#big james x you

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Big James | To Die Is Gain | Romantic

Dialogue prompt: “I’ll see you in heaven.”

The cost of following Jesus Christ is high, but it is worth everything, including losing your love.

Requested by J Bart

With a heavy huff, you lift the loaf out of the oven and place it onto the countertop, setting it there to cool. Behind you, five-year-old Rebecca chases her older sister Naomi around the already cramped kitchen, causing you to quickly intervene. “Ah-ah-ah, girls, if you want to play, go play in the living room or in the yard.” They heed your warning as you gesture at the freshly baked loaf. Rebecca hugs your leg as she looks up at you.

“Eema, can I have bread?” 

You put a hand on her sleek, dark hair. “Not yet, sweetheart. It has to be a bit colder first so that you don’t burn your mouth and tongue.” 

She hums and gives a little disappointed nod before turning to follow Naomi to the living room, where most of their toys are located. 

As you turn to wipe down the counters, however, you hear a shrill shriek from the hallway that is hard to identify. When it’s followed with the joyous exclamation of ‘abba’ in a way that can be heard on the other side of the street, you are instantly relieved. Drying your hands on your apron, you head out of the kitchen to greet your husband. 

“Shalom, darling.” James greets you, leaning down to kiss your forehead as his daughters cling to his sides. The older son of Zebedee smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Shalom,” you reply with worry in your voice, wondering what is going on. The tension in his shoulders tells you that his meeting with Matthew and Nathanael had been about more than simply catching up. 

You move to take his bag from him, but James quickly grabs it before you can slide it off his shoulder. He looks down at you, giving you an apologetic look. “I’m still going to need it.” 

Tilting your head in slight puzzlement, you watch how he scoops up his girls and heads to the living room, blowing a raspberry against Naomi’s cheek, causing both of them to giggle with joy. You stand in the hallway for a bit, pondering the interaction before heading after them.

James is just undoing his sandals while your daughters busy themselves with their handcrafted peg-dolls. He looks up and meets your gaze, his form slumping a bit. With a sigh, you walk over to him, crouching down in front of him in order to remove the laces from his footwear. He gives an appreciative hum as you gently squeeze his calves, sensing the tension in his muscles.

“You need to rest.” 

“I can’t. I…” 

“…Another ministry trip.” you finish it for him as his voice trails off. James nods, his gaze momentarily going to Rebecca and Naomi, who are oblivious to their father having to leave for an extended period of time again.

As his eyes meet yours, something stirs within you. A deeply unsettling feeling blooms deep inside your stomach, a wave of sudden nausea tightening your throat. You swallow away the lump that forms. 

Being married to one of Jesus’ Disciples is a blessing in and of itself, that He had called your husband personally as His student to spread the news about the Kingdom of God around the world. The fact that said called pupil had decided to marry you of all women was still sometimes a little bit of a mystery to you. Still, it didn’t make it easy. James was often gone from home. No matter the incredible reason behind it and no matter how proud of him you were, you still missed him greatly. 

It wasn’t uncommon for James to leave on a whim, with him throwing a few items in a bag and hitting the road whenever the Spirit compelled him to go somewhere. But now… This time, it was different. Everything in your entire being is on edge, your instincts heralding something… Heart-wrenching. You can’t quite put a finger on it. 

Your husband seems to sense something, too. He reaches his hand out for you to take, his fingers lacing with yours. 

“Love, I’ll be alright.” he reassures you. “Don’t you worry about me. Just take care of your girls while I’m gone. I just— I need to go to Judea. I— I am aware that my presence isn’t really wanted there, but you knew how Jesus went about these places. We shouldn’t be scared. You shouldn’t be scared.” 

Averting your gaze, you try your hardest to not cry. Judea. Herod Agrippa won’t have mercy on him.

You know you can’t talk him out of it, and you know you shouldn’t even want it. Still, you can’t help but want to at least address your sudden concern, share the looming dread starting to take root.

“James,” you whisper, your eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t know about your trip… It is this… This gut feeling that something is going to happen to you.” 

James’ face falls into solemnity as he stands from the chair. Suddenly, he looks years older than he is; he has started to look more like Zebedee over time, but now it’s more clear than ever. 

“I was hoping that you wouldn’t feel that, too.” You’re not the only one anxious for a tragic outcome of his mission trip, “If only for the reason that you’d remain hopeful for my return and use that energy for the glory of God.” 

There is something definite behind his words that makes your throat screw shut. You inhale through your nose and attempt to sound strong. “Ah, Naomi.” The eight-year-old looks up from her playing session. “Go play outside with your sister.” 

“Yes, eema.” 

The girl fetches her sibling to bring her to the other room of the house, leaving you and James alone. 

“You aren’t coming back, are you?” 

Your voice cracks. James is on the verge of breaking, gazing down at you with tearful eyes. “This is your final ministry trip.” 

“I— I might just get imprisoned, you know? I’ll just be out there, which means that I can still return—” 

“I think you and I both know that Herod Agrippa won’t be so kind to you.” you whisper.

Certainty shines through in your words, as if you are absolutely sure of what you’re saying. Your husband gazes at you, drinking in every detail of your face. There is fear under the surface, strangely coupled with a sense of peace, albeit barely present. He gulps, trying to not cry as he steps closer to you. 

“My love...” he croaks, “I don’t know what to say. If you do not want me to go on this mission trip, I will see what I can do to reschedule, or—or perhaps cancel it altogether—”

“—No.” Your voice is stern and determined, “No. I will not let my own fears and selfish desires to keep you all to myself prevent the Good News to reach them, too.” 

James’ heart clenches inside his chest. He cradles your face, a few tears rolling down his cheeks as he holds you. “You have been the biggest blessing that has ever been bestowed upon me, my sweet, faithful wife. Every day, I am so grateful to have a woman like you by my side. I thank Adonai for you every single time I look upon you.” His voice cracks as he lets out a sob. Emotion gets the better of you, too. You sniffle and muffle a strained wail as you bury your head into his chest, enveloped by his strong arms.

“(Y/n), do not be afraid.” 

“You know I will be terrified regardless of what you say, right?” 

“Do not weep for me. I will either return to you, or I will see Jesus again.” 

The sudden image of James coming face to face with Jesus in the afterlife thrusts grief through every fibre of your being for the briefest of seconds, before it makes place for solace. Even if the unthinkable happens, your husband will be right where he needs to be. 

“This won’t be farewell,” he reassures you, “It will instead be a ‘see you soon’, hm?” 

You smile through your tears. “How soon?” 

James can’t help but mirror it, chuckling lightly as he shakes his head. “Oh, here we go again, with ‘soon’.” It never gets old, even after more than a decade.

The two of you meaningfully look at one another in a silence that is only broken by the sound of your daughters playing in the other room. The eye-contact holds an entire legacy. Nearly ten years of marriage, two beautiful girls, a calling to preach the Gospel, the Name of Jesus over these lands, no matter how hostile their rulers. 

Your soft smile falls a little as you realise what it will mean for the next few years, at least for you. You try and shake the thought — the feeling it evokes — you don’t want to be egotistical in wanting to keep James close by, fathering your children, being the husband you need to support you. But it’s only human nature to feel the horrific arms of loneliness loom over you like a dark storm cloud. 

Something hits you hard inside your chest all of a sudden, knocking all air from your lungs. A simple realisation that hadn’t even crossed your mind before. 

“You won’t see them grow up.” 

Your legs nearly give way underneath you. You won’t be growing old with him. You will not see the greys in his beard and his hair. His hands come to rest on your elbows as James senses your premature grief.  He squeezes, conveying another message by just gazing down at you, eyes filled with love.

That is not all there is to it.

It is not the end of the story.

There will be comfort in little moments reminding you of him. Sunset at the docks. The scent of a fresh catch creeping through your window as the fishermen of the village haul their wares to the market. There will be the roll of mighty thunder in a warm summer storm. There will be cinnamon cakes. His eyes in Naomi’s features and his nose in Rebecca’s.

“You don’t know that yet, (Y/n).” James steps closer, cradling your face between his hands. You relish in the sensation, melting into the familiar warmth, closing your eyes to keep your emotions from taking the better of you. You commit it to memory — as if you hadn’t done so already. “I need you to remain hopeful. Can you promise me? That you will keep praising Him, no matter how tough life gets?” 

“I will.” you breathe as your eyes snap back open again, looking up at him. He smiles and nods, bringing his forehead to yours. 

“Good.” You slide your arms around his waist and embrace him. You stand like that for a while.

“When are you leaving?” 

“Tonight.” he tells you with a wavering voice. 

“So soon?” 

He gives you a wry smile, swallowing hard as he nods. “I can still have dinner with you and the girls.” he says. “I saw you baked quite the loaf.” 

