#feat. Jame's gorgeous face

[littleragondin]

Episode 1 truly said "look at Uea's beautiful hands" and I didn't need to be told twice.

Points for King's too...

Other sets in the Hands Series: Ep.1, 4, 5, 6, 7

[marinawolf]

A Super and a Luthor? (Supercorp) by marinawolf

James likes Lena but his efforts are constantly ignored, because while he’s focused on Lena, Lena seems to be a little too infatuated with a certain blonde superhero. (Warning: James Olsen but it’s fun, I promise).

(Note: was struck with this idea and decided to roll with it. Supercorp from the POV of a jealous James Olsen.)

Seated at his desk, James Olsen couldn't help but steal glances across the bustling office towards Lena's glass-walled haven.

Man, she is fucking gorgeous. Her green eyes were focused on the screen in front of her, and a frown graced her flawless face. James let his eyes wander. The dress she wore left little to the imagination, accentuating her curves and showing only the slightest but most alluring hint of cleavage.

James couldn’t help but think that Lena was just a little intimidating, but despite the formidable exterior, he was sure that there was a softer side to Lena, a vulnerability reserved for the right person. And he was determined to be that person. She was technically his boss, yes, but that wouldn’t mean anything if they were to enter into a relationship. James knew that he was accomplished and well respected in his own right. Hell, he even had a temporary taste of the power Lena now held when he had run Catco before Lena took over. He knew he could be someone she viewed as an equal. In his mind, they were destined to be a power couple.

They shared countless moments together – at the office, during Kara's game nights at her apartment, and at the DEO, where they lent their aid to Kara's Supergirl duties. James couldn't escape the feeling that they had been skirting around something for far too long. Each smile Lena cast his way, every high-five exchanged during game nights, or every discussion about the latest threats faced together at the DEO stirred a desire within him, a longing to bridge the gap between friendship and something more.

James couldn't help but wonder if Lena was impressed by his daring feats as Guardian. The DEO and Kara’s efforts to shut down his Guardian alter ego left him angry and frustrated, but he held onto the belief that Lena had at least witnessed a glimpse of his courage.

James decided it was time to take action. Standing up with a practiced nonchalance, he smoothed his shirt and made his way to Lena's office. His knock was a mere formality before he entered.

Lena's gaze briefly lifted from her work. "James," she greeted, her focus quickly returning to the computer. "What can I do for you?"

Stunned by her nonchalance, James hesitated before suggesting, "Would you like to grab some lunch? You've been working all day. I know a great place just a few blocks away." He offered a warm smile, aiming to break the professional facade.

Lena, finally meeting his gaze, sighed slightly. "I'm waiting on a conference call. Maybe another time?"

Her response, accompanied by a swift return to work, left James standing there, more deflated than rejected.

Disappointment washed over him as he quietly retreated from Lena's office, puzzled by her apparent indifference. The unanswered question echoed in his mind: Was she truly disinterested, or was this a strategic guise to conceal hidden feelings? Seething with a mix of frustration and confusion, James sat down at his desk and resumed his watch over Lena.

James watched with surprise and fascination as Kara nonchalantly breezed into Lena's office without even knocking, cups of coffee and a takeout bag in hand. Anticipating Lena's usual inclination for privacy and the demands of her busy schedule, he expected a certain level of disapproval and a quick dismissal. However, what unfolded before him was surprising.

As Kara entered, Lena's eyes immediately lifted from her work, and to James's sheer amazement, she graced Kara with the most radiant smile he had ever witnessed. It was as if for Lena, the entirety of the outside world seemed to dissolve into insignificance, leaving only Kara as the singular focal point of her attention. The change in Lena's countenance was noticeable, as if everything else faded away in comparison to the presence of her friend. Kara settled gracefully into a chair, presenting Lena with a cup of coffee that was accepted appreciatively. As Kara unpacked the takeout, James watched as Lena relaxed into the moment, dropping her tough exterior and settling into a lunch hour that that Lena had, surprisingly, told him she was too busy to indulge in.

The disparity struck him with a perplexing realization. Why had Lena lied to him?

___

Later, in the conference room, James snagged the seat next to Lena’s, hoping to catch her attention during what he anticipated would be a very boring presentation about the yearly projections for the company.

James turned to Lena, expecting her to be focused on the presentation, but to his surprise, Lena's eyes were not fixed on the slides but rather on Kara, who sat opposite her, absentmindedly doodling on a pad. A subtle, almost imperceptible hunger seemed to flicker in Lena's eyes as she watched the blonde. He recognised that kind of look. He was sure that he looked at Lena the same way.

Wait. No. It couldn’t be- could it? Could Lena be into Kara?

Definitely not, he reassured himself. It seemed implausible, even stranger than a Super and a Luthor being friends. The idea of a Super and a Luthor sharing something more felt far-fetched, and he reassured himself that both Lena and Kara were unequivocally straight. Reminding himself of Kara's past crush on him, James dismissed the possibility of a romantic connection between the two women But then Kara’s gaze flicked to Lena’s and they shared a soft smile, and strangely enough, it felt like James was intruding on something private.

Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure anymore. He was determined to find out, and he was determined to claim Lena as his own. After all, James and Lena would make sense as a couple.

—

Weeks later, James watched Lena’s anguish as Kara was wheeled in to the DEO on a stretcher, having been exposed to nearly lethal amounts of Kryptonite. There was an intensity in Lena's reaction that struck him – it was as if she shared Kara's pain, as if any harm to Kara was a direct blow to her. Yet, James rationalized Lena's anguish as a product of guilt – after all, the culprit was none other than her own brother, Lex Luthor.

They gathered around Kara's bedside as she lay beneath the sun lamps, and James could see tears streaming down Lena's face. In a gesture of comfort, he put an arm around her, pulling her into him. Just as his arm tightened around Lena’s shoulders, Kara's eyes fluttered open, immediately seeking out Lena in the room. Kara whispered Lena's name, and in a visible wave of relief, Lena rushed to Kara, embracing her in a tight hug. Witnessing Kara reciprocate the embrace, even in her weakened state, stirred an unexpected twinge of jealousy in James.

—-

When Lex resurfaced, it was with the distressing news that he had abducted Lena, prompting James to rush to the DEO with an urgent determination to save her. He wanted to be her hero. He immediately sought out Alex to convince her to let him use his guardian suit, but found Alex and Kara locked in a tense argument.

“You can’t go there alone, Kara. You know it’s a trap. You know it’s you he wants to hurt. And he’ll use this to get you.”

"I don’t care. I won't be able to live if anything happens to Lena, Alex," Kara declared with desperation. She left before Alex could protest further.

Time passed, and James paced the DEO uselessly, resenting the fact that he wasn’t allowed to go out there. Shouldn’t he be given a chance to be the hero too?

Finally, Kara returned, her body showing signs wounds inflicted by Kryptonite weapons. But all James could focus on was the unconscious form of Lena in her arms.

James could barely spend time near Lena, as Kara steadfastly refused to leave Lena's bedside. Despite her own injuries, Kara sat there, refusing to move. He stood silently, and he knew that Kara had forgotten that he was even there- because he could have sworn that he heard her whisper “I love you” to Lena.

His silent watch continued as Lena eventually woke up, reaching for Kara's hands with an immediacy that spoke volumes. James, attempting to break the charged atmosphere, cleared his throat and approached Lena with a smile, hoping to place himself in her orbit.

"I was so worried, Lena," he expressed, but despite his genuine concern, he found himself unable to divert Lena's gaze from Kara. He felt like an outsider, looking in on something he so desperately wished was his.

—-

When James entered the bullpen after hours, in a last ditch effort to ask Lena out once more, he almost wasn’t surprised that Kara was already in Lena’s office. What did surprise him though, was the fact that Kara and Lena stood across the room from each other, glaring at each other. Unnoticed by the two women, he halted his approaching footsteps and silently observed.

Lena's eyes held a challenging glint as she stared at Kara, and Kara, in turn, met her gaze with equal intensity. James wondered if a heated argument had erupted, if the longstanding enmity between their families had finally overshadowed their friendship. Perhaps, he thought, it might be for the best if they parted ways.

He saw Kara walk towards Lena and prepared for the finality of the moment, already imagining being the one to offer Lena a shoulder to cry on.

But his heart shattered into fragments when instead of arguing, Kara pressed her lips against Lena's, her arms wrapping around Lena's waist. And his last remnants of hope crumbled away as Lena willingly melted into the kiss, fingers tangling in Kara's hair, kissing Kara back as if Kara held her breath captive. Their desperate kiss seemed to carry the weight of a lifetime of longing, as if they had been starved for this moment.

The intensity of their kiss left James feeling like an unintentional voyeur, prompting him to avert his gaze, unable to watch any longer. The realization of his own folly weighed heavily on him – he was a fool holding on to something that was never meant to be.

So that was it, then. A Super and a Luthor. Against all odds.

James realised that he never stood a chance.

[cosmal]

aerial. i need need NEED (only if u want) drunk Remus being taken care of by reader and he doesn't realize it's you and he's just rattling off everything he loves about you and maybe he says something like: "I hate guys who propose and say "would you do me the honour of making me the happiest man in the world" 'cos you should already be the happiest in the world with your partner. my parter makes me the happiest in the world" and it's just so much fluff

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐮𝐲 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

summary remus tells you that he's happiest because he's with you. he’s just drunk, obviously.

warnings/notes fem!reader, she/her pronouns, drunk!remus

word count 890

“You haven’t seen Y/N, have you?” 

Your hand stills where it’s tucking stray locks behind Remus’s ears, “What?” 

