Sorry Sir,” you said quickly, not even thinking. “…shit.”
“Seriously doll, you don’t need to be so scared of me,” he stated, his right hand reaching out and landing on your shoulder, your muscles tensing for a second then relaxing when you saw the look in his eye, he was telling the truth
“Ok.. then can I ask why you are here?” You ask, some fear creeping it’s way into your voice despite his reassurance. He kept his face carefully still and he looked you up and down, the feeling of being examined was strong, like he was trying to decide if you were worthy of knowing his business.
“You got it right earlier, your roommate owes me something, and I came to get it from him,” he removes his hand from your arm as he spoke after a tense silence. He was being purposely vague, trying to gage your reaction, to see if you were really clueless or you were playing with him.
“It’s money right, I mean it has to be, what else could he owe you. I told him to stop freaking borrowing money I swear I tried to stop him, but he never listened to me..l”
“You’re rambling darlin, you realise that?” He cuts you off with a smirk on his face.
“I’ve been told I do that when I’m nervous. I don’t know how much Caleb owes you and I don’t know what the situation is but.. if you.. I mean..”
“What doll? What are you trying to say. I won’t be mad, I swear,” Barnes responds, one side of his lips tugging upwards at your mumbling.
“Could you give him some more time?”
He was not expecting that. ‘Brave little thing’ he thought.
“I mean I don’t know how long he’s owed you for but he’s getting back on track I swear, he’s getting better, he is, in-fact he’s at a gamblers anonymous meeting right now, and he has a job interview tomorrow so he can pay rent and pay back people he owes money to.” You rush out, trying to help your friend, “Of course he never told me that he owes money to a mobster but that besides the point” you add quieter, more to yourself than anything but Barnes still heard it. He chuckled and ran his flesh hand through his hair, pushing back the long strands out of his face.
“He does owe money to a mobster, quite a lot in fact so I’m gonna have to say no to that request darlin, I’ve given him long enough.” He responds, his tone dripping with authority, the Brooklyn drawl on the pet name he threw out made your heart beat faster.
“Please. Please just think about it Sir.. uh Mr Barnes.. Sir. Caleb’s had a rough go of it lately, he lost his father not too long ago and he’s been a mess ever since, if you could just give..”
“I already said no once doll, I don’t like repeating myself.” His tone was final, and even though his words were not that intense, the threat in his voice hung in the air like poison gas before slamming into your chest, the fear that had previously been quelled came racing back, sitting on your shoulders like a lead coat.
The silence stayed for longer this time, you eyes firmly fixed to the floor to a sound even the possibility of upsetting the man that had broken into your home.
“So you’re a tattoo artist huh? He asked, his low voice calming you some. Huh he’s trying to make me less afraid of him, what kind of ruthless criminal is he?
“Yes..um I am,” you answer, incredibly aware of the position you were in, better to go along with whatever he did.
“You got a flash book?” He questioned, genuinely interested.
“Uh yeah I do.” You reply awkwardly, not sure where this new line of conversation was coming from.
“Can I see it?”
“…sure,” the word came out as a question.
He nodded at you, and you took it as a sign that you were good to move. Turning slowly and moving away from the wall to your bag on the floor, you reach down and grab your flash sketchbook and hand it to him.
“Are all of these available?” He asked, flipping through the pages, taking in each design.
Seeing him like this, calmly looking through the sketchbook makes it very easy to forget who he was, a ruthless calculating Mob Boss, wanted for almost every crime under the sun.
“The ones with the X’s over them have been done before but could be repeated if someone really wanted it,” you answered, slightly more confident in yourself as you were talking about something you loved.
“This is Latin, right, what does it mean?” He asked, moving to stand next to you pointing to a design in the book, an alien inside a bottle of wine.
“‘In Vino Veritas’, it means ‘In wine, there is truth’” you say, “ I though it was funny, y’know.. ‘the truth is out there’..aliens..” you trailed off, not sure how to explain that design
He let out an quiet amused sound, his shoulder brushing yours, sending a trail of chills down your spine.