You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I… You better bring a big piece with you on your way to Judea. We can’t finish all of that in time with just the three of us before it gets stale.” 

James exhales deeply. “I… I wish we had more time together before I had to leave again.” 

“It’s alright.” you murmur, turning to the kitchen. Your husband follows right away to assist you in laying the table. “I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you.” 

In silence, James prepares the table whilst you get the food out, reheating a previously cooked stew to go with the bread. He comes to stand behind you, placing a hand on your waist before his lips find your cheek, then the side of your neck. You can feel his smile against your skin when you squirm a little under his rough beard. “Your stews are the best.” your husband confesses, squeezing your hip affectionately. “Especially when you let the herbs marinate into it overnight.” 

Without asking, you grab a small container from one of the shelves and scoop some of the food into it. “For on the road.” you tell him. He gives you a gentle smile and tucks some hair behind your ear.

“You make me the happiest man alive, you know that?” 

The girls are pulled back inside by the scent of your famous stew and soon cling to your waist on either side of you, their little faces mushed against your torso and bosom as they watch you cook. James watches the scene with a bittersweet heaviness in his heart, observing the way you explain your process to Naomi and Rebecca who are one day to learn your recipe by heart. The lump that forms in his throat is hard to swallow away. 

Following Jesus is not easy, especially not in times like these, when his daughters are growing up and his wife needs him so. But James knows that it is nothing compared to the price Jesus Himself had to pay, that the price of sin was infinitely heavier than any other hardship taken on in favour of submitting to Him. The Son of God has proven so Himself by giving the ultimate sacrifice. James and you would gladly give your lives for Him. Even here, even now, when the two of you had everything you ever wanted and everything to lose. 

Naomi and Rebecca sit down in their chairs the moment you tell them to, each of them on their usual spot. Diagonally across from you sits James, already slicing up the bread into equal pieces lest your daughters get fussy over it, as if the loaf isn’t large enough to feed all of you for several days. You place the warm pan onto the table and scoop portions into the plates. 

Four of them. Your heart clenches inside your chest at the notion that it might just be the final time that you’re doing this for your full, complete family. You blink away your tears, not wanting to cry in front of your daughters at this very moment. There will be time for tears later. 

Dinner goes by way too quickly, but you notice James relishing in the taste of the home-cooked meal. Five, nearly six full years of having dinner with the four of you. Granted, there had been occasional gaps in between whenever James went on mission trips, but still. You had been blessed in and of itself regardless of how much time it covered. 

After your meal, it’s time to clean for a bit whilst the girls play in the next room. Your husband insists on helping you out in lieu of packing his bags. The silence between your is pregnant with looming tension. The Spirit tells you that this is no ordinary trip, but at the same time, He brings solace in the moment. 

You help James pack a few belongings, a fresh tunic, the food you had prepared for him. Once done, you sit in the living room together, watching your children play, your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck as he holds you near. You relish in James’ familiar scent, locking it into your memory, praying it won’t fade from his tunics and from your home, praying he’ll come back to you to fill your home with love and laughter.

The sun lowers and every passing minute brings you closer to your dreaded goodbye. 

Both of you feel it. Rebecca comes over to cuddle her father, as if she senses something lingering, too.

“I need to go.” James heavily breathes against your ear, the emotion tangible in his voice. You swallow hard as you hear the words you hoped he would forget to say. 

“Okay.” you respond with equal earnesty, locking away the feeling of being in his arms deep inside your mind out of fear that you’d forget. 

“Come here, my darlings.” James beckons your daughters over to his side as he stands, crouching down to their level to face them properly. “Abba has to go on another trip.” 

“Nah, really?” Naomi pouts, wrapping her arms around his neck as she sits on his knee. James nods gently and sighs.

“Really. But don’t you worry, I will be thinking of you constantly. Now you two need to promise me something, okay?” 

The two girls nod at their father. 

“Be good girls for eema and listen to what she tells you. She will teach you everything she knows about life and you better learn from her, because she is the smartest woman I’ve ever met. And whenever eema is sad and needs a hug, you give it to her, okay?” 

“Yes, abba.” They both reply in near-unison.

Your vision blurs with tears at his words.

“Now I’m going to say goodbye to eema in the hallway. She will come get you when it’s time to wave at me.” 

The two children nod as they go back to their playing, not truly understanding the gravity of the situation. They expect their father to come back home, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

The moment you and James step into the hallway, you fall into his arms, sobbing against his chest as the tension suddenly breaks. His lips are on your forehead as he shushes you, rocking you through your premature grief about him as tears roll down his face. “My love.” he breathes, “My love, do not remain in your mourning about me. I am not yet gone. And it isn’t said that I will be.” 

“We are both feeling it, James, I—” 

“—I know. I know.” 

He holds you as you cry. You don’t know for how long you two stand there, but your cheeks are red and raw when you’ve got no tears left to spill. You wipe your face on your sleeve and sniffle before inhaling James’ scent deeply. One last time. 

“I will wait for you.” you promise.

“And if it is what the Lord wants, I will come back to you. If it is not what the Lord wants… I’ll see you in heaven, alright?” He thumbs away your tears and looks down at you with affection and devotion. “This life is just a speck compared to what we will receive when we are back with Him. This will pass, too.” 

You try to hold onto that knowledge, tuck it away inside your heart and mind. You nod and sniffle, then hug him again.

“We will meet again,” you whisper more to yourself than to James, “No matter the circumstances, no matter the location, but this is not farewell.” 

“That’s right.” James hums, “And until then, I’ll think of you and our beautiful daughters. I’m so proud of you. Now… I really need to go.” 

You hum and step away, watching how he puts his bag over his shoulder. “Do you have everything you need?” 

He nods, cupping your cheek. “I think you triple-checked.” James knows you too well. You smile and sigh. 

“Girls? Come wave at abba with me.” 

James opens the heavy door. The stars have already come out and litter the sky. Naomi and Rebecca exit the living room and instantly rush over to their father, who hides his tears from them. “I am going to miss you so much.” he whispers with a wavering voice. “Be good, okay? Keep trusting in the Lord.” 

The two girls nod before their father kisses each of their foreheads. He then stands again, reaching for the door knob. Rebecca reaches her arms up for you to pick her up, and you hoist her onto your hip. Your other hand comes to rest on Naomi’s head as she hugs your side. 

“I’ll see you soon, my love.” James says. You smile softly at him as he crosses the threshold. Plausibly — most likely the final time he ever will. 

“Soon,” you emphasise, the two of you holding a moment of meaningful eye-contact. 

He gives you a soft look, then looks down at the girls, back up at you, before starting to walk away. The three of you watch him grow smaller in the distance. “Soon.” You murmur to yourself, your heart clenching inside your chest as you feel it start to break with every step he takes away from you. 

You hug your daughters a little closer. The price of following the Lord is a heavy one to pay. But Jesus is worth everything. In the end, it will all click into place, just like the way God had intended it to. And all you can do is trust Him in that, unconditionally, without fear.

[moonyflesh]

[🚬]

no thoughts- just Logan smoking some big ass cigar at any given moment.

[ellecdc]

✋🏻 i have a request

so i’m a loudmouth, a D1 yapper if you will. could you maybe please write something with a yapper reader who just gets quiet and flustered in regulus’s presence?

like she’ll be going on about the randomest thing and regulus walks by and her mouth snaps shut and her face gets bright red.

hiiiii! I decided to pair this with two anonymous requests for our dear reggie too! prompt 2: I was thinking maybe a Potter! Reader who is in the same year as Regulus and has a huge crush on him, she just kind of watches him from a distance, here comes James and Sirius noticing and they try to set her up with Reggie prompt 3: I was wondering if I could get a regulus x reader where regulus is like close to the marauders and then Reggie gains like a crush on reader and the marauders find out and like kinda spy on them but like not well and maybe it ends in Reggie asking reader out

Regulus Black x Potter!reader who has a 'big fat crush' on Reggie

CW: sibling squabbles, this was hard for me to write for some reason so I'm sorry if it reads awkwardly!

“I’m just saying, if you didn’t want your essay to go up in flames, maybe you should have spent less time talking about which of your classmates were ‘filthy blood traitors’, and more time making sure I couldn’t point my wand at your parchment, you know?” You asked rhetorically as James and Sirius roared with laughter. 

“How far along was he in his essay?” Peter asked with a low chuckle before taking another bite of his lunch.

“Oh, he was done. He probably should have handed it in instead of running his mouth.” You said with a proud smirk as your brother roughly patted you on the back, letting out another bark of laughter. 

“I would have paid good money to see the look on his face.” Sirius said as he wiped fake tears away from under his eyes. 

