#all i need is a change; all i need is a chance [james]

[purrvaire]

black sails + tumblr text posts I have on my phone

[ofragesaesthetics]

                         James Pleiades Hawkins Jr.                         Son of Jim [Treasure Planet]

Find James here James’ aesthetics here Join AskStoryKids-HQ here

[amiableness]

Kiss and Makeup

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: James ruins reader’s date and attempts to make it better.

Word Count: 2829

Warnings: Jealous!James; kissing; and reader wearing heels, jewelry and makeup.

A/N 💌: A quick James oneshot that’s been on my mind, but I’m heavily consider making a second part to this.

As usual, thank you to @moonpascal for reading!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Go on, kiss and make up!” Sirius’ voice trails after you as you hurry down the corridor, James close on your heels. On any other day, you might have tossed a playful jab back at Sirius, well-accustomed to his relentless teasing about you and James. But today, the weight of everything made your throat tighten, leaving you silent, your focus fixed on reaching the safety of your dorm.

The sharp click of your heels echoed off the stone walls, and James’ muttering about your surprising speed in heels barely registers. Your anger simmers, blocking out his words as you storm ahead and shove the door open. James is right behind you, catching it just before it could slam shut in his face, determined not to let you shut him out.

“Get out, Jamie.” Though your voice was laced with anger, the way you used his nickname gave him a glimmer of hope. It wasn’t hopeless—there was still a chance to make everything better.

“I’m not leaving until we figure this out.” James says, stepping forward and leaning against the post of Lily’s bed as he watches you roll your eyes and turn into the room. He doesn’t say anything as you begin furiously grabbing clothes and scattered heels off the floor—remnants of you getting ready for a date, now tainted by the tension hanging between you two.

“There’s nothing to figure out! You ruined my date, plain and simple.” You spin around, clutching a black heel in your hand, and for a fleeting moment, James braces himself, half-expecting you to launch it at him in a fit of frustration. But it’s you, his sweet best friend—the one who cares so deeply for others that you always put them before yourself. It’s a trait that drives James a little crazy sometimes, knowing you’d sacrifice your own happiness without a second thought.

The realization only sharpens the sting of your anger, an unfamiliar weight he’s not used to carrying. He can recall times you’ve been disappointed—maybe after one of his careless pranks or his thoughtless disregard for someone’s feelings—but never this. Never this level of anger.

“I said I was sorry.” He tries, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you scoff and turn away, angrily kicking off your heels. You bend down to pick them up, and despite himself, his eyes drift to the curve of your body. He knows he shouldn’t be looking, but he can’t help it—he’s never been able to take his eyes off you. And now, a bitter feeling twists in his gut, knowing you’re dressed all pretty for someone else.

“You’re not, though. Why the fuck did you feel the need to scare him off?” You toss the heels into your trunk and turn to face him, arms crossed. He opens his mouth to respond, but the words die before they form—because he doesn’t know how to tell you the truth. He knows exactly why, but admitting it out loud would change everything between you. And he’s not sure he’s ready for that.

The silence between you stretches, heavy and unspoken, as you wait for an answer he isn’t ready to give. You both know exactly what you’re waiting for—a proper explanation.

One you’ve been holding out hope for, quietly, for years.

“It’s not fair, you know.” You let out a deep sigh, turning to face your desk, your gaze falling on the mirror. James watches as you begin to remove your jewelry, your back turned to him, but his reflection still catches glimpses of you.The anger in your voice has softened, but he knows that if he says the wrong thing, it could all flare up again, as sharp and sudden as before.

“What isn’t?” He hesitates, watching you carefully as he takes a cautious step forward. His eyes follow the way your lips part in the mirror, the soft exhale of frustration escaping you as you fumble with your necklace.

He wants to step forward, to gently brush your hair aside and unfasten the clasp, to press a soft kiss against the back of your neck once the necklace slips away. But he can’t—so he remains still, trapped in silence, as he watches you instead.

“Why is it that you go out with girl after girl, but when I show interest in a guy, you scare him off?” You already knew the answer—weren’t blind to it. It had been clear to everyone that you and James had been circling each other for years, dancing around unspoken words.

But he refused to admit that he cared for you as more than friends. It felt pointless to tell him how you felt when it was clear James was intent on keeping you in the friend zone.

From the moment crushes became a part of your life, James had been yours. But you were never certain about his feelings—until that one night when he got blackout drunk and confessed he was in love with you. He has no memory of that drunken night, but you overheard him later, telling the boys he’d never drink that much again because he wanted to actually remember the parties he went to. You’d felt a pang of disappointment, but you were gathering the courage to confront him about it. Then, the next day, he hooked up with a girl from Ravenclaw, and just like that, all your resolve crumbled, leaving you feeling more invisible than ever.

He didn’t remember what he’d said, and if he was out with other girls, it was clear he didn’t care enough to mention it while sober.

That was a year ago, and you still hadn’t brought it up. 

So, to cope with the mess of it all, you went on a date—a rare one, the first in nearly a year. And now, here was James, wrecking it all over again.

“I—” He stops himself, clearing his throat, the tension in his voice betraying the lie before he even finishes. “I don’t think that’s true. You go out on dates.”

He knew he spent a lot of time flirting with girls—whether it was during class, when he should have been paying attention, or at parties where conversation flowed too easily. But when someone showed interest in you? That was a different story altogether. He’d like to blame it on the fact that you were his best friend, but deep down, he knew better.He was protective of you because he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone looking at you the way he did. Was it selfish? Definitely. But the thought of losing you terrified him more than anything.

“You know that’s a lie. You saw how excited I was! Why did you take that from me?” You were fully aware of how weak and accusatory your voice sounded, but you didn’t care. You were hurt, and it was clear in the way you shook your head, disappointment heavy in every movement. James watched your reflection, noticing the way you swallowed hard as if trying to shove down the swell of emotions threatening to break free. And with that, a wave of guilt slammed into his stomach, settling there like a stone.

“I just didn’t want him to hurt you!” 

“So you decided to take that off his hands and hurt me instead?” You scoffed, making James flinched as if you had slapped him. It probably would have hurt less if you had.

“Merlin, no! Sweetheart, that wasn’t what I was trying to do—”

“Then what were you trying to do, James? Because I’m getting tired of this little game, we have going on.” 

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes following your hand as you gently remove one of your earrings. For a moment, your gazes meet through the mirror, and the weight of it all presses down on him. He wishes, desperately, that you would justturn around and face him.

He was racking his brain, searching for the right words, trying to find a way to fix this. He considered stepping back, giving you space like he did when you got agitated with him. But this felt different. It wasn’t just about a moment of frustration—it was something deeper, something that could damage your friendship permanently if he didn’t speak up. He knew he had to fix this.

“You guys make up yet?” Sirius hollered, and James could practically picture him standing at the  bottom of the stairs with his hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted at the both of you.

Sirius’ words from earlier echoed in his head as if they were taunting him, swirling around like a cruel mantra. 

Go on, kiss and make up.

It felt like an accusation, a reminder of how much he’d messed up. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, twisting in his gut. Every nerve in his body screamed that his next move would either make everything worse—digging the hole even deeper—or finally give him a chance to tell you why he’d ruined your date. But the fear of losing you pushed him forward.

“Tell me to stop, sweetheart.”

“Stop what—?” You ask, tossing your last piece of jewelry into the ceramic dish with a sharp clang before turning to face James. Your breath catching in your throat as he moves closer, and without thinking, you instinctively take a step back, bumping into your desk. The sudden movement rattles the items on top, sending a soft, anxious clatter through the room.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as James reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb grazing the edge of your jaw. You stare up at him, wide-eyed, and James can’t help but think how pretty you look—more than he’s ever allowed himself to admit. 

He’s never been able to admire you like this before, not without the constant fear of you catching him.

His hands are shaky, and his proximity to you is making him nervous in a way that he couldn’t quite shake. But he didn’t know how else to explain himself. So, tentatively, he let his fingers graze your skin, admiring how you melted into him. He watches, heart pounding, as your lashes flutter and your lips part in surprise at the softness of his touch. The anger in your eyes had faded, leaving behind disbelief and something that looked dangerously close to hope.

He startles both himself and you when the words slip out, low and raw: “You make me so fucking nervous.” You blink up at him, silent, processing the confession. His gaze drifts over the mascara you’d carefully applied, the gloss glistening on your lips—details he hadn’t noticed before, but now felt like a punch to his gut. The jealousy flares, burning hot and fast in the pit of his stomach. It was devastating to realize you were all dressed up, and it wasn’t for him. Those heels, thoseglossed lips—they were for a guy who hardly knew you. 

Not like James knew you.

You part your lips, and James unknowingly silences you with a gentle brush of his thumb just beneath your lower lip. A soft, satisfied smile tugs at his mouth as he hears the gasp escape you. His hand rests on your left hip, pulling you closer, grounding you against him. The tension in the room thickens, and just like that, your anger has melted.

“If you want me to stop, just say the word, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his voice low and thick with intention as he edged closer. His fingers caressing your jaw, tilting your face upwards, bringing you within a breath of him. The air between you crackles, heavy and charged, and you feel the pull—the tempting, intoxicating proximity. He was so close now, you could feel the warmth of his breath, and all it would take was the slightest movement for his lips to claim yours.

You thought about saying it—the words were right there, just on the tip of your tongue. But then his lips brushed against yours just barely, and everything else faded away. You couldn’t bring yourself to say no—not when this was something you’d wanted for years. Even with the anger simmering inside you, the frustration over James ruining your date, you couldn’t pull away.

Not now. Not when he was so close.

If anything, a strange sense of relief was starting to wash over you—relief that he had ruined it. Because if he hadn’t, it might have been another guy standing where he was now, and the thought of that made something tighten painfully in your chest.

“Last chance.” He mumbled, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, searching for any sign that you might stop him. The only sound between you was the uneven rhythm of your breaths, erratic and heavy, pulsing with the desire that surged between you both. When you didn’t say a thing, no rejection, no hesitation—only the warmth of your breath mingling with his—he offered a barely-there smile before leaning in, his lips finally capturing yours with a slow, gentle kiss.

He started slow, cautious, as if afraid he might push you away. But the wrecked hum that escaped your throat—the sound of pure desire—told him everything he needed to know. You wanted this as much as he did.

It was overwhelming how quickly the kiss shifted—what started as sweet and searching, quickly turned frantic and hungry. The slow, deliberate pace gave way to a fiery urgency. The gentle brush of lips became a desperate meeting of mouths as the two of you gave into years of pining.

Your hands, which had been gripping the edge of the desk hard, moved slowly toward him. You let your fingers trail up his stomach, feeling the dips and ridges before reaching his chest. Your other hand found its way into his curls, youtugged softly, the motion pulling a low, pleasure-filled groan from deep within him. That sound, the sound of him unraveling, seemed to shatter something inside James. In an instant, he stepped closer—if that was even possible—until your bodies were pressed together, the heat between you two undeniable, consuming.

He pulled away just an inch, and the desperate whine that escaped your lips was enough to pull him back in, his arms circling your waist before effortlessly lifting you onto the desk. You gasped his name, the sound caught in your throat, as his lips claimed yours again, urgent and hungry. One hand slid around your thigh, pulling you closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours as he stood between your parted legs. His grip on your hip was firm, grounding, while his other hand found its place at the side of your throat, fingers warm and possessive.

You had never been kissed like this before. It was overwhelming—an all-consuming heat that ignited deep in your belly as James kissed you with a hunger, as if he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life.

And it was ruining you, because if this was how it felt to kiss James Potter, you never wanted to be kissed by anyone else ever again.

He rocked his hips against yours, the pressure making you gasp, and that breathless sound was all he needed. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting you as if he couldn’t get enough. You were so completely immersed in him—the feel of his lips, the taste of him—that the low, teasing whistle from your doorway barely registered in your mind.

“Bloody hell, I didn’t expect you to actually go and kiss her.” Sirius’ voice rang out, loud and unfiltered. The words struck a panic through you, your body warming with embarrassment as you instinctively tucked your head into James’ chest, hoping to hide from the intrusion. You would recognize Sirius’ voice anywhere, and you knew you would be teased about this for ages.

James, with you still propped on the desk, remained a shield, his body pressed protectively against yours. He glanced over at Sirius and Remus, who stood by the doorway. Sirius, leaning against the doorframe, raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, while Remus stood next to him, his usually calm demeanor showing signs of awkwardness.

“Fuck off and shut the door, mate.” James groans, his arms pulling you tighter as he fights the urge to hurl a book at Sirius and Remus. Instead, he sends them a warning glare and brings a hand up to the back of your head, the heat of the moment still burning between you, and silently dares them to say anything more.

The boys hesitate, but not before Sirius calls out with a teasing smirk, “Didn’t know you had it in you, Potter. You finally got your girl.” And just like that, the door slams shut, leaving the air thick with tension and you cringing in embarrassment.

Maybe telling him you loved him wasn’t that pointless after all.

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write and spread my work! 🤍

[moonpascaltoo]

james potter

MASTERLIST • THE MARAUDERS • 07/23/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

james potter two

𑣲 you don’t really like me, you just think you do I @perpetuallydaydreaming

𑣲 time warp I @astonishment

when the time-turner breaks, you find yourself at the start of 6th year once again. the only difference? it’s 1976. stuck in a time you shouldn’t even be alive in, you do your best to blend in, anxiously awaiting to see if dumbledore can help you get home. that all goes out the window when you catch the eye of a certain bespectacled boy. and the more time you spend with him, the harder it gets to walk away. but you have to���right?

𑣲 why didn’t we work out I @/astonishment

James Potter had two girlfriends in seventh year at Hogwarts. Y/N Y/L/N, who he dated for five months; and Lily Evan’s, who he dated afterwards. When he’s dared to call on of his exes, guess who’s number he dials…

𑣲 if i kiss you, i’m sorry I @/astonishment

a miscommunication at a party leads to james asking y/n to be his girlfriend and the two quickly find themselves going from strangers to lovers. the problem is, it’s all fake…until it isn’t.

𑣲 on the house @/astonishment

James has a crush on Y/N, a regular at the coffee shop he works at. When he suspects her boyfriend might be cheating on her, he feels the need to get involved.

𑣲 you’re losing me I @/astonishment

you and james potter have a friendship like no other, with the most unbreakable bond…or so everyone thought. when you get hanahaki, you start pulling away from james and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t see, to do anything right. with your friendship being put to the ultimate test, will you find your way back to each other? or will james lose you for good?

𑣲 behind them all I @in-between-thighs

it’s no secret that Hogwarts likes gossip and that it spreads quickly through the hallways but this time when James potter’s new secret girlfriend is the subject of said rumors everyone is scandalized, specially you.

𑣲 shy!reader I @moonstruckme

𑣲 blackcat!reader I @/moonstruckme

𑣲 love letter I @ddejavvu

Your daughter has been the mailman’s little helper for weeks, unbeknownst to you. You decide to take up the chance to get to know him better, after all, it would be a shame if your daughter knew the handsome man who wrote you love letters better than you did.

𑣲 bsf!james no boundaries I @/ddejavvu

𑣲 bsf!james I @/ddejavvu

𑣲 obsessed oblivious bsf!james I @/ddejavvu

𑣲 eyes on you I @lustsickforyou

james potter— if anything, was a flirt until the very end. so when he sees a very pretty girl in the library he couldn’t help himself but to go speak with her.

𑣲 what was i made for? I @once-upon-an-imagine

𑣲 no denial I @slythxn

Is it too late for Lily to finally tell James how she feels? Why deny the feelings one is obviously feeling?

𑣲 playing pretend I @dilf-lover99

When Reader's best friend James requests her assistance capturing the attention of Lily Evans, the two decide to make some changes to their relationship. Sort of.

𑣲 is it chill that you’re in my head? I @boneblushed

your best friend James isn’t sure why he’s so angry about the fact that you’re going on a date with someone else.

𑣲 readers first time I @moonlightspencie

𑣲 i can see you I @pretty-little-mind33

James panics when he sees what his boggart is.

𑣲 gorgeous I @/pretty-little-mind33

You and James stumble upon an ancient book of spells rumored to enhance pleasure.

𑣲 thank you, mclaggen I @ellecdc

𑣲 pregnant!reader I @/ellecdc

𑣲 i’ve got plans sorry part 2 I @livinginshambles

James is whipped. He adores his girlfriend so much, to the point that it starts to bother his friends. His reaction to a confrontation about it with his friends is to completely pull away from you, always finding new excuses to avoid you, leaving you to try and approach him. When you overhear him trying to be cool under peer pressure and say that you're too clingy, you also start pulling away, using the same excuses.

𑣲 i’d thought you’d be different part 2 part 3 I @/livinginshambles

A cinderella story (maybe a little romeo and juliet while we're at it) but Hogwarts - Enemies-ish to lovers. You find an enchanted parchment through wich you anonymously talk to a stranger (James). When you meet him at the Yule ball, he is not who you expected, but you give him a chance. When you realise that was clearly a mistake, you flee cinderella style.

𑣲 how much are we worth? I @/livinginshambles

Sirius bets that James can't get a girl to go out with him. James pursues you and falls for you. You are hurt when you find out that you were just a bet, even more when you realise how little they bet on you.

𑣲 obsessed I @lucyrose191

It’s no secret that James Potter is absolutely obsessed with his girlfriend and he couldn’t be more in love.

𑣲 i guess i thought it would be harder for you to let me go I @morwap

𑣲 saudade I @embrassemoi

James Potter realized he spent years chasing after the wrong girl. But is it too late to finally tell you how he feels?

𑣲 flipped I @wicchyy

you’ve been obsessed with James since you met him, but he doesn’t feel nearly the same. then, he’s flipped.

𑣲 caramel pie I @ballroamblitz

james smells caramel pie on the amortentia potion

𑣲 warm I @astralee

james deems you marriage worthy because you play with his hair (and he likes you)

𑣲 triwizard tournament I @patrophthia

𑣲 big, strong james potter I @rainydayathogwarts

James Potter is just a big softie with a praise kink and a girlfriend who feeds it, especially during sex.

𑣲 moth to a flame I @santaasi

what could be more forbidden than loving your brother's best friend?

[ma1dita]

about you

this was a request! read it here

words: 4.3k (longest one yet ohmy)

summary: james potter takes ‘easier’ for granted and finds out he now has a living reminder of that

warnings: none! sort of au, everyone lives and they win the war— angst angst angst, maybe open ended!!! groveling james and reader is a MOTHA (afab!)

a/n: guys i missed writing angst…i’m a deeply sad soul at heart so i enjoyed this a lot. I listened to ‘night shift’ by lucy dacus writing the first half, and ‘about you’ by the 1975 for the second half,,,,, both on repeat. i don’t mean to post at ungodly hours but i hope you enjoy!

posted: 11/11/23

—-

Insecurity is an ugly thing. It tugs at your frame, holding your shoulders hostage and your countenance shriveled in a scowl as you slink forward in your seat. But what should the rational reaction be when your boyfriend, the one you’ve planned out the rest of your life with— takes you out to dinner on a random Tuesday and then decidedly backtracks on everything you’ve built together? Your ears are ringing loudly, and you dumbly ask him to repeat himself when he says he wants to take a break.