“My girlfriend,” he hiccups, wrinkling his face, “She’s here somewhere. You should probably stop touching my hair, she’d hate that.” 

You smile, fighting the strong urge to laugh, “Oh, yeah?”

He nods and the hair you’d done so well getting to stay back, falls right into his eyes again. “Yeah. You shouldn’t flirt with someone who has a girlfriend.” 

Your laughter now bubbles up your throat, “Well,” you snort, “You tell me what she looks like and maybe I can help you find her.” 

Remus sits up straight like he’s just been given the best opportunity in the world. In his mind, he has. You can tell he gets a little dizzy when he scrunches his eyes closed. 

“She’s really pretty,” he hiccups again, “And- and super gorgeous.” 

“Super gorgeous, huh?” you parrot, completely amused, “She could be anyone in this room.” 

“No, no,” He shakes his head, a little frowny, “No, she's the prettiest here. No one’s like her.” 

Now, your face is getting warm. Half of you wants him to stop, hating that you’re taking advantage of his drunken kindness. The other half wants to see how far you can get him to go. You could meet halfway. 

“Oh, okay. So I’m looking for the prettiest girl here?” 

He’s very noddy tonight. Sober him will regret this when his head hurts more than normal in the morning. “Yeah. She’s beautiful. And super funny. Funnier than my friends but don’t tell them that.” 

You giggle. You definitely will be telling them that. Especially Sirius. “Okay,” you nod along. 

Remus sighs, all lovesick and dazed, “And she’s like, the love of my life, y’know?” He throws his head back against the couch cushion with a deep and heavy sigh. Like he’s lost for words. 

Your heart ticks faster. Drunk Remus is double the amount of lovely he is when he’s sober. If that’s entirely possible, you think. 

If you were actually looking for someone, how would the love of my life help? You laugh at the thought. He’s useless. 

He’s hiccuping more now. Eyes fluttering closed like he might fall asleep. Then he’s sitting up again with more importance than a drunk person should have, “Actually- actually! She’s so amazing, I think- I think I’ll marry her one day!” 

Your face flushes, like every cell of blood in your body, has raised to your cheeks. You close your eyes. His earnest affection replays in your mind. It might all night. “All right, Remus, I think you’ve had enough.”

“No, I need to find her! I think I should tell her,” he admits. He seems suddenly very sober and very adamant about finding you now. You’d try to convince him you’re right here in front of him but your words might die on drunk ears. 

“Well, I’ll help you out to her car, yeah? And then I'll find her and she can drive you home,” you try to tell him, looking around to find James or Sirius or Frank for all that matter if it meant they could help you talk some sense into your boyfriend. Maybe help you get him to your car. You’re hopeful you can manage when you can’t find a single one of your friends. 

“Yeah,” he replies. Letting you, too willingly for a man that won’t let strangers touch his hair, needle your arms around his back and pull him to his feet. Remus is tall, it’s no easy feat. 

Once he’s letting you take him to your car, he’s babbling away again. “You know when a guy proposes, right?” 

“Yeah, Remus,” you giggle, guiding him towards the front door. You make a mental note to never leave him alone at a party when he’s this drunk. He’s very compliant. 

“They always say the same shit,” he mumbles, almost grumpily. Suddenly grouchy at the thought of a stereotypical proposal, “Like will you make me the happiest guy in the world? Like weren’t they already at their happiest? They’ve got the best partner they could ask for."

“Right,” you somewhat agree with his drunken rambling. “Uh-huh.” 

He stands for you so that you can open the door to your car and move to usher him inside, “Because- because, I have Y/N. I’m at my happiest because I have her.”

You fucking die on the inside. He’s amazing, truly. 

“Well, wouldn’t it make you happier to know you’d get to spend the rest of your life with her? Married.” You ask, more curious than anything. You’re sure it’s just rambling. 

Remus lets you click him in before he says, matter-of-factly, “Well, I already know I’m spending the rest of my life with her. I don’t need a ring on her finger to prove that.” 

You still with your hands across his middle, chancing a look back at his pretty face. He looks too serious like despite being drunk, he’s had these thoughts before. 

“Yeah?” Your voice is tiny, a little too shocked to speak any louder.

“Yeah,” he sighs, closing his eyes with a thump of his head on his seat. 

You peck his cheek, a quick, wet noise before pulling away. Beaming like a schoolgirl. 

You close his door before you hear him murmur, “Y/N? That you?” 

[idontplaytrack]

Omg can I request super possessive/jealous Capri? Where someone hits on reader and maybe tries to get reader to exchange numbers and Capri sees this and gets jealous

Baby, I’m Jealous

Capri Donahue x fem! reader

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst? coarse language, mentions of sex and hickeys

In which, Capri thinks reader is flirting with a guy, but she soon finds out that was far from the truth.

The first bell thrills, signalling home room period was up soon. Capri stared daggers into his soul— Lucas Cobb, senior. Lacrosse player. 6 foot, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, player. That asshole has a reputation of fucking a new girl every weekend.

Slamming her locker shut, the sharp noise startled a couple of students near her. Shrugging, a sheepish smile on her face while she walks up to Lucas who was at your locker. Looking at you, talking to you, flirting with you. What were you doing? Giving him what he wanted and giving Capri insane jealousy.

“I was wondering…what’re you doing Friday night?” He asks right as Capri showed up next to you and him.

“Uh, nothing, but—”

“Nothing? Awesome, you wanna go out? Just the two of us?”

You froze, bewildered look on your face as he proceeded to ask for your number so he could text you.

You chuckled awkwardly, eyes flicking over to Capri, hoping she would get the hint and step in. “She’s with me.” Capri wraps an arm around your waist tightly. You completely indulged in that moment, snuggling closer and putting your arm around her torso. “Don’t look so shocked, she may be quiet. But she’s gorgeous. And also my girl, so your loss. Deal with it before I deal with you.”

“She’s gay?”

“Yes, I am.” You answered firmly.

“You too?” He looks at Capri next.

“What, does gay have a certain look?” Capri scoffs, “The whole school knows what a scumbag you are— sleeping with a new girl every week, so you have no excuses hitting on someone who you know is obviously taken. Those that sleep with you are just as dumb as you are because they know you and are just looking for a fuck-buddy.”

“The girls love me.”

“Sure.” Capri rolled her eyes, smirking, “Definitely not these two, though. Piss off!”

Capri leads you away, arm still around your waist protectively. You leaned onto her briefly before you two walked off. Capri walks you to your class on her way to hers.

“I’ll see you in bio, okay?” She presses a quick kiss to your lips, “You’re alright?”

“I’m okay.” You nodded in confirmation, “See you in bio.”

Capri flashes you a smile, looking over her shoulder as she leaves. You found your usual desk and sat down. “Hey.” Darby taps on your shoulder and waves. “Hi, Darby.” You beamed.

“Are you okay? I saw what happened in the hall with the guy. I mean, Capri was with you, but still.”

“I’m fine, he just flirted and tried to ask me out. I mean, we all know how he is—”

“Yeah, you don’t have to say it.”

————

Your day went by okay, though Lucas still kept looking at you— disgustingly, whenever you passed by him in the halls or a classroom he was in. You didn’t look at him at all but yet, you could still feel his eyes on you like a hawk. You fought the urge to outwardly cringe— every single time. It was sickening. The way he was watching you like you were an object, and though he never did come up to you again after Capri’s warning, you weren’t feeling that much better about this behaviour of his.

But hey, you actually thought wrong. Right as the lunch bell rang, students all hurried to the cafeteria, leaving the hallways empty. Your teacher wanted to talk to you about tutoring a student in your class— it was James. Capri’s ex. But he was fine, he was a good guy. So anyway, once your teacher let you go, James walked with you and just chatted. And if it weren’t for him being there, whatever came for you next would’ve left you traumatised for life. Lucas came up to you out of nowhere and tried to pull you away into the janitor’s closet and judging by the shit he was muttering over and over, he wanted to have his way with you. He managed to grab your wrist so hard and choked you that you got bruised.

James easily fought him off, and you ran as fast as your jelly legs could take you. “Hey, fuck off dude. I’m very sure she’s told you she wasn’t interested.”

“All she confirmed was that she was gay.” Lucas scoffed.

“Yeah, with her girlfriend standing right next to her and telling you to piss off. The whole school saw it, you’re messing with the wrong person, Lucas. Back off and let them be, screw yourself instead. Capri will destroy you completely of you keep this up. I won’t hesitate to hit you if you ever lay your hands on either of them again.”

James caught up with you quickly. You didn’t run too far with your legs feeling like they could give away at any moment. “Do you need to see the nurse?” He asks.

“No, I just- want to have my lunch and maybe ditch.” You told him flatly.

“Alright.” He shrugs.

“You can join us, you know?”

After his breakup with Capri last year, he’s been a lone wolf. He had a couple close friends but said he always felt left out with them. But your invite wasn’t one out of pity. You knew that he and Capri ended things on good terms and he’s been a good acquaintance, now maybe you wanted to get to know him as a friend.

“If you guys are all okay with it, sure then.”

You spotted Capri at a round table with Darby and Alex, chatting away. “Hey, guys.” You greeted, “Can he join us?”

“James!” Darby waved at him, “Hi.”

“Hi, man.” Alex chimed in.

“Not a problem.” Capri smiled, “Hey. Oh, my God— did he—”

“Yes, but James was there— he fought Lucas off. If Ms. Tanner didn’t want to talk to me about tutoring James, and I’d left the class on time, he would have absolutely ruined my life.”

“What—”

“Just think about the worst thing that could happen while a girl’s with a guy like Lucas, alone.” You cut Darby off.