“Find me a pensieve, Black, and I’ll show you.” You offered with a wink before remembering something.  “Oh! James, I meant to tell you; I heard from Janey who heard from Cromwell who heard from Collins whose sister works at Honeydukes that they’re having a sale on those caramel sugar quills that-”

“-Lily likes so much!” James finished for you. “My hero! Thank you!” He said as he pressed a sloppy kiss to the side of your head.

You feigned disgust and rubbed it off before continuing. “If you want, I can ask Janey to ask Cromwell to ask Collins to ask his sister to put some aside for you?”

“I’d owe you my life.” He responded solemnly. 

“Chocolate frogs will suffice.” 

“Consider it done.” 

“I’d like chocolate frogs too, Prongs.” Remus offered then.

“What have you done to help me win over the girl of my dreams, Moony?” James countered. 

“I’ve not told her about the time you screamed like an ickle little first year when you found Fenwick’s toad in your shoe.” Remus replied plainly.

“Why do they have to have warts!?” James groaned miserably as he remembered his toad assault. 

“The bumps aren’t actually warts, Jamie; they’re glands. They contain a toxin that they will secrete if they feel threatened.” You explained.

James blinked at you owlishly before shaking his head in disgust. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.” 

“Hello, Sirius.” Regulus’ voice interrupted then, standing stiffly behind Sirius as he looked around the group of you. “Lupin, Pettigrew…Potter’s.” 

“‘Sup, Reggie?” Sirius responded easily.

“‘Lo, baby Black! What brings you to the red side of the Great Hall?” James asked then, earning him a glare from the younger Black brother.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Well that just makes me want to call you that even more.” James admitted.

“What brings you to the Gryffindor table?” Remus repeated with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t I just come say hello to my brother?” He asked defensively. 

“You could, but would you?” Sirius asked sceptically then.

Sirius and Regulus stared at each other in silence before Regulus finally sighed. 

“Potter, erm… Y/N, I was wondering if you’ve finished Professor Sprout’s essay about the proper propagation of venomous tentacula’s?” 

At the following silence, James turned to notice you staring at Regulus in what appeared to be abject horror before you slowly nodded your head. 

“How, uhm… how many feet of parchment did it end up being?” Regulus continued awkwardly; his eyes flitting between you and his brother. 

The group watched as you opened your mouth a few times only to close it again - not unlike some socially awkward fish - before clearing your throat. 

“Erm…I think it’s about four feet.”

Regulus seemed relieved by your answer and nodded in understanding. “Good, mine is about that as well.”

James looked between his friends, his sister, and his best friend’s little brother after a few moments when it became clear that no one was going to say anything else.

“Was…was that all, Regulus?” Peter asked then, clearly agreeing with James that lunch had quickly become painfully awkward. 

Regulus seemed to look at you first, only responding when you kept your gaze down at the wood grain of the table. 

“I suppose so. I’ll see you lot around.” 

And with that, the Slytherin boy hurried back to his side of the Great Hall.

James’ eyes only left Regulus’ form when he heard a miserable groan escape your lips as you let your head fall to the table with a thunk.

“What the fuck was that?” Sirius and James questioned at the same time.

“I’ve gotta go.” You muttered miserably as you gathered your bag and stood from the Gryffindor bench.

“Where?!” James called after you. 

“To run away with the fucking centaurs at this point!” You called back before disappearing through the doors. 

“Since when does Regulus come to say hi to you, Pads?” Peter asked then, still watching Regulus from across the hall who now had his eyes glued to the door. 

Sirius, who up until that point looked just as bemused as Peter did, had a look of understanding dawn on his face. 

“Merlin’s beard.” He hissed as he smacked James in the arm from across the table.

“Ow! What? What? Why are you hitting me?” James called as he rubbed his arm protectively. 

“When was the last time you saw Y/N be reduced to awkward silence?” He asked then.

“At mum and dads fundraising gala when that wizard from Witch Weekly attended.” James answered quickly; knowing that one of his sister’s greatest strengths was her ability to talk (especially when it helped get them all out of trouble). “Though she’s been doing it an awful lot lately.”

“Like when you coerced Regulus into joining us at the Three Broomsticks last weekend.” Remus offered.

James nodded. “And when I made her come with me to scout the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin game last Monday.” 

“And when Regulus just happened to be looking for a Herbology textbook when she was studying in the Herbology section of the library.” Remus continued.

“Godric’s balls.” Peter breathed out, looking towards Sirius incredulously. “You’re not suggesting-”

“-that our littlest Potter has a big fat crush on the littlest Black? I sure am.” Sirius said smugly. 

“I don’t think she’s the only one with a ‘big fat crush’.” Remus added, nodding towards Regulus who was chewing aggressively on his lip, still looking in the direction you just went.

“Oh my Godric.” James hissed as he turned towards Sirius excitedly. “Oh my Godric, Pads! We’d be real life actual brother’s-in-law!” 

“I’m going to walk Reggie down the aisle.” Sirius added wistfully as he clutched at his chest. 

“Merlin and Morgana. They can’t even make it through a sodding conversation; stop planning their wedding.” Remus muttered as he turned a page in his book. 

James let out an incredibly dramatic gasp as he looked at Remus. “You’re right. We have to do something!” 

“What do you say, boys? Up for some mischief for the greater good?” Sirius asked with a perfectly arched eyebrow. 

“Operation turn Potter Black!” James cheered to the group, causing the three boys to look at him in various levels of bemusement and discomfort.

“Erm, Prongs…” Peter started.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Remus added.

“We can’t call it that.” Sirius agreed. 

“We’ll circle back to it.” James said as he stood from the table.

Sirius shared a slightly panicked look with the other two Marauders before standing as well. “No…no James, we really can’t call it that.” 

“It’ll be a placeholder until you guys think of something better!”

“Anything would be better.” Peter whined as they all trailed out of the Great Hall in the name of mischief. 

。.。:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。.。:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。:+*ﾟ

“Quick! You’ve got to see what we’ve planned.” James had said to you as he grabbed you roughly by your arm outside of Transfiguration and hauled you in the direction of the library.

You allowed him to nearly drag you through the courtyard and into the central haul; apologising to students that you nearly collided with in his haste. 

“But…what did McLaggen do? Why are you pranking him?” You asked breathlessly as the two of you made it to the library doors.

“The bloke’s a prick, Trouble, do keep up.” Sirius called as you met up with him. 

The two boys ushered you through stacks of books towards the end of the library that held private study rooms when Remus and Peter materialised from a row of shelves.

“He’s coming!” Peter squeaked as Remus quickly redirected the three of you. 

“That way, quickly.” 

Knowing better than to question Remus, you allowed James to guide you by the shoulder towards one of the private study rooms in order to hide from McLaggen as he walked into their trap. 

Except…

Except no sooner had Sirius opened the door did James bodily shove you into the room before they slammed the door behind you.

“Wha- James!” You shouted as you heard him cast a locking charm and a muffliato around the door. 

“What are they up to now?” A tired voice sounded from behind you.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you realised what they had done, praying to every deity that the voice didn’t belong who you thought it belonged to. 

But of course, the deities didn’t give a bowtruckles arse about you, so you turned on the spot to see Regulus Black sitting at the end of the table looking at you with a sceptical expression and one perfectly arched brow. 

Godric, he was beautiful.

“Making my life hell.” You answered despondently. 

Regulus offered you a tight lipped smile as he nodded in understanding. “Ah, so, regular brother stuff then?”

You breathed out a chuckle as you nodded, trying once more at the door before giving up in your efforts to escape. 

“What did you do to get yourself locked in a room with me?” He asked then, fiddling with the tomes and notes in front of him.

“Had the audacity to be born into the Potter family, I guess.” You muttered.

Regulus made a non-committal sound as he considered you. “I’m sure a lot of people would have loved the honour.”

Your face softened as you looked at the Slytherin boy. “I know they’ve asked you already, but you should come, you know? I know Sirius would love it if you did, and my parents would too.” 

Regulus nodded slowly at you, though he never moved his gaze from your eyes. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?”

Regulus smiled ruefully then. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t get the impression that you like me very much.”

You stood there with your mouth agape like some mute opera singer. “Okay, I’ll correct you then; you’re very wrong Regulus Black.”

“Oh, I’m very wrong, am I?” 

“Horribly so, I’m afraid; I can’t believe you’d even say such a thing.” You continued haughtily; finally sitting down in a chair across from him. 

“Well, you see, everyone is always telling me how much of a chatterbox you are, yet you never seem too keen on chatting with me. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ve exchanged more words with Mulciber at this point.” He teased.

“The most I ever talk to Mulciber is to tell him to go fuck himself!”