“This one is beautiful,” he said, pointing to a different design on the next page.
“Thank you, it’s Icarus, I have it tattooed on me, it was hard as hell doing it on my own leg,” you say, proud of the design you created.
“Icarus, what’s his story? I can’t quite remember, ” he asks.
“It’s a Greek myth y’know, Icarus and his father were held captive by King Minos in a tower, his father created wax wings so they could fly away from their captors. The father warned Icarus from flying too high or too low, but he ignored his fathers warnings and flew too close to the sun and his wings melted. It’s a moral story to warn against the dangers of complacency and hubris, but to me it’s just a tragedy.” You say, turning to face him, making eye contact with the man. He listened intently to the story, his face unreadable but you thought you saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe he related to the myth, a man that was once held captive, now with everything in his hands, in danger of losing it all if he flew too close to the sun himself.
“A tragedy huh? I don’t think there’s anything tragic about it. He was warned not to do something dangerous and he went and did it anyway, it’s his own damn fault,” he stated, something slightly argumentative in his tone.
He looked straight at you while speaking and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was looking into your soul, like his statement was some kind of test.
“I agree with the idea that he got what he deserved, but I meant it as a tragedy for his father. Creating something so pure for you and your child to escape from captivity, only for your child to ignore your warnings and pay the ultimate price for it. His father probably spent the rest of his life regretting escaping his prison because that was the action that ultimately lead to his sons death. It’s heartbreaking if you see it from a different perspective,” you say back, not really expecting him to engage you in a philosophical debate.
“Hmm.. that’s an interesting way to see it, I’m not really one for looking at different perspectives, mine suits me just fine,” he answered, the fact that this man was dangerous came screaming back to you with the look on his face, blank like he was devout of all emotion at that moment. You got the feeling he wasn’t speaking metaphorically anymore.
The tension was palpable, you not knowing what to say next and him deciding he was done talking for the time being. He placed the book down on a side table, and turned back to you. “Y’know what, I want it.” He said, confusing flooding your brain.
“Want what?” You ask calmly, not wanting to push your luck with the man.
“That tattoo, the Icarus one, I want it.” He answers, leaning back against the side of the table he was sat at earlier. His crossed his arms, which should have been intimidating, but for some reason the only thought floating through your head was Damn his arms are bigger than my head. Gimmie.
“You want the Icarus?” You ask, somewhat stupidly and he had just said that.
“Yes I do,” he answered simply, “Are you free tomorrow?” He asks, smile on his face.
“Umm not really, I have a few appointments tomo..”
“Move them, hell cancel them. Block out a spot long enough for me to get this tattoo.” He states, cutting of your sentence.
“I can’t do that, it’s too short notice and I could loose..”
“I’ll pay what ever you lose for cancelling the appointments. I’m getting this done, tomorrow.” He cuts you off again, a finality in his tone that warns you it would be pointless and probably rather stupid to argue.
“Uh..ok” you respond, shaking your head a little, still trying to figure out what just happened.
“Great.” He clapped his hands together and the sound made you jump. Barnes either didn’t notice it or just didn’t care. “Give me your phone.”
“Huh? Why do you want my phone?” You question.
Barnes just rolled his eyes, walked forward until he was stood right infront of you, toe to toe, staring down at you with a semi amused look on his face.
“How am I supposed to find out where your shop is if you don’t text me the location?” He said sarcastically.
Literally a million different ways, google it for starters, get one of your goons to find it, stalk me and follow me there.. c’mon man think. Obviously you kept these thoughts to yourself but Barnes smirked as if he could hear them anyway. Pulling out your phone and handing it to him you ask, “What time do you want to come in for?”
“Around 1-ish doll, that ok?” He asked, knowing that it is, as he’s already told you to move/cancel your other appointments.