“So that’s it then. You’ve made your decision and I just have to be okay with losing a year and a half of my life because you aren’t sure if you love me?” Your tone cuts through the fraying tether that holds you two together in the corner booth.

James for once, is at a loss for words. He wasn’t really sure of what to expect when he brought you here tonight, but any reaction to his admission was bound to hurt the both of you. You had to have known about his hesitations. Graduation was three weeks away, and everything was about to change, whether either of you liked it or not. Stupidly enough, James does love you, but that’s not the problem. The proximity he’s had as Head Boy working with Lily Evans makes him wonder if the life he lives is what’s meant for him. It keeps him up at night, gnawing at his resolve and comfort in being with you. He feels ungrateful to have it so easy. Loving you is easy. But the imposter syndrome sneaks into his room late at night in the form of ‘what if’.

“I…it’s just the timing of it all. We’re about to leave Hogwarts, and I don’t want to tie you down if I know I’m unsure of my—our future.”

He reaches out to grab your hand, and many a time ago, his sense of awareness was what you admired about him. You’d both get this familiar feeling of needing comfort, and within a minute, your fingers would intuitively find the other’s like it was second nature. Now, the thought of his touch might make you break his hand off to serve on a silver platter.

“Fuck your timing. If you think it’s as easy as making the decision to just quit while we’re ahead…. I love you. Don’t you…Is that not—” 

You clear your throat, the fire in your indignation being stifled by the whimpering feeling of knowing this was going to happen. The understanding of his plight, the knowing that he wants more. You could see it in the way his eyes wander when you all hang out, and you could feel it when he needs time to himself before bed, letting you back to your common room in the late hours alone. Screw your heart for appealing to his indecisiveness, his fear, when the final blow is aimed at the relationship you both once wanted together. Head Boy and Head Girl share living quarters after all. What chance did you stand against the girl he fell asleep a room away from? Maybe he dreams of her too, what you couldn’t give and what more she has to offer. 

“Tell me something James,” you choke as your body heaves with something akin to nausea. Being lovesick isn’t as romantic as it seems. The hopeless feeling in your tummy throbs as you clench your fists to keep it all down.

“Whatever you want.” 

His reply makes you laugh, desolation gripping your esophagus. Who knew feeling empty would feel like drowning? There is no more air left in your lungs that it almost incapacitates you, your last breath spilling out your final ask of him.

“Do you love me? What did I do?” 

The noise and chatter around you seems to fall silent as he zeroes in on your face, crestfallen from the words that leave your lips. It isn’t your fault, but how can he tell you that? At 18, he’s feeling stifled by the privilege of having his life all planned out for him. He knows people spend their lives searching for contentment but James can’t decipher if he’s right for all of this pressure falling upon his shoulders. The societal heir of his father’s business empire. The face of the upcoming war, bringing in a new generation of soldiers to fight. 

Deep inside, he’s a wild spirit just wanting to live, to be free. And it scares him that you’d follow him to the ends of the Earth, that there isn’t much thinking involved, just doing. The lack of autonomy stifles his soul. How does one know if they’re meant for more? James doesn’t want you to have to suffer the consequences if he can’t figure it out himself.

“I love you honey. So much it hurts me. I just wonder if it’s enough.” 

Your hands clatter onto the table, bumping your half-empty pint of butterbeer as you gather your things, shoving them into your knapsack as his final blow hits your senses. And all he does is watch you, face transfixed as if he sees nothing, like he isn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.

There’s no going back after this, you think silently as you steady your trembling hands. There’s also no way in hell you’ll let him see you cry. Fuck that. Your eyes fall over the curls that drape over the frame of his glasses, his face cradled by candlelight and dear Merlin, do you love this boy. All of him, even the parts that don’t reciprocate the feeling. This is the final snapshot in your memory of him, because this fleeting moment will have to be enough.

“I hope you get everything you ever wanted James. For my sake, I hope I never hear a thing about it.”

Perhaps having the last word will absolve you of the feeling that desecrates your entire essence as you put one foot in front of the other, pushing past the door of the Three Broomsticks and out into the unknown. But it’s not enough.

—

The break in routine absolutely shatters you, if we’re being honest. A year and a half of loving him, and three more before that of liking the slow steady burn that is James Potter…. It’s like looking at the world with new eyes and this window of opportunity with graduation nearing is your chance of starting anew. There’s also the custodial aspect after the end of a relationship, and it’s hard to separate the rest of what’s yours and his in your mind. Your friends are his, and his are yours. It makes quite a predicament to not have things so easy as they consider who to eat lunch with, or who’s dorm to hang out in. Hopefully, things get easier with time but you’re not as confident as you once were.

A part of you feels like you don’t belong anywhere anymore. James is the sun, after all; a natural leader— everyone revolves around his ingenious ideas and the light he brings. He’s the one who always has a plan, and everyone follows in his stead. Where do you fit in all of that? Where do you go?

His parents are likely the loveliest people to ever grace the wizarding world. Euphemia catches you by the arm after the graduation ceremony as you’re about to take the 7th year boat back across the Black Lake. With no family in attendance and no boyfriend to dote on, niceties were expended quick enough to want to run out of there and never look back.

“Darling, are you leaving without a goodbye?” Mrs. Potter smiles, calling her husband over both with grins made of sunlight. 

Somehow it resonates in your brain that it’s finally over, and your lip trembles when they pull you in for a hug that rivals your hunger to be loved. You think that even if your parents showed up today, it wouldn’t have felt this kind.

“Congratulations dearest! We’re so proud of you,” Fleamont rumbles, a big man with an even bigger heart as he brandishes flowers out of thin air to hand to you daintily. You’re going to miss them terribly. Is it wrong to want more of this? But you remember why it’s not as James’s cologne floods your senses and his silhouette creeps into your periphery. Your smile grows smaller as you two stare at each other and breathe the same air for the first time in almost a month. Whatever’s thrumming in your being, he holds the key to. Mr. and Mrs. Potter try to loop you into a photo together, the magical kind that moves to capture a memory so intimately but both of you stand perfectly still as his and your hesitant dismissals go unheard.

Loving hands fuss over both your caps and the way hair sticks out until you feel your shoulders jostle together for a moment and his hand lands on the small of your back. The flash goes off as you two look at each other in something that still resembles love. You can’t unlove him, not in a day, a month, or ever, you think. Not if you’ve bared your soul to him, even if he hurt you. 

You look away first, urging your heart to come back to reality. He’s not yours anymore, and you still love him. Alice told you earlier that he asked Lily out on a date for next Tuesday. What you were supposed to do with that information you’re unsure, but the feeling in your belly helps you say goodbye to the Potters, and clarify that they can keep the picture since you’re not James’ girlfriend anymore. An awkward silence settles over all four of you.

Euphemia rubs your cheek, hushed promises of keeping in touch while Fleamont looks at his son in confusion. James’ hand flexes in the absence of your body against his. He simply watches you walk away again, alone, while he’s surrounded by his friends and his family. The beating of a tiny heart matching your own as you hop onto the boat proves otherwise.

—-

A baby.

You think back to when it must’ve happened, the weekend before that Tuesday, when everything still felt right. With your last exams of your academic career finally done, both you and James were tangled in his silk sheets until dawn, an amalgamation of passionate whispers and lingering touches you could still feel in the days that followed. As you stared at the flutter of his eyelashes and relished the way he pulled you closer in his dream state, you were quite sure that he is, too, tangled within your soul to let go. That your doubts were residual anxiety from preparing for the future. For the first time in a while, you were reaffirmed that the boy sleeping next to you was your forever. Not being careful was a consequence of feeling safe in his arms, and subconsciously, you both hoped that everything would work itself out. As you walked out of the Head Students’ Lounge past noon with James’ hickeys as a necklace and donning your boyfriend’s shirt, you noticed the blush on Lily Evans’ face. You were just so sure, but that felt like forever ago.

Your parents weren’t happy when they came back from their business trip two months after graduation to find you four months along with a prominent bump and filled with so much fear. All plans of getting a job, of moving out, and joining the Order were now replaced with the startling fact that you are 18 and don’t have a single clue on what to do next. Your childhood bedroom feels smaller tonight, with both your parents standing at the door, all of you unsure of what to say. You can’t remember the last time they tucked you in, but as your dad takes a seat on the edge of your bed, it seems possible that maybe you won’t be alone in all of this.

“Whatever decision you make will be the right one, sweetie. If you love that baby, then we do too,” he sniffles, and you don’t recall having ever seen him this emotional before. One thing you are sure of, is this baby is loved, and made from love. The next is that England is not a safe place to raise your baby. 

Somewhere far away, in a hidden place guarded by some of the most experienced wizards, the Order of the Phoenix meets again to determine the future of the wizarding world. James’s eyes dart back and forth from the door to whichever adult is talking about the next mission. You didn’t show up again. All of the meetings so far where he was always the first one to arrive and the last to leave in hopes of getting a glimpse of you, and you never showed. There’s a deep worry that haunts him as the months pass by, and he knows that it would be easy to send you a letter, or to show up at your door, but he’s probably the last person you want to see. 

“We’re going out for a pint, you ready to leave James?” Lily whispers into his ear, arms curling around to his chest. But he’s not ready at all, sat on the sofa with his eyes on the door, just in case. Trying to love someone who’s still in love is a losing battle, Lily thinks, as she watches her boyfriend look like a child missing their favorite blanket. But in a war like this one, no one would be foolish enough to decline company.

“I’ll meet you there,” he smiles, leaning back to kiss her cheek. It’s cruel to both of them, the way he’s acting knowing that Lily won’t ever be you. Every chance he gets to have a moment to himself, he thinks of the despondent look on your face as you walked away from him and his parents that day. No more anger at all, no biting words or the fighting spirit that he knows and loves. Both of you just accepted what was to come.

Sirius and Remus approach him later after everyone’s left that they got word that you moved to America. He thinks of what could’ve been, and the thought of your safety is the only thing that lets his mind rest as guilt pushes and pulls at his heartstrings like waves.

He’s spent these months fighting in the war, loving and losing that he thinks this isn’t anything like the white house and picket fence fantasy you both used to cook up. As he grabs his coat to leave, James wonders if by being away from all of this you’ll get to live the life you want. 

—

“Okay honey, hold on tight to mama.” 

Your little boy was almost bouncing off the pavement with a chocolate covered grin, and it makes you laugh harder than it should. Maybe Florean Fortescue’s was not the way to start off your son’s first trip to Diagon Alley, but your new job at the Ministry starts tomorrow and you’ve been missing your favorite stationery. The town was packed with people with the war having ended and trying to start anew. You haven’t seen any familiar faces and maybe years ago that was a bad thing, but hope spreads over Diagon Alley with strangers smiling at Christopher as he skips on the cobblestone, almost tripping over his own feet at the entrance of Flourish and Blotts. 

He runs forward to explore the store as you smile at your creation, letting him wander along the aisles as you have done years before. Being back here is like walking through a memory, and though it used to be home, you know yours is walking around in tiny bright red shoes that light up like his smile. Your fingers flip through the different quills and parchment on display, and after finding everything you need, you hear your son’s laughter in the opposite corner of the shop. Motherly instincts always prevail as your feet guide you to the sound of his voice, since he’s never been one to shy away from a friendly conversation.

“Did you find everything you were looking for, honey?”

James’ head whips up from the tiny boy he was entertaining with color-changing quills to see you, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose to make sure he’s seeing properly. The both of you go quiet as time stands still, with Christopher chattering at your feet. 

“Mama! Look at this one, it goes rainbow!” he says, tugging at your coat to see the quill in James’s hand. The pieces start to fit together in James’ mind, looking at your pursed lip, then to the sight of this boy smiling with the innocence he had a lifetime ago. This boy, his son, has your eyes. You shake your head rapidly as he intakes a breath of air.

“Honey?” he whispers, knowing that was his name for you.

“So what, he looks like a honey,” you say defensively, grabbing your son’s hand.

He looks like my son, his eyes say—both of you look down to the child who’s all grins and none the wiser piping up.

“My name’s Topher!” 

“Yes it is, and now it’s time to say goodbye to the nice man, okay?” Topher pouts and looks up at his father without even knowing it, handing him the quill. 

“Keep it. I’ll pay for it, and then you can write to me,” he says almost desperately, losing grip of everything that he’s been trying to convince himself for the past 7 years. 

“Don’t be weird, Potter. Don’t…” you shake your head, eyes misting over. Seeing him again brought back everything. It was already overwhelming to have a kid that’s almost the splitting image of him, to learn of a love so pure after one that’s wrecked you to your core, but being here, within arms reach… You’re 18 again and scrambling away from the corner booth trying to get away from the man you love most not wanting you in return.

“Honey, why don’t you give us a minute to talk? Go find me some cool enchanted stickers for me to bring to work tomorrow, okay?” Your baby runs off without even questioning it, his sense of adventure also inherited from his father.

“I’m…so sorry.” James moves closer to you, and you take a step back sighing humorlessly.

“For what? He’s an amazing kid. Even though… he wasn’t planned, I don’t think I could ever see my life turning out any other way.” You shift your weight to your other foot. He looks, successful, if that’s something he would be proud of. He’s wearing an impressive suit, and his eyes are a bit hardened by the past few years, but his charisma, his smile…. He’s still the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I feel foolish. I was so scared to live my life and then here you are raising our child…” 

You blink softly at his words, and it reminds him of your youth, all doe-eyed and full of want. You used to want him like he still wants you. In front of him is a grown woman, a mother who’s strong and filled with memories and love that he should’ve been a part of.

“Things happen for a reason, James. We both did what we had to do.”

His hand brushes yours, and you realize you’ve been without his touch for 7 years. 7 years of being scrubbed clean of James Potter, and not a single regenerated cell in your body has been touched by him. But your son is of him, so you think that no matter how this ends, there will always be a part of you that loves James too.

You extend an olive branch to have him come to your apartment this weekend and get to talk. He knows he doesn’t deserve this kindness, but you know he deserves to meet his son.

—-

The doorbell rings and you take a deep breath as you open the front door, looking up at him holding a teddy bear for Topher.

“He’s still down for a nap. Let’s go sit in the den.” You say quietly. The hallway is filled with pictures of your boy, and of you in different stages these past few years. He stops at a portrait of your parents with Topher being swung between them.

“Your parents….”

“Were supportive; I wasn’t alone,” you muse, knowing he knows of your strained relationship with them back then.

“They actually just retired early last year. Overworked themselves and finally comfortable, so they help out when they can. What about yours?” Trying to make conversation with your ex is terribly hard, but it’s in good spirit and there’s not much to do until Topher wakes up.

“They passed, actually. Mum at the end of the war, and dad 6 months after. Never wanted to be apart, you know that.”

Your face falls at his revelation, “I’m sorry for your loss. They were amazing people. Taught me what it meant to be a parent, for sure.” Amicable silence fills the living room before you clear your throat.

“I have to be blunt, James. What do you want from this? You must be married and busy, so if Topher can’t fit into that….”

“I’m neither of those things, honey. I want to try and see where this goes,” he says scratching the back of his neck. 

Your heart stops at his endearment, catching yourself looking at him seriously. 

“You can hurt me, but I’m not letting you do that to him. Back then, you were all I ever wanted love to be. And then I had my beautiful baby, and I suddenly knew my love meant more.”

“I never wanted to hurt you. It was a mistake, because I was too proud to accept that I had it good. That what I had was meant for me.” James grabs your hands, begging for you to understand. The lost boy he was is a lifetime away from the man sitting in front of you now. Though it’s touching, you keep your heart guarded because the little boy sleeping down the hall is your biggest priority. You hope he can understand that too.

“He’s not a placeholder for your dreams of wanting a family. You have to build that, I did that myself. I’m not going to let you string him along and then once you have a family of your own, you just up and leave.” 

“I know. I was hoping the both of you could be my family, if you give me the chance.” You bite your lip as your thumb runs against his. It’s easier to forgive than to forget. But for Topher’s sake, you can try. 

“Tell me something James,” you whisper, having needed to know this for the past 7 years.

“Why did you throw it all away? Was the idea of loving me…so terrible?” He tilts your chin up, and you think that the earnest look on his face is the closure you needed to properly forgive him.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. Loving you is the best part of knowing you. Do you think I ever forgot about you?” He chuckles lowly, brushing back a strand of your hair, and you think this could be dangerous if you let yourself get too close. 

“I’ve thought about you everyday for the past 7 years, I just didn’t think I deserved you after everything I’ve done. I was so stupid, I am still. But I’m trying to be better.”

“You think of me but dreamt of her. Was it guilt?” Your hand grabs his as you move it away from your cheek, settling onto your lap. The air around you is suffocating.

“It took time for me to figure out that it was intention. Lily was a distraction. You’ve consumed me since the day I met you. My dreams, my thoughts… All of it is you. I choose to think about you as much as I can, because if I didn’t I was scared I’d forget all the good things about us back then.”

You both hear a thump from your son’s room and realize you’re wiping tears away. James stands up when you do, and both pairs of your socked feet pad closer to your son’s room. 

“We start this slow. We make decisions together, and if there’s any inkling I get that he doesn’t want this, it’s done. You understand?” Your hands are firm on the doorknob as he’s standing close behind you, hanging onto every word.

“Every word. There’s no turning back from this.” He wants to ask another question, but before he can, your hand unconsciously finds his and your grip is so comforting that he notices himself sniffle. 

“If it all goes well, and if you want, we can try again. But that’s in the far distant future, James Potter.”

“Anything you want, honey. That’s the future I’ve been dreaming of.” With you. Your lips quirk into a smile as they brush against his cheek.

Slowly opening the door to both watch your son wake up from his nap, your hand pulls James into the room behind you. Quietly, he sits on the edge of Christopher’s bed, and when his son looks up at him, you both notice the little boy beaming like the sun. 

��-

“Everything you love is very likely to be lost, but in the end, love will return in a different way.” -Franz Kafka

taglist: @jsjcue

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing:

night shift by lucy dacus & about you by the 1975

[dalliancekay]

I have to get something off my chest. I've seen so many posts and art this week about how upset and lonely Crowley is, it being Valentine's and all.

But Crowley is home. He can (presumably) go back to his flat, watch endless TV, rant to his plants, get a drink, go to wintery St James's and complain to the ducks. He can drive to the sea and scream at the waves. He can eat ice cream and listen to Queen in the Bentley. Aziraphale has no comforts. He gave up everything he loves to give sorting their freedom one last chance. He must be missing his soft, worn clothes.