A divot formed between his brows as he tilted his head in confusion. “Is that not just your love language? I’ve heard you say the exact same thing to Potter and my brother.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him as you leaned back in your chair. “Touche” 

Regulus smirked at you then. “So, why don’t you talk to me?”

You let out a heaving sigh and looked to the ceiling. 

You were trapped, and you knew why you were trapped, and you figured there was no use in pretending that you didn’t. 

“I suppose I find you a little…nerve wracking.” You settled for, figuring that telling him you thought he was so handsome that even standing within his vicinity seemed to short circuit not only your brain but somehow your entire nervous system would perhaps be a little much. 

“Oh good.” He responded, sounding truly relieved by your answer. “I thought it was only me.”

What? You thought stupidly.

“What?” You asked stupidly. 

“I find you a little nerve wracking too.” He responded.

“Me?” 

“You.”

“Why?” You nearly shrilled before remembering yourself and feeling immediately embarrassed for your theatrics.

“Well, I suppose for the same reasons you find me nerve wracking?” Regulus offered. “You’re really quite pretty, Y/N.” 

You swear to all of the gods that your brain made an audible record scratch sound at that moment as you tried to compute what he had said to you. 

He called you pretty, that much went without interpretation. But did he just insinuate that he knew you thought he was pretty?

“You do know that, right?” He asked, shaking you from your internal spiralling. 

“Know what?”

Regulus smirked then. “That you’re pretty?”

You scoffed and crossed your arms petulantly. “Of course I knew that; I just wasn’t aware that you did, too.” 

“Ah,” He started with a smile. “My apologies, I’ll make it more obvious that I find you attractive going forward.”

“Thank you.” You huffed.

“You’re very welcome.”

The two of you allowed a semi-comfortable silence to lap as he continued watching you and you continued looking anywhere else but him.

“So,” He interrupted eventually. “What now?” 

You tapped your arms in thought. “Now I figure out how to get back at my meddlesome brother.” 

Regulus hummed as he nodded his head. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Yeah…hey, do you happen to know where I could find a toad or two?”

“Yes, actually. I’m quite certain Evan and Barty are breeding some in the dungeons.” He answered with a look of ill-hidden discomfort at the thought.

“Do you think they’d let me borrow some?”

“Well that depends; would they be used for chaos and/or destruction?”

“Yes.” You responded quickly.

“Oh, well then absolutely.” He quipped back.

He smiled and held your gaze before leaning on his arms against the table. “How about this? I’ll ask Barty and Evan for some of their toads, if you go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend.”

You narrowed your eyes as you pretended to think about it before extending your hand across the table. “Deal.”

He shook your hand as he offered you a crooked smile before leaning back into his seat.

The door popped open just enough for your brother to poke his traitorous head in. “Are you guys in love yet?”

He barely had time to pull his head out of the frame and shut the door as you hurled your book bag at him; the blunt force instrument you had hoped would at the very least incapacitate your brother simply thudding against the wall before falling to the ground in a sad heap.

“You know he’s just going to keep you locked in here longer for that, right?” Regulus asked you then.

You made a non-committal sound as you settled back into your chair. “Perhaps that isn't such a bad thing.”

[daddiesdrarryy]

Remus: So you and Pads’s brother are just sleeping together now?

James: Yeah, and I’m not great at casual relationships. I don’t want to scare Reggie off

Remus: Then just give him some space, all right? Don’t Floo, don't write him letters, don’t call

James: That’s crazy, Moony. What if I see a sunset that reminds me of him?

Remus: …

Remus: When do you see him next?

James: We’re having dinner tonight

Remus: Okay, put a rubber band around your wrist, and any time you start planning your wedding or naming your children, I want you to stab yourself in the hand with a fork

James: What’s the rubber band for?

Remus: To slow the bleeding

[ghostyv]

I miss my wife, tails. And by my wife I mean my husband. And by my husband I mean Wolverine.

I’ll be back😒

[moonstruckme]

Hey love, im back to plague you with another idea...

A situationship / budding relationship james x reader where shes the Black brothers sister, but every time one of them catchs the two of them alone they physically pick her up and just walk away with that menacing Black stare.

Tysm love x

Thanks for requesting sweetheart!

James Potter x Black!reader ♡ 911 words

“Do you really think this is the best place to hang out?” you ask James, eyeing the closet in his dorm as if you’re brother’s going to come popping out. 

“It’ll be fine,” he promises you in that optimistic, sure-footed way of his. 

From the way Regulus had talked about Sirius’ friends at Hogwarts, you’d expected James to be insufferable. Arrogant, entitled, the true embodiment of the mask your oldest brother puts on when he’s here at school. But you’d discovered when you’d arrived that Sirius’ goofy friend wasn’t the James Potter you were warned about. He was self-assured, certainly. Confident, but in the years you’ve known him it’s never seemed like anything more sinister than that. James doesn’t walk into every room like he owns it; he walks in like it’s home. He brings that everywhere with him—that feeling of home, of belonging. It seeps into you when you’re with him, and to your brother’s acute repugnance, you’re with him more and more these days. 

“Remus is off with Lily, and Sirius got pulled aside by coach after practice, so he’ll be on the pitch running drills for a good hour yet,” James goes on. He sits down on his bed, and you follow suit. “Plus, your dorm is occupied and this is the only other semi-private place I could think of.” His smile goes a bit sheepish as he shrugs, one-shouldered and boyish. 

You catch his meaning—the privacy carries implications neither of you are ready to act on—and you’ve got no reason to feel awkward about that but a nervous laugh fizzes up out of you anyway. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admit. Though Sirius is far from unaware of this blossoming whatever between you and James, neither of you are keen on him finding out through the grapevine that you were seen canoodling in the hallways. Privacy is ideal. “So, I’m guessing practice went better for you than it did for him?” 

James shrugs again, the show of humility making you both grin. You can never seem to stop doing that around him. “Yeah,” he says, “practice for a seeker is pretty straightforward. Less strategy to it, so I guess I got off easy.” 

“You make it sound like Sirius isn’t just hitting things with a bat,” you deadpan, and he laughs. The sound feels like sunbeams shooting straight into your gut. 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” he hedges. “But hey, are you coming to the party after the match on Saturday?” 

“Is there still going to be a party if you lose?” 

James fixes you with a look. “We never lose, sweetheart.” 

Another giggle bubbles out of you, though the joke isn’t really that hilarious. You secretly love when James calls you names like that. It makes your heart do all sorts of funny, acrobatic things. You don’t love that it’s probably not so secret, and he can almost definitely tell. His eyes go warm now, a knowing smile playing on the corner of his mouth. 

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll think about it.” 

“You should come,” he encourages, leaning his hands back on the mattress. You very pointedly do not let your eyes linger on his forearms as he does so. “It’d make me happy to see you there.” 

“You’re always happy,” you tease. 

“That’s because you only see me when I’m seeing you.” You must look confused, because James’ clarifies, voice softening slightly, “I can’t help but be happy when I’m with you, sweetheart.” 

The combined effect of the words, the tone of his voice, the sweet way he’s looking at you—it starts up more than butterflies in your stomach. There’s got to be a whole ecosystem in there by now, with buzzing bees and jumping frogs and everything. You look down, a half-hearted effort to hide the smile that takes you.

“James,” you murmur, lightly chiding. 

The door comes open, and your brother’s eyes widen as they take in you on James’ bed, his hand an inch away from your leg and both of you looking terribly caught. Then they narrow. 

“James Potter, zip your pants back up right this instant!” 

“Sirius!” you exclaim, and there’s no lightness to this chiding, your face heating with mortification. You glance at James’ zipper, just to be sure—and yup, it’s fully closed, everything contained—and then glance quickly away, horrified all over again that you’d looked. 

“We weren’t even doing anything,” you seethe, knowing your stare matches your brother’s as you glower at each other from across the room. “What are you even doing back?” 

Sirius rolls his eyes, utilizing that older brother’s insouciance he knows gets under your skin like nothing else. “It seems you’ve gotten turned around. These are the boys’ dorms.” His words drip venom onto the dull red rug. “I’ll be happy to escort you back to yours. Let’s go.” 

“No.” You set both hands on James’ bed, feeling ridiculously petulant. Sirius raises a brow as if to say No? but you ignore him. “This dorm is as much James’ as it is yours, and he invited me here.” 

“Pads,” James says, not quite softly, but mildly compared to the fiery tones you and your brother are throwing back and forth, “we’re just talking.” 

“And now you’re done talking.” Sirius shrugs, stalking toward you. You grip James’ sheets a bit tighter on instinct. “If I recall, you have a potions’ essay to write, and you’re not—ugh.” He grunts, wresting you away from James’ bed using a hold that’s worked since you were kids. James himself offers no help, other than a sympathetic grimace as you’re hauled off. Sirius fixes him with a cold glare in return. “You’re not getting that done in here.” 