“Oh, shit.”

“I got off easy.” You scoffed, putting down your bag, you headed for the lunch line to get your food.

Once you got your food, you started to eat while quietly telling Capri you wanted the ditch school for the rest of the day. “It’s just too much, y’know with Lucas’ ‘attention’. I’m seeing him again in gym right after lunch and that is the last thing I want.”

“I think you should go home.” Darby and Alex agree.

“Yeah, I was gonna do just that even if you said no.” You laughed lightly.

“I’ll take you home.” Capri says. You declined. “It’s not an offer.” Capri continues, her brows raised, “I’m saying I’ll take you.”

You gulped. “Okay. You’ll take me.”

She smirks, then returned to eating her lunch. Darby snorted, laughing her ass off. “Good luck when you get home, hun.”

Though the guys got what she meant, they didn’t say anything, as if it was the most normal thing ever. Well, after knowing Capri awhile, it started to become the norm— her very non-subtle way of letting you know what she wanted. Part of it was because of her jealousy. She gets jealous very easy, sometimes when there was not exactly a reason to— and how does that usually work out for you? The girl would mark the fuck outta you and you’d just show up at school the next day with the hickeys you’ve tried so hard to cover up. One or two still vaguely visible no matter what.

Today was no exception. Capri didn’t go easy on you that afternoon, she never did. She’d always fuck you senseless then baby you afterwards. Did you like that? Absolutely. Would you ever outwardly tell her you did? Hell no, you weren’t gonna give her that satisfaction.

Falling flat onto her and breathless, you feel Capri reach downwards to pull the strap out of you while telling you to lift your hips. You could barely do it, but damn did it feel absolutely heavenly. She rolls you onto your back so that she could remove the harness. You whined, wanting her to hold you. Capri only smirks while taking her sweet time removing the harness from herself. You hear it fall to the ground with a thud before feeling a dip in the mattress. She puts her arm under your back and just pulls you in so you were facing her. Brushing the hair out of your face, she asks, “That’ll teach you not to talk to anyone else who tries to flirt with you, hm?” With your eyes partially closed, you nodded, snuggling against her chest tiredly. “Good.” She smiled proudly, wrapping her arms around you tighter. “I’m still not done with you, actually, pretty girl.”

“What?” You slurred.

“We’re going for a round two tonight. I wanna see just how much you can take.” Capri told you eagerly. You scoff, but you already feel that ache in between your thighs, cursing in your head, you closed your eyes and just got some rest now since she was letting you.

“M’kay.” You answered, voiced muffled since your face was practically buried in her breasts.

She laughs huskily, sending a chill down your spine, “I get it, baby. You love my tits. Always getting close to them whenever you get the chance, hm? Maybe I should finally let you touch them when I fuck you later. You want that?”

You mumbled incoherently, sleepiness completely taking over your body.

“Well, do you?” She asks, not letting you drift off to sleep until you gave her a clear answer.

“Yeah.” You managed, then yawned.

“Okay, get some rest, sleepyhead.” She teased, planting a kiss to the crown of your head.

————

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @reneeswif3 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

[jamesunderwater]

Jily Microfic - Opponent

@jilymicrofics - feb 27th, prompt: opponent - words: 911 Summary: Lily might have a heart murmur, might have a crush, it's hard to tell, but she's definitely a feminist, and in case you were wondering, she doesn't care at all if another girl shows interest in James Potter. read the rest in this lil academic rivals to lovers series on my AO3, here! (and stay tuned as this is part 1 of 3 for a little end-of-the-month academic rivals finale ;D) Read Part 2 here & Part 3 here!

Lily Evans is a feminist – she’s obviously a feminist. She’s not about to treat another woman like an opponent just because the girl's got a crush on a boy Lily only mildly, maybe, a little bit – she isn’t even really sure she – likes. Especially not if that boy is James Potter. 

(Again, she isn’t sure – it could just be a heart murmur, she’s looking into it.)

So Tamara Campbell told her friend Maritza Acebo who told Mary Macdonald that Tamara thinks James Potter is cute – so what? When Mary asked James what he thinks of Tamara, he only said, “She’s cute, yeah,” and that’s not exactly I’m going to ask her out this instant sort of language. And so what if he does ask her out? The only reason Lily has to care is if some ninny gets James Potter distracted from his studies, leaving Lily without a challenge.

Sorry, not ninny – she’s a feminist. Some girl. Some lovely, “sure, she’s cute” girl, who is probably of at least average intelligence but – it’s only a fact, nothing subjective about it – surely is no intellectual equal to James Potter, and probably only likes him because she thinks he’s some gorgeous quidditch star with sexy hair and a great smile. And, you know, it isn’t Lily’s fault that Tamara’s high-pitched laugh sounds like the laugh of a ninny. Maybe she shouldn’t squeal so loud the entire corridor hears her just because Potter told one stupid joke…

—

“Happy anniversary,” James says, a proud grin on his face. He’s standing in front of Lily’s desk in their office, bouncing on his heels. He’s sure this is an idiotic idea, but since Lily already thinks he’s a fool, James figures there’s no harm in trying his luck. And whether she smiles or just smirks and rolls her eyes, either expression will be better than the perpetual frown she’s worn the last week.

When Lily lifts an eyebrow, he brandishes a plate from behind his back, placing it before her.

“What’s this?” she asks him, her tone flatter than he’d imagined it would be.

“Lemon tart,” James answers, his smile wavering a bit. “It’s your favorite…isn’t it?”

She stares at the plate for what feels like a century, and James can’t make any sense of what’s happening behind her blank expression. Finally, she says, “Yeah, I like it fine,” her voice lifting forcefully. 

James wishes he were being buried alive, or burned at a stake, or plummeting from three hundred feet in the air – anything besides standing here in this moment.

“Oh,” he manages through desert-dry lips. Clearing his throat, James attempts a recovery, his entire face on fire. “Well, I just thought – it’s been two whole months of being Head students together…” This explanation is going terribly. Is there a spell for turning the floor to quicksand? Can it be done non-verbally? “And we haven’t killed each other yet, so…” He forces a chuckle. “Thought we might celebrate.”

Lily looks at him then, finally, and the green of her eyes is wrong somehow. Too bright and too dull all at once. “Yeah,” she says, her lips down-turned. “Quite a feat.”

His heart squeezes in fear and warning bells chime loudly in his ears, but he asks anyway, “Are you alright?”

She clears her throat, and suddenly she’s standing and gathering her books into her arms. “I’m fine. Thanks for the dessert.” 

She disappears in a blur of red, the lemon tart still on her desk.

—

It’s her own fault, really. She should have just said she liked the damn lemon tart. Why didn’t she tell him she liked the lemon tart? Lily stares across the Gryffindor table, where a few seats down James is watching Tamara Campbell giggle at a decibel only pixies could match.

This is the third day in a row she’s had lunch at their table, her blue tie sticking out amongst the rows of red. There’s absolutely a rule about students of other houses switching tables, Lily’s sure of it – and if there isn’t, there really should be. This is…this is fraternizing with the enemy, if you really think about it, given they’ve got a match against Ravenclaw in two weeks. 

Lily grumbles in irritation. Two years ago she’d never have been able to say the quidditch schedule if asked. She’s been utterly compromised. Her Charms essay due tomorrow is only half-written; this morning, her potion was only the third best in class, and she hadn’t even cared about the disapproving look on Slughorn’s face.

Another giggling shriek reaches its crescendo, and she’s simply had enough. Leaving her plate hardly touched, Lily gets up from the table and heads for the door.

“Hey, Evans, hold on a moment–” 

She barely muffles a groan at the sound of his voice, quickening her pace as she passes him. 

James, with his spider-long legs, is beside her in an instant. “D’you mind trading patrols with me on Friday?” he asks, speaking to her like she’s a child on the verge of a tantrum, as he’s done ever since the lemon tart incident.  “I’ve…got a…” He trails off, suddenly looking incredibly sheepish. 

“Fine,” Lily cuts him off quickly to avoid hearing his bumbling explanation. Her anatomy’s gone all wrong; her lungs are in her throat, her heart is in her stomach, her brain's disintegrating altogether… 

She leaves in a rush, eyes burning, unable to tell who she thinks is more stupid: James Potter, or herself.

To be continued...

[rosesrflo]

Hi dear! I saw that one of the annons requested Sebastian, Sherlock, William and Louis how would they react to seeing y/n in a lingerie. So, I wanted to request how would Albert react seeing y/n wearing a lingerie 👀

(๑`✪̤◡✪̤)◞ღԵհɑղƘՏღ

Feats; Albert James Moriarty x f!reader (MTP). Genre; NSFW

Prompt; ❛❛Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.❞ Warnings; a bit handsy but not smut

Desc; IN WHICH Albert takes you out to spoil you with gifts, one of them being lingerie; what was once a harmless shopping spree will eventually turn into something more..heated.

A/N; Hi! I’m sorry this took ages to write up, I’ve been caught up in a lot of work and stuff recently, writing sexual themes isn’t my forte either (I actually struggle with it a lot) but I hope you enjoy! 💌

As we all know, Albert is 99.9% sugar daddy.

He will spoil the shii out of you if you’re someone he holds dear.

Luckily for you, you’re one of them, aside his brothers of course:

But you’re special, if you ask him to buy one outfit, he’ll buy the entire store - you liked that specific meal? He brought the restaurant. He’s just that rich and that dedicated to you.

He would do anything you asked of him.

You hypnotized him with your personality, your habits and gorgeous looks. Every sultry smirk, fluttering eyes and teasing touches gets him riled up real fast.