His cluttered, busy home full of books and artworks and armchairs and its cosy lightning.

Food. And drinks.

Music. Concerts. Theatre.

And of course, his best friend.

It's highly unlikely that anything has changed in Heaven since he hasn't been there. The Archangels probably hate him even more. Whatever Metatron has planned, most likely involves a lot of surveillance and very little actual power (something Az will need to overcome and I can't wait to see how). The place is sterile, over lit and empty. He must be be missing Earth so much. And be so lonely there. Aziraphale deserves the biggest hug.

[lesbianmarrow]

augh. rewatched btvs 5x22 scene where spike & buffy go to buffy's house to get weapons before the big showdown. them having to retrieve weapons is such an amusingly flimsy excuse to have them go to her house so we can have the scene where she invites him in + he promises to protect dawn + "i know you'll never love me" speech. i love a paper-thin excuse to put 2 characters in a room together. especially when those characters are buffy and spike!!!!!!!!!!!!

it really is so striking the way spike refrains from asking buffy to let him in even though he would be perfectly justified in doing so as it's obvious that buffy has forgotten he's not allowed in. i think part of it is that he wants to make it clear that he will respect the boundaries she has set with him. but i also think part of it is that he doesn't wanna feel the pain of being rejected again, because that fucking hurt. if he doesn't ask then he doesn't have to hear her say no again. it shows how head over heels he is for her and how much he has changed since the beginning of the season, when he was challenging her boundaries so much.

spike's expression when he's walking thru the doorway......it's so endearing and some really great acting from james marsters. first surprise and disbelief, then glee which spike is trying very hard to restrain because these are grave times. and yet he can't help feeling so joyous that buffy trusts him. he glances as the doorway like he's thinking "ah yes what a nice house" which makes me laugh because it's so stupid but also sweet. i think it's him trying to play it cool and doing a not so good job of it. there's such a lightness to him - it reminds me of the feeling when you think you did something to upset your friend a few days ago and you're anxious that they've been angry with you all this time and you finally gain the courage to ask them about you and it turns out they were never angry or upset at all. the giddy relief you feel.

and then there's that little moment of tension where they're standing so close together and you think something might happen but then spike breaks off and goes to the weapons chest and starts rambling about what they should take. it's so notable that it's him who gets nervous and moves away. so different from the way he behaved with her in fool for love, getting up in her space and trying to make her admit she had feelings for him. he's accepted that she'll never love him back, and moments like this where it feels like maybe there could be something between them are too painful, so he disrupts the moment. moves away.

jumping to the end of the scene - i love that buffy is on the stairs when spike does his little speech. she's physically above him. "you're beneath me." not only that, she's ascending, just as she ascends at the end of the episode, accessing a level of heroism that spike will never be able to meet. rewatching this part, spike's expression really surprised me. when he says "i know you'll never love me," he doesn't look at all bitter or resentful. his face is open, understanding, compassionate, and thankful. because that's what this speech is - he's thanking her for treating him better than he deserves. he's so grateful for the respect and trust she has given him. it has been truly transformative, as we've seen. only he doesn't get to the actual thanking part, because he cuts himself off, saying he'll wait for her down here. i think he cuts himself off because he realizes that this isn't what buffy needs to hear right now. she's got an enormous battle to prepare for, and a sister to save, and spike's feelings simply aren't important. so he stops mid-sentence for her sake. i think we're meant to understand that the only reason he started to say this at all is that he really thinks he might die tonight and it could be his last chance to let her know what it has meant to him to be treated like a person capable of doing good.

i've focused on what's going thru spike's head in this post bc i think buffy is a lot harder to read here. which is interesting bc sarah michelle gellar as buffy is so expressive that usually you can always tell exactly what buffy is thinking. but when she's with spike in these episodes toward the end of season 5 it's difficult to tell how she regards him. i think a lot of the time even she doesn't really understand how she feels about him. their relationship is so paradoxical. she relies on him but she reviles him. she wants him around but she finds him intolerable. i might rewatch the scene again and make another post about what might be going thru buffy's head, but for now i'll leave it at saying that i kind of love how spike's feelings for buffy are crystal clear to us and buffy's feelings for spike are much murkier. spike started out as this cool mysterious antagonist, whereas buffy has always been the protagonist and we're constantly seeing things from her point of view and being made to understand how she feels. so it's kind of fun to see that flipped a little bit. and it also rings really true for me how buffy in this moment is like, i have 5 billion things to be worrying about right now, i cannot even begin to process whatever feelings i may or may not have regarding spike. and with all of that said........there really is a softness to the way she treats him in this scene. and it's nice.

anyway. these two ✌️ gonna go jump off a tall tall tower

[nightsmarish]

Summary: James might actually like Slytherins.

Poly!Starchaser x Reader (James Potter x Reader x Regulus Black) | 1.2k words

TW: mentions of Sirius leaving, getting kicked out(?), honestly not a lot I think

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ

When James started Hogwarts, he had a certain distaste for Slytherins. Never an outright hate, unlike his best mate, Sirius. But something about the house always put a sour taste in his mouth. 

Maybe it was the stories Sirius shared of his family, or the way many of them seem to sneer at him, or maybe it was Severus Snape. He was never really sure. But, nevertheless, the Gryffindor seeker has always seemed to avoid Slytherins. 

Until James’ sixth year at Hogwarts. The previous year, Sirius had left Black Manor for good (but if you ask James, Sirius had left closer to third year, the incident in fifth year just made it official). 

All the Marauders know the story well, and all the boys know just as well how distressed Sirius was when Regulus didn’t take the chance to leave with him.

The refusal created a rift between the brothers—a big rift. Like the big crack in the earth muggles call grand that James never remembers the name of. And that rift lasted for the entirety of fifth year.

But the summer before their sixth year marked when Sirius couldn't take it anymore. So, the boys' sixth year marked when the Black brothers started mending their relationship.

And also when James became a pathetic mess for Regulus. Lily was the first to find out. Besides the boys, Lily was James' person. Once he finally got over the childhood crush he had on her, they became actual friends. 

Regulus is just so…. Regulus. He's pretty, first of all, like, so pretty. James isn’t very poetic, but he reckons one of the romance books Remus has read wouldn’t even begin to describe how beautiful Regulus is. From his well-kept, dark hair to his gray eyes, which at times reminds James of The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel. The same painting his mother has fawned over to him and his father many times. The poetically tragic painting. 

And dear Merlin, he's so smart. James has shared very few classes with the boy, being one year apart makes it hard. But when they shared The Study of Ancient Runes, James became almost certain that he's attracted to people smarter than him, (which he realized greatly limited his dating pool because it can be a bit hard to find people smarter than him (save Remus, Lily, and now Regulus)). Don’t get the seeker started on how good Regulus is at quidditch, he could talk all day. 

Honestly, not much changed with this crush when James met you. You had been friends with Regulus (and Crouch and Rosier, but that was irrelevant to James); maybe a little more; he wasn’t sure at the time; the little friend group had always seemed suspiciously close sometimes. 

You. Oh Merlin, you. It made a lot of sense, at first glance, how you and Regulus got along. Both of you seem to be able to sit in silence, not needing a conversation every time you hang out, yet still having fun. But at the same time, James had seen you able to joke and have banter with Crouch and give half glares at Sirius when he was trying to borrow -steal- Regulus for a bit. 

And finally, after months of talking to (mildly annoying) you too, the lot of you finally started dating. Even though Sirius nearly had a heart attack when he found out, either way, James has found himself walking to the Slytherins table before his own more often, and has found himself ducking from Crouch throwing potatoes at him even more regularly. James has also found himself sneaking into the Slytherin common rooms when he isn’t planning a prank. Like right now. 

It's not exactly necessary to sneak into a common room. The way to get into most common rooms stays the same. Ravenclaws answer a riddle; Gryffindors have a password that changes semi-regularly; Hufflepuffs have changed a few times over the past few years, but right now you have to tap a barrel located in the kitchen space near the Hufflepuffs door. But, as it seems, the Slytherins seem to change more regularly. 

Rarely just a simple password nor a rhyme or riddle. Though James likely doesn’t deserve the right to be annoyed by the constant changing because the Marauders pranks are often the reason for a change. And it's not like the boys exactly need a password to get in. Not when you have learned almost all of the secret passageways through the castle and can sneak in through one of them. 

James finds a way down to the dungeons, with or without any password or trick, and makes his way to Regulus' dorm. When he gets there, he's presented with a loving, beautiful, and perfect view.

The dorm is free of Regulus’ dormmates, Crouch and Rosier, the only people who lay claim are you and Regulus. There you two lay, your head on his stomach, arms wrapped around his waist as your body lays between his legs, any closer and you'd be under his skin.

Regulus is lying back on his pillows, jumper far too red to belong to him. As one hand rests on the top of your head, the other lies abandoned. It’s clear both of you had been reading at some point; books lay abandoned nearby on the bed. 

James could scream, squeal even, but instead he silently closes the door and locks it (the only people that would really need it are people with a key (Crouch, Rosier) or people who don't believe in locks (Sirius, and honestly, probably also Crouch and Rosier)). 

James slips off his shoes near the bed, climbing onto the bed with the two of you.

“Love?” He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair away from your face as he gently rubs your shoulder.

You shift, barely coherent, as you open your eyes the smallest amount to look at who woke you. They soften a tremendous amount when you register that James is in front of you. 

“Hi, baby,” Salazar, his smile is so bright, he could make the Black Lake change its name with just a curl of the lips. “Your arms are gonna cramp if you don't move.”

James slowly draws your arms from under your shared boyfriend for you, limp like a liquid cat in his arms, and he somehow finds it the most endearing thing in the wizarding world. 

The movement makes Regulus come to consciousness, opening his eyes much quicker than you did and already more alert than you. “Chéri?” 

“Hello, love.” James drags your liquid body to the side of Regulus, instead of on him, and kisses his boyfriend's temple. Freeing a hand to smooth out his hair and stop him from getting up. “Go back to your nap, just moving you guys a bit so neither of you hurt.”

You are quick to go back to wrapping your arms around Regulus, now in a slightly less straining position, ready to go back to dreaming. James' smile might just grow impossibly founder.

James goes to the other side of Regulus, leaving you to cling to his left as James takes his right. “'S ‘kay to go back to sleeping.” 

“I know.”

You reach one of your hands blindly and grab James’ arm, resting it there as the three of you drift back to a lovely sleep.

Maybe James has a taste for a type of Slytherin after all. 

[theemporium]

watching xmas movies with jack

a lil dad!jack for you!! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Okay, bud, we have some tough decisions to make. You ready?” 

The young boy in front of him nodded, a small crease forming between his brows like he was preparing himself for a faceoff. 

“Grinch or Home Alone?” 

James looked up at his father, contemplating his options for a few moments before letting out a deep breath. “Home Alone.”

“Great choice,” Jack grinned, his chest tightening when his son returned the same smile back before he turned back towards the TV to put the movie on.

If you had asked Jack when he first joined the league—or even a few years ago—he would have insisted that whilst he enjoyed the little break for Christmas, he missed hockey more. December was usually around the time everyone started getting into the flow, the team was starting to connect more so than not and you would get a good idea at which teams would be making it to the playoff run and which teams wouldn’t stand a chance. 

He would be buzzing in his skin, ready to keep playing some good hockey. It was all Jack had ever really known, from being a hockey nerd as a kid to playing in the league himself.

Things changed when James was born. 

There was more to the holiday break. Jack began to appreciate the days he was able to spend with his son, the days he didn’t have to worry about games or road trips or anything else. Just days where it’s him and his family and nothing else. 

It was barely ten in the morning by the time the blanket fort had been made in the living room, neither Jack nor James out of their pyjamas as they settled on the first movie of the day. 

“Wait, we can’t!” James insisted, tugging on his pyjama trousers when his father moved to press play. “We need to wait for Mama.”

“She’s coming,” Jack reassured his son, smiling down at the way he had pressed his face against Jack’s thigh. He ran his fingers through his son’s hair, softly tugging on the small knots in his curls. “She’s getting some snacks for us.”

Big eyes stared up at him, all hopeful and sweet. “Pretzels?” 

“Chocolate pretzels,” Jack replied, grinning at the way his son’s face lit up.

“So, which movie did we choose?”

Both boys turned to look at you as you walked in—also still dressed in your pyjamas—holding two large bowls.

“Home Alone,” they both replied at once.

You let out a small laugh. “I should have known.”

“I saved you a seat, Mama!” James called out, patting the spot next to him in the fort.

“Thank you, Jamie,” you grinned.

Jack mockingly pouted. “What about me?” 

“You sit here,” James replied, patting the other spot beside him before he gave his parents a bashful smile. “I wanna be in the middle.”

“Of course, bud,” Jack nodded, crawling into the blanket fort as he happily took his spot, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his son’s head. ���Ready? We have a lot of movies to get through.” 

James nodded, all sweet and determined again. “We can do it.”

“Of course we can,” Jack grinned. “We are Hugheses, we can do anything.”

.

[almostdecaffeinatedfun]

"Jealous" - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 323 words

Regulus leaned in expectantly to kiss James, caressing his face with his hands softly, scared to break the precious smile on his lovingly gorgeous face.

Suddenly, without any warning, James pulled back with a weirdly nervous look on his face mixed with a strange expression of anger.

"Reg, I just, I have to know, have you ever, uh, kissed Barty by any chance?" James questioned awkwardly.

Regulus lowered his hands, completely confused by the quick change in the atmosphere without letting it show on his face. He took a short moment to compose himself lest he sounded hurt and probed the reason for this unnecessary pause that prevented him from kissing his boyfriend, "Why do you ask, James?"

"Well, nothing, really. It's just that Dorcas might have said something earlier today along those lines," James answered, sounding annoyed which was unusual for James. He's rarely annoyed unless it has something to do with Snape.

"Oh, did she? Do you believe her?" Regulus inquired, seeing how far James would be willing to take this.

"I don't. I just have to know. And I don't think Dorcas would lie. Besides, who would want to kiss someone like Barty?" James asked pointedly, scrunching his face in mild irritation.

Regulus realized the issue and decided to go straight for the prize, he asked smirking, "Are you jealous, James?"

"I'm not jealous, just curious." James declared in mock offence.

Regulus let it go, deciding that James could deny it all he wanted if that was what gave him peace.

Ten minutes later, they were right back where they started. Their lips met and James withdrew harsher this time. He got up from the sofa and distanced himself.

Without meeting Regulus' eyes, James growled, "I just need to know, Reg. Have you or have you not kissed Barty?"

Regulus burst into laughter. James looked at him in confusion. In between fits of laughter, Regulus exclaimed, "Salazar! You are jealous.”

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Finally

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Spy!Reader

Plot: Bucky and you have a hard time staying away from each other. And though you try to push him away, every time he finds you again, the universe finds a new way to pull you apart.

Warnings: 18+. Smut, fluff and angst.

Words: 9,1OO

A/N: Recently I’ve been trying to understand what it is people want to read of my works and I have no idea, so here is my brain in scrambled pieces. I'm so sorry it’s so long, I swear it's worth it!

Romania.

It isn’t often you agree to such an extensive trip to meet up with one of your clients, but apparently this particular one can’t be seen in the more supervised countries. Besides, you’ve never been to Bucharest before, so you’re quite enjoying your drink at the small picturesque café.

You’ve done your research and know damn well who you’re meeting up with. A small part of you is screaming at you not to agree to do business with him or back out now, but your curiosity overrules any common sense. Last you heard, Hydra had lost their favourite asset and you can confidently say you were relieved to hear it. It had been a few too many times that specific organisation had made your job more difficult than it had to be.

A many number of things could have happened to the Winter Soldier. He could’ve been killed, corrupted by another organisation, fled to live as a hermit– You really want to know. It’s the spy in you that enjoys knowing the ins and outs of the criminal world. He’d tried not to mention who he is, but you had a few offers on the table, he needed some leverage to get you to agree to meet him. Safe to say, you were surprised he’d told you he was the Winter Soldier. Big chance you will now be the only person to know about the asset’s current whereabouts. That is, if you live to tell it of course…

Every hair in your neck stands up straight, despite the comfortable weather and the easy going crowd roaming the street. The sudden change in atmosphere has your spy senses stand on alert. Your spine stiffens and you casually look around, slightly discouraged at the way your body has never responded to anything in this particular manner.

You cross your legs and turn to look behind you, scanning every face in the crowd. When you turn back, the seat next to yours is taken, only a rickety metal table separating you from the large man sat in the other chair. Your breath halts in your throat and you look him up and down, instantly recognising the buff man as the Winter Soldier. How? You’re not sure, you’d never really seen a picture.

You check his hands. Gloves. With this weather? To cover up. You check his build and take a particularly long time to do so, because God, this man is broad. He’s all sturdy flesh and muscle, firm and casual. His thighs look like tree trunks and you know the man is fast, despite his build. You force the deliberate sweep of your eyes over his body to appear more nonchalant and confident than you feel.

Then your eyes reach his face and the breath gets knocked out of you. There is nothing in that face that hints towards a stone cold killer. Dark blue, deep set eyes, freckles pattered over his nose and cheeks, lips bitten raw from contemplation and an expression on his face that almost looks like… Nerves?

“Hello,” you start carefully, unable to keep your surprise from your tone, but sounding relatively cool to your own relief.

“Hi,” he says and the tone of his voice is deep, but rough, like he hasn’t spoken in ages. You think that maybe he hasn’t.

“Should I refer to you as the Winter Soldier?” you ask, composing your cool nature entirely now. “Or would you say that is a bit on the nose?”

He huffs a laugh and you smile, feeling the overwhelming urge to make him do that again. “James will do, thanks.”

“Alright James,” you say, taking your time to let your mouth get acquainted with his name, “what is it you need my services for?”

“I hear you’re a spy,” he starts and searches your face. “A good one– the best one.”

“Well now, I’d hate to disappoint,” you purr. “What do you need?”

“It’s not so much a document or one piece of information,” he mumbles and his face hardens as he collects himself. You sit upright and frown as you study him. “I need you as a partner for an assignment.”

You instantly shake your head, “Absolutely not. I’m not working for Hydra, that organisation is–”

“Not Hydra,” he quickly cuts in. “Just me. It’s a personal assignment.”

You wait for him to continue, not appreciating his vague communication if he wants to become partners on whatever this is.

He sighs, “I– I have a lot of… gaps. Things I don’t remember, things I can’t quite place. Years of information. The things I did for Hydra– I wasn’t there for most of it. Neither were a lot of people. So I need someone with access to some dark shit to help me figure it out.”