“You are so immature,” you gripe as he starts tugging you towards the stairs, your feet barely skimming the ground. 

“We can talk about—oi, quit!—we can talk about who’s more mature when you stop pinching me, you prick!” 

[kairospy]

When i say James Potter is the little spoon I mean Regulus hates having his back turned to anyone, hates having people where he can’t see them, hands on him while he’s unaware, but James loves being held at any given moment

Movie date? He’s pressed against Regulus’ side. Hanging out with Sirius? They’re essentially holding hands. He will plop down on Regulus’ lap randomly and all Regulus does is change the book to the other hand so he can play with James’ hair

[crypticcowboys]

i think that some of you guys really do forget that fanfic writing is subjective to the user. 'logan wouldnt date fat girls—' what, did the fictional man crawl through the fucking screen and tell you that himself? did you have a prophetic vision? are you now the messiah of logan fics? i don't care what the hell he did in canon or what he called fred, let the bigger girls have something. not to mention that self indulgent fanfic writing or selfshipping or whatever-you-wanna-call-it is exactly what it is... self indulgent.

itd be different if it was something morally grey or inherently wrong but we're talking about... a body type here. even if this man looked directly at the camera in a movie and went 'i don't date fat women or plus sized women' it still wouldnt matter if people wanted to write logan x plussized!reader. do you know why? because he is fictional. you all need to live your truth and stop letting theoretical lines hold you back. like ho you just mad i ratioed your weirdo ass to high heaven

[bubblessunshinehoney]

BIG FAN

Chapter 7: the morning after...

not beta read, english is not my first language. all mistakes are my own

If you don't want to miss any udpate, go follow my sideblog: @cloudysideblog

tw: SMUT, this part is just that...pwp, pinv,...just SMUT (unprotected, so wrap it before you tap it, but they've discussed it even though it's not in the fic)

don't be shy, reblog, comment, like!

serie masterlist

part1 | part2 | part3 | part4 | part5 | part6 | part7

If you don't want to miss any udpate, go follow my sideblog: @cloudysideblog

🥰🌷

Enjoy, Cloudy

You wake feeling a light touch on your back, you hummed happily, nuzzling into it. A little sleepy gasp came out of your mouth when you felt lips on your legs, you tried to move but a little tut sound made you stop.

"It's me dolly, let me take care of you", said Bucky with a sleepy gravelly voice.

You hummed more, relaxing under his ministrations. He took his time, kissing every part of your body, caressing every inch of skin. He was warm and you couldn’t stop smiling. You kept your eyes closed, like he asked you too, after four attempts on your side to open them. You wanted to see him, but he wanted you to feel him.

“you’re so soft, your skin is like silk”, he murmured on your neck.

You let out a heavy needy sigh and he smiles in the nape of your neck.

“Good morning, my angel”, he whispered.

You turned in the direction of his voice, and still eyes closed “good morning, man-(h)eater”, you nuzzled onto his chest, seeking his warmth, breathing him in. He held you close, before rolling so you’re under him.

“open your eyes, please”, he asked softly, you blinked slowly and you met the bluest eyes ever. The morning light bringing the colour even brighter. The tenderness you saw in them, made your heart fluttered happily. Your stomach growled and Bucky was quick to sat up.

“I’ll make you breakfast”, he jumped out of bed, put some boxers on and he was out. You blinked before laughing uncontrollably. Bucky came back with a worried face.

“What’s so funny?”

“You”

“me?”

“Yeah, you kiss all over me for maybe an hour, then you jumped off like a scared cat”.

“but you stomach made some noise, you must be hungry”.

“You’re too adorable…I am hungry, I just thought I would have some more cuddles before getting up”.

“Sorry.”

You got up and walked towards him. “Don’t be, it was very adorable to see you ran to the kitchen to make me food”. He looked unsure and shy suddenly. “What is it James?”

To hear his name again eased the anxiety that was building up inside him. “I’m…well…” you encouraged him with your special smile. “Ma’ raised me to treat my girl right. And she loved breakfast…and I used to cook it for her every Sunday…just tought that…I could do the same for you. I don’t know”

You passed your arms around his neck, his hands securing your waist since you had to get on your tiptoe. “Well, I think you know more than you think, James. And I think you’re treating me more than right.” You kissed his chin. “but I could still help with breakfast?”

“Only to tell me where you store all of your ingredients, the rest I’ll do it.”

With a smile, he carried you to the kitchen and sat you on a chair. Then you pointed at the cupboard and other place where he could find what he needed. You liked to see him here, so carefree. You saw that he felt more secure and comfortable again. Making jokes, telling you more about his ma’, his sister and his time back in the 40s. You were happy to hear it all, thinking that he must really trust you to tell you all that. And if you were honest, you couldn’t keep your eyes of him, wearing only an apron and his boxers, the muscle on his back on full display for you to admire…to drool over.

And honestly, you were still aching from all the kisses you received, you thought that it would have led to some slow morning sex with him. Your nipples were hard and seemed to want to stay like this. Your heart was still beating faster than normal, from how horny you were now.

But when Bucky brought food and tea onto the table and kept talking to you with the most genuine smile and happiness, you put your horniness on the side and talked with him about everything and anything.

But even after having eaten, your mind was still in the gutter. You wanted to rip that apron of him and ride him while he was sitting on the chair.

“Y/N?”, you looked up at him, realising you were focused on his stomach. “Are you alright?” he looked so concerned that you wanted to kiss him silly. Since you were not answering and by the way you were looking at him, Bucky started to feel hot and bother. He did see the way your nipples were still perked under your shirt. He did hear your heartbeat, but it was the fire in your eyes that was making him feel tight in his brief.

As if you had super vision too, you got up and straddled him, but when you gasped quietly, he realised you weren’t expecting him to have a hard on. You both sat still for a solid minute. You were clenching around nothing, and he throbbed, feeling the hotness of your mound. Slowly you took off the apron, covering him in goosebumps when your fingers traced patterns on his chest. His abs contracted when you rested your hands there.

Slowly he raised his right hand and cupped your boob, caressing your nipple with his thumb, in response to it, you dug your nails softly into his flesh.

“I thought you were gonna make love to me this morning.” You whispered. His left hand held the small of your back and brought you closer to him, his right hand still holding the side of your boob and his thumb not leaving your nipple. Your hands went to his shoulders to steady yourself. “I wanted your kiss to…lead to some…sex”.

“it’s still the morning”, he said quietly.

“But it’s not the same when you just wake up.” He nodded, like if he was taking notes. He didn’t move more, he kept you in place and you were starting to think he would let you like this, even though you could feel that he was hard.

“How would you have wanted to have sex when you woke up?”, he asked lowering his left hand.

“Slow”, you replied breathless.

“Are you disappointed it didn’t happen?”. You were beyond needy by now. He had a certain tone in his voice, making no place for control on your side. He was leading this, and you were desperate for it.

“A little”, you answered in a quiet voice, feeling submissive.

“What about…” he’s right hand went to your waist, “we take off your panties and sit you on my cock…slowly”. There’s no room for questioning but you saw in his eyes that you had the final choice. You nodded. “Words, dollface”.

“Yes, please.” With ease he hoisted you on the table and slid off your panties, next he pulled down his boxers just enough for his cock to spun free. He kissed your legs, looking directly into your eyes. Your hands were still on his shoulders, and you held them tighter, he smiled, before holding you down again. His cock resting on your pelvis. This morning, it appeared bigger than last night, or maybe you felt tinier with how much power he had over you right now.

He was doming you with softness in all his hardness.

Shyly, you rocked your hips, the smirk he gave you made you rocked faster against him. But before you could feel any relief, he stopped you. You whined.

“Slow.” He commended. You plead with your eyes. “You want it, already?”, he smoothed little circles on your hips. “Yes, please, Jamie.” He hummed and held you up just enough to wet his cock with your arousal. “Doll…”, he groaned.

It only made you gush more, clenching around nothing, desperate for him. With gentleness he lowered you on his cock. The head disappeared and he stayed like this, holding you entirely. It’s like you were light as a feather, he didn’t seem bother to hold you up, not a sweat, not a sign on his face that you were heavy, and your legs were dangling in the air. And like in slow-motion, he eased you down on him, you felt every ridge of his cock, nestling its way inside you. Once you were sitting on his lap, your body trembling from the fullness you were feeling, Bucky kissed your nose. You blinked twice and looked at him. He smiled innocently.