In addition to this, he also loves to dress you up.

Albert will take you to the best of tailors, he’d spend hours upon hours watching you twirl and pose in pretty outfits specifically made for his eyes and his eyes only.

Your skin on display, the clothing only a decoration, an accompaniment to the real beauty. You, your body. He’ll place you on a figurative pedestal once he catches a glimpse of you in lingerie.

God who? All Albert knows now is (y/n) (l/n).

It was actually originally his idea for you to wear it, he just wasn’t prepared enough to face your gorgeousness, is literally blown away.

You’re a goddess in his eyes, but watch out - he’s been eyeing you for a while now and I bet he’s ready to take a taste of you…

“Albert! Please don’t be so rude to the tailors, they’re the ones fitting our outfits, you know?” You lightly scolded your lover for shooing the tailor out after quote on quote ‘eyeing you for too long.’ In other words, he had threatened to fire the tailor whilst pulling your lingerie clad body close to his.

Your words seemed to go into one ear and pass out the other, he didn’t so much as blink. Emerald hues flickered up and down your figure, his mouth was parted slightly and his hands seemed to tighten on your hips. It took a while until you realised the exact position you were in, and how hungry Albert looked.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you swatted away his excuses, “No excuses mister-“

“(y/n).”

He spoke your name like you were a celestial being, honey slithered into his tone, successfully masking his silver tongue. “-Apologise this instance, the poor man looked petrified-“

“(y/n).”

Albert clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in amusement, you continued to disregard him, “-He probably has a family, if he loses his job, he won’t be able to-“ The brunette pursed his lips, softly yet firmly forced you to look him in the eye - using his thumb and index finger, hooking under your chin and raising it.

“(y/n).”

The rant weakened, eventually trailing off the longer you gazed into his vixen guise, “..Yes.?” And just like that, your five senses heightened painfully; you couldn’t see past Albert’s handsome features, you were so close to him you could smell a whiff of expensive cologne, his voice rang smoothly in your ears and you grew aware of his hands roaming your body.

As for taste, well you’d have hoped you would get a bite soon enough.

“You look…entrancing in that outfit.” True to his word, Albert was absolutely captivated.

You giggled at his faltering voice, lifting your head to press a slow kiss on his neck, “You’re not all that bad yourself, sir.” Albert quietly groaned upon hearing your suggestive tone, cornering you against the nearest wall of the changing room. He slid a knee just below your groin.

His mouth found yours, catching you in a heated make out session, the pads of his fingertips pressed on your waist-

“Uh-C-Count Moriarty..? Are you finished in there yet?”

The tailor called out the two of you, breaking you apart along with the sensual mood. Crouching under his arm and making your great escape, you began putting a more mature outfit on - Albert yelled back a frustrated confirmation.

You almost burst out laughing at his face, “Let’s finish this off at home, shall we?”

[partyhardyinamaserati]

Taylor Swift (Jamie Tartt x Reader)

Warnings: Have not been writing for long and this is super self-indulgent.

Summary: Jamie takes interest in something (more like someone) that you enjoy. Reader’s gender is not specified.

You might have accidentally made Jamie Tartt into a Swiftie. It started when you were simply listening to Bad Blood (feat. Kendrick Lamar). A song that he didn’t even know existed. So, when he walked into your shared bedroom during Kendrick’s part, he was excited. You were listening to an artist that he really liked. He was then shocked to hear Taylor’s voice.

“Love?” He asks you as you’re bobbing your head while folding laundry.

“What’s up?” You respond.

“Is this a Taylor Swift song with Kendrick Lamar?” You just look at him and nod very slowly. He follows up with:

“What other songs by her do you think I’d like?” And that was that. You started him off with Reputation. He liked End Game, I Did Something Bad, Gorgeous, and Dress. In the back of your mind knowing that he would be an Evermore fan. Besides listening to Reputation, you introduced him to the rest of them in the order that they came out. Debut isn’t exactly his favorite but he liked Picture to Burn… kinda. When you got to Fearless (Taylor’s Version), he won’t ever admit that he cried to You’re Not Sorry. He does jam to Tell Me Why. On Speak Now, his favorites were Better Than Revenge and Long Live. With Speak Now also came you explaining what John Mayer did and how Taylor Lautner will go down as one of Swift’s best exes. Red (Taylor’s Version) came and suddenly the hate for Jake Gyllenhaal made sense and he became very scared for John Mayer and said something along the lines of,

“Sorrows, sorrows, prayers.” Ultimately his favorites on the album became The Lucky One and I Bet You Think About Me. When you finally listened to 1989 he was excited to be out of the woods country music wise-he will never admit that he kind of likes it. He immediately loves Clean, Wonderland, and New Romantics. You were surprised Bad Blood wasn’t on his list and he told you,

“It’s good but it’s not better than the others, babe.” After that you asked,

“Do you want to listen to Reputation again, for the sake of listening in order?”

“Nah,” he answered, “No time, we need to listen to all of the albums before repeating.” Then came Lover. You explained to him that this was the first album that she owned and everything about all of the things that happened and went down. Once you finally go to listen, he broke down listening to The Archer.

“It’s like she wrote the song just for me,” he explained to you. It was at that moment you knew he was going to break even more at Folklore and Evermore. In the meantime he also really enjoyed I Forgot That You Existed. Before you start with Folklore and Evermore you explain how she wrote them during quarantine and that they are more storytelling albums and not very poppy.

“Folklore tells the story of James, August, and Betty.” You told him. He nodded and it was off to the races. By the end of it, his love for Taylor Swift grew even more. When listening to Peace he has to look away from you but you grab his face,

“You give me peace.” You had been worried about this song. The public had many opinions on your relationship with him being famous and you having seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He was always worried that you would leave him to be rid of the limelight that you didn’t want. What he didn’t seem to comprehend was that he was your peace, and you didn’t need anything else when he was with you. He just looks at you while the rest of the song plays. You finish the last two songs on the album and leave it at that. You don’t bring up listening to Evermore the next night like he thought you would. He figured you were tired and let it slide, but once a week had passed he took matters into his own hands and listened on his own. When you finally asked,

“Ready to listen to Evermore?” He responded with,

“Already did, I now understand your love for Cowboy Like Me.” This sends you into shock, once you collect yourself, you are angry and proud of him at the same time.

“You listened without me?! I wanted to be here for every album!” And a few seconds later you add, “I’m really happy that you like her music.”

“I’m happy you’re not that mad because I also went ahead and listened to Midnights without ya.” He boasts.

“Jamie Tartt, I can not believe you listened to the last two albums without me!” You laugh.

“What can I say? You put me on.”

[caramel-covered-apples]

Curious, what’s your top three marauders characters and your favourite headcanon(s) about them??

ack! it’s an ask from a cool moot!

hmm. my top three would probably be marlene, remus, and james.

now that you ask me about headcanons i have literally none 😔 but let me think

these are more of some general headcanons so i hope ur okay with that :D

for marlene:

a huge jock who went with runs with james at ungodly hours at the morning and practiced quidditch with him

is so great at doing people’s nails, but hers get chipped within the hour

marlene came out to sirius and vice versa

her and dorcas got a flat together after they finished their hogwarts years

got a job in broom production

for remus:

falls asleep anywhere and at any time, it is one of his greatest feats

eats a SHIT TON of food because of his crazy metabolism but is still a skinny guy

always sarcastic, nobody can tell if he’s making a joke or being serious

resting bitch face

talks to babies like they’re adults. leave him with one and he’s like “oh. well, harry, today i told sirius-”

sleeps in the most frigid rooms with the most blankets known to mankind

for james:

is bipolar. i will DIE ON THIS HILL

loves parties and the energy, but also gets overstimulated really fast

you can tell when he’s overstimulated because he tends to go overdrive tic mode and starts repeating words more as he has more motor tics than verbal ones

best eyelashes ever. most gorgeous

really loves making daisy chains

mexican james potter!!!!

sometimes when he’s rambling he’ll slip into spanish and won’t notice and everyone’s staring at him like 😀

that’s it for right now!! thank you thank you thank you for the ask!! <333 luv u /p

[thatblackravenclaw]

Fresh Morning Dew

Blog Details | Let’s take a trip

Poly!Marauders x Black! fem! reader (house neutral)

warning(s): not tooth-rotting fluff but pretty fluffy

word count: 1k

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Owls sing their song in the early morning. I woke up a couple of hours ago to soak in the silence of dawn. It’s one of the most perfect times to be awake. No one wants anything of you because no one is awake. It seems as if for one moment the world just stopped. Sometimes I wish it could stay like this.

This has been a tradition of ours ever since we became close. On the last day of summer, right before sunrise, we get a blanket and go to the highest and safest hill and watch the sun rise together. We kept up the tradition when we started dating. Now, no matter what is going on in our lives we make sure to keep this tradition alive. 

The routine is the same. Sirius and I are always the last to wake. We are more of moon rise people. Sometimes whenever there is a full moon, we’ll just stay awake and stargaze while lying on the same blanket that we lie on during sunrise. I’ll point out his star and he’ll point out my Zodiac constellation if they are visible in the sky. We then end up heading to bed around 2:30 in the morning when the moon has shifted out of sight to another part of the city behind the buildings. The following morning, James and Remus struggle to wake us from our slumber. It doesn’t take long until we realize why they are forcing us up and we decide to cooperate with them. Exactly what happened this morning. 