“That’s fine by me Bar..Mr Barnes” you answer, slipping up, almost forgetting the level of respect you should probably show to the gangster in your home.
He calls his phone from yours, adding the new number to contacts in both phones, “there, now you can let me know the address of your shop.”
“I’ll sent it to you tomorrow.. unless you want me to send it now?” You asked he hands your phone back , uncertain of what he wanted
“Tomorrows fine” he answers, walking backwards towards the front door, “I’ll see ya in the afternoon doll,” he says while opening the door and mostly leaving until he pauses completely, slowly turning back towards you.
This is it, he’s been messing with me this whole time and now he’s going to shoot me.
“Tell Caleb he has 6 weeks to get my money back to me or I’ll be paying him another visit, ok doll.” He says, no question in his voice. He waits until you answer with a “Yes, Mr Barnes,” and disappears into the hallway outside your apartment.
It takes about 5 minutes for the shock to fully wear off, and it causes you to stagger over to the couch, fall backwards onto it an ask into the empty room, “What the actual fuck just happened?”
As soon as the question was out of your mouth , your phone buzzed in your hand.
James:
Don’t ever call me Mr Barnes again Y/n.
It makes me feel ancient.
I hate that.
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moonstruckme · 8 days ago
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vampire!james is such a fun concept!
what about if reader was a newly turned vampire too and James lets her feed on him
like the scene with elena feeding on damon in TVD?
because blood sharing is intimate :P
Hi lovely! I don’t really remember what this was like in TVD because I last watched that show probably 10 years ago and I don’t think I finished it but hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking, thank you for requesting <3
cw: blood, feels mature at times but no smut (vampires are just hot idk)
vampire!James x fledgling!reader ♡ 1k words
James hates seeing you like this. He remembers what it feels like—being aware for the first time of every nerve ending in your body, your mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, everything worse and louder and so much more than it had felt when you were human. 
He’d warned you the transition would be like this, but you’d wanted it anyway. You keep trying to act like you’re alright even now, trembling from head to toe in the corner of the bed, eyes darting towards every sound and movement like your body thinks you’re under attack. The three bags of blood you’d gotten from the butcher lie empty on the floor. Normally James only needs one every few days, but this is one thing he’d forgotten about the transition, he supposes. The hunger is intense. He won’t be able to get you more for at least a few hours.
“Sweetheart,” James says softly. You still flinch as though he’s shouted. “You should try to go to sleep. It’ll help with the cravings.”
“I don’t think I can.” Your lisp is sort of cute. You haven’t been able to retract your fangs yet, have pricked your own lip more than once. “I can hear so many hearts. They’re loud.” 
James nods. He’s learned to tune them out, like the hum of electricity or the rush of wind outside, but he knows what you mean. If he focuses, he can listen to the beating heart of the bird nesting in the tree by your window, the neighbor’s cat, the woman who lives at the end of your street. Sometimes they seem synchronized together, the unceasing, steady beat of life in the world. It gets louder when he’s starving. 
“The butcher won’t be open until morning,” he tells you, though you know already. You nod, wrapping your arms around your legs. “But I can try to help, if you want. You could try feeding from me.” 
It’s an idea James has been toying with since you said you wanted to turn. He doesn’t think you could survive off each other forever—he’s not sure if he still makes new blood, if his body works that way anymore—but he doesn’t have need for his blood the way a human does. Maybe he could sate you for a bit. 
You give him a look of wary surprise, but James knows how you feel well enough to recognize the hope behind it. Any chance of feeding will sound good to you right now. 
“Can we do that?” you ask. 
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “But I don’t think it’ll hurt to try. Might taste a bit stale, though.” 
It’s a lame joke, and you don’t laugh. Your trembling worsens, your restraint barely holding out against your cravings. Your voice is small. “I don’t know if I can be gentle. I feel…weird.” 
James offers you a smile. “I know, honey. It’s okay. Can I touch you?” 