“you’re in charge now”. You huffed, before wiggling to be able to have the tip of your big toes touching the ground and you started to rock and rolled your hips slowly. Bucky had his hands on your hips, but he wasn’t moving or helping you move. Your hands went to his hair and neck, having your elbow on his chest to give you some support. You were focused on where you were joined with him, all your muscled tensed, breath shallow and your clit was throbbing with need. It felt atrociously divine.

“look at me”, you did as told. “good girl”, he groaned. You whimpered and clenched at the praise. As if on cue, his hands start to help you move, his left hand went up to hold the back of your head, bringing you so close to him, that you were breathing the same air. He smelled like coffee and French toast. He kissed your jaw next, finding your sweet spot, making you flatter in your pace. His right hand was quick to give you the right tempo, by moving your hip, and settling on your back. All of it felt amazing, but your clit was screaming for the neglection it was enduring.

“FUCK” you shouted, cumming hard. But he didn’t stop rolling your clit under his pad, didn’t stop you from moving faster now, didn’t stop you from kissing him sloppily, didn’t hiss when you tug and dug your nails in his flesh, no…he moaned holding you tighter, fucking into you in time with your rolling, kissing you, sucking on your lips, praising you…

“Jamie…please…” was all you could say. As if he was able to read your mind, he secured your arms around his neck and his left hand went to your back, while the right one slowly came to your front. You shook in anticipation. Now, Bucky was giving the tempo, making sure you were rocking and rolling your hips. His flesh fingers ran under your shirt, down to your clit and when his thumb touch it you saw stars.

“Such a good girl, you’re mine, aren’t you? Drunk on my cock, my good girl, doing as I tell her.”

How in the world this man was having this mouth this morning. He kept his game well hidden…and you loved it.

A second orgasm took hold of you, and you clenched hard around him. You didn’t know how it was possible, how he made you cum so much…never one of your exes had made you cum more than once, if they succeeded, and you weren’t faking.

As if you weren’t choking his dick, Bucky got up, while kissing you. He walked to the nearest wall and pushed you against it. “Hold on tight”, with the little strength you had left, you wrapped your arms and legs tightly around him and he fucked you, deeply but ever so slowly you were shaking from pleasure. He rested his forehead on yours, rolling his hips right onto your spot and you moaned. “Right here, uh? My sweet doll”, you nodded eagerly, and he kept doing just that.

Panting, moaning, kissing, it was the only sound other than the squelching sound of your skins. “One more for me baby?” you sighed happily when you realised you were about to come again. “one more for you, Jamie”.

“Good girl”, he played with your clit again. “cum with me?”, you hummed your agreement and with a flicker of his thumb and one last thrust, you both came hard.

When you opened your eyes, you were back on your bed, a smiling Bucky beside you. He looked so innocent like that.

“Did I pass out?”

“No, well…not completely, you were babbling for a good 20 minutes when I help you clean up before bringing you back here, then you slept.” He said almost sheepishly.

“You’re unbelievable…all dom like an hour ago and now…you look like an innocent boy.” He shrugged with a blush, and you kissed him. “You’re unreal, mister. But damn I love this side of you. Taking control…playing with me…” you hummed when he massaged your back gently”.

“Yeah?” he asked softly. You nodded and played with his hair.

“Well, I like to fuck you stupid.”, he added with the biggest angelic smile.

[emmcfrxst]

what’s up with the rapidly growing, unapologetic fatshaming in the tags these days. like mind your own business lmfao why are you so pressed about fat people liking your favorite character. bitchless AND friendless behavior i fear!

[s0urw00lf]

All the time

Bucky Barnes x reader

The three times you called his name. The one time he answered.

1940’s era: James Barnes

Y/n l/n had regrettably found herself on a date with a something shed be called unladylike for saying asshole. To be fair her mother wouldn’t let her turn the man down, ready to get her married off before the war. She was currently at the movies sitting beside him as his arm draped sloppily over her shoulder and much to close to her breast for her liking all the while he continuously yelled for the movie to start. People all over the theater were ‘shhh’ing him but he didn’t care as he continued on, making y/n want to melt into her seat with embarrassment. You heard from behind you “hey, wanna show some respect?” Someone whispered. You turned around to see a small frail man, you mouthed ‘I’m sorry” and he just nodded back. Again “who cared, Just start the cartoon” he said. Y/n sighed about to get up and leave until the small man spoke up again “hey you wanna shut up?” At that point Tommy heard him and turned towards him.

Somehow you found yourself in the alleyway trying to pull Tommy off of the guy. “Tommy that’s enough” you said pulling his arm, he pushed you down hard making you hit your head on a rock and you felt the blood immediately pool down your face not fully aware of what was going on anymore, until you were pulled up softly “you okay ma’am” you were asked. “Yes, yes I’m fine he needs More help than me” you said pointing to the fight, not even looking at the man that helped you up, more focused on the blood running down your face. You soon saw Tommy walk past you and grabbed your wrist firmly “come on y/n” he said angrily. You struggled against his grip “let me go you pig” you said as you clawed at his hand trying to separate it from your wrist. He didn’t budge “let go of me you disgusting pig” you cried putting as much resistance as you could.

Tommy finally turned and gave you the worst bitch face and forcefully pushed you back as he let go. You fell to the muddy ground, and tears formed in your eyes when you looked down and seen how dirty yourself and your dress was. The two men had seen the whole interaction and rushed to help you up. “Thanks” you said not making eye contact with either as you tried to make yourself a bit more presentable even though those stains weren’t gonna come out without some stern washing. You finally looked up when the shorter man spoke “no thank you for trying to help me. I’m Steve by the way. Steve rogers” he said. You nodded “y/n l/n, wish we could’ve met on better terms” you said with a small laugh. “Steve seems to find trouble everywhere he goes. James Barnes” the other man spoke. You finally took a good look at him and you let out a gasp when you made eye contact with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen.

He towered over you and his brunet hair only heightened his handsome features. “Oh, uh yeah I mean it happens right?” You replied trying to cover up how shocked you were at his handsome face. He smiled and nodded, making you melt a little. Suddenly you’d felt a little more self conscious. “Hey Steve, how about you go get cleaned up and I’ll walk miss y/n here home.” James says. Steve looked up at him in confusion “why, we goin somewhere?” He asked. James nodded “the future” he said smiling and handed Steve a pamphlet. Steve studied the pamphlet before nodding and making his way home with a nod to you and a pat on James’s back. James led you back to the sidewalk and you began to get dirty looks from people passing by, making you even more uncomfortable and self conscious .

James luckily noticed and started up conversation in hopes to distract you, “So, what where you doing here with, and excuse my language, an asshole like that” he asked. She sighed “my mom, she wants me married or at least in the process of getting married. She’s getting old and my pa passed some time ago, she doesn’t think I can make it on my own.” You said bitterly. You looked at him taking in his attire for the first time “you getting shipped out?” You asked. He nodded “Sargent James Barnes, shipped out to England first thing tomorrow morning” he said standing proud. You nodded lowering your head to watch your shoes as you walk feeling a bit disappointed because he and his friend were the first decent men you’d come across in all of Brooklyn.

“James Barnes”

—————

Winter soldier era

after being let out of cyro for the first time in decades the soldier was led to a morally grey room, by the same man with round glasses shed seen before she went into the cyro. Aside from the table and two medal chairs, the room was empty much like the rest of the facility.

The only difference from the rest is there was a lingering presence in the darkest corner of the room. All she could see was the shining of something silver. She made no face, showed no sign of weakness, because she couldn’t, she’d been erased of everything. Fear included. But she stayed on high alert, ready to defend herself and her boss. “Sit” zolo demanded.

She took a stealthy seat, not making any noise as she did so, not even as her boot made contact with the ground on the other side of the chair. She stared at the man who had also taken a seat in front of her. “You have been assigned a new partner, it he has been made to match your every move as if it was your own. You fit together like a puzzle.” The man stated.

She nodded letting the man know she understood. “Step out soldat” the man demanded. At the corner of her eye she’d seen it, the smoothest movement as the figure slipped out of the darkness and into the light. “Meet the winter soldier” said zolo. She slowly turned her head meeting the steel blue eyes. ‘Barnes’ the name had echoed in her head but she was careful not to let her expression shift. She looked back to zolo only to see him eyeing the herself and the soldier carefully. She chose not to make it known. “Do we have a mission?” She asked, voice hoarse from not being used in so long.

“You do” he said and smiled his sickening smile. A file was placed in front of her, the soldier came to stand behind her so he could see, she almost felt at ease. She opened the file only to be met with a photo of a blonde haired blue eyed man. Captain ‘Steve rogers’ America. “What do you want us to do?” The man finally spoke behind her. His voice deep and hoarse as well. “Find him. Bring him alive. Beat him to the brink of death if you have to. But. Bring. Him. Alive.” He demanded. The pair nodded in understanding, before bing dismissed.

as they made their way to the jet and got stocked up on weapons and ammo the name ‘Barnes’ kept running through her head. So much so that it slipped out of her mouth.