The soft plush rubs against my freshly shaven legs. Most of my weight was being put on my arms while I leaned back with my hands on the blanket. I’m only sporting my blue, striped cotton shorts and white tank top; thankful for the slight humidity that fills the summer morning air. My locs are pulled into a ponytail, but due to the length, it’s a moot point. They scratched against my back and arms, but it’s a sensation I’ve grown used to. No longer jumping when I think it’s an insect that has found its way onto my limbs. My shoes were on the grass next to my legs so as to not get the blanket dirty and wet with the morning dew. The sun peeked from behind the horizon. The lovely dark blue transitions to beautiful auburn. Not a single cloud was in the sky. Once the Sun was in full view, I transferred my gaze to my boys. The orange hues looked beautiful against their faces. Remus’ eyes were closed as he soaked in the morning. His long lashes fluttered against his cheeks. His scars were highlighted against the morning light, making him 10 times more gorgeous. Sirius’ sat next to him. His eyes weren’t closed, but they were squinted as he stared at the Sun full-on. His brown eyes shone brightly as the light hit them. His hair was up in a bun. I assume it was due to the humidity. Last was James. His head laid upon Sirius’ shoulder. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and wiped off the perspiration that found a home on the bottom of the bridge. I looked back at the Sun and mimicked Sirius. The darkness of the sky is behind us, indicating the day has truly started. Without moving my gaze, I picked up Remus’ hand and kissed the back of it. A content sigh slipped through my lips. After a moment, I placed his hand back in its original place on my thigh and reached over to get my shoes.

That was 3 hours ago. Once we got back inside of our flat, the boys went back to our bed. I smiled as they laid back down and held each other in their arms. You never get used to it. Finding the love of your life is an incredible feat and I have 3 of them. I should be considered the luckiest woman in the world. I do consider myself the luckiest woman in the world. I’m not rich nor do I have a big, fancy job. I’m rich in the fact that I have something that not many others have. These men are my world and I wouldn’t trade them for all the stars in the galaxy. I am however happy that they decided to go back to sleep. I’ve been trying to read this book, but lately, everything has been so hectic. We all have to be on the train to Hogwarts tomorrow. Only Remus and I have packed and we still have to get school supplies today. My mind is racing with all that we have to do as I pour tea into one of our novelty mugs. This mug is in the shape of a snowman and whenever the mug gets hot, the cheeks turn a warm pink. As the water rises in the mug, the colour slowly starts to emerge. While I wait for it to steep I can’t help but be drawn back to my boyfriends. I walk across the room and up the two steps that lead to the platform that our bed is on. James is Remus’ little spoon while Sirius faces James. Remus and Sirius's fingers are interlocked. Soft snores fill the area. I tiptoe over to the left side of the bed where Sirius is. My lips meet his cheek and his lips absently pull into a small smile. His eyes flutter open. First, his eyes see our boyfriends sleeping figures before his body slightly turns towards behind him where I stand. 

“Come lay down, lovely.” His fingers slip from Remus's and he holds his hand out to me. I open the cover enough to be able to slide in. Sirius scooches in to give me room. Once I’m lying behind him, I gently cover his hand with mine. I press myself against his back and with a kiss on the back of his neck, the tea is quickly forgotten about and my eyes shut to sleep through the rest of the morning.

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Marauders Masterlist | United Kingdom

[lovincomets]

pick a card: the things they want to say to you right now, in a little letter

hello hello hello! this is my first post and my first pick-a-card reading upon here, and i'm so excited! the theme today is black & white, which is not really my aesthetic but it looked really pretty! i'm gonna be doing this reading mostly on what my gut & instinct says, but i'll pull some tarot cards too! also, i'm a beginner on tumblr, so please excuse me for any mistakes, if i make any. thank you! (i do not own any of these pictures, credits go to google)

● please breathe in and out, and then choose, if you're confused between choosing. ● it's perfectly okay to be drawn to more than 1 pile. however, i suggest that pick the one by which you feel more drawn towards.

pile 1 -----> pile 2

pile 3 ----> pile 4 this pick-a-card reading includes :- ● a small and cute letter from the person you're thinking about. ● some channeled messages / things that came in my mind while writing your letter. ● a channeled song. let's start with the reading!

pile 1 dear love, it's been a long time since i've talked to you. every second without talking to you felt like hell. i've missed you so much. i kind of feel like you're ignoring me, are you? i hope not. i just wanna talk to you. please text me, it'll make my day. are you eating well and taking care of yourself? i'm really worried about you. you look sad these days. is everything okay? if not, just know that i'm always there for you and everything is going to be alright soon. my love, i miss you so so much. please talk to me. love you. ♡ channeled messages "i love your eyes", "princess", los angeles, the colour white, "you're my queen", "i love you", a guy looking at a girl with doe eyes as she talks to someone else. ♡ channeled song havana - camila cabello (feat. young thug) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- pile 2 baby, i'm still blushing. you have no idea how much i love talking to you, do you? you probably think that i don't like talking to you, or i dont care about what you say, but, i love it. i really do love it. all the little moments we have, when you're in my arms, when we're laughing and joking around with each other. i love it so much. babe, never ever doubt about my feelings towards you. they're real and i know it. even though i may not show it sometimes, you really do have my heart, my queen. ♡ channeled messages "la la la la la la", a slow mo video of a couple laughing and hugging each other, california (?), cherry by lana del rey, "i wanna kiss you", "let's cuddle". ♡ channeled song last kiss - taylor swift ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ pile 3 hi, i don't think we know each other that well, do we? well, you seem interesting. i would love to know more about you, talk to me the next time you see me. the last time i saw you, were you running? you looked really pretty with all that hair in front of your face, i don't know what i'm even saying, but i loved it. let's be friends, shall we? ♡ channeled messages a chemistry lab, "hey, who is she?", a school/uni/college, "yolo!", a pretty girl with bangs, a guy wearing a checked white shirt. ♡ channeled song can i be him - james arthur ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ pile 4 yo, (such playful energy!) i love you. i don't think you know that. you probably never will. we are so close, i love to tease you and make fun of you, we bully each other sarcastically, i love it. you're my bestest friend. i want to be more than friends, but i'm not sure if you would want that. i'm scared to reveal my feelings to you. maybe you would reject me. i'm not sure. i don't want to ruin this amazing friendship i have with you. i really love you. you as a whole are an extremely gorgeous human being. ♡ channeled messages texting on discord, laughing, "stop hitting me! (in a playful way), "you're so cute!", a tiny room, running on the baseball field. ♡ channeled song olivia - one direction

thank you so much for reading! i hope you all liked it :) please share/reblog/like if you can! it would be much appreciated! <3 also, you can dm me whenever you want! i'll love to be friends with you all!

[spxllcxstxr]

Bumps and Bruises • M.M

(GIF is not mine)

Request: Hi! Sorry, May I ask for a Marlene McKinnon x fem!/gn! reader fic, Soulmate AU where they feel each other's pain. — anon

Summary: Two Quidditch rivals finding out they’re something...more (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: Mentions of food/eating, injury description, brief mention of blood

Word Count: ~2k

A.N: NonGryffindor!Reader, this is my first time doing a Soulmate AU so I hope this is ok! It’s hard to find a balance between Soulmate AU and normal AU, but I’m sure I’ll get better with it in practice! The ending is kinda iffy imo, but it’s not terrible. Hope you enjoy!

****

The first thing you feel when you wake up on Friday morning is a flare up of painful throbbing blossoming across the outer part of your right thigh.

You groan, prying your eyes open and pull back your blanket.

The pale light filtering through your curtains is enough to see the grotesque purpling of swollen skin. You poke and prod at your thigh, occasionally hissing out in agony.

The bruise is both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Its circular shape is something you see all the time. As a Beater on your Quidditch team, Bludger bruises were commonplace. The issue is, and this is where the mark becomes unfamiliar to you, when you went to sleep last night, there was no evidence of any such mark.

This was peculiar because you never had a history of sleep Quidditch, and you’re sure that if you got up in the middle of the night in a trance, at least one of your dorm mates would’ve told you.

And this certainly wasn’t some accidental hitting your bed frame sort of injury. This was ten inches in diameter, black and blue like a ball of pure iron slammed into you. As a self proclaimed Quidditch expert, you’re fully aware of what caused this.

But this conclusion brings up more questions than answers. Sure, you had practice after classes yesterday, but you would remember being hit full force—and you don’t.

But you have no time to sit and ponder over this mystery, you have to make it down for breakfast and then endure hours of classes. If only you could skip ahead to tomorrow’s match against Gryffindor.

You limp your way through the dorm, unable to put the usual amount of weight on your right leg. The room is empty, save for Bedelia, who, as usual, is still snoring underneath her blanket. On your way out, you make sure to wake her up by slamming the door shut as hard as you can.

Hobbling down to the Great Hall with a bag of heavy books slung over your shoulder is no easy feat even when it’s something that constantly happens.

The Great Hall is buzzing, though most of the noise is coming from the Gryffindor table.

The ceiling reflects the morning, bright blue and not a cloud in sight.

By the looks of it, the Gryffindor Quidditch team just got back from their morning practice, still panting and sweaty. For the entire week leading up to a match, James Potter, their captain, makes them practice and go through relentless drills in preparation. When they’re not on the pitch, he’s quizzing them on maneuvers. You’re lucky that your captain and fellow Beater, Morgana Sharpe, gives you the day before a match off, mostly to rest and review. If Potter was your captain he would’ve ended up in St. Mungo’s by now.

Your eyes wander over to Marlene McKinnon, her blonde hair up in a bun, face red and splotchy from practice, bare arms showing off muscle. Her chest heaves under her scarlet top.

“Practicing getting your arses handed to you?” You joke, leaning against their table.