Chewing your lip, you process the information he gives you and empathy clenches your heart together. James gives you the time you need to put the pieces together. You’d heard of Hydra’s experiments with brainwashing and had already sort of assumed some of their soldiers had only worked for them because of that reason, had stayed far away from the organisation’s shit to steer clear from that danger.

But it’s so different to see it in real life, or what is left of it, you suppose. Many things aren’t quite clear to you just yet. However, you slowly start nodding your head. Your brain starts running a million miles an hour, all the gears turning to form a plan, the way you always do before you agree to a job.

“Can you pay me for the service?” you ask, already wondering to yourself if you’d help the clearly hopeless and damaged man for free, and to be honest, just for kicks. The things you’d dig up from everything he’ll give you– Selfishly, you’d kill for it. Anyone would kill for it.

He gives you a tight-lipped, apologetic smile, “Not that much. But I can save up more.”

You think. Your gut tells you he won’t kill you after he gets what he wants, even though he could. And though you will always keep a close eye on him and everything he’s capable of, your gut feeling has never disappointed you.

So you sigh and shake your head. “That’s okay. I’ll do all of it for free, and you can pay me what little you have to insure that I stay quiet. Sound fair?”

His eyes narrow with a twinkle that you hadn’t expected from a man like him and he says, “Deal.”

“Alright,” you say and finish your coffee before clearing your throat. “First order of business: tell me your full name.”

He shakes his head with a faint smile, “James Buchanan Barnes.”

Oh shit.

You do know him.

Germany.

Relief seeps into your bones as you cross the threshold of your building and you slip into your routine of coming home. Tired feet drag you through your building and to your apartment, and muscle memory unlocks your door. After the week you’ve had, you are ready to turn off your brain and settle down.

You enjoy being this tired though, revel in it. Exhausting yourself with a normal person job and the way it puts your usually restless body to sleep at night is exactly what you wanted for your life.

One step into your own hallway, however, makes your daydream of a quiet night in crumble to your feet. Something is off. You can blame your trained senses for being so instantly on edge, but the apartment you just stepped into isn’t a place that has been vacated for the past nine hours. This apartment isn’t empty.

An even older routine settles into your bones this time and you creep into your home on light feet. The air is warm and the space is completely quiet. You’ve been alive long enough, seen enough, to know quiet is never good.

You don’t turn on any lights and let your eyes adjust to the dark. Ears perked and muscles at the ready to spring into action, you slowly make your way further into your home. And when you slip around the corner and look into your darkened living room, you let out a frustrated sigh at the dark figure lounging on your couch.

“How did you find me here,” you grumble and it is hardly a question.

You can feel him sit up and tune in to your presence. You couldn’t explain it if your life depended on it, but you instantly knew who it was. The dark figure in the dark apartment, waiting patiently for someone to catch him. After all, he will deny it until his dying day, but he does have an awful lot of dramatic flair for someone so stoic.

“Better question is: why are you here?” he counters and you drop your bag onto one of your dining chairs, shooting him an unimpressed glare. “Trying to stay off the radar, are you?”

“And failing, clearly,” you say before he can say it for you. “How did you find me here, James?”

Your eyes are finally fully adjusted and you see the smirk forming on his face. You haven’t seen that smirk in five years. “I have my ways,” he says and pushes off the couch, adjusting his leather jacket. “Now, what are you doing in this abandoned town?”

“It’s not abandoned,” you counter and slip off your coat, deciding to just go about your old routine and ignore his presence as much as you can. Maybe then he’ll go away.

“It’s a shit town and you know it.” He cocks his head at you, eyes tracking all of your movements.

You notice his puzzled look. He’s genuinely wondering what is left of his old ally and you can’t quite blame him. Perhaps he can easily see your lame attempt at finding a normal life for yourself. He has probably tried a thousand times himself to escape the roaring life of saving the world, has probably failed every time, too. But you’re determined to make it work – make yourself normal and live a full life.

And that is all you were to him anyway, just an ally. The entire time, you’d felt that he paid a little too much attention to you, but you supplied critical information and occasionally wiped someone off the map. A spy. Nothing more, nothing less. However, for the infamous Winter Soldier to need your alliance again, you cannot help but feel wary.

After the first time he approached you, you’d spent months together. It was an effort not to grow too close – too much effort. Because you had. It was impossible not to, helping someone literally piece their life together through intimate and awful memories. Digging through protective walls and coping mechanisms to help him rebuild some of his life again. With a lot of reluctance from both of you.

Yes, you’d grown close then. Grown close enough that you fell asleep slumped over the kitchen counter in his awful Romanian apartment, your face sticking to the countless research papers. You’d woken up hours later on his poorly constructed bed on the floor with a blanket thrown over your frame. Close enough that you’d eventually asked him to assist you on your missions. Ones that required a different skillset than your own. Close enough that you cooked for each other, sometimes shared clothes, roasted one another for the mental health issues that lead you both to your current occupations.

After a while, you couldn’t describe your relation to Barnes in any other way than a partnership. Partners. Who had kissed once. Maybe twice. After some bad Vodka.

You sigh and turn to him, “Why are you here, James?”

“I need to lay low for a while.” A wider smirk, his eyes narrowing at you. “I remembered I know someone who is very good at that.”

“Careful,” you warn and roll your eyes. “You just gave me a compliment.”

His smirk turns to a smile and he shrugs off his own jacket, instantly making himself at home in your apartment. A strange thing when it comes to Bucky, since you don’t recall that man feeling at home anywhere. Then, he did always have this incessant cocky streak around you and he is awfully good at getting on your nerves, so he probably sees the perfect opportunity to be a pain in the ass.

“If you so much as sneeze on anything, I swear–”

“Yeah, yeah,” he cuts in, his tone unimpressed. “You’ll skin me alive. You’re always so weird about your stuff.”

You give him a tiny proud smile and decide to make yourself something quick to eat, only to feel him peer at you from the edge of your kitchen. He’s met with a confused frown before you raise your brows at him to make him spit it out.

“What’s the catch?” he asks warily.

You smile and look down at the sandwich you’re making. “Nothing. Just fix your shit and get out of my hair as quickly as possible.”

He winces slightly and you turn to him fully now, slowly taking a bite.

“What.”

Bucky sucks in a short breath and gives you an apologetic look before he speaks, “It might be a while…”

Your brows drop, “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I–”

“Bucky.” You cut him another look, one shaped by many, many instances of working together. “What. Did. You. Do.”

“It’s not important. I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

You open your mouth to continue arguing with him, but decide against it, already done with his shit. Yes, he is doing better and supposedly now qualifies as a good person. But you know the man before you and the soldier cannot stop himself from lying about pretty much everything. He has damaged tendencies. Give him an inch and he will take a mile, show him a weakness and he will exploit it. You genuinely think he doesn’t know how to be different, how to not abuse those effortless skills he trained all those years working for Hydra and surviving it.

“It’s my weekend off,” you tell him instead. “If you get between me and my plans, I will change the locks.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “You think I can’t get through a simple lock?”

Another glare is his answer and he raises his hands in surrender. You walk around him and toe off your own shoes, grabbing everything to take a shower as you shove the rest of your sandwich in your mouth. Bucky slowly strolls through your place and examines everything that belongs to you.

“Can you not pretend like you haven’t completely scanned the place already before I got home?” you ask him as you make way for the bathroom.

“It can’t hurt to have a second look,” he mumbles, but you have already closed the door and move take the shower you’ve been looking forward to the entire day.

You should probably work harder to get him out, should probably make an escape plan and move somewhere else. But you know arguing with him is futile and the best approach with him is to patiently wait for him to move on. Bucky doesn’t get attached and doesn’t nest, so he’ll be gone soon enough.

As the scalding water trickles down your scalp and spine, you realise how much more alert you should have been when you noticed someone was in your home. Especially with all of those loose ends and enemies you have scattered across this planet (and others). Yet, somehow you think your body knew it was Bucky waiting for you. After all, it isn’t the first time he’s pulled this shit, waiting up for you. Usually because you kept something from him, he found out and would start ambushing you to fess up.

And even though technically, you haven’t exactly kept anything from him this time, you can’t ignore the dreadful feeling that explaining your current situation will be the hardest thing to ever speak up about. How pathetic, to try and live a normal life when you’re ‘extraordinary’. Ugh, you hate that word. You’re trained well and you refuse to be anything but good at what you put your mind at.

Now, Bucky. He is extraordinary. He has potential to make a difference. You have always felt that. Hated working with him because of that. Not because of him – he never made you feel less than him at all. But–

The water turns cold and you groan audibly, time having slipped away from you as you got lost in thought. Stepping out and drying yourself off, you get ready to walk out of the bathroom. You’re met with Bucky sitting on your couch, reading one of your books.

“Let me guess, warm water’s gone?” he asks, not looking up from the book.

You walk to your bedroom and shrug, “Cold showers are good for you, I heard.”

“I suppose I’ll take the couch then?” he asks, finally looking up from the book.

You turn back and peek through your doorway at him. “You can take the floor if that’s more comfortable for you.”

“We’ve shared a bed before.”

“Not by choice.”

He smirks, “You liked it.”

“You snore.”

“Sleep tight, sweetheart.” He grins at you.

You make to get to bed when you pause and turn back to him once more with a slight frown. “Why are you so cheerful? Aren’t there people after you?”

“Well,” he says, casual as always, “these may very well be my last days, so I might as well be in a good mood.”

You find yourself swallowing hard and desperately search his face for any intel on how true his statement is, without giving away that you might just care a little bit about his well-being. But his grin stays firm in place and he raises his brows in wait for you to call it a night.

Without another word, you close the door between you and crawl into your comfortable bed. And you wonder why it is that you can’t quite get comfortable this time.

…

A powerful jolt rips through your body as you lift out of layers of sleep. You’re too tired for whatever made you wake up so suddenly. It’s too goddamn late for this shit.

But as you gain more and more of your consciousness, your senses start perking up and you realise you might very well be in danger. The gentle and calm voice calling your name with a warm stroke of a hand down your arm, confirms that for you. That specific type of calm in Bucky’s voice sends your body into overdrive.

“We’ve got to go, sweetheart,” he murmurs and is already throwing clothes onto your bed. “Now.”

You sit up and rub your eyes and it dawns on you after a week of Bucky staying at your place. This man wasn’t going to leave you until he got chased out of your apartment. And that day has come.

“Bucky,” you start with a hoarse voice as you climb out of your warm bed and quickly throw on the clothes he picked for you, “who the fuck is after you?”

He takes his time to answer, pulling two fully packed backpacks from the corner of your room that you surprisingly didn’t know he hid there. Oh, this man is going to get an ear full about this bullshit.

“Some weird underground cartel that deals in tech or something,” he grumbles and throws you a pack. You are nearly too slow to catch it before you sling it onto your back. You gape at him after his answer and his face stays solemn as he pushes a hand gun into your hands. “Let’s go.”

“Bucky.”

He stops and turns to you fully. “It’s bad, okay? I’ll tell you later.”

“No. Tell me now.”

He groans out your name, peeking outside while he impatiently chews on his lip. “Don’t do this right now. You can be pissed at me later!”

“I will be pissed at you now,” you seethe, “and later. How about that?!”

He sighs and then grabs your arm, giving you a boyish grin before shooting two bullets through your window, breaking the glass, slinging an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him and jumping out of the fucking window with you clinging to him. It’s only when you fly about five stories down, that you realise the two of you are attached to a bungee rope that eases your descent. His feet touch the ground first, yours following. He cuts the rope and grabs your hand before he starts running towards the parking lot beneath your building.

“Bucky, you piece of shit!” you yell at him as you run, hearing the faint sound of gun fire behind you over the sound of your ragged breathing.

“I’ll make it up to you!” he simply yells back.

You can hear the smile in his voice. And the worst thing? You feel yourself smiling as well when you realise how easily you’ve slipped back into being his partner in crime.

…

Bucky checks one more time, his gleaming metal hand pulling the sheer curtain aside to peer out onto the dark streets. You hear some shouting coming from outside and still feel your heart pounding, even when you know you have definitely outrun those people coming after you. You hate how out of practice you are. And how much you missed the adrenaline of being on the run with Bucky.

He turns back to you and finds you with your arms crossed, glaring at him. Oh, you know the perfect way to let out this adrenaline. There might be actual steam coming out of your ears.

Bucky cringes and slowly strolls over, already reaching out his hands to use his irresistible charm on you. Like the time he dropped the cake you made one afternoon and tried to make it up to you. Or that time he left some very important documents in one of the buildings he set on fire. Or the time he accidentally deleted your recordings off the TV when you had been looking forward to watching the next episode for two weeks.

However, your burning eyes stop him dead in his tracks and he opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it and closes his mouth again. A second later, he tries again, “Okay. Give it to me.”

You give him a satisfied, albeit sadistic smile, at his willingness to take your scolding and then, you start yelling. You have no idea what words specifically are rolling off your tongue, but your speech starts somewhere during that first meeting in Bucharest, drifts to your entire time together as partners, how you drifted apart, only for him to show up whenever he pleased, and you continue to how he stood at your door a little over a week ago, to him terrorising your happy little life in Germany… To now.

Your voice rises with every instance you tell him about, fire burning in your core and hands flailing to give your story that much more power (even though you couldn’t stop your conviction if you tried). As the grin on his face grows through your rambling, a metal hand pressing to his lips to stop it from showing too much, you burn even brighter with fury.

Then you stop, breathing heavily. You give him a withering look to get him to start speaking up, because let’s be honest, all the two of you really needed was only just a look.

His shoulders slowly stop shaking and he drops his hand, eyes sparkling like a glass of Prosecco in the light. Devious asshole. “I just– I haven’t seen you this alive in a while. It looks fantastic on you.”

You gape at him like a fish and you wonder if the warmth in your face still belongs to your anger. Though you fear it belongs to quite the opposite. Either way, this man certainly knows how to make you passionate. And you realise he knows what you have been trying to do with your fake little life here in Germany.

“I don’t think you–”

“I’m sorry,” he says and steps forward, his large hands cupping your face as he looks down at you with earnest eyes. “I’m sorry for making your life so goddamn miserable. So tell me how to make it up to you.”

And for all the world, you can tell he means it. Can tell that he will do anything to make it up to you. You can almost feel the squeeze of pain in your own heart when you see the disappointment in his eyes after he realises you didn’t enjoy this as much as he had.

But the worst part is, is that you did. You’ve never felt more alive than with him. Never felt more like you. You wouldn’t necessarily call him an adventurer, maybe he is just a magnet for trouble. But whenever you’re with Bucky, you’ll drop anything for him and you’ll burn like an inferno doing so. He makes you into the best version of yourself and he makes you love the parts about yourself that you have been conditioned to feel guilty about.

You sigh, “I don’t know. Never mind.”

He doesn’t let go though and searches your eyes, his own narrowing in suspicion. “I’m going to make it up to you, you know.”

You cross your arms and give him an unimpressed look. “Yeah? How?”

He smirks and your knees weaken. “I could kiss it better.”

“Shameless flirt,” you huff and roll your eyes as an excuse to break his intense stare on you.

“You’re just too proud to admit that my kisses would make you forgive me,” he prods and your eyes snap back to his. He’s right, that is pride surging in your chest to lunge at him.

“You’ve grown too cocky for your own good,” you sneer at him.

“You like it.”

“I assure you, I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“Manipulator.”

He feigns hurt, “Ouch.”

You huff a laugh with a roll of your eyes, “Such a fragile ego.”

He smirks again and you swallow as you fight to look at his lips. So close to your own. “Now you have to kiss me for forgiveness.”

You can’t help but truly laugh this time, your face still safely tucked in his palms and his brows raise with intrigue at the sound of your laughter.

You tell him, “You are so full of shit.”

His smile fades, his eyes large with earnest and all of a sudden, it’s the man standing before you that sat next to you in that Romanian café. Stripped down, bare, rough, and perhaps a bit vulnerable.

“Let me kiss you,” he says in merely a whisper now.

You fight for your life not to falter to that genuine request and the way he said it. “It won’t make me forgive you,” you say softly, but barely hear your own voice over the increased pounding of your heart in your throat.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs. “Just want to kiss you.”

He doesn’t wait for your permission either, because quite frankly, you most likely gave him a look of permission instantly at that request. His soft lips slot over yours and you could’ve never predicted the depraved moan that resounded in the back of your throat as your mouths meet. Your hands instantly slip into his hair as Bucky’s hands slide around your waist to pull you closer, fingers digging into your flesh possessively.

The kiss deepens when his tongue meets yours and he lets out a groan of his own, a sound so addicting that you instinctively tug on his hair to hear it again. The laugh against your lips is rough as he hauls you closer and changes the kiss. Something more desperate and impatient. Something hot and sweaty and slightly messy. You might be walking as Bucky finds something to press you up against or lay you down on, and you almost squawk in surprise as you fall back onto the double, motel bed.

Though before you can say anything else, Bucky is on you again, his mouth demanding and greedy against yours. His hands feel and grab and squeeze every inch of you and you grind your hips upward for his weight. You want his heaviness between your hips and on your stomach and against your chest.

Growing impatient, convinced that Bucky’s brain might no longer be working, you lock your ankles around his hips and pull him down between your legs, sighing a groan of relief at the feeling of him tucked against you so warmly.

“God dammit,” he grunts and gives one luxurious roll of his hips against yours, making you whine as your pulse hammers down in your core.

His mouth grazes against your neck now and you can hardly breathe, panting as if you’ve run a marathon. The pressure between your hips leaves as he moves further down and you buck your hips at the ache he leaves.

“Bucky,” you whimper and look down, heart slamming in your throat at the sight of him. He messily yet gently makes his way down your body. Hands roughly pushing up your shirt as his lips find the plane of your stomach, kissing from your bra, down to your hips that you can’t seem to keep still.

Your body feels so heavy, yet so light without him on top of you and you can’t remember any moment before this kiss. Before five minutes ago. Everything is solidified. Your entire history with him. And Bucky presses a kiss just below your navel that confirms that feeling, his hands peeling off your jeans. That is until he speaks.

“Listen to me,” he orders and you freeze at the sound of him. He’s only sounded like that during missions where either of you might die. So serious and detrimental. “Don’t ever try to build a life without me again.”

“Bucky–”

“No,” he snaps and you close your mouth. “Don’t ever pretend like we don’t exist. Like you and I aren’t supposed to do this shit together, like you are better off without me, like I am better off without you. That’s bullshit.” You give him a questioning look. Where is this coming from? “I’m going to kiss you and you are going to forgive me. And then I am going to kiss you some more.”

He waits then. For you to answer, to process what it is he is saying exactly. It’s a lot of words with a lot of meaning, yet you’re not sure if this is the declaration you didn’t know you were waiting for.

So you speak from your gut and let out a breath, “Finally.”

Bucky smiles at that and surges upward, clearly happy with that intuitive answer. His lips claim yours once again and then you feel his fingers inching up your thigh.