You nod. James is careful about it, not wanting to overstimulate your sensitive nerves. He takes your hands in his, slowly guiding you onto his lap. 
“You’re alright,” he promises. “Let me help.” 
Your brows crease, and your lip starts bleeding again when you prick it with your fang. James gently thumbs the droplet away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, scared. 
“I’ll be fine.” He looks you in the eyes, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks calmingly. “You did it for me, right? That wasn’t so bad. Just…” James palms the back of your head, bringing it to the crook of his neck like an embrace. “Take what you need.” 
James doesn’t have a heartbeat for you to hear, but that doesn’t matter; once you’re close you can’t restrain yourself anymore. You bite into his neck eagerly. 
It feels like you described. Part of James worried that you were stretching the truth, trying to make him feel better, but the places where your mouth connects to his skin are suddenly the center of James’ universe. He can feel his blood rushing to meet you, to sate you, fill you up and be everything you need. Your low moan vibrates against his skin, and James laughs, dizzy and drunk on you. 
One of your hands fists in his hair, pulling his head further to the side. He bears his neck to you readily. He hopes you glut yourself on him, stay here with him, keep your mouth suctioned to his skin until you both die whatever deaths immortals can. 
He feels a bead of wet roll down his chest. You make a soft, thoughtless sound in the back of your throat, leaving his neck to chase it. Your tongue licks a stripe up James’ left pectoral. 
He blinks slowly as you wipe your mouth, breathing hard. It feels like waking up from a dream. You have blood smeared around your mouth and nearly dripping from your chin. You look embarrassed as you catch it with your fingers and lick them clean. 
“Sorry,” you say. 
“It’s okay.” James smiles at you. He still feels slightly doped up, but it’s also sweet to see you like this, pupils still blown from the taste of him and shy about it at the same time. “You were right, that was nice.” 
One side of your mouth tilts up tentatively. “I didn’t hurt you? You were so controlled when you fed from me.” 
“That’s not your fault, honey, you can’t be controlled this early on.” James kisses you, pleased to find your fangs are starting to retract. “It’s not possible. But no, it didn’t hurt.” 
Your smile blooms with relief. “You didn’t taste stale,” you reassure him. “You sort of tasted like yourself, if that makes sense.” 
He nods. You’d tasted like yourself, too, all sticky sweet and addicting. 
You let your breath out in a whoosh, sagging in his hold. “I’m…god, how do you manage to walk home after this? I’m so tired.” 
“It gets easier with time,” James reassures you. He pets the back of your head, turning you both around so his back rests against the headboard of your bed. “You can sleep, though. We’ll clean you up tomorrow.” 
There are no arguments from you. You’re fading fast, head falling naturally back into the curve of his neck. 
“Sorry,” you mumble, “I wasn’t as nice about it as you were with me.” 
“Sure you were, sweetheart. You’re always nice, I don’t think you can help it.” 
“Yeah, well.” You turn your head slightly to mush a kiss over the puncture marks you’ve left him. “Thanks.” 
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Text
Drunk Mistake- Bucky x Reader
Summary: Bucky kinda messes up when he pushes you off of him when you try to kiss him at a party
Word count: 1, 321
*want to be tagged in my next Bucky fic? Click here*
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Bucky wasn’t really that close with Y/N, she was more like an acquaintance, sometimes a friend…. Oh who was he kidding! He was pretty much in love with her! Every time she talked to him, he felt like he was in heaven, and at parties like this it was even worse.
He’d been watching you laughing with your friends, dancing with the girls and ignoring the advances of fellow agents. He’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame, that his eyes can’t help but always find you in a room.
He enjoyed seeing you have so much fun, and there was no harm in keeping an eye on a friend. But once you began to dance again, Bucky knew he had to get out of there.
The way your body moved to the music was becoming too much for him. Your skin had a light layer of sweat, and the way you bit your lip and your eyes found his, he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he stuck around.