Marlene scoffs. “Oh, you wish.”

Her deep brown eyes find yours, a troublesome twinkle shining through.

“Focus, Marlene, can’t have you fraternizing with the enemy!” James laughs out between mouthfuls of eggs.

“More like flirting with the enemy.” Sirius snorts, leaning closer to Remus, who chuckles into his glass.

“Oi! Piss off, Black!” Marlene snaps, the red on her face spreading.

Dorcas squeezes in next to her, dittany in hand. “How’s the leg, Marls?”

“Aw.” You pout. “Did McKinnon get a boo boo during practice?”

She scowls at you. “Don’t you have a potion to blow up?”

You clench your jaw and ball your hand into a fist. She’s got a point.

“Alright, enough trash talk, you two, leave it for the pitch.” James rolls his eyes.

Instantly, a weight lifts from your shoulders.

“I gotta go eat, anyway.” You smile warmly at your sort of friends. “So I’ll see you guys in class.” You wave before turning to your own table.

You join the rest of your team the table, squeezing through the tight huddle. Parchment is scattered all over the surface, some with crude drawings of maneuvers, some with written stats.

“Right, now that we’re all here,” Sharpe grunts our in her thick Irish accent, shooting you a disgruntled look. “We have a change of plans.”

“Change of plans?” Webb, one of your Chasers, asks. He looks up from his diagram, eyebrows raised.

“Greene’s soulmate took a tumble and landed him in the hospital wing. Can’t play tomorrow’s match.” She scowls, drawing clenched tightly on her hand.

“Again?” Your team groans.

Rupert Greene spends more time in the hospital wing due to his soulmate’s clumsiness than from playing a dangerous magical sport. That’s the way it’s been for the four years you’ve known him, and you have a hunch that it’ll never change.

“So we’re gonna have to put in Knight? Against Gryffindor?” Webb cries out, eyes wide. “No offense, but he isn’t ready to take on those pricks!”

Sharpe runs a hand through her dark brown hair. “Well, I guess we all just need to pray to Merlin some Gryffindor gets knocked off their broom.” She sighs.

The news of Knight replacing Greene for the match against Gryffindor puts you in a sour mood, making the bruise on your thigh throb more painfully.

You march through the corridors, face contorted in a permanent frown, barely paying attention to your lessons. You do, however, manage to keep your potion from exploding, which Slughorn is thrilled about. Match notes and plays take over your free time, pushing all your homework to Sunday, quickly deciding that this match is far too important. Marlene sticks her tongue out at you whenever she gets the chance as she hobbles through the corridors or looks away from Flitwick in your shared Charms class.

Sharpe drags you and the rest of the team up to bed at nine, lecturing you all about a good night’s rest. You roll your eyes, but you do only spend half an hour studying moves before heading to bed.

You wake up jittery.

You’re always nervous the morning of normal Quidditch matches, but this isn’t a normal Quidditch match. Gryffindor has gone undefeated for the entire season so far, and you just need to beat them. You crave to watch the smug look fall from James’ face and the cocky attitude that Sirius is infamous for crumble. You want to win. At the same time, though, you’re hesitant to see the frown on Marlene’s face. Those perfect lips deserve to shaped in a perfect smile.

Your bruise isn’t as irritated as yesterday. It’s still black and blue, but you really need to dig your thumb into it for it to hurt.

You stretch, listening to your joints pop before strutting down to the Great Hall to join the rest of your team.

Taking a deep breath before making your way through the threshold, you try your best to calm down and radiate confidence. You crack your knuckles and make your way to your table.

Marlene throws you a playful glare across the room, which you teasingly reciprocate.

Breakfast is a quiet affair for your group. Feet tap impatiently against the stone, nervous habits running wild.

The weather is perfect for Quidditch. There’s a slight breeze and a couple fluffy white clouds drifting through the blue sky, providing the occasional blotch of shade. It reassures you and calms you down on your walk down.

Sharpe gives her usual pep talk in the locker rooms. It’s all about blood, guts, and glory, and how we better not mess this up for her or else “she’ll haunt us from the great beyond.” Knight is white as a sheet, trembling underneath his robes.

The crowd roars out from the stands just above, your cue to make your grand entrance. Brooms are taken off their positions in the wall and in a single filed line, you all follow Sharpe out onto the pitch.

“And here it is, everybody,” Remus’ voice calls out over the chaos. “Captain Sharpe, (Y/Ln), Webb, Byrne, Spade, Opal, and their reserve, Knight!”

Your house cheers louder at your introduction, your eardrums pounding. You smile and nod at the crowd, excitement bubbling up inside of you.

“While the two captains are taking positions and shaking hands,” You hear as you mount your broom, Potter and Sharpe facing each other. “I have been paid quite a significant amount to say that according to James Potter, Lily Evans looks absolutely gorgeous today—“

“That has nothing to do with the match, Lupin!” McGonagall cries.

“Godric, Minnie. I’m just doing some adverts, it’s all good. No need to—“

A large thwack echos throughout the pitch, but you’re too wrapped up in Hooch blowing the whistle.

Quickly, you soar up in the air, Beater’s bat in one hand, chasing after your teammates to defend them.

You barely hear Remus over the whistling of the wind and your own grunts.

You watch Marlene laugh after she bats a Bludger away from James, the bat giving off a wicked crack. You’re momentarily mesmerized by her figure. How her tongue peeks out in concentration and her ponytail bounces wildly in the wind.

A moment passes and your arm erupts in pain, and to add onto that, you’re hurtling towards the grass.

You clutch your arm and brace for impact, breath being forcibly ripped from your lungs. Tears well in your eyes from both the pain and the air lashing against your body. Your Quidditch robes flap wildly behind you.

The landing, however, isn’t that bad. You end up in the grass, your bad arm protected. You assume Dumbledore is the one to thank.

You let out strangled pants, sky spinning around you, a piercing whistle sharp against your ears. Your arm screams in agony.

“(Y/Ln)!” Sharpe calls out, broom clutched in one hand. “You alright?” Her face shines with sweat.

“Bloody hell, she’s got quite the swing.” You groan, face contorting in anguish.

In the corner of your rotating vision, you watch red and gold blurs crowding around someone else.

Madam Hooch and the rest of your teammates are talking, but you can’t understand a word they’re saying.

Tendrils of black fog enter your vision and suddenly you’re out cold.

You recognize the hospital wing bed immediately. It’s firm, but not unbearable, the white cotton sheets rubbing against any exposed skin.

“So (Y/Ln) and McKinnon, eh?”

It’s garbled and you’re unable to place the voice, but it’s understandable.

“What’s this ‘bout me and McKinnon?” You manage to slur out, eyes blinking open, the figures above you blurry.

The world gradually clears itself up, your teammates surrounding your bed. Your left arm is wrapped tightly to your chest with a white cotton sling. The pain is dull, but it’s the most noticeable feeling present.

“Ah, well...” Webb scratches the back of his neck, averting his eyes.

“They’re talking about how I finally felt my own strength.”

Slowly, you turn your head to see Marlene sitting up on her bed, carefully watching over you. Her friends surround her, knowing smirks gracing their faces.

Her blonde hair is a bit of a tangled mess from the wind, but her smile is blinding in the light.

“You mean...” Your eyes widen in shock.

Marlene nods her head. “Soulmates.”

You bite your lip in response.

“I mean, it was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?” Sirius asks, looking between his friends for approval. “They literally wake up covered in bruises after like every Quidditch match!”

“Shut up, Pads!” Remus hisses, smacking him on the leg. “They’re having a moment.”

Sirius rolls his eyes and holds his hands up in mock surrender.

Your eyes drift to your thigh where the mysterious bruise was.

“I’m guessing you got hit by a Bludger during practice?” You ask.

“And you’re the one that gave me that broken bloody nose during detention!” Marlene exclaims.

You nod shyly, remembering when Knight accidentally threw the Quaffle at your face during a late night practice.

“Are we really that bloody stupid?” You laugh.

“You want a real answer or...?” James starts, repositioning his glasses.

Marlene shoves James off her bed, and he yelps before ungracefully tumbling to the floor with a crash.

“Guess this is our cue to leave the two stupid lovebirds alone.” Lily giggles before patting her friend on the back and leaving, the Marauders and your own team trailing close behind her.

Because the bones in your arm are practically shattered, you’re confined to the hospital wing for at least another day, but with Marlene at your bedside, it’s been made bearable. You talk about all those mysterious injuries you’ve acquired over the many years and learn the extent of your idiocy.

With various bumps and bruises to match, at the end of the day, the two of you are much more than Quidditch rivals.

[nethandrake]

i (really, really, really, really, really, really) like you.

stevetony. mcu. rated t. high school/bakery au feat. pre-serum!steve. 4k words.

for @noririna / @venusiaries

also on ao3.

*****

Steve’s imagination has entertained the most outrageous things over the years. Take the time he thought he was the descendant of Captain America, for example (he was five, sue him). Or maybe the time he thought he saw God when Scott Lang accidentally nailed him on the head with a football because concussions.

But that’s the thing about the imagination, they’re just figurative. Most of the stuff that swims Steve’s brain has a very, very low possibility of coming true.

So no one should blame him for almost walking into a wall when Tony fucking Stark shows up at his mother’s bakery one Friday night.

Sure, Steve’s thought about it over the years, thought about it the moment he laid eyes on Tony, came up with various scenarios on how it’d go down, what they’ll say, what they’ll do.

But he’s never thought it’ll ever happen. Tony fucking Stark shouldn’t know of Steve’s existence. Tony fucking Stark, son of one of the richest people on the planet and one of the most popular kids at school, shouldn’t know of scrawny, weak Steve Rogers’ existence.