You whine softly against his lips and you feel him smile as his fingers reach your drenched core. Two fingers slip through your folds to explore your wetness and Bucky drops his head into the crook of you neck.

“Finally indeed,” he breathes and slips his middle finger into you, making you whimper and buck your hips.

The stretch against your swollen walls sends an ache through your abdomen that cries out for more. You cannot explain the desperation to have him, to have every empty pit of you filled with his essence. His finger curls up and you throw your head back, making Bucky raise his own head to look at you.

“There?”

You nod frantically and Bucky pushes in another finger, making you tense up around him. He curls that one too and you don’t recognise the sound spilling from your lips. You’re already so fucking full.

As Bucky teasingly darts his thumb over your swollen clit, he traces his tongue over your mouth and you gasp for air at the sensation.

“Bucky, fuck!” you cry and he pushes his mouth to yours in a claiming kiss, his fingers moving faster as his thumb rotates over your clit. You can barely kiss him back, overtaken by pleasure as he pumps his fingers over and over until you can hear your wetness surround his sinful digits.

It is by far the hottest thing you have ever experienced. So much time has passed and now this beast of a man who tries everything to make you blush with his flirty persona, is bent over you with his fingers peeling your pleasure to the surface like his own fucking release depends on it.

His chest is heaving from watching you, brows pulled together, eyes dark as they rake over you hungrily, muscles flexing as his hand disappears between your legs.

His leg slips beneath your knee and pulls your leg up to finger you in a different angle and your nails bury themselves in the muscles of Bucky’s neck, abdomen flexing at the wave of pleasure that courses through you. “More. Oh my God, more!”

“I know, I can feel it,” he grunts and slows his fingers. “But I’ve waited ages for this. I refuse to let it be over so soon.”

Your brain is nothing but cinders and you shake your head violently, “No! No, please. You can have everything, just let me come. Please.”

Bucky pecks your lips. Once. Twice.

“You want to come all over my hand, pretty girl?” he murmurs in your ear and you can only gasp at the press of his fingers against your spot. “Can I lick you up after?”

You clench around him like a vice, his low voice making you drip onto his palm, his words incinerating what is left of your pride. You can only nod, so you do. And his hand starts moving again. Faster, deeper, more thorough. You keep nodding, your moans raising, your pleasure retreating like a snake ready to strike. Oh God, oh God, oh God–

“Come.”

Your hips fly to the ceiling when you come, thighs trembling and closing around his hand. Bucky keeps moving and thrusting and curling until he has wrung all of your pleasure from your body and you feel like you’re made of jelly. Your voice is hoarse from yelling your release and the sheets below are drenched with your desire.

Soft kisses are pressed to your face and that is how you return from whatever plane of existence you went to. His gentle laugh makes you shiver and you open your eyes to find him licking his fingers like there is caramel dripping from them. You swallow hard and zero in on that action, making his eyes sparkle.

But something changes when you reach up to stroke his hair and his eyes flutter. Your eyes rove over his face in admiration and your entire soul sighs at the sight of him. Bucky looks down at you curiously and cocks his head.

“What is it?” he asks and you chew your lip, trying to find the words.

“You and me, huh?” you murmur with something like wonder in your voice. Bucky can only nod. You continue, “Who would’ve thought…”

Bucky leans down and kisses you. Soft, slow, deep. It makes your body sing. And he shuffles back to make himself at home between your legs. Though as he does that, he remains his focus on kissing you. Deeper, more, desperate. Depraved. He moans and breathes and you swear you hear him whimper, his hips grinding over your oversensitive cunt as he gets lost in kissing you.

Raking your nails over his scalp, you once again wrap your legs around his hips and pull him down. And if Bucky hadn’t snapped his leash just yet, this does it. He turns wild and passionate and heavy. One hand of his and one hand of your own both reach down, messily working together to get rid of his jeans. He shimmies out of them, not bothering to get rid of them entirely, but bothering to at least take off his shirt.

Your fingers drag down his pecs and abdomen, trying to memorise every curve and edge with what little brain capacity you have left. You feel like no more than a flame, no more than passion and want and need. And when Bucky slides his bare cock through your folds to slicken himself, you shudder so violently, your breath shudders with it.

“Woman, you are going to kill me,” he breathes and nips at your lips.

You almost growl with impatience, “Then fuck me and die already.”

He laughs, bold and happy, before thrusting into you in a long stroke. Home. Oh fuck, he’s home. Both of you freeze, taking in the moment of being fused together before he slowly pulls out and out and out. And sliding back in with an agonizing thrust.

Something in you clicks. Something so vital, so necessary. And Bucky feels it too.

“Yes,” he groans and presses another kiss to your lips, like he can’t get enough. “This is it.”

You nod and close your eyes in pleasure. In relief. You shudder with emotion and clamp onto him. Bucky keeps pressing kisses to your skin. Your neck, your lips, your cheek, temple, forehead.

“This is it,” you choke out and Bucky smiles. “You’re it.”

Bucky breathes a sigh, as if he’s been waiting ages for you to admit it. “Finally.”

Infinity War.

Biting your lip and bouncing your leg, you try to let the rumble of the swift jet calm your nerves. Your eyes search the cabin and go over the confusing screens for the thousandth time.

“Nervous?” Natasha’s sensual voice sounds next to you and you force a smile.

“Why would I be nervous?” you ask and smirk at her. “We’re only stepping into a war with the probability of us winning being like…” Zero? Less than zero? You sigh, “I don’t want to think about that.”

She bites back her own smirk and raises her eyebrows. “Wasn’t talking about the war. Are you nervous about seeing him?”

Bucky.

You glare at her after quickly glancing around to see if anyone heard her, making Natasha try even harder to hold back a smile.

Yes, you were nervous to see him. So much had happened. So many aspects of your spy work had suddenly intermingled and now you are fighting along with the Avengers. Even after you were sure they had torn themselves apart over Bucky. Being caught in the middle of that had put you and Bucky’s relationship –if you could even call it that– so far to the back of both your minds, you barely had time to mention it to anyone until Steve shipped him off to Wakanda to get some real help.

You and Bucky were over before it even started and you think that maybe it’s for the better. Neither you nor Bucky are any good at that relationship shit anyway. It showed over and over.

Luckily enough, you’d found plenty of distraction being on the run with Sam, Natasha and Steve. No Bucky in sight, but knowing he was safe and taken care of. Private mission after mission with other people you cared about, people who didn’t know about you and Bucky, one of them eager to forget about Bucky himself.

You barely gave it any thought.

Except you thought of Bucky every day.

And now you get to see him again. However, if any time would make you reconsider any commitment at all, it would be now.

“No,” you answer and then turn serious. “I mean, I was. But now I’m just preparing myself for either grief, or death.”

“Are those our only options?” she asks with a displeased frown. “Why not prepare for victory or somethin’?”

Giving her a long and hard stare, you sigh deeply. “Yeah. You’re right. If I die, I might as well die hopeful.”

“That’s my girl,” she grins and you bump her shoulder with yours, finding your own smile breaking through.

That’s when Steve gives Sam the coordinates to fly through a barrier and show you the hidden – and beautiful – kingdom of Wakanda. So you ignore every jittery feeling you have in your stomach at possibly seeing Barnes again, and you channel it all into hope.

…

Natasha strokes her hand over your shoulder as you walk up to king T’Challa, who’s flanked by his closest guard and a palace that screams to get you on your knees to worship. You barely hear the conversation the king has with Steve, partly because you’re still in awe of the beautiful place around you.

Now this, this is a refuge.

“How are we lookin’?” Natasha asks from next to you and that’s when you start to pay attention. You’d need a hell of a lot of man-power to win this.

“You will have my Kings Guard,” T’Challa starts, “the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…”

“A semi-stable hundred-year-old man,” finishes a voice that makes your entire system dysregulate. Oh God, it’s been so long since you’ve heard the warm timber of that voice.

You notice your hands have started shaking and clutch them behind your back, squeezing courage out of them to face your past, as Bucky Barnes walks up to hug Captain America.

“How’ve you been, Buck?” Steve asks and Bucky answers with a heart-stopping smile.

“Uh, not bad,” he answers, “for the end of the world.”

They share another warm look before Steve turns to everyone behind him and then to the king, “Should we prepare?”

A few minutes later, you’re following the king inside with all of his closest guards and your own team, which now includes Bucky. Focusing your eyes on everything around you, you barely notice the large hand slipping around your elbow and pulling you into another hallway.

You know better than to scream for help and you use the momentum to swing the person around and pin them to the nearest wall with a knife to their throat. But the air rushes from you when you stand face to face with Bucky.

“There she is,” he grins and slowly raises his hands in surrender.

You back away slowly and look at him like a gaping fish, your insides pounding and swirling and thrashing as your body heats with adrenaline. It’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

“New arm?” you ask him, your voice coming out surprisingly steady, and he glances at the appendage, flexing his hand between your faces.

“Yeah, you like it?” he asks and he almost sounds like a young boy, genuinely interested in what you think of it, of him.

And you calm. Everything inside of you settles and the heat turns to warmth. Your insides seem to melt with relief and you throw your arms around his neck, almost tipping over until Bucky’s arms automatically slide around your waist to pull your pliant body tightly against his. He’s so big and strong and warm.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” he laughs softly and one hand starts to stroke your hair gently as you huff out a sob into his neck. “Oh, sweet girl. You’ve never been sad to see me before.”

You finally pull back and cup his face as he lets you survey him closely, him grinning widely at the worry in your every feature. You breathe, “You’re good. You’re safe.”

He nods and takes your hands, pressing a kiss to your palm. “So are you,” he whispers and you nod.

“Not for long,” you add, deflated.

He gives you a sad smile. “Now, who would we be if we didn’t go down fighting, hm?”

You smile slightly at that. “Back on the same team.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and the planet stops turning.

“Finally.”

The Blip.

Another knock sounds and you roll your eyes, throwing on a quick cardigan as you hop over to your door. Unusual, for your quiet, lonely evenings to get interrupted like this. You’re ready to cash in what you can only assume is some complaining neighbour or your awful land lord when you open the door and are met with a familiar face that makes your heart squeeze together.

“Steve,” you breathe.

“Hey.”

You step aside to let him in and take a deep breath.

“Want something to drink?” you ask as you close the door behind him and let him venture into your home. Or, whatever you have tried to turn into your home. It had never been more than the latest home trends and some empty picture frames.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I found you?” he asks and you get a feeling of déjà vu.

But you shake your head with a forced smile, “I left a trace for Natasha to track for emergencies. I know how you found me.” You give him a pointed look and Steve actually has the decency to look slightly apologetic.

That look tells you enough about how much of an emergency this is and you wonder what prompted Natasha to decipher your code and hand your location to the Captain. Maybe he was the one breaking and could use a familiar face. Maybe something turned him awfully worried about you. Maybe-

No.

“Aren’t you mad that Natasha told me?” he asks unsurely and you give him a tight-lipped smile, taking a seat in one of your dining table chairs and ushering for him to do so as well.

“Would you believe me if I said that it’s actually quite nice to see a familiar face after five pretty lonely years?” you refute and he gives you a warm smile.

“It’s good to see you, too, Kid.”

A comfortable silence settles between you two and you fidget with your hands, staring at them intently before raising your face back to Steve. “Why are you here, Cap?”

He lets out a long sigh. “Ever since the Blip,” he starts and you can feel him debating whether to continue, “I never– I didn’t get to tell you how sorry I am about Bucky.”

You freeze and slowly turn your gaze to him. “Okay. Now I am pissed at her.”

“Natasha didn’t tell me,” he quickly assures and you raise a brow at him. “He did.”

You fall quiet at that. “Bucky told you about…”

“What,” he laughs. “Didn’t think you two were serious enough for him to tell his best friend about it?”

You reply with a humourless laugh of your own. “He um– He wasn’t a very committing guy. And I don’t blame him. Why commit to something if you might lose everything all over again?”

The pity in Steve’s gaze feels burning to your skin. “Well, if you’re that scared of losing something, it might be worth committing to,” he says and you find yourself agreeing with the wise bastard.

“Well, I committed and look where I am now,” you huff. “Turns out, he was right all along.”

“Kid–”

“Why are you here, Cap?” you try again, all of a sudden too eager to get rid of him.

It takes a while for him to answer and dread settles low in your belly. When he starts talking, you’ve already started shaking your head. “We have found a way to bring them all back.”

You still. And you stay like that. Seconds. Minutes. Maybe another five years have passed.

“Did you hear what I said?” he tries.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. We figured out a way. Time travel.”

You bark a laugh and give him a pointed glare. However, your vision is already slightly impaired by the tears pooling at your waterline. “Don’t,” you stop him before he continues elaborating. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this in the past five years? That you, or Nat, or even Tony fucking Stark himself would stand at my door and tell me we figured it out? About a million times, Cap. And the more normal this delusional scenario became in my head, the more absurd it seemed to be. And now, you expect me to just believe that nearly five years on the dot, you have figured out a way to return everything to normal?!”

Steve can take it, the sudden outburst of your disbelief. He has definitely encountered a whole lot more scepticism in his life. But his heart breaks a little for you. Bucky had tried to be so casual when he finally told Steve about you, but Steve had caught the sparkle in those hundred-year-old eyes and he couldn’t describe the relief of Bucky having found someone, let alone you.

But now, to see you so far removed from Bucky – from hope. He hates it.

“I waited,” he almost whispers. “Until I was completely sure. We need you for this.”

You blink away your tears and one rolls down your cheek. Steve quickly reaches to catch it and cups your face. A touch normally so very unwelcome, but now you cannot help but bury your face in his palm.

“You’re sure?” you ask, voice breaking.

Steve pulls you in and up to his chest, engulfing you in a tight hug. “Time to bring our best friend back, Kid.”

Time Travel.

You cannot help but smile when you see the handsome brainiac hunched over a laptop near some high-tech stage that you can’t seem to look at too long without talking yourself out of this.

“Hey, Tony,” you say quietly as you walk up and his brown eyes light up when he hears your voice. Stepping away from the screen, he opens his arms wide and pulls you into a tight hug. Another comfortable embrace that you can only breathe in and cherish.

“My favourite spy,” he murmurs and pulls back.

“How are you doing?” you ask him.

He gives you a knowing look. “Oh, you know. Good. Until he showed up,” he sneers with a pointed look at Steve, who simply rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “he has a way of interrupting peace.”

Tony snorts. “Now that, is what I call a paradox.”

You laugh and pat his shoulder, “Pepper and Morgan?”

“They’re wonderful.” He grins, but you can see the fear shining in his eyes and you give his shoulder a firm squeeze.

“Thank you for doing this, Tony.”

He smirks in answer. “I swear, if you and Barnes don’t openly kiss after all I am about to sacrifice, I will find the stones and undo both of your existences.”

You shoot a thunderous glare to Steve, and to Natasha who is walking up behind the Captain. But Tony stops you before you can scold them on their horrible secret-keeping skills, “Pepper told me.”

You grit your teeth.

The Avengers are a bunch of gossips.

The Endgame.

You stumble backward, your sprained ankle and broken ribs somehow only a faint ache over the sight before you. You almost trip over debris, or a body, or just air and you keep blinking to see better or to make it all go away, you don’t know.

He did it. Tony did it. You’re sure you can still feel the snap of his fingers vibrate through your spine. And there he is. Slumped against more debris, half of his face cracked like burnt coal, his suit barely reflecting its original colours. The blue light at the centre of his chest is fading, shuttering and then… it goes dark. With Pepper’s hand over it.

Your own hand barely muffles the sob trying to break through and you stumble over and over again as you back away from that horrible, awful reality. He did it. But at what cost?

You turn around and start jogging. How? You’re not sure. Your body is in no state to hurry. But it’s incomplete. You were barely strong or extraordinary enough to be of any help during the fight, but you tried your best. Helping people in the field, some war medic patching up gushing wounds. You’d cashed some punches and kicks yourself. Dealt them, too.

It was all because you needed to be there. Because you needed to stay alive. Needed to stick around to see him again. And now… Now… You barely survived this, barely made it through. And Tony died. Tony Stark. The chance of him still being out there-

You start running faster. Hobbling and grunting from the pain.

“Bucky,” you voice is raw and frantic, it’s barely a sound as you cry out for him. “Bucky! Bucky!”

Head swinging from side to side, you hope the soldier reveals himself from behind one of the plumes of smoke. Further and further away, you flee from the horrifying scene of whatever is left after Thanos. You need to find him, but you can’t identify anything on this war ground.

If he’s dead. If Bucky is dead–

Your head whips around so fast, your neck might crack, when you’re sure you hear your name. Everything about you goes quiet and you hold your breath like it will make any difference. Slowly, you walk in the direction where you assume the sound came from, but you almost cringe at the idea that you might just be going insane. After all those explosions, your hearing can’t possibly be this sharp.

Though perhaps intuition is at play here, because you’ve always been able to feel him. Always knew it when it was him waiting up for you, or looking for you, or needing you.

“Bucky,” you croak again.

“Here…” It’s so quiet. But you hear it over everything else and follow the echo of the sound.

“Bucky,” you rasp out. “I’m coming!”

And there he is. On hands and knees, struggling to get up. You can only describe your approach as a dive, as you crash onto your wobbly knees and wrap your arms around him. His body instantly stops struggling and falls into your rib cage.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.

“Yeah,” he groans. “’M right here.”

You had no idea you were sobbing it to him, but you don’t care as your hands grapple for a better hold of him. He does the same until both of you are kneeling in front of each other, cupping each others’ faces to check for injuries.

“You look pretty all roughed up,” he mutters and you smile through your tears.

“You look awful,” you reply and he chuckles before pulling you into his chest. “But you’re home.”

He shudders and you might actually hear him let out a sob of his own as he tightens his grip on you.

“Finally.”

[anticapitalistclown]

clownie can i request some lookism men fav positions

add Gun if you don't mind ty~

Sure!

asked a friend who doesn't watch lookism to choose 4 men so we have this (she chose Beolgu at first lmao) (James girlies you're only lucky she has chosen him bc she's a GD stan)

Gun, James, Jake, Vasco and Vin Jin favorite positions, smut headcanons

Jong Gun: doggy style

He is a vicious man that would never reject any way of sex, he says he has no favorites, yet you always find yourself on all fours, his grip forcing you to exaggerate the arch; sometimes with your face against the pillow and his hand grabbing the back of your neck if you're tired.

There's something about watching the curve of your back, how your ass slaps against his pelvis, how his dick gets shallowed inside you that gets him all riled up. With this position he always finds that spot.

If you turn your face to see him with your cute eyes and that expression covered in pleasure, man has to pray in order to not cum right at the spot.

James Lee: missionary

The old missionary is his favorite, it allows him to take control of you and his pace, and gives him the chance to show adoration of your body.