“Barnes”

—————-

Fatws era

The last time you’d come face to face with james it was after the thanos war, you’d lived with nat while you were figuring things out before then you’d been snapped and now you’re living close toSam’s sister Sarah, helping her out with the boys. On this particular day you had walked into Sarah’s house in search of some flour, as you had ran out some days ago, “hey sara-“ you called but stopped yourself as your eyes landed on an all to familiar shield in the hands of Sarah’s boys. “Hey where’d you-“ she began to question but the oldest shushed her and pointed to the couch. Y/ns brows furrowed as she looked only to see that all too familiar face, obviously just now waking up. She ushered the boys away, but was quick to take the shield before they slipped too far out of her reach. “Hey, I uh- i didn’t know that you were here” she said awkwardly. “I just got here yesterday. I didn’t know you lived here” he said as he sat up from his laying position. “Oh no no. I don’t live here. Like here as in this house, I’m neighbors with Sarah.” You said shaking your head.

All he did was smile at you in amusement, making your cheeks heat up. “Uh well i only came to get something, I’ll be out of here soon” you said slowly backing away into the kitchen. Helping yourself to the flower you’d initially came to get. As you passed him again, he looked lost in thought so you cleared your throat, once again catching his attention. “Uh i live next door, if you uh- ever wanna come by and talk things over” you said nervously picking at your fingers. He smiled that charming smile that had you swooning since day one and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind” he said. You nodded and backed away from the room and out of the door you used to enter the house.

a while had gone by since your interaction with James and if you’re being honest, you are really disappointed because you were looking forward to seeing him again. You are about to pack up for bed when a knock on your door broke you out of your daydream. You went to cautious because old habits die hard, you open the door to come face-to-face with James Buchanan Barnes. “Oh, hey I wasn’t expecting you” you’d said stupidly before you could think. You were totally expecting him, hoping and praying for him to knock on your door. “If im gonna be honest i want going to. Last time we’d seen each other we left off on a kiss and a barely confessed ‘I love you’. Sam told me not to let that go again.” He said sincerely. “ Well, Sam was right. Ever the wingman, no pun intended” you said letting out a laugh, as did he. Before either of you could make another remark, Bucky rushed forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. The kiss was soft and full of longing and warmth, happiness flooded you like you just took your first drink of hot chocolate on a chilly winter morning. The two of you separated breathing heavily

“my Bucky Barnes.”

“My Y/n L/n”

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Big James | Hold On Tight | Romantic

Dialogue prompt: “Hey, just look at me, breathe.”

Requested: Yes

Out on open water, you realise how vulnerable you are. Luckily, James is a beacon of strength.

You should have known better.

You should have known better than to marry a fisherman of all possible trades that were out there. You could have known that it would come to this.

And it did. 

With knees weaker than you’d ever admit, you stand on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, watching how your husband gathers his nets into his boat and tucks them in such a way that there is as much space as possible. A gust of wind disturbs the rope that hangs on the mast and James grabs the end of it to secure it, giving you a small smile. 

You reciprocate it, but not with the same energy as he is giving you. Your expression is forced. Ingenuine. All you can think about is how long – or how short - it would take for this boat to sink.

Crossing your arms over your chest to shield yourself from the wind, you cast an anxious look over your shoulder, back at the village, hoping for Salome to show up in need of your assistance, or either Simon or Andrew asking to join your husband instead. Alas, you only see a few rats scurry away in between a few decrepit barrels, one of them dragging along the remains of a rotten fish.

“Darling?” James’ voice rings clear as he looks at you expectantly. He has moved further your way and holds out his hand. “Are you ready?”

You take a sharp breath and nod, perhaps in an attempt to even convince yourself that you are, and you grab the basket with food you had placed on the ground to take it on board. James helps you into the vessel and you feel immediately wobbly, rather ungracefully taking a seat where you think it would be appropriate to sit. 

“Thank you again for joining me today, my love.” James tells you whilst pushing the boat away from the shore by using an oar. Your fingers immediately tighten on the small plank you’re sitting on. “That nasty cold has really gotten John under the weather. Now, I won’t be so lonely tonight. Actually, this is the first time you’re coming with me on my boat, so I suppose that it was long overdue anyway! It’s nice to be here together, don’t you think?”

“Yes.” you squeak, swallowing the lump in your throat as you barely dare to let your gaze leave your husband. “It’s nice.” 

“You may just be a natural at this, I’m almost certain of it.” 

Resisting the urge to shake your head immediately, you inhale through your nose, attempting to compose yourself. Your heartbeat rises as the vessel drifts further and further away from land, rocking from one way to the other as it glides through the water. The sound of waves licking the sides of the boat makes your gut drop unpleasantly.

Your mind races as James gives you the kindest of smiles. As you try your very best to appear content and at rest, you wonder how you ever could have neglected to tell the man you were marrying that you were deadly afraid of water. 

Some distressing moments experienced during childhood never heal.

“Sweetheart,” James draws you from your thoughts, “Can you please pass me the waterskin?” 

With trembling hands, you take it from the basket that is resting against your ankle and reach out to him, only to find out that there is no way you can give it to him without standing up and walking over to give it to him. Your heart stutters and for a moment, you try to think of any excuse that you aren’t able to stand and give it to him, but when he raises an expectant eyebrow, you gather the courage to scoot closer to him, and the boat jerks slightly at the movement of your body shifting inside of it. Rushing over, you hand your husband the waterskin. 

“Thank you.” 

James momentarily puts down the oar he is using to take a few drinks of water, and you watch him in the hopes of calming yourself. After all, you feel your neck heat up with every passing second inside this boat, and it is only a matter of time before he will ask you why you’re sweating so heavily, and you will not be able to blame it on the heat of the lowering sun anymore. Well, if he notices anything at all, of course. 

The fabric of your dress is a shade that does not show stains easily, but you feel that at this point, you might as well just take it off with how drenched it is. However, the idea of falling into the water fully unclothed makes you even more anxious than the idea of falling in whilst wearing your tunic. Then, the darkness of night will soon show up as well, so James will perhaps not even be able to see your current state anymore. It fills you with both dread and relief that he won’t.

You run your hands down your veil as a gust of wind sweeps across the waters, more forceful than anticipated, and your breath hitches inside your throat whilst James casts his gaze up to the heavens. “Hm, there might be some light rain coming our way, but nothing to worry about, dearest.”

Nothing to worry about, you have the urge to counter, there is plenty to worry about. Once the wind is calm enough for you to release your veil, you place your hands on the boat firmly, squeezing it, almost. As it teeters through the water, it convulses to the point that the waves are audibly gushing against the sides, and you’re almost afraid that it will spill over the edge. 

“James,” you mutter, “Is-Is-Is this safe?”

Your husband chuckles a little, giving you a reassuring smile. It is obvious that he isn’t aware of the panic growing inside your chest, and he takes another sip of water before he nods. “Perfectly fine, (Y/n),” he muses, “Nothing to worry about. This happens all the time, especially when there is a storm coming.”

“A storm?” you whimper, and James shrugs. 

“Ah, no, not a storm. Just a light drizzle, as I just mentioned.”

Your nerves aren’t calmed. “Shoul–Shouldn’t we go back to the sh-shore?”

“No need to,” James clarifies, “John and I never head back just because of some light rain. Things are fine, you’ll only get a bit damp is all.”

Gulping, you inhale through your nose as the wind picks up even more. The waves are higher and panic causes you to whip your head towards the water for the first time during this fishing trip, out of pure instinct.

Wrong move.

All sense leaves you upon seeing the vast expanse of the disturbed waves of the Sea of Galilee. A few fishermen are gathering their nets a little away, their distance far enough to have you realise how large this lake is.

With widening eyes and a paling face, you feel your mind go blank.

Your chest tightens as your lungs fail to draw air properly, your head spinning as the boat sways from right to left. 

James frowns at your strained expression, leaning closer to you.

“(Y/n), are you alright?” You nod absentmindedly and gulp back the nausea that threatens its way up your oesophagus, planting your hands against the wood of the vessel. Upon noticing the way your nails dig into the chipped cedar, James drops the oar into the boat before scooting closer. 

“Hey, now. What’s the matter?”

You open your mouth in an attempt to explain, but no words come out. Instead, a sorrowful cry tumbles from your lips. Hot tears suddenly streak down your cheeks.

James doesn’t hesitate a second to take you into his arms, holding you near. “Come here,” he whispers, “You’re alright, (Y/n).” 