His plan seemed to be working as he sat in a quiet corner on one of the top landings, but as he saw you sauntering over to him, your shoes now missing, he knew he was in trouble.
“Hey, James,” you say with a cute drunk voice.
As you sit beside him, you swing your legs over one of his thighs, and hold his hand. Your other hand comes up to run your fingers through his hair, the alcohol in your system obviously making you more touchy than normal.
Bucky tried hard to shift his hips so you wouldn’t feel how hard you were making him, your sweet touch burning a fire in him.
“Why you hiding up here, baby?” You ask sweetly but seductively as you stroke along his cheek.
Oh god don’t call him that. The sweet pet name going straight to his hardening dick as he painfully swallows a moan.
The pet name really did get his attention, as he now properly faced you. His eyes flicker from yours to your chest, that you push out further as you become more and more brave. He licks his lips as his eyes find yours once again and you bite your lip as your touches now become even more forward.
Pushing yourself onto his lap, your fingers now dig into his hair as your face slowly comes closer to kiss him.
This is what Bucky has dreamt of, what he stays up at night fantasying about. God he wants you so badly, but he can’t, not while you’re drunk, not like this.
It takes every ounce of restraint Bucky has to push you off of him and back onto the couch. As he looks at you to explain, he sees a deep hurt in your eyes, as tears begin to well. Suddenly his words are lost, and his heart aches at your saddened state, and all he can do is walk off, leaving you there.
******
It had been a couple days since the incident at the party, and you could not have been more mortified. When you woke up the next morning you remembered everything, and ever since then you’ve been avoiding not just Bucky, but everyone.
You’d escape to the training trails around the avengers compound most days, literally running to escape your problems.
As you reach the summit of one of the hardest trails, you don’t notice that Nat had followed you up there. Catching your breath, you turn to sit down when Nat’s sudden appearance scares you half to death.
“Fuck sake, Nat! Scared the shit outta me! Were you following me?” The run seeming to give you more adrenaline than the endorphins that you hoped for.
“Okay something is definitely wrong, you’ve never yelled at me like that before. What’s wrong, sunshine?” Your friend asks, her once cocky smirk fading away.
“It’s, it’s nothing, I’m sorry for going off at you,” you try to push past her, but expectedly she didn’t let you.
“No it’s not nothing. I’m your friend, you can talk to me,” she tries to coax soothingly.
Looking into her eyes you knew you wouldn’t win. As you let out a big sigh you go back to sit on a large rock.
“It’s-it’s a little embarrassing, but um-heh. So at the party the other night, I-I tried to kiss James.”
“Finally! Wait tried to? What happened?”
“Well,” your eyes start to tear up as you remember the way he treated you, “I guess you were wrong about how he felt, because he pushed me off of his lap and left without a word.” You manage to push out, tears fully running down your face now.
Looking up you see a seething fury on your friends face.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Nat announces assertively as she runs off.
“Wait, Nat! No!” You panic as you try to run after her.
*****
By the time you make it back to the compound and find her, you’re mortified to see a troop of your female friends surrounding the poor super soldier.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nat berates.
“Y/N, is hot as fuck!” Yelena defends you.
“You’d be lucky to have someone like her and you just push her away!” Wanda rages at him as a red glow begins to appear on her hands.
“Okay, okay! That’s enough! Thank you for coming to my rescue and I love you all but maybe it’s time to leave so we can talk,” you manage to calm the situation before Wanda could blow him up.
All three women look at you, then glare at Bucky before filing out of the room.
As you look into Buckys eyes you see they’re full of shame, and the embarrassment and self doubt begins to flood back.
“Hey, look, um- ignore them. You don’t have to apologise, I understand why you-“
“They’re right,” Bucky interrupts your self loathing rambling, “I would be lucky to have someone as wonderful as you and now I’ve ruined my chances with a beautiful woman.” Bucky sighs as he looks at you shamefully.
“What?” You ask, shocked and a little nervous at his confession.