He loves kissing you while having you in a mating press, your legs spread being held by him, his pace being monstrously and toe-curling satisfying, your brain already melted while he praises you between kisses.

You know he loves being on top of you, how tiny you feel under him, and you always see that exited look he gives every time he is inside you, how his eyes secretly travel down to see how you're taking him, how he makes that bulge on your stomach, that sight makes him harder if it could even be possible.

Jake Kim: cowgirl

He is not someone who thinks much of sex, so at first he just did the classic postures, old missionary and not much more than that... Yet, the day you just got on top of him and rode it like a champ, you changed his whole perspective.

He loves when you take control, how you use him for your pleasure, the way your body moves on top of him, if it were for him, you could use him all day. His grip on your hips is strong, Jake always helps you to continue for a bit more, encouraging you with words of praise.

Although you're on control, keeping a man like him still would need some chains, he can't help but kiss you, having his hands teasing you or holding at your hips, helping you set with a harder pace.

Vasco (Euntae Lee): spooning

Like Jake, he just isn't someone who thinks much of sex, Euntae just follows the basic and instinctive, the position is the last he thinks of while making love to you. Yet he would be lying if he said nothing comes up to his mind when a favorite position is asked, there's something about spooning that makes him hornier.

Maybe it's because of the intimacy and the romance it holds, how his hands cup every erogenous part of your body, how his lips kiss your neck and feel your moans, how you tangle your legs with his and when he places his hand on your lower stomach feeling himself inside you, he just loves the access he has on your body.

While making love to you, he also likes when you command him to touch you, both praising each other, showing how much appreciation you have for one another. After you both reach your high, he stays in the position, cuddling you with care.

Vin Jin: full nelson

He might show a rude appearance, yet, on the intimacy he was a bit scared of hurting you, that lasted until you both got more confident with sex. You knew he is strong and has knowledge and experience with wrestling so you just got the idea of trying a position

A position he LOVES, he loves showing you his strength, he loves having you crushed in his arms, he loves pleasuring you and most important, the fucked up face you make when you become too overstimulated.

It's not really a position you both usually do, he rather prefers to keep it for special occasions, especially when you don't have anything to do for the next days so you can recover.

[ghostbustting]

some lazy sex with James in the afternoon,like they are just sitting on the couch and she straddles him and rides him slowly and lazily(ig load/reload James would fit this scenario) thank u <3

♯ ; “𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑳𝒀„ ༘⋆

James Hetfield x Reader.

Contains smut (p in v, riding), slight fluff.

Song: Heavenly by Cigarettes After Sex.

The damp state of the pavement I step on caused the steps of my boots to sound louder as I walk up the steps to my home, the door that awaits looking as welcoming as ever, my body seeks the warmth that one of my favorite places always provides me with. Also with the knowledge that the man I seek love in was also waiting for me behind those walls.

A perfect combo of what I need right after a long tiring day of work and endless lectures from my boss.

Turning my attention away from the beautiful gradation of afternoon skies, my hand dug into the bag hanging on my shoulder, wriggling through items and items till I find the cool metal of the silver key, pulling it out right away.

Unlocking and opening the door themselves feels like a reward. A fresh air of home to breathe. As a child, you might wish to be out of your house most of the times. But now, I truly wish nothing more but to have even the tiniest time in the universe to just get the chance to lay in my bed with my arms around him while rain pours outside, not a single care of the world and definitely not a single lecture ringing in my ear from that sissy man I had the torture to call my 'boss'.

The first few steps I took into the house, I can already see him, feeling that damn flutter in my heart whenever my eyes land on him- almost as if I haven't been with him for years by now, almost as if each new sight of him makes me a new woman.

James was sitting on the couch with his body leaned back all the way, his head resting on the folded arms he had behind his head while his eyes had a focused stare at the show playing on the television set in our living room. My eyes didn't leave out the sight of his spread legs, the fabric of his dark jeans stretching out. The focus he had on the telly wasn't long the moment my presence became noticeable, his eyes darting away from the screen and towards me, his pupils lighting up with a lazy smile on his face.

What a sight you are, James Hetfield.

"If it isn't my hardworking woman." He teasingly spoke in a breath as one of his arm leave the back of his head to beckon me with his fingers to come closer. "How was your day? That old guy still being a pain in the ass?" He chuckle softly.

My hand discarded my bag away, tossing it onto the floor without another care for the things packed inside of it, my care only for him. The closer I get to him, the more I notice the way his eyes weren't as energized as they usually were, James looking rather... sleepy. Yet still, it didn't really change the fact his face looks so fuckable kissable.

I sigh as my body gently yet immediately drop onto his lap with my legs on each side of his thighs, almost like a reflex or a habit by now. His lap seemed to be the only rightful place for my ass to be placed on and James was definitely not going to deny that. In fact, he'd be the one who claim that in the first place.

My chin rest on his shoulder as I mumble into his ear, "Don't wanna talk about my day." I let out a small tired out grunt before relaxing to the feeling of the touch of one of his hands on my back, rubbing soothingly up and down while the other was running through the strands of my hair instead, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

"That bad?" He chuckles yet again, head leaning down to press a soft kiss to my temple before trailing to my neck, settling on the crook of it, a small shaky breath escaping my lips when I feel the ticklish feeling of his moustache rubbing against my skin. The feeling of his body under mine felt like being burried in layers of warm thick blankets, the warmth of his skin was exactly what I needed after a long day in a season such as this.

”You’re here now, that’s all that matters..”

Pressed against my neck, I can feel the curve of his lips form a soft smile at my words, the smallest gesture that cause much more to me, my body relaxing so muh to the point i feel like turning to jelly, my body soon molding into his.

”Tired, mm?” He whisper as he stroke my hair again, that same hand slowly trailing down to my shoulder where he’d rub soothing circles to my skin before trailing down yet again, this time to my back. However, he was not stopping till he eventually reach my waist and his fingertips land on the waistband of my pants. “Just relax… You deserve it.”

The post-work tiring state my body was in was too consuming that I almost fell asleep right on his body, oblivious to the way his hands move across my body and the absence of my clothes. All I know was that just out of nowhere, the only thing on me was my button up shirt, which was now half undone, as well as the disappearance of James’ jeans that I had been sitting on, my ass now up in the air with the help of James’ large warm palm holding my ass, his other hand focused on aligning his now unleashed cock with the entrance of my cunt.

Scenarios such as this one wasn’t rare to be found during tiring Afternoons like this. We would occasionally find ourselves having gentle and sweet love making in order to relax. In a way, the way our soul and body meets and connects in this one particular activity, it feels so heavenly. His soul was is exactly where I want to be, where I belong. Just giving our love to each other feels like a gush of wind that was able to blow away all our stress that were once acting as a heavy weight on our shoulders.

I let out a small sigh of relief by the time he slowly drop my body, his full length almost immediately filling me up to the brim, yet so gently that it didn’t hurt me one bit, whereas it usually would with his often rough style of making love. I can feel the veiny skin of his length against my gummy walls, gently clenching around him.

My hands rest on his chest with my head laying completely on his shoulder, putting every bit of my weight on him as he welcomed me with his arms wrapped around my waist, fingertips grazing up and down my skin every now and then, his touch so gentle yet with so much love beneath all those gentleness.

”How lucky I am to find such a hardworking woman like you..” He whisper with his lips pressed onto my ear, his hot breath fanning against my skin here and there while goosebumps appear on my skin from the touch of his hand on my back, stroking my skin with feather-like touches. Each touch of his skin on mine felt like a dream.

A small whine left my lips, “The luck is all on my side..” I manage to whisper back before I try to lift my hips up, only managing to lift it shortly before dropping back onto his length, my body choosing a lazy ride to our releases. “My man..” I mumble as I lift one of my hand from his chest to lay upon his cheek, my head leans in just enough for our lips to meet one another, the kiss was rather slow yet sloppy as well, tongues meeting and wrestling every here and there.

Still, I maintain my lame attempt of a ride, using the smallest effort to push my hips up. Yet he didn't complain one bit, James seemed to rather enjoy the slow ride, the proximity allowing me to catch onto his small breathy grunts, holding and stroking my lower back.

Now and then, I feel the tip of his cock gently nudge a spot in me, nudge- not hit, due to the lack of energy I put in riding him. Pulling back from the kiss, my head have made a comfortable stay on his shoulder, one of the hands I had on his chest came up to play with the choker and the wolf pendant that loops around his neck. His eyes were unavoidable. His gaze soft yet cutting right through me even when I'm not looking.

As time goes by, I stop trying to ride on him, giving up. Instead, I slowly grind my hips against his again and again, the friction pulling out a small whine from the back of my throat, "James.." I mumbled out his name, almost unconsciously. Anyone would mistake me to be sleeping with my half lidded eyes. But I'm just simply loving the moment.

"Close?" His voice whisper into my ear, pulling my hair away so he could have a clear view of my dazed face, leaning down to press a kiss to my cheek. "C'mon, angel. Release it. You deserve it.."

I let out a sigh as I force myself to open up my eyes and softly smile up at him. I can feel him throb inside me, as well as my walls clenching around his length. My hands were holding onto his broad shoulders as eventually I feel my orgasm control over me, warm fluids of my release gushing out and around his cock, triggering his own release which was soon shooted into me, his cum painting white all over my walls as we sat there, body still connected as one, soul forever united.

James wrapped his arms around me, slowly pulling me down with him on the couch to lay down, my head resting on his chest that acts like a pillow to me, his cock slipping out of my cunt with a pop. The last thing I hear before falling into dreamland being,

"Sleep tight, angel. Dream of me."

[curseofaphrodite]

Midnight Chase

REGULUS BLACK X READER

one more marauders fic before I move onto Avengers :) Also, I keep writing Reggie as moody and silent so I wanted to explore the headcanon of him being more like his brother. Have some flirty and sarcastic Regulus for a change!

"Let's try to see this in a positive light," James said, in the middle of the pitch-dark forest which was possibly infested with dementors or worse. "We could think of this as camping!"

Your groan was in sync with Lily's.

"Right, Sirius? Didn't we always want to go camping—?"

"Oh I don't know, I'm not sure I find the death-eaters-made-us-dissapparate-to-an-unknown-forest-while-a-literal-war-is-going-on part all too pleasant!" Sirius replied, which was the closest to a disagreement he had with James. The latter feigned hurt.

"We're all tired," you sighed. "Let's just find a place to rest and we can go back to the headquarters in the morning."

"What if it's too late then?" Sirius said, almost nervous. His mood being depressive was very unlike his usual self, but you weren't too surprised either. The Order was the closest thing to a family Sirius had, and it seemed as if everyone's lives were hanging on by a thread.

"We'll be fine," James, ever the mother of the group, tried his cheerfulness again. "I'll pull up Hogly's tent charm and—"

"No!" Lily said quickly. "Are you stupid? Don't answer that. If we use magic, there's a good chance they'll trace us to where we are."

"But we're of age," Sirius said, outraged. "The Ministry wouldn't trace us — unless, yeah they're infiltrated. That makes sense."

"No magic?" James's mouth fell open. "At least we could use lumos?"

"No," you shook your head. "It's better not to take any chances."

"But then how would we see?"

Even in the darkness, you could feel Lily's gaze on the back of your head. Being two muggle-born witches of the group, you realized there was a lot you needed to do to survive the night.

"Bring me a couple of sticks. And dried leaves. Lots of them."

---------------------------------------------------------

THREE HOURS LATER

---------------------------------------------------------

Light snores came around you, but you were far from asleep. If your guess was right, it was over two in the morning, so the sun would be coming up soon anyway. It took everything in you to focus on the stars and not on the events that led you to apparate here.

Y/N! Get out of the way! Moody had yelled as the death eaters appeared. It was your first time seeing them in cloaks and lifeless masks. You felt exposed, but with the headquarters three feet away, you couldn't run in and let the death eaters follow you.

Moody's sound from the inside had already tipped them off, but they couldn't find the location of the safehouse as long as the charms held up.

Feet rooted to the spot, you felt ashamed to feel your hands shaking.

Can't even hold my wand right, you thought to yourself. And as if on point, your friends had gotten out of the house and placed themselves by your side. If you couldn't get in, they weren't going to let you get outnumbered on your own.

Sirius, Lily, and James were three of the bravest people you knew, but you couldn't let them get hurt on your behalf.

So you did what you should have done at the start. You held on to Lily's hand who grabbed James by instinct. Sirius was to your left, so you placed your other hand on his shoulder, and with every inch of your determination left, you disapparated on the spot.

Now with the same guilt washing over you, was it even a surprise that you couldn't sleep? You won't rest your eyes for five seconds before you let your friends get in the headquarters safely without any nasty surprises.

A soft rustle interrupted your dark thoughts. Being hyper-alert as you were, you snapped your neck towards the source. Another rustle rang out — this one sharper than the last. You stood up, cautiously walking to the root of the sound.

Bunny. Please let it be a soft, cute bunny.

You held your wand high, and someone — a human — let out a startled sound. More rustles followed, and before you could figure out what was happening, a person dashed off right in front of you.

"Hey, STOP!" Was it stupid to follow a stranger in the middle of nowhere simply because they appeared scared? Yes. Did you do it anyway? Also yes.

Both of you sprinted through the forest, the trees being a bare blur. They refused to slow down, so you kept up the chase. The adrenaline helped through most of it though the unknown silhouette was almost non-human in its speed. You pushed harder with your muscles burning, and finally, with a hopeless leap, you collided with the stranger.

They hit the ground hard, rolling over the damp earth. The impact knocked the wind from your lungs. Your fingers dug into the rough fabric and the stranger's hood fell back.

You gasped.

"Regulus?!"

He looked shocked to the core, either from your strength or from the fact you knew his name.

"How do you even know me?" he asked, his voice a whisper from all the gasping for air.

You pointed your wand at his throat.

"Well, you're a little unrecognizable without your mask."

His face drained what's remaining of the blood.

"I just wanted to — can you stop poking that thing inside my nose?"

"I'll poke it wherever I want, you traitorous little scrumbag!"

"I thought you were above that sort of thing."

"Why would you think I'm above name calling?"

"No, the poke it wherever you want part."

Your face reddened. "Shut up while I decide what to do with you."

He laughed. "I'm sorry, it's like you're not hearing yourself!"

Why the fuck is the usual depressed emo Regulus Black as happy as can be? Then again, it was the midnight in a deadly forest so he might have felt right at home.

"That's it, I'm charming your mouth shut." You pointed the wand even further, and he let out an ouch!

"I'm telling you again, get that thing out of my face before I sneeze all over it."

"Ewww," you stood up on instinct, and he used that moment to get his own wand and point at you.

A moment passed.

"You're so... crude," you said in distaste. "I thought you weren't supposed to be like your brother?"

"Something to do with genetics, I assume." He smiled warmly. "Now, I'm only going to say this once."

"Expelliarmus!" you shrieked.

Nothing happened.

He sighed. "I'm skilled in occulumency. I used a shielf charm the moment you said expel. Spells always have too many syllables, don't they?"

You lowered your wand in exasperation. He did the same.

"What do you want?"

"Didn't realize this land belonged to you."

"You could have disapparated the second you saw me. Why didn't you? Why are you here in the first place?"

"The Dark Lord sent me."

You tilted your head and thought for a second. "I highly doubt he'd send only one of his death eaters if he knew where we were, let alone the youngest and most inexperienced."

He gasped, just as dramatic as Sirius. "Are you saying I came here just to be pinned down by you?"

Yup, exactly like Sirius.

"Barty has pull in the Ministry," he went on under your shrewd glance. "I tracked down my brother."

"But we never did any magic here..."

"I've been tracking him since he left home."

You blinked in surprise. "You what?"

"Just to make sure he's alright. . . though I doubt you'd believe it."

A man in moonlight trying to explain his sins. You'd be a fool to believe his words. And even more stupid to ignore them altogether.

"What do you want?" you asked again.

"I was just checking in on my brother, as usual. And I saw someone stargazing. I recognized it was you."

"And?"

His gaze softened, then he immediately cleared his throat. "And I was wondering if you'd speak aloud like some damsels in distress do. I thought I could reply from the trees and surprise you like the skies have replied. But you didn't move, nor did you speak."

"Do you usually go to Elizabethan english when you lie, or is that a quirk?"

He laughed, though it appeared forced. "Trust me, I was just caught leaving."

"Why didn't you disapparate then?"

"Do you honestly think they'd only track the Order? I wasn't going to take any chances."

Regulus Black was... nice?

"Well, I'm not sure how much I trust your words," you said, face high. "Come back with me to see Sirius, and let him make something out of all of this."

"No." It's the first time he sounded serious through the entire conversation. "My brother hates me. He does. I don't want to talk to him."

"But—"

"Y/N." His voice was stern. "I have to go. Take care of my brother — just until I'm back, okay?"

"You'll be back?"

"I've to take care of something," he said, his hands unconsciously touching his locket. "But after that, I'd be back. The freest man in the continent, you'd say."

"I don't trust you."

"So you've said." He walked towards you, giving you a quick hug. It felt awkwardly sweet, as if he's giving a hug for the very first time. You froze, but before you could do anything, he already let go.

"Time's running short," he grinned. "Now, the real chase begins. Do start running."

"Wait, wha—"

But he had already gone, disappeared in the blink of an eye. How can he disapparate if he said he wasn't going to take any chances?

Oh shit.

You remembered how you broke the protection first when you tried to disarm him. How the expeliarmus might have made death eaters alert. Regulus Black had cleverly evaded the scene and you probably had seconds to warn others.

You disapparated on the spot to your makeshift tent, but not before looking at the spot Regulus Black had previously stood.

I'd be back.

You found yourself hoping that was a promise and not a possibility.

THE END

_________

commissions | kofi

[ilyregulus]

double tap – regulus black x reader

all up in your timeline, double tapping, i like, like, hoping that you don't mind, mind, that was 4 weeks old

summary: regulus black and reader have unsaid feelings for each other and regulus decides to make the first move online

warnings: social media au, they all have a good relationship, y/n is portrayed as ariana greenblatt but feel free to imagine anyway you like. also, it's my first time doing it and english is not my first language, hope you guys like it :)

liked by marlsmcknn, prongspotter, rablack and others

yn.yln: night out!

comments:

marlsmcknn: girl give me a chance!!!

↪yn.yln: anytime!

notsirius: is that my jacket?

↪yn.yln: oops 🫣

prongspotter: wait...have you guys see regulus in the likes?

↪bartyjr: my boy is finally making a move

↪itsdorcas: i mean...

↪notsirius: bro, you need to try harder than that

↪yn.yln: 👀

liked by prongspotter, notsirius, rablack and others

yn.yln: not that into quidditch but anything for my friends right?

comments:

moonylupin: i only come for the players...

↪yn.yln: honestly, same!!