His hands begin to shake as Tony strides over towards the counter, a lazy grin plastered on his face. The familiar scent of grease and mint waft through the air as Tony closes the distance between them.

And that’s when everything comes crashing down on him.

His crush is here.

His crush is going to be standing in front of him in a second.

His crush, who doesn’t know about his existence, is going to be standing in front of him in a second and he

Steve should duck back in the back, demand his mother serve Tony while he completes his little freak-out alone. But of course, like the idiot he is, he blurts out, “It’s you,” instead.

Tony’s lips quirk to the side, his eyes glinting under the ceiling lights. They’re so much prettier up close. So much prettier, holy shit. They're so brown.

“You know who I am?”

Steve couldn’t help but preen at the flirty tone directed at him before quickly reeling his pleasure in. Tony flirts with everyone. It’s how he communicates. Steve shouldn’t be happy about something like this.

“Of course I do! You’re—You’re—”

You’re the guy I’ve been crushing on since we were kids.

“You’re Tony Stark,” he says instead. “Everyone knows who Tony Stark is.”

For some reason, Steve’s reply causes Tony to deflate. “Oh.”

Backtrack, Steve. Fucking backtrack.

“I mean, you’re also the guy in my Lit class,” Steve quickly amends. “You sit behind me. ”

Tony lets out a laugh and god, it's so pretty too. It's bad enough that he looks pretty. But his laugh? Sounding pretty? It's downright criminal.

“I'm pretty sure I know who sits in front of me, Steve.”

Okay, now Steve has to be dreaming.

“You know who I am?” Steve squeaks out.

Tony’s brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I know you?”

Steve feels his cheeks heat up. “I’m a nobody. A nobody—”

“A nobody who squared off against Rumlow and his goons last week. All seven of them.”

Steve ignores the sting that hits his heart. Because of course, that’s how Tony knows him. How could Steve forget about his own little reputation? No one ever takes notice of scrawny little Steve Rogers unless he’s getting beaten up.

“And lost.”

“And lost,” Tony echoes kindly. “But you did, anyway. You stood up for Peter. And all the other times you stood up to the bullies at school. It’s amazing.”

If Steve's cheeks were warm before, they're definitely on fire now. He knows how much Peter Parker means to Tony. Their close brotherly relationship, something that warms Steve’s heart.

“Oh. Uh, thanks.”

Tony grins, leaning over with his arms on the counter. He has several inches over Steve, his gorgeous brown eyes boring into Steve’s. Just the thought of their height difference does funny things to Steve’s pathetic heart.

He is never, ever telling anyone about his size kink. It’s already bad enough his own friends tease him mercilessly about it. He doesn’t need to add Tony to the mix.

“Let me just say if I was there, I would’ve totally jumped in. No one messes with Peter. I’m glad you were there.” Tony exhales and fuck, their faces are close, so close that Steve can feel Tony’s warm breath. “And your boyfriend.”

Steve whips his head up in alarm. “My boyfriend?”

Tony nods slowly, as if it physically pains him to do so. “Yeah. James Barnes, right? I think you call him Bucky?”

A flash of his best friend’s face pops up in his head. Steve banishes it before he gets more grossed out.

“No! He’s not— I’d never— That’d be like dating your brother! Gross!”

Tony looks relieved at that, his lips curl upwards. “I don't have a brother so I can't really say,” he snorts. “But I get you. I get that shit all the time with Rhodey.”

Steve mentally files that information for later. He won’t lie, he’s one of the many people who thought that way. Good thing he’s proven wrong from the source himself.

He is so glad his mother isn’t out here witnessing him fail at communication. So fucking glad.

“So,” he begins, clearing his throat, “anything I can do to help you tonight?”

Tony straightens. All of a sudden, he looks nervous. Steve can’t remember the last time he’s seen Tony nervous. In fact, he doesn't think he's ever seen Tony nervous.

“Yeah. I was, uh… You know Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, right?”

And just like that, Steve’s heart breaks into two.

*****

read the rest on ao3.

[possessingtheproperspirit]

Ooh, I am digging these Director's notes.

There are so many aspects of TPWP that amazes me but the multiple dynamics at play between all the characters steals the cake. The world feels so lived in because everyone's characterisation is rounded. They are main characters of their own plot. And it's quite a feat to write like that.

You have created dynamics both borrowing and diverging from canon/fanon imaginaries (I guess, that's what most fanworks do)..so finally, my question goes: is there a relationship (broadly, not just in a romantic sense) that you sketched out first? Because you mentioned how Sirius and Mary came organically to you; that's such a surprise to me because they seem so cemented.

Hope my ramble makes sense. I would be happy to hear anything about TPWP. It's gorgeous.

I'm sorry this has taken a while for me to get to! Work has been a bit mad, and I wanted to make sure I had time to answer this properly. Now, the gift of 10 days of self-isolation (yay covid!) means I can actually do that 😂

I'd also like to add, before I start my ramblings, thank you so much for your kind words. TPWP is something I've poured my heart and soul into for the past six months, so it means the world to get these kinds of comments from anyone ❤ truly, thank you!

Okay, so as I mentioned before, I am not much of a planner. When I started TPWP, I had only the briefest sketch of the first four chapters, i.e. up to the 'prank'. But! One thing I did plan, in a manner of speaking (i.e. I thought about it a lot but didn't really write anything down) was how I wanted to take Remus and Sirius' friendship from a place of tenuous intimacy (at the start, Sirius is angry at the world and himself, but they each reflect that something has shifted between them over the past year or so) to it being a genuine concern if they can even be friends anymore. I've read various prank fics before, and seen a lot of angry responses from Remus and James—shouting at Sirius, yelling/fighting, and then it all just goes away again. I was interested in a quieter unravelling than that.

To take them from the scene in Chapter 2, when Remus wakes up in the night to find Sirius, curled up on the bathroom floor in a daze, where he so desperately wants to help his friend and is lost for how to do so; to a few chapters later, barely talking to each other. That was something I gave a lot of thought to.

Because the 'prank' (and in TPWP, it's decidedly not a prank, but a slip-up from someone wound up and aggravated and thoughtless) is such a betrayal to Remus, from someone he feels he probably should have expected it from but never ever did. His father had always told him to keep his distance, to be on his guard, but he found these three wonderful idiots at Hogwarts and they broke down his barriers, and suddenly he's faced with the question as to whether he was ever really Sirius' friend or just a fascination:

He had become so used to trying to break his own fall, to anticipate when pain was coming; it was a habit ingrained over years. Maybe it was his own fault, all this, for letting his guard down, by assuming friendships were something he could have and keep, live in and be consumed by without the wolf tearing that to shreds too. His father had warned him about getting too close to anyone many times. He’d so wanted to prove Lyall wrong.

But this was the truth, wasn’t it? Someone who he thought cared about him, someone he’d been secretly, achingly desperate to be near for the past few years, had shown Remus who he really was. A monster, a chess piece to move into place, a prop in a prank.

And it hurts all the more for being someone he has had growing feelings for. That adds to the sense of humiliation, as if those feelings have been thrown back in his face—even though they've never voiced any of it out loud.

From there, it was interesting to me to explore the dynamic changing between Remus and Sirius: going from Sirius arguably being the one with the power—more conventionally good looking, rich, aristocratic, pureblood, clever without having to try, popular—to Remus having the power, even if he doesn't realise it. Because Sirius is desperate to make things up to his friend, to make things right.

I also had thought about how that would impact on the other intersecting friendships, particularly James' relationship with both Remus and Sirius. James doesn't realise the effect it has on Remus, that he doesn't just say, outright, what Sirius did was wrong. We know he knows it, but somehow, Remus doesn't, and so the festering doubt begins that leads to him wanting to transform alone and then going home in Chapter 7.

From there, of course, Remus and James' friendship is soon repaired—well, two chapters later, but still—whereas it takes longer for Remus and Sirius to find better footing. You could argue, I suppose, that they still haven't really found it, although I think Chapter 18 was probably the closest they've got to being how they were before the 'prank' changed everything.

Whew! I hope this makes sense, because I have to stop to blow my nose every two minutes and my brain is full of fog. Thank you again for sending this ask in, I have so enjoyed rabbiting on about TPWP 🥰

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 30

We spent the night at Bucky’s - not because he had so much to pack, or because it was cozy and we wanted to leave it with a good memory, but honestly because the idea of redressing after we undressed for the second time was repugnant to both of us.  

“I do have a bed,” he teased, hovering over me where I was prone on his living room floor, but I shook my head and arched into him ending whatever push he was making for a move to another room, but getting him to roll onto his back and giving me full reign of our lovemaking.  

Nipping his lip and getting him to laugh, I couldn’t help but take a minute to just appreciate how fucking gorgeous he was looked - the blue light flickering from the television highlighting all the best parts of him - which were all of him, to be honest.

“Come here,” I pulled on his shoulders, knowing that if he didn’t want to rise up with me I wouldn’t be able to make him, but he did, sitting up - chest to chest with me, my arms wrapping around his neck I stared into his eyes.  “You are -” I wasn’t sure how to articulate it, to say just what he was to me.  “I love you and it doesn’t seem like it’s -” but he didn’t let me try to finish, his mouth meeting mine as his fingertips danced down my spine.  “I thought it was my turn to be in charge,” I murmured when his lips left mine, ghosting along my jaw to nip at my pulse.  

“You weren’t really doing much with the power, Brooke,” he teased, his tongue tasting the hint of sweat we’d managed to work up since we’d arrived.  