Walking closer, Bucky stands before you and slowly looks into your eyes.
“I really like you and when you wanted to kiss me I got scared. You were drunk and I didn’t want to take advantage of you. I mean I wanted our first kiss to be special, as stupid as that sounds.”
Smiling up at his handsome face, your confidence returns with a fury as one of your hands holds the back of his neck, and the other squeezes his bicep. The contact makes Buckys eyes go wide as he looks at you.
“Well, would in the kitchen while I’m covered in sweat and my friends just yelled at you count as a special first kiss, or should I wait for you to dazzle me with fireworks and roses?” You cheekily ask as your face comes closer to his.
Buckys arms wrap around your waist as he chuckles.
“Just kiss me already,” he answers cheekily as his lips push heatedly against yours.
Butterflies erupt in your stomach as Bucky holds you tightly, the kiss filling you with excitement. The excitement however turning into announce as you hear your friends clapping and cheering, both Kate and Maria now joining their gang.
“Shut up and leave!” You laugh at your friends as Bucky awkwardly smiles.
“Okay but remember Tony has security cameras so no fucking in the kitchen,” Natasha sasses as the girls finally leave you both alone.
“Well there goes my plan,” Bucky cheekily and seductively whispers as he begins to kiss your neck.
“You know, James, I still need a shower.”
The idea of a shower with you causes Bucky to groan against your neck.
“Fuck, doll, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for that.”
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luveline · 4 months ago
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hello! do you think you could maybe write a james x fem!reader where he helps her calm down from a particularly bad panic attack? hyperventilating, zoning out, crying, etc? definitely not for my own personal wellbeing hahaha
James considers offering you his stress ball. It’s a palm-sized squishy rugby ball with deep grooves and splits from years of squeezing, but it does the job the same as any other. He always thinks it’s shameful that office jobs are stressful enough to require the invention of something to take your worries out on. 
He thinks it might be doubly shameful to let you sit there without asking what’s wrong. 
“Hey.” 
You raise your head to smile at him. It’s a good attempt at hiding how you’re feeling, but James already knows. “Hi.” 
Things are less frosty between you both. Honestly, James would say he likes you. Like, a lot. 
“You okay?” he asks. 
“I’m fine.” 
You take a steadying breath. 
“You don’t sound fine,” he says softly. He gives the office a quick survey and stands. “Come on, we’ll go sit somewhere quiet for a bit.” 
Your eyes widen. You don’t stand. 
Your breathing is too quick. James knows from experience that if you don’t get some time to yourself soon, you’re going to burst. It might be too late already. 
He takes your elbow into his hand. “Come on, it’s okay. We’re gonna take a walk.” 
Your breathing worsens by the second as James leads you out of the office. By the time you’re near the elevators, you’re struggling. Your inhales are short, shallow, and your exhales sound painful. It’s like you can’t get the air in, and when you do you can’t breathe anyways. 
“Hey,” he says, “it’s okay, angel, just take a big breath. One big breath, let’s slow down.” 
James is startled when you grab him, your face pressed hard to his shoulder. It came on so quickly, but he really does have experience in this. He’s got two best friends with a cargo hold of agonies each, and he’s learned how to take care of them. 
He finds he’d love to take care of you. There’s no reluctance there, only worry. 
“It’s okay,” James says, wrapping an arm around you lightly where you’re grabbing him. He could call you ‘angel’ again, toys with ‘sweet girl’, the s on his tongue, but it’s a little much for the moment.  He says your name instead with all the tenderness of a pet name, desperate to reassure you. “You’re okay.” 
You’re not listening, you can’t. You’ve zoned out of the present, panicked tears forced from your eyes with each harsh blink. You make a sound, a pained moan as you begin to buckle. 
James grabs you tightly. “Honey, it’s okay. It is, I promise. Take a deep breath. Just a deep breath, and we’re gonna sit down.” 