↪notsirius: playerS? seriously moony?

rablack: bet i could change your mind

↪rosierevan: omg can't believe you had the balls

↪bartyjr: i'm so proud!!

↪marlsmcknn: i just gasped

↪prongspotter: sirius come see this!!

↪justmary: i wasn't expecting that

liked by bartyjr, rosierevan, yn.yln and others

rablack: victory looks better in green

comments:

lovelypandora: i'm so happy for you reggie!

prongspotter: watch out black, you're playing us next week!

itsdorcas: yesss!!!

bartyjr: slytherin is the best!!!

yn.yln: well, i guess the players are really worth the game 🤭

↪marlsmcknn: the betrayal!!!

↪rablack: told you, love 😉

↪notsirius: i don't think i'm liking this anymore

↪rosrierevan: wow y/n has game!!

↪lilyevans: omg...love???

liked by marlsmcknn, justmary, rablack and others

yn.yln: loving the view

comments:

marlsmcknn: giiirl 👀

notsirius: wait...who took it?

↪yn.yln: not you

↪notsirius: obviously

moonylupin: is she doing what i think she's doing?

↪justmary: definitely

↪prongspotter: and that would be...?

↪lilyevans: oh c'mon james

rosierevan: is she talking about regulus???

rablack: you look gorgeous!

↪bartyjr: tell us, were you her view?

↪rablack: get lost crouch

liked by yn.yln, notsirius, lovelypandora and others

rablack: elle est le plus bel art!

comments:

bartyjr: you know not everyone speaks french right?

↪lovelypandora: he said "she is the most beautiful art!", that's so cute reggie!!

lilyevans: i'm so happyyy

notsirius: my little bro is in love, i'm crying, i feel so old watching him all grown up 😭😭

↪moonylupin: oh the drama...

yn.yln: jet' aime, reg!

↪rablack: je t'aime ma chérie

↪prongspotter: wow guess is really oficial now

↪justmary: guess it always has been

itsdorcas: can't fight with them on the aesthetic

↪marlsmcknn: right? such a poetic soft launch

[ellecdc]

Come Back, Be Here (part 3)

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 7.2k words

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

⚠️ CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, mentions of past sexual assault, amnesia, angst, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N, swearing, some fluff and comedic relief, padfoot's perspective. This one may feel a little heavier to some viewers - I tried to balance it out with light-hearted banter and fluff but please be mindful of the warnings before reading.

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. How does your return to the Order of the Phoenix play out? (concept inspired by Recognition by aeaean__bliss on ao3)

Padfoot drifted back into consciousness from the end of the bed where he had migrated at some point in order to have a view of the door. His ears flicked but he didn’t bother opening his eyes as he listened to the room around him, after a while he relaxed back into the bed.

Again, he was roused by the sound of a whimper. With a doggy whine, he lifted his head and looked at his Y/N, asleep on your side of the bed. Your face was all scrunched up and you were breathing heavy as if you were running. Padfoot didn’t always know a lot of things, but he knew people didn’t run in bed.

He slowly crept a little closer and placed his front paws on your feet and rested his head against it, hoping the added weight would provide his girl a sense of security. His efforts were in vein though as you let out another cry. Padfoot got up and crawled to the head of the bed, and by the time he reached your head, Padfoot had changed back to Sirius.

“Alright, that’s enough of that, beautiful.” He whispered as he pulled your arms out from your body and wrapped them around himself before pulling the rest of you into his chest. “You’re alright, love. It’s just a dream.” He murmured into your hair, tracing shapes with his arm that wasn't underneath you across your back.

You let out a shuddering breath before relaxing into his embrace.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he laid there holding you in his arms as you rested, but he did know that he would happily sell his soul to spend the rest of his life like this.

Apparently, it wouldn’t cost him his soul if he wanted to stay with you in bed for the rest of eternity, but he may need to make some decisions regarding his best friends.

The door opened so painfully slowly that Sirius accio’d his wand into his hand, sure as all get out that someone had snuck into the house. A lifetime later, the messiest head of black hair poked into the room, and as James spotted the two forms curled up in the bed, the most shit-eating grin Sirius ever had the (dis)pleasure of witnessing spread across his face.

“Are you seriously cuddling in my house without me?” James asked, and that was all the warning he got. Before Sirius could reply, James was in bed on the opposite side of Sirius spooning him from behind.

“Prongs you wanker, get out.” Sirius whisper-shouted.

“Not a chance, babe.” Was all the response he got as James smacked a wet kiss on Sirius’ cheek.

Their arguing was interrupted by a gasp from the door where they saw Lily looking at the bed incredulously.

“A cuddle puddle without me?!” She commented before she too joined the bed. Lily crawled up and laid between you and Sirius, her head resting on your stomach; your eyes began to flutter at the intrusion of your nap. Sirius brushed the space between your brows with his thumb which caused you to crack one eye open.

“Good morning beautiful.” He winked at you, which was met with a scoff from James.

“‘Morning’ he says. Like it isn’t almost dinner time. You guys were about to miss the meeting.”

“James, must you ruin everything?” Lily asked, nuzzling further into you as you began to play with her hair.

“Yes. That’s his middle name. James Must-Ruin-Everything Potter.” Sirius muttered.

“Please, this cuddle puddle wouldn’t be happening at all had I not shown up.” He argued.

“Exactly.” Sirius countered.

A baby’s squeal could be heard from the door and when four adults looked, they were met with the sight of Remus standing with Harry on his hip looking at the four adults in bed with a look of ill-hidden humour.

“Well, Haz,” he started, “I think we found where everyone got to.”

Harry squealed again and held his arms open which Lily reciprocated. Remus walked across the room and to everyone’s chagrin gave Lily her child before joining the 'cuddle puddle' by laying his long ass body across the bunch of them.

“There are far too many people in this bed right now.” You said as the infant pulled at your hair.

“We’ve had fuller beds here, sugar.” James corrected salaciously.  “Remember when we would push the four beds together in our dorm after adding extension charms to them and then all eight of us would have a slumber party?”

The room became deathly quiet then; the pain of losing so many of their little tribe still so fresh for the young adults.

“No, actually.” You admitted, which caused Sirius to bark a (somewhat nervous) laugh.

“Okay, that’s it. Out.” He said and gave James a good kick which launched him off the bed and caused Remus to roll off of everyone else onto the foot of the bed.

“We’re gonna be the last ones at the meeting.” Remus said as he helped James up off the floor.

Remus had met the others at the Potter’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow, and he felt giddy. Usually, he only felt this way close to a ‘manic moon’ as he and his friend’s wont to call it. Moon sickness could go either way; he could be pained and moody and stressed, or he could feel like he was high and had all the energy in the world. The next full was still two weeks away, but he felt as close to happy and flying on cloud nine as any 21-year-old werewolf-soldier could possibly manage in the middle of a war where many of his friends had lost their lives. He had a member of his pack back from the dead, and Wormy was going to meet them at the Weasley’s after being caught up with his missions and work in the ministry. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs – his Marauders – and their Vixen would be together again. So yeah, Remus was happy.

“My, my, Moony.” Sirius smirked as he stepped out onto the porch, “I’ve never seen you so excited for an Order meeting.”

Remus scoffed. “Well excuse me if I’m usually shipped off to some obscure wolf-pack for my missions and never get to go to them. Besides, Vix is back and that feels good.”

Sirius’ smirk turned into a gentle smile at the end of his sentence. “It does feel good.” He agreed.

The girls had gone up to pack Harry up for the trip to the Weasley’s safe house. Unbeknownst to Remus, babies came with a lot of things. They joined the two men at the front door, Lily with a diaper bag that was nearly the size of the baby itself, and you had the child on your hip as he continued to tug at your hair. The saint you are didn’t even flinch at a particularly vigorous tug of your locks.

“Oi, Haz. Watch the hair mate, come on.” Sirius said with a look of mock disapproval on his face. Harry just screeched and clapped his hands.

“He seems quite proud of himself. He has no shame that one.” You said.

“Much like his father.” Lily muttered as she passed the bag off to James. “Poor thing is a carbon copy of an idiot.”

“Oi, said idiot is standing right here.” James said indignantly.

“Potter, you’re not supposed to agree with the title, mate, come on.” You chuckled, and Remus’ heart soared. Sassy Vixen is making a comeback.

“Are we ready?” Remus asked and clapped his hands together but paused at the sight of a glance being exchanged between you, James, and Sirius.

“Not this again.” Sirius muttered as he took the toddler from your arms. Remus smiled at the sight of you; you were wearing your patched denim jacket that had been hanging on its place on the coat rack in his and Sirius’ flat since you hung it up last. He immediately spotted the enamel fox pin he had bought for you when the group of you visited a small muggle town near Windsor several summers ago.

James sighed, “It’s her call, Pads.”

Your face turned pensieve. “You don’t want to go?” Remus queried.

“I don’t know that I should.” You clarified.

“You should,” Sirius argued “because you’re an Order member.”

“Who has been imprisoned by Death Eaters for months and can’t remember her time as an Order member, Sirius.” James countered.

“That doesn’t negate the fact that she still belongs there.” He spat.

“They may not want me there, Sirius.” You offered quietly. Sirius immediately stopped his arguing and looked at you.

“You have every right to be there, Vix. I will fight anyone who thinks otherwise.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s true, he fought me the just this morning when I was skeptical.” James agreed readily.

“Yes, but now you know James. You understand. They won’t, not right away.” You countered.

Sirius sighed. “Love, please. I swear it’ll be alright, and if at any point you want to leave, we’re out of there, okay? But please, don’t not go because you’re worried about the others. They’re going to be just as happy to see you as we were, I’m sure.”

You searched his eyes for a few seconds before nodding.

“Not quite as happy as some of us were, I’m sure.” James snickered and elbowed Sirius, which was met with a hearty shove causing the man to fall off the porch.  

“Enough, you two. Merlin, it’s like I have three toddlers.” Lily muttered as the five adults and one infant set off to the ward line to apparate to the next safe house.

Remus took a deep breath of the ocean air as they made their way to the Weasley’s safe house. He had to admit, he got to travel an awful lot during this war. He was only sad he never got to enjoy it as much as he wished he could, knowing he’d not likely get another chance to see these places. But he watched as James threw his arm over Lily’s shoulders and caused her to laugh at some no doubt asinine comment he made, and Sirius bounced Harry on his hip as you cooed at him from the other side, and he couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face.

He split off from the group as they entered the house, the rest of the Order already present. He said hello to Molly holding a very tiny red-headed baby and tried to ignore the squealing of the many other red-headed children whizzing past them in the kitchen. He gave Mary a tight side hug before he spotted Wormtail across the room talking to Mundungus Fletcher and beelined for him.

“Moony!” Peter shouted as he spotted his friend, and they enveloped each other in a warm hug.

“Petey, mate, you alright?” He asked as he clapped his friend on the back.

“Och, busy as hell but I’ve been alright. How about you?” He asked with a friendly smile.

“I’m good, I’m good. Mate, you’ll never believe it, Y/N’s back.” He said, and Peter froze in shock.

“What?” He whispered.

“Yeah, I know, she just showed up at the safe house this week, James found her. Sirius is the happiest I’ve seen him in ages, mate. Lily too.” Remus stated. He clapped Pete on the shoulder again and looked out the room to see if he could spot his friends. Doing so caused him to miss the way Peter visibly paled at the news.

He needn’t search long for his friends though, because before he knew it you were standing six feet away from he and Pete, who he had his arm around, with your wand pointed at Peter’s face.

“Whoa Vix, what’s going-” Sirius started, coming up behind you.

“I’m not going back; I won’t do it.” You stated plainly, eyes and wand never leaving Peters face.

“Going back where, love?” Sirius inquired, sharing a bemused look with Remus.

“I’ve been good Sirius. I’ve been honest. I don’t want to go back.” You shot again.

“Y/N, nothing is happening. You’re not going anywhere.” Lily stated.

“Then what is he doing here?” You shouted.

The room grew excruciatingly quiet, and Remus slowly peeled his arm away from his friend. Remus noticed that by now the Weasley children, the Longbottom’s son and Harry had all been ushered upstairs by Nymphadora Tonks, so they didn’t even have the kids to distract them from the tension in the room.

“Erm, what is who doing here?” Remus asked cautiously.

“Pettigrew.” You spat.

Remus looked to Sirius hoping to find some understanding on his face, but his friend met his look with equal shock.

“Y/N, I...” Peter started, “I thought you were dead.”

You let out a humourless laugh. “Why? Because Mulciber told you so?”

“What is going on?” Alastair Moody finally interrupted; your eyes never left Peter as you responded.

“What is Pettigrew doing here?” You asked again.

“Peter is our friend, Y/N. He’s been working at the Ministry so hasn’t been very active with the Order, but he’s been coming around more lately. We’ve been keeping him up to date with Order business.” James offered.

You seemed to pale at this information, your eyes widening in shock.

“Y/N, erm, why don’t you and I talk in the other room, catch up?” Peter offered, voice shaking. Remus noticed now that Peter had his wand drawn in his hand, pointing slightly up at you though kept it at waist level.

“Mr. Pettigrew, why don’t you put your wand down.” Dumbledore asked, watching his two former students.

Peter seemed to consider it for a moment, looking between his old headmaster and you. “Her first.” He stated.

Sirius turned to you, briefly making eye contact with Lily over your head before addressing the distressed witch in front of him.

“Vix, do you recognize Peter?” He asked carefully. He was answered with a curt nod.

Remus could hear Peter’s heartrate pick up., though he supposed having a wand pointed at your face could do that to a person.

“Y/N, why don’t we go talk?” Peter tried again. “Put your wand down, we can catch up.”

Your wand never faltered. “Show us your left forearm first.”

The room stayed silent. Sirius’ eyes bored into Peter’s, which were steadfast on you. Lily and James stayed perfectly still; bodies poised as if ready to run at any point.

“Miss. L/N?” McGonagall asked, and then all hell broke loose.

As Remus watched in what felt like slow motion, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds; a purple spell shot out of Peter’s wand, which you quickly deflected with your own before Peter’s short, stocky frame disappeared and a yellow rat was scurrying along the floor. Just as quickly, your body shrunk into a small red fox who began to chase the rat in earnest. Remus looked at Sirius and could see the actual moment that realization dawned on his friend’s face. It took exactly three and a half Mississippi's for Sirius to recognize that 1) Peter shot a curse at you 2) Peter transformed into his animagus 3) that Peter was trying to escape and 4) You were trying to stop him. As that information all clicked inside of his head, Sirius quickly transformed into Padfoot and began assisting you in Peter’s capture. Remus ran to the back sliding door whilst James ran to the front, ensuring Peter couldn’t reach those two exits. Moody ran to the fireplace whilst Lily ran to the bottom of the stairs so that Peter couldn’t reach the children upstairs. Padfoot and Vixen were heard growling and barking as they chased the fat rat who was squeaking frantically. Finally, after many chairs and side tables were overturned, Padfoot cornered the rat and Vixen shot in, grabbing it by the scruff and giving it a good shake as if telling it to stay.

The fox jumped onto the kitchen table, the rat struggling from its hold in her mouth. She bit down harder and gave it a shake which was met with an indignant cry from the rat.

“Enough.” Dumbledore stated calmly as he stood before the fox and the rat, his wand trained on the pair. “You can drop him now. He can’t go anywhere.”

The fox remained unmoving, its yellow eyes staring hard at the headmaster’s blue eyes while its chest heaved from the hunt. They stayed like that for what Remus counted to be 17 seconds before the fox slowly lowered the rat to the table and released its hold. The rat immediately went to flee, but Dumbledore was quicker. Suddenly, the rat became Peter once again and was incarcerated against one of the kitchen chairs, bound by invisible ropes. The fox jumped off the kitchen table and you stood back up from the floor beside Sirius, your wand once again pointed at Peter.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” James and Moody said at the same time.

You and Peter continued staring at one another, neither willing to utter the first word.

“Peter.” Sirius barked. Slowly, Peter moved his gaze from you to Sirius, and any worry he showed at the beginning of the meeting morphed into sheer panic as his eyes met a fuming Sirius.

“She’s insane mate, she’s obviously completely lost it.” He cried.

“You know, Mr. Pettigrew,” Dumbledore started, face impassive but eyes twinkling with subtle anger. “There have been rumours of a spy amongst us.”

Peter whimpered, “Yes! I know! Why do you think she’s here? Hm?” Peter exclaimed, motioning towards you.

“No son, I know it’s not her.” Dumbledore stated calmly.

“How could you possibly know that!?” The sod cried again.

“Because I have my own spies within Voldemort’s ranks.”

Anyone in the room could hear a pin drop. Sirius’ eyes widened and looked between his friends. Lily watched on from beside Remus, clutching his arm like a lifeline. Sirius was sure he could see steam coming out of James’ ears.

“Unfortunately,” Dumbledore continued as if he hadn’t dropped a huge bomb on the whole Order. “My spy has been on a dangerous mission for the past few months and hasn’t been able to be in contact with me. However, I heard from them approximately 37 hours ago.”

Sirius looked over at you whose eyes still hadn’t left Peter, whose face in turn was drained of all colour.

“I didn’t know exactly what they meant at the time, but they warned me to be aware of a rat amongst us. I see now that the warning was really quite clear.”

“Lift your sleeve, Peter.” Sirius demanded.

“Sirius, mate, please. I-”

“LIFT YOUR SLEEVE.” He bellowed. You flinched.

Sirius took an involuntary step closer to you in apology. He decided to shift his focus to you instead; knowing if he looked at Pete, he’d do something he may live to regret. Focus on her. Keep your eyes on her. He told himself.

“Peter, I swear to Godric if you do not lift your sleeve.” James seethed quietly before Remus ripped himself away from Lily and stalked over to Peter. Not at all gently, Remus ripped Peter’s arm from the invisible restraints holding him to the chair, which caused a pained whimper from Peter’s lips, and ripped his sleeve clean off his shirt. Clear as day, the dark mark was visible above Peter’s left wrist.

Stay focused on her. Don’t look away from her. Sirius chanted as he felt bile rise in his throat. She’s all that matters, stay focused on her.

Dumbledore reinstated the restraints on Peter as an explosion of demands were being made.

“How many safe houses has he outed?”

“Where will everyone go now?”

“Who has he gone on missions with?”

“How many of our people has he killed?”

“How many missions have failed because of him.”

“How could you!?” Was bellowed, and it came from Marlene.

“Marls, I-” Peter started tearfully.

“HOW COULD YOU!?” She screamed again.

“Peter. We-we’ve all been friends since 4th year. The Marauder’s since first. You and I, we...” James choked. “We grew up together I-I don’t understand”

“He killed them!” Remus shouted. This seemed to shock the room; some seemed fearful of what the werewolf might do when angry, others surprised by their kind-hearted friend’s outburst. But no one had to ask who Remus was referring to. “You fucking killed them!” He repeated.