Attempting to shake your head, you claw into the rough material of his tunic, struggling for air. The water surrounds you as far as you can look, but squeezing shut your eyes only enhances the sound of the waves hitting the sides of the vessel, giving you a stifling feeling of being trapped.

Your heart hammers inside your chest and you feel light-headed. When you tighten your grip on James, sobbing into his chest, he gently slides a hand up and down your back, gently caressing you through it. When your fingers suddenly feel less forceful, concern swells inside his chest. James pulls away from the embrace that is nothing short of desperate, only to find you blankly staring at him, mouth agape. 

“(Y/n)...? (Y/n)! Hey, just look at me, breathe.” He cups your face into his hands and slightly pats your cheek in the hopes of triggering your breathing reflex. A pained gasp leaves you and you collapse into his arms once again, soaking through his tunic with your tears. He doesn’t seem to care about it at all, instead holds you firmly in the hopes of calming you down.

Quivering, you try to find comfort in the familiar scent of your husband’s tunic, but to barely any avail. “J-James,” you shiver, “Please, please, make it stop! I-I want to go to land! P-Please! Please!” 

The older son on of Zebedee frowns worriedly, trying to pull away so that he can look at your tear-stained face. He cradles it and attempts to find your eyes, but yours flit away in constant panic. “M-Make it stop! Make it stop!” The rocking of the boat does not cease, but James starts to get an inkling of what is bothering you. 

“Easy, love, I’ve got you, okay?”

You tremble uncontrollably and James gulps, uncertain of how to handle the situation. “Right, come here, come sit in my lap whilst I bring the boat back to the shore.”

It takes a lot of willpower to be guided to the other side of the vessel to crawl into your husband’s arms, but you manage to scurry your way into the safety of his person. With one arm around you, he starts to steer the swaying boat back to the shore with practised ease, although the sweeping wind makes the ordeal a bit more challenging. 

A thousand thoughts run through your mind as every second on the boat feels like an hour, wondering how you are ever going to explain yourself to your husband. Peeking up at his face, you see his determined expression still laced with slight puzzlement, and you do not blame him for it. After all, you have just broken down in front of him without any apparent explanation. How could he know that you were so fearful of the darkness of the lake around you?

Every so often, a strong hand cradles itself against the back of your veil as James steadily heads for the harbour. He asks no questions other than occasionally checking up on you, if you’re already feeling better, for your breathing has calmed significantly. Still, your body feels weak, and you meekly nod instead of verbally responding to his questions. After a few long, endless minutes, he finally guides the boat up to the shore, and you jolt at the sudden feeling of hitting sand. 

“There we go.” James murmurs, putting down the oar and having you look up at him. He thumbs away the streaks of your tears, smiling kindly. “We’re here. Come on, let’s get you some of that wine you brought.”

Although your first instinct is to protest, you are suddenly convinced that it might help you open up more and feel somewhat less embarrassed about your outburst. You truly hope that his perception of you will not change if you were to explain the reasoning behind your behaviour. 

With your husband’s assistance, you take a seat on a small patch of sand, and James takes the basket of supplies you had brought along to take out the small wineskin that had been picked for the occasion. You are almost greedy when you take a few gulps, not minding the bitter taste that tightens your throat. In spite of your nausea and how much you hate its tang right now, you swallow it down. It takes you a minute to fully settle down, the colour coming back to your face in addition to a pleasant tinge of warmth.

“Now, darling, what happened to you out there?” James is curious, playing with a stray lock of hair that falls in front of your face. “You don’t need to tell me if you’re not ready yet, but know that I’m here for you.”

You squint at the horizon in thought for a moment and sigh, averting your gaze to your lap to try and go over the right words to say, when you realise that straight up telling him would be the best approach. “When I was little, my little sister fell into the water.”

“Ruth?”

You nod and look at James with teary eyes. “We were playing together at the shore. I turned around for just a few seconds and when I looked back, she was just gone. I… I couldn’t swim, neither could she, and I praise Adonai for the teenagers who saw it unfold right in time in order to save her. If they had passed us by a minute later, Ruth would have…” Your words trail off and you force back your tears. James understands what you were getting at and clicks his tongue in worry, running a warm hand over your back to calm you. 

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry, I never knew that.”

You let out a shaky breath and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Ever since then, I’ve hated water, sworn to myself to never even consider getting out on the lake. And then…” A genuine laugh escapes you, “Then I married a fisherman.”

James smiles. “That you did.”

Humming, you take another drink and offer your husband the wineskin, but he declines politely.

“Thank you for trusting me with this.”

You sigh, nuzzling into James a bit more. His warmth comforts you.

“Oh, James, I feel so silly.” you whisper, taking a large sip of wine. Your husband shakes his head, smiling kindly as he puts a hand on your thigh. “I should have told you sooner, love, and that way I could maybe have helped you out more—”

“There is no harm done, darling.” he tells you, “I promise that I’m not upset with you for not revealing this earlier.”

You swallow thickly. “But the fishing business is so important to you! It is my task as a wife to support you in your work, and now I’m falling short!”

“Nonsense.” James reassures you, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You support me in many other ways already. The last thing I want is for you to feel unsafe because I’m forcing you to come with me to work. I’m only very glad that I was here to witness it, so that I can make sure to avoid putting you in such situations in the future. I’m really sorry for asking this of you, my love. It was not my intention to bring you into a position like this.”

You give him a watery smile and put down the waterskin. “James, you couldn’t have known. There is no way that you could have foreseen this. If anything, I am the one owing you an apology. I should not have kept this from you and have now put you into this–”

“No, no love.” he interrupts, “Do not apologise for what you are afraid of.” 

A brief silence falls over you two, only broken by a beaming smile that you crack at one another. “Neither of us should be apologising.” you conclude, relieved, “Okay?”

James smiles and pulls you closer against him, kissing the side of your head. “Okay.” he breathes, “I’m sorry for apologising.” There is humour in his voice and you cannot help but chuckle.

“I love you.” you tell him. 

“I love you more,” he retorts, “Way more.” 

You flush and playfully bump his arm with yours. “Love is not a competition, you know.”

James hums and gives you a thoughtful look, at which you giggle. “I know,” he laughs, “But still, I love you way more, because it is physically impossible to love someone way more than that I love you.”

“That does not make any sense.” you murmur against his cheek, kissing it.

The older son of Zebedee tucks some (h/c) hair behind your ear and hums. “Well, you better believe it, my love.”

Looking out over the water, that is disturbed by the wind, you feel way more at ease than before. From a distance, it is better to digest, and you know that it cannot harm you this way. You lean against James’ shoulder, closing your eyes, listening to the sound of the wind and his steady breathing against the shell of your ear as he softly watches you, and you sit like that until the first drops of rain fall from the sky.

[xnalux]

old lady: help me! There’s a killer after me!

me: and a booper before you

[myjealouseyes]

wolfstar!daughter n harry gettin a lil tipsy because their parents let them drink a glass or two after their parents annual dinner tgt.

the two are now in the living room, sitting next to each other, wolfstar!daughters leg on harrys lap, messing with the hems of their clothes (like both of them fidgeting w each othrs clothes) while the marauders clean up in the kitchen. the two are exchanging flirty remarks with each other to see who would break first due to the alcohol giving the both of them a boost of confidence, remus comes in and was greeted by the scene. looking amused, he called in the others and james secretly took take a picture/video.

(this is poorly written and my brain is fried but i promise i'll redo it after getting some sleep. also eng isnt my first language so i apologize for any grammar mistakes. andd i love your writing so much, it gives me inspiration and i aspire to write as good as you.)

NONNIE!!!!!!! Your brain is so big!

They’ve been walking in circles around each other for years. They’ve been close to confessing, but they never have. They both know the other one feels the same way, but they just don’t stay anything. Now they’re eighteen, Fresh out of Hogwarts and can now drink legally. What could go wrong?

A lot.

They had precisely one and a half glasses of wine before they stumbled into the living room to cuddle, like they always do. Except, this time it’s a little…more.

Harry’s hand snaking under her shirt to rub her stomach and wolfstar!daughter tracing shapes over his his chest lightly with her finger. Harry using his unoccupied hand to slide her leg over his lap PLEASELEABXENDNC.

They’re both doing some really heavy flirting, trying to see who’ll break first. Neither of them notice how close they’ve gotten until they’re nose to nose, breathing heavily and this 🤏 close to kissing.

[daddiesdrarryy]

James: How do you feel about children?

Regulus: They’re okay, I guess. I mean, if I saw one, I wouldn’t throw a rock at it

James: Why would you throw a rock at a child?

Regulus: I just said I wouldn’t!

[your-neighbourhood-antisocial]

Remus : you SON OF A BITCH

Sirius : yes that's me, those are my initials n also both my parents are bitches so right on both account

Remus : ....wtf...