He’s sat with Remus through panic attacks that lasted long enough to consider taking him to the hospital. He has no idea what tripped you into this, but he can get you out of it eventually, with patience, and with care. James sits you down in an empty room along the hall and opens a window. He turns on the light, and he drags a chair to yours to sit almost knee to knee, taking your hand to hold.
“Can you copy me?” he asks. 
You shake your head. Your knee is jumping up and down in a hard jostle. Tears streak and drip from your cheek in jagged lines. Your panic is hot, sweat at your hairline, and it’s not pretty, but James doesn’t need it to be, he’s just desperate to make you feel better, and he’ll try every way he knows how. He takes breaths for you to copy, presses your hand to the seat to ground you, to force you to feel the starch of new tough leather on your fingertips. 
When it doesn’t work, he moves on. James doesn’t panic, it won’t help. He can imagine the fiery ache in your throat, and he’s concerned you might go light-headed, but he knows this is just panic. It’s something he can fix. 
“You’re doing so good,” he says softly, aware of the quiet in the room, your breathing the loudest echo. “But can you do something for me?” 
“James–” 
“No, I know, I know, it feels like it’s not going away, but it is. I need you to watch me, okay? Watch my arm. Watch this, angel, it’ll make sense.” 
And he begins raising and lowering his hand. He pushes it into the air, as high as his fingers can reach, and he brings it slowly to his thigh. Your eyes watch it move, at first frantic, and straying to other places, but eventually his arm begins to ache with the motion, and you’re following it diligently. He takes measured breaths as he does it. 
You copy his breathing. Your hyperventilating turns to plain crying, and then the tears come heavily but without sobbing. 
James lowers his hand. With the other, he rubs your thigh. “You did amazing, honey. You’re amazing, well done.” 
“I…” 
Your voice is hoarse. You don’t finish what you’d wanted to say. 
“Does that happen a lot?” he asks, worried it’ll start again. 
“No,” you say. James can’t tell if you're lying for his sake, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t mind if it happens again. 
He hates seeing you cry, though. “Good job,” he murmurs, rubbing your trembling leg, head ducked to be on your level, “good job, honey. You really did so well. All you have to do now is sit here and relax for a little bit.” 
“I have so much stuff to do.” 
“And I’ll help you. But right now, we’re gonna sit here.” 
You grab at his hand where it’s tracing a path. It’s definitely an overfamiliar touch, but you don’t mind, curling your fingers over the back of his palm. 
You have nothing to say. 
“Can I give you a hug?” James asks. He hopes his smile says it’s fine to not want one. 
“Please.” 
His chest aches a little. He slides his knee between yours and does the majority of the bending to hold you to him. “It’s okay,” he whispers as you take a shaky breath, his hand carving a path down your back. 
“I felt like…” 
James waits. Your voice is raw, but you’re not trembling as badly as you were. 
“I felt like I was gonna have a heart attack,” you confess. 
“I know. But you’re okay.” 
“I know,” you say with a sniffle that announces more tears. “I can’t believe I did that.” 
“You didn’t do anything. Nothing you had control over doing. Don’t think about it that way.” He pats your back. “Just try to feel better, that’s all you can do.” 
“You made me feel better, James. Thank you.” 
James hugs you. He tells you that he didn’t have much to do with it. All the hard work about panicking is the body that does it, he knows the ache of it afterwards, and he can feel your exhaustion. 
He’d let you fall asleep in his arms if that was what you needed to do, but after a while you’re okay to sit back. James leaves to get you a bottle of water from the vending machine, and when he returns you’re standing by the window and wiping your wet eyes. 
“Feeling okay?” he asks. 
You sniffle. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 
“Can I give you another hug?” he asks. This one being entirely for him. 
He can’t stand to see you sad. James wraps you up in a hug and sways you from side to side a couple of times. By the end of it you’re both feeling better than when your attack started, and that’s a job well done in James’ eyes. If he keeps special attention on you for the next few days, that’s his right. 
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