“Caradoc...” Benjy muttered sadly.

“Gideon, Fabien.” Molly wheezed as she clutched at a pendant around her neck, Arthur pulling her into his side consolingly.

“If we hadn’t been at Sirius and Remus’ flat planning your funeral” Dorcas said, referring to you, “Marlene would have been home when her entire family was murdered.”

“Dedalus and Elphias.” Mundungus sighed.

“Emmeline.” Lily added.

“So, so many members of the Order have fallen.” Dumbledore agreed sagely. “Some because of Peter, some due simply to the nature of war.”

Peter stayed silent; eyes red-rimmed and lips pursed as if words threatened to spill out of his mouth if he didn’t clamp it tight enough.

“How long?” Sirius asked quietly, bringing all attention to him.

“What, son?” Dumbledore inquired.

“How long has he been the Death Eaters rat?” He clarified, refusing to even acknowledge Peter anymore.

Dumbledore watched Sirius inquisitively for a moment before he turned to face you.

“He first showed up at the Lestrange Manor shortly after the prophecy was announced, said he could help get You-Know-Who access.” You said quietly. Sirius noted how sickeningly pale you appeared suddenly.  

“My son, Peter!?” James asked, but it wasn’t a question.

“He didn’t know if it was the Potter child or the Longbottom child.” Dumbledore stated curtly.

“But he was willing to give up two infants! Infants he knew. YOU WERE THERE WHEN HARRY WAS BORN!” James screamed. “How could you fucking do this?!”

“It doesn’t matter, James.” You mumbled.

“What-” James stuttered. “What the hell are you on about?”

Sirius again immediately moved closer to you worried James’ ire would now be directed at you instead.

“Nothing he could possibly say right now would excuse what he’s done. No amount of reasoning or explaining or grovelling will help you understand why or how he could betray you all. You will never be able to understand what, why or how he did what he did because you’re not like him. You will never understand because you would never have made the same decision.” You explained. “You can ask him again, and you can make him explain until the cows come home, but it won’t make any sense and it won’t make you feel any better. And quite frankly, James,” You paused, finally removing your eyes and wand from Peter to face James and Lily, “whatever comes out of his mouth will be complete and utter bullshit anyway.”

Nobody said anything; there wasn’t anything to say really. You were right - of course you were – but it didn’t make anyone feel any better. James still itched to have Peter explain himself, as if rehashing every tiny thing that took place over the last ten plus years would help erase the symbol of hatred willingly burnt permanently onto his forearm. Remus wanted to hear Peter admit from his dirty fucking mouth just how he betrayed them all. Sirius wanted him dead. None of it would make them feel better.

“How do you even know all of this.” Peter spat, turning to look at you. Just as Sirius was about to smash his face in for even daring to look in your direction, you scoffed.

“I was good for more than your death eater buddies little games.” A sickening smirk graced your face as you regarded Peter. “I would have been dead a long fucking time ago if not.”

“But, but he- but” He stuttered. You cocked one eyebrow as you waited for him to finish. “But Mulciber, he-”

“Ah,” You interrupted, “but Mulciber wasn’t my only keeper, was he?”

Peter paled. “No.” he whispered, but he never got to continue before you stupefied him.

The Order sat in an incredibly uncomfortable silence. Most members stared at you, who in turn stared blankly at Dumbledore. Sirius watched you, hoping for any emotion to betray your face. He was left disappointed and turned to join you in watching his old headmaster.

“What the fuck?” James whispered.

Dumbledore hummed. “Indeed, my boy.”

“Was, was this the meaning of this meeting?” Mary asked.

“Partially, yes.” Dumbledore agreed. “I felt it imperative that you all know of our leak as soon as possible so we could make appropriate alternate arrangements.”

“Like where the fuck I’m supposed to move my family now.” Lily muttered.  

James rubbed a hand across his face. “This is awful, we’ve relocated so many times. I mean, Peter was going to be our secret keeper for fuck’s sake.”

“Mr. Black has access to a property already vacant and protected by the Fidelius charm.” Dumbledore offered.

“Absolutely not.” Sirius barked.

“It is the safest option available to us at this time, Son.” Dumbledore countered.

Sirius scoffed. “To me and James, perhaps. And maybe Harry, if you don’t consider what living in a dark, loveless, and evil pile of timber could do to a child." He paused to wave a dramatic hand in front of himself as if to say see? "But I am not bringing Y/N or Lily there with the amount of dark artifacts I know are littered about just waiting for a muggle-born to touch them. And that’s not to say what is waiting for our dear Moony there either.”

“I forgot you inherited that place.” Lily muttered quietly.

“Listen, the Order is running out of places to hide. The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black already has a Fidelius charm in place, and it is empty. Once the semester is over, McGonagall and I would be happy to assist in the cleanup, however, Moody has a curse breaker ready, and Andromeda and Ted Tonks have offered their assistance as well. I don’t believe you would be standing here today, James and Lily, if Peter had been able to give away your location, but I do not think this can wait. We should not take the chance.” Dumbledore stated severely.

No one seemed to have an argument for the plan, though Sirius despised everything about it and Remus, Lily and James all hated the idea of stepping foot into a space so recently filled with hate. James momentarily envied you – how sweet ignorance would be at the prospect of living in Grimmauld place for the foreseeable future.

“Now, onto our other matters.” Dumbledore said, turning to you. “Your contact within Voldemort’s army, they sent you with something?”

With a quick nod, you pulled out a small, beaded bag from your jacket pocket and enlarged it before turning it over above the table in front of Dumbledore and shaking out its contents.

In front of the old headmaster sat Ravenclaw’s lost found diadem, the Hufflepuff cup, a gaudy looking locket, a black leather bound journal, and a ring. Remus gagged and pulled the collar of his jumper over his mouth and nose.

“Oh my God, what is the smell?” He mumbled through his shirt.

“Smell?” Marlene asked.

James chuckled, “must be a wolf thing.”

“Yes, I’m sure dark magic smells quite awful to those with the ability to pick up traces of magic.” Dumbledore stated.

“What are they?” Remus asked, peering over the table cautiously as if any of the inanimate objects could launch itself at him at any given moment.

“These, my boy, are horcruxes.”

McGonagall let out a strangled sound. “I beg your pardon?”

“What’s a horcrux?” Ted Tonks asked.

“It would appear Voldemort has, in an attempt to become immortal, split his soul into pieces and placed those pieces inside of these objects. It is very dark magic.” He explained plainly as if instructing one of his classes in Transfiguration.

“Jesus Christ.” Mary muttered.

“Is this all of them, then?” Dumbledore asked you.

“No sir.”

Dumbledore looked at her for a moment, as if waiting for more information. “No?”

“No, we believe there is one more.”

“You mean to tell me that he split his soul six times?” Moody asked on an exhale.

“Seven is a magically powerful number,” You explained. “We don’t believe it’s a coincidence he has splintered his soul into seven pieces.”

“I see.” Dumbledore said. “And what is this sixth horcrux.”

You let out a huge sigh, “I...”

Sirius brushed your arm gently, moving to stand up against your back. I can’t do much, love. But I can be here. I’m right here.

“I think it’s Nagini. The snake.” You admitted finally.

“Fucking hell.” Remus groaned.

“So, what now?” Sirius asked Dumbledore, but Dumbledore appeared to field the question to you.

“We must destroy all six horcruxes for You-Know-Who to become mortal again. Only then can we defeat him.” You explained.

“Ah, but I suppose destroying horcruxes by throwing them down a garbage disposal won’t work?” Lily interjected. You shook your head no.

“Horcruxes can only be destroyed by Avada Kedavra, Fiendfyre, or honourable goblin wrought silver such as Godric Gryffindor’s sword after being infused with Basilisk’s venom.”

“Easy-peasy.” Mary commented wryly.

“Thank you, Miss. L/N.” Dumbledore interrupted, looking at you above his half-moon spectacles. “For everything. You’re contributions to the cause have been immeasurable.”

You swallowed thickly. “May I be excused?” You whispered.

“Of course, my dear.” He replied, and you took off out the sliding door off the kitchen. Sirius didn’t ask for permission nor wait around for further instructions before he followed after you.

He stepped out into the sea air and looked around, but he heard you before he spotted you. He followed the sound of your heaving into a metal garbage can beside what appeared to be a weathered tool shed. He slowly made his way over, not wanting to interrupt you until you were finished. I’ll never be able to get more meat on her bones at this rate.

You took a deep breath and wiped your face with your sleeve before replacing the lid on the garbage can and turning towards Sirius.

“Fucking hell, you scared me.” You sighed, bringing your hand up to your chest.

Sirius breathed out a chuckle. “My apologies, love. Didn’t mean to.”

You stood with your arms wrapped around yourself and turned to face the ocean. Sirius watched you as he tried to make it look like he wasn’t watching you by pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. The ocean breeze pushed your hair behind your shoulders, and you lifted your face to the horizon. Your eyes were red and your nose was running, but Sirius still thought you made the most beautiful picture.

“What did he do to you?” Sirius asked gruffly, not able to keep quiet any longer.

“Hm?” You asked as you squinted over at him through the setting sun.

“Peter. What did he do to you?”

You grimaced and scrutinized Sirius for a few moments.

“Were we just friends?” You asked.

“Hm?” He parroted your previous question.

“You and I.” You clarified. “Were we just friends? Before?”

His cigarette burned in his fingers, completely forgotten. He wanted to lie to you. That’s not true. He felt like he should lie to you, as if that would somehow make this all easier for you. But he couldn’t; he was asking you to be honest with him, he owed you the same.

“No.” He admitted quietly.

You watched him flick his cigarette into the field before pulling out another one. “Then do you really want to know?”

Sirius snorted. “No, I know that I don’t want to know. But I need to.”

Sirius stayed quiet as you fidgeted. He figured it may be somewhat less painful for you to tell him now when you didn’t remember him, than having to have this conversation when you did.

“Did he force himself on you?”

You let out a shuddering sigh. “Yes.”  Sirius cracked his neck in aggitation.

“He wasn’t-” you began before cutting yourself off.

“Merlin, Y/N, if you try telling me he wasn’t that bad-”

“No, I-” you sighed again. “No.”  

He had so many things he wanted to ask. Who? How many? How often? Where? When? Where can I find them? Do I remember the wand formation for Crucio? But he knew none of it mattered. Not really. It couldn’t; knowing those things wouldn’t help him, and it wouldn’t help you. And right now, that was all that mattered, helping you - keeping you safe and away from fuckers like Peter and those Death Eater arseholes. And apparently, he was expected to do that in his awful childhood home.

“Thank you.” He settled for, as his jaw ached from how tightly he was clenching it. “For telling me.”

You stared at him for a long time. “You’re welcome.”

You both stood in a somewhat comfortable silence as Sirius finished his second cigarette and watched the tide come in. His mind drifted to the grey orb in your mind that stored your memories of him in it. Somewhere in there, is the memory of the time Sirius became a bumbling fool after you sang and played a song in the Three Broomsticks for the whole restaurant. Though you blushed furiously the whole time at Sirius’ obvious infatuation, you couldn’t help but smirk at his blustering. Somewhere in there is the memory of the time you came flying (not literally) into the Quidditch field in 5th year and interrupted the Gryffindor practice much to the chagrin of that year’s captain because you had just been notified of your mother’s death and somehow needed Sirius of all people. There was also a memory somewhere in there of what Sirius considered one of the worst days of his life – you and Sirius had been dancing around each other for quite some time by that point; all your friends had bets on how long it would take before you two got together. Sirius knew of your affections toward him, though he never quite understood it. He may have been handsome, witty, charming, but he was just no good. He had gotten into an argument that day with Reg about conforming to the drivel of their parents and it weighed heavily in his mind during the Gryffindor party. This girl had been batting her eyelashes at him all night, and he was feeling sorry for himself – he was such a mess; how could someone as beautiful and thoughtful and smart as you get messed up in the shitstorm that was Sirius Black? It wasn’t fair to you, so, he snuck off to a broom closet with the nameless, eyelash batting Hufflepuff and got off, hoping to alleviate some of the tension of that day. He later found out that not only did he feel gross for fooling around with a girl he never bothered to learn the name of, but you had witnessed them sneak off together. He found you later curled up in Remus’ arms having had cried yourself to sleep. “You’re a right arse, Sirius.” Remus had spat at him, standing up with you in his arms and stalking off to their dorm.

But Sirius wanted you to remember it all. How you flat-out ignored his existence for seven weeks and four days. Sirius waited one-thousand two-hundred and seventy-two hours for you to finally look him in the eye, even though it was only to tell him to go fuck himself. It took another three weeks for you to stop spitting angrily at him and start acting like he was just another one of the guys, which also hurt, but he was just happy to be gifted with the sound of your voice again.

He never took your attention for granted again after that; everyone noticed the change, you most of all. He never broke eye contact with you when you spoke to him. He always took full advantage of your attention any time you were willing to give it to him. He was always the first one to stop talking when you went to speak up, and the first to defend you if someone dared to interrupt. At the time, it made you feel precious, like you were something worthy of worship. Sirius wanted you to remember that, and most importantly, he wanted you to experience it again.

“Well Pads,” a voice interrupted his musings, “excited to bring Y/N home to your darling mother, finally?” James smirked as he rubbed his hands together.

Sirius scoffed, “the only reason I’m even considering the prospect of bringing her to that hellhole is because that old hag is already dead.”

“What, am I not good enough to bring home to mummy-dearest?” You said with a smirk, causing Sirius to bark a laugh.

“Not at all love, in fact, if I had been sure she wouldn’t have Avada’d you on the spot, I’m a little disappointed I didn’t do it earlier; maybe we could have sent her to an even earlier grave.”

The meeting seemed to have ended, as Moody was seen dragging Peter’s stupefied body from the safehouse and apparating away.

“There’s concern of corruption in the Ministry, so he’ll be put in an anti-magic cell in Moody’s basement for the time-being.” Lily explained.

“I always knew Moody was into some kinky shit.” James commented with Harry on his hip.

“It’s not funny, James.” Lily fumed. “I don’t think you realize how close we were to dying.”

“I guess we’re very lucky Y/N had an ally on the other side.” James murmured. Sirius laughed sarcastically.

“Some ally they were.” He spat angrily.

“Sirius, relax,” Lily started, “They kept her alive, protected her memories and gave us the ability to win this war.”

“And let the entire Death Eater army use her as their play toy!” He shouted. “Peter himself fucking violated her!”

“Would you shut the fuck up!?” Lily seethed, looking around to see who all heard.

“No! Everyone should know what a fucking abomination he was! Is! And we called him our friend!”

“BUT IT ISN’T YOUR STORY TO TELL!” she shouted back.

Remus and James looked properly mortified, both at the outburst and on account of the news that their friend not only betrayed them but was capable of such heinous acts.

Sirius felt the blood leave his face as he spun to face you; a curious expression adorned your face. It wasn’t necessarily pain – but certainly frustration, and perhaps some pity.

“You’re so used to being around such moral people Sirius, and that’s good – you should be.” You began calmly. “But I just watched Peter Pettigrew – a member of a racist terrorist organization who is guilty of treason at best and murder at worst, a sexual assailant, a user of unforgiveable curses, and all around bad bloke get carried out of an enemy base completely unharmed to be held in a safe facility until he receives what I assume is going to be a fair trial.”

Sirius held his breath as you paused for what he was sure was dramatic effect.  

“Do you know what happens to the most loyal of Death Eaters who dare to sneeze when their Dark Lord is speaking? They’re strangled by Nagini. Maybe they survive, maybe they don’t; that’s neither here nor there. And do you know what happens if a Death Eater even looks like they might hesitate when they’re asked to crucio or avada a muggle? They’re fed to Nagini. And those are the tamer of the possible reprimands.

“So, the fact that any Death Eater managed to find me, heal me, train me and keep me alive for the past nearly five months is nothing short of a miracle, and God only knows what You-Know-Who would do if he found out that they’d managed it. But they could not always save me from the evil that they themselves were also victims of and surrounded by twenty-four-seven, regardless of whether they simply wanted to or not. It didn’t matter if they knew it was wrong or had the moral compass of a saint – we would not have survived, it is that simple.” You paused as you allowed your words to settle inside of Sirius’ mind.

“You all have the privilege of being surrounded by sane, morally sound people. That has given you the ability to see the world in black and white. To survive, some people needed to become certain shades of grey. I’m not saying that it’s right, or fair, or just; it just is.”

Properly chastised for his outburst, Sirius stared at his boots.

“Does it make me one of them to think Peter deserved everything you just said?” James asked quietly.

Remus let out an inelegant snort. “No mate, I think that makes you human.”

“I wasn’t asking you, you goody-two-shoes.” James mockingly argued before turning back to you.

“No, it certainly doesn’t make you one of them. I think Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes here is right.” You replied.

“I’m literally a dark creature, I don’t know who you all are calling a goody-two-shoes.” Remus muttered petulantly.

“Uhm, the goody-two-shoes, obviously.” Lily snorted.

“Hi, kettle?” James spoke an octave higher, pretending to hold a muggle phone to his ear. “This is the cauldron; you’re black!” Lily swatted her husband.

“Perhaps before we kill Nagini or whatever the snakes name is, we could send it down to Moody’s sex dungeon to finish off Peter.” James joked, though no one missed the dark edge that shadowed his voice.

“Charming.” Sirius heard the posh accent of Andromeda from behind Remus. “Well cousin, ready to head back home?”

Sirius moaned dramatically and threw his head back as his party began to head to the apparition point just beyond the wards. He opened his eyes to see you still standing there, your gaze cautiously analyzing him.

“You okay?” You asked him.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m the arse and you ask me if I’m alright?”

“Are you?”

“Are you alright?” he countered.

You continued watching him for a few moments.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Lily was right, I shouldn’t have run my mouth like that. You trusted me and I let you down. And of course, you were right about the other stuff as well – I have no business pretending to know what it’s been like for you these past few months.”

You nodded gently at him. “Thank you for apologizing, and for listening. I’m alright.”

He offered his arms out to you and you hesitated only briefly before accepting his embrace.

“You were always so much smarter than the rest of us,” he mumbled into your hair. “Lily would have just hexed me if she were you.”

You laughed – a real actual laugh, the first he’s heard from you in months. “Sounds about right.” You admitted, before quickly pulling away from Sirius and staring at him in awe.

“What?!” he asked, slightly paniced from the change in demeanor.

“I remembered. I – I knew, or agreed, that Lily would have been the type to hex you – I knew that!”

Sirius beamed at you before picking you up from your waist and spinning you in a circle. When he put you back down, you were both flushed and out of breath.

“Welcome back, Vix.” He knew you weren’t really back, not yet. But by Godric, it was a start.

Continue to part four here.