“Are you daring me, James?” I moved just enough to get a sharp inhaled breath - loud enough for me to hear for once, “well?” 

Bucky’s teeth met my pulse and I swallowed just as loudly as he’d inhaled.  He didn’t bite, he only let me feel them against my skin and I knew that he felt how that tiny pressure affected me all the way down to where we were joined.  “Maybe,” his breath against my skin, those two syllables had me rock my hips once - earning a hiss from his lips.  

My fingers slid through his hair and met at the base of his neck, tugging to get his gaze to meet mine again.  “Come here,” I urged, and then our lips met again, but this time I rode him as our teeth and tongues dueled, and if I had been loud at the hotel in Louisiana, I made damn sure that I had company in the noise pollution here in New York.  

He carried me to his bed, refusing to sleep on the floor after our exercise.  Laying me down carefully on a blanket that felt brand new, he traced over my skin as if he was taking inventory.  Just as I was getting ready to ask if he was planning on joining me, his fingertips stopped their journey, and I looked up to see him staring at where they’d landed.  

“What is it?”  I considered raising up on my elbows, but I was comfortable, even without being under the blanket or cradled in his arms.  

“I bruised you,” he was worrying his lower lip with those brilliant white teeth of his and I almost teased him about how I was pretty sure he also left a bite mark or two on me, but his eyes were narrowed with concern so I knew now was not the time to mock his upset.  

I let my own hand drift down to meet his, touching his fingers that were still laying gently against my skin.  “Hey,” his eyes met mine and I smiled.  “I’m pretty sure that you’re wearing a few marks from me, too.”  I knew he was, not only the bite from the plane, but scratches and who knew what other marks I’d managed to make on his skin - he’d called me a hellcat and I felt certain I’d earned it.  

Bucky sighed and started to pull away, but I was having NONE of that.  My hand touched his, then I worked to hold on, getting our fingers linked in spite of his less than best efforts.  “You really think that you could hurt me?”  I shook my head and he sighed, letting me pull him down onto the bed beside me.  “Physically?”  His eyebrow was arched in a wondrous display of complete disbelief in my ability to cause him harm.  

I shook my head at him.  “No, I don’t think I can hurt you, Buck.”  I sighed, and waited while he situated the pillows to his liking that way I could use him for MY pillow.  Once he managed the feat, I pressed my cheek against his chest, next to his dog tags, where I could hear his heart pound soothingly.  “I think that you need to understand that I’m not going to break because we got frisky,” he sighed again, but his fingers were back on my skin, sliding gently over the bareness, drawing designs again, brushing my loose hair out of his way.  “Are you listening to me?”  He hummed and I went on, snuggling into his chest.  “A bruise here or there, a scratch or two or three?  A bite or a mark?  None of that matters, Bucky.  It doesn’t because it wasn’t done in anger.”  

Another sigh, with less force, but I knew that he was listening to me, so I waited for him to counter my argument.  “I - I don’t want to hurt YOU,” his chin was on the top of my head, the heat of his breath was hot against my scalp.  “My strength, I could so easily -”

“Hey,” I moved so my chin was propped up on his sternum, with his head on the pillows it was an awkward angle, but we made it work so we could look at one another.  “You didn’t.  I’m fine.  Complete working order here, Bucky Barnes.”  I smiled up at him, before I moved my face back down to face against his chest, kissing his skin.  “I only LET you carry me in here like Tarzan because you seem to like manhandling me.”  

That got a laugh, which was the point.  Bucky getting tense over something as slight as a little discoloration after we had sexy fun times, which I planned on us having much more of I might add, wasn’t something I wanted to become routine.  I knew he had baggage, who wouldn’t be given his past, but I fully intended to make sure that he knew that I loved him and he wasn’t broken or ruined.  Together we were two slightly fucked up people, but I thought that together we might be able to figure things out and make our combined shit more manageable.  

I left the next morning, after I had leftover Chinese - since Bucky had been out of town for long enough to make me doubt most of what was left in his fridge.  He had to check in with his therapist - a reminder from me for that gold star so I could celebrate with him at the house later - and then he was coming back to his place to pack up to move in with me.

“Do you need help?”  I would stay, I could stay, but he shook his head as his grin took my breath away.  

“The only things that are really mine are my clothes and books,” he promised, and I smiled up at him as he put my bags into the Uber that had arrived to take me back to my - OUR - house.  “I’ll call you when I’m on my way,” he held the door for me as I got into the car and then leaned into kiss me goodbye.  “No more pineapples,” he vowed and I nodded. 

“Gold star, mister,” I reminded him and he shook his head with a huge smile.  “I love you,” I mouthed as the driver pulled away, and my heart stuttered as I watched him mouth the words right back.  

I needed the time it was going to take him to check in with Raynor and pack up his humble belongings to get my own welcome home surprise together.  I texted Connie during the drive from his apartment and was laughing as she texted me back almost immediately.  

“Oh NOW you have time for me”  the addition of a few choice emojis reminded me of my failure as a best friend, but then she sent another text.  “How long are you alone before he’s back within sniffing range?”  

I sent her my best estimate and she calmed my ratcheting nerves by reminding me that she had half days and she’d be over to help me set the scene for Bucky’s return.  When the driver let me out, shucking my bags onto the porch, I took a deep breath and hoped like fuck that I wasn’t about to set off some trigger in Bucky’s PTSD reserves with my little surprise.  That would suck balls, and it would ruin our first night as cohabitants in the house.  

Looking around the living room once I got my bags inside, it sobered me when I realized that technically the wrong trigger with Bucky could actually fucking demolish the house.  Oh well, I thought, putting as much forced positivity into the thought as I could - too late to back out now. 

[magnoliasinbloom]

Crash Course Love

Infinite thanks to @anna-swims​ and @elizabeth-beauchamp​ for being awesome betas.

AO3 :: Previously

14: Break [Claire]

“Oh, fucking hell.”

I tripped once more over my heels as I checked for the thousandth time that all the centerpieces were arranged properly; this I did from a corner of the enormous hall at Crossbasket Castle. The ceremony had gone off without a hitch. Louise had been thrilled with the aesthetics of the Stewart Room, where the service had been held; the petals of the flowers she’d chosen softly illuminated with candles here and there.

Once the space was decorated, my job was pretty much over until I had to dismantle the flower arrangements at the end. Mary had driven the van back to Glasgow, and I had remained as a guest. A single guest.

Jamie was not there.

I had tried to call him, but realized there was no signal at Crossbasket, no bars at all on my mobile. I had found my place on the seating chart, and was infinitely grateful that Louise had had the forethought to seat me far away from Frank. Nevertheless, there were many of our old schoolmates to greet, some with genuine warmth and others with fake smiles. Some asked outright, others merely questioned with their eyes—are you here alone?

Why? was all I could think. Why had I even opened the smallest crevice of my heart to James Fraser, told him some of my deepest sorrows and fears and loves, touched his body, let him kiss me, memorized the burr and cadence of his broad Scots, only to have him break his promise to me? I wondered how I could even begin to dull the steady ache that had settled somewhere in the vicinity of my sternum. I tried with quite a few glasses of champagne, though.

I had thus far managed to avoid Frank and Sandy, but I knew he and his fiancée held court much too close for comfort. I circled the periphery of the enormous ballroom, lifting the skirt of my gown away from the spike of my too-tall heels, footing slightly less than secure. Despite my frustration at Jamie’s absence, where is he where is he where is he was all my heart could pound in my chest.

Finally, I hit upon a solution. I had already put in an appearance. I had congratulated Louise and her new husband Charles Stewart, and writhed enough under the scrutiny of our old classmates. This was stupid; I could just go. Firm in my resolve, I weaved my way back among the tables to retrieve my small clutch purse, useless phone in hand, and ask the manager at the castle to get me a cab.

“Sassenach.”

A hand on my waist made me whirl in surprise at the sound of Jamie’s voice. The familiarity made my head spin even more, as I scanned him from head to toe. A Highlander in full regalia was an impressive sight — any Highlander, no matter how old, ill-favored, or crabbed in appearance. A tall, straight-bodied, and by no means ill-favored young Highlander at close range was breathtaking, to say the least.

The coat, the crisp white shirt, the kilt, the boots, and a sporran; he was magnificent. All of this registered in a matter of seconds, along with the heady, spicy scent of him. In my inspection of Jamie, however, I found absolutely nothing physically wrong with him that could account for this extreme tardiness.

While I was relieved to note this, the casual greeting that I had planned was swiftly replaced with a shaky, “Where were you?” I threw my arms around his neck in a sort of relieved panic, holding him tightly against me.

“I’m deeply sorry, Sassenach.” Jamie was out of breath, anxiously apologetic in my ear. “Do ye want the short explanation, or the long one?”

I inhaled slowly. “The short one, please.” I released my stranglehold on him so I could look at his gorgeous face. We sat, knees touching.

“Aye, weel, I did suffer many misfortunes that prevented me from getting here earlier. I came as fast as I could. I do apologize, mo nighean donn.” His fingers brushed an errant curl behind my ear, lingering on my skin.

The sound of Gaelic—and his touch—did wonders to soothe my rumpled spirit. I leaned into his hand, and something settled in my chest, like glimpsing a stone at the bottom of a pool once the ripples have disappeared. Jamie pushed his chair as close as possible to mine, cradling my head on his shoulder. The lights, the music, his steady breathing flowed together, and I melted against his body completely.

“I did try to call ye, lass. But my phone—”

“Doesn’t matter. There’s no signal here anyway.”

Jamie chuckled, his hold on me tightening. “I imagine dancing’s out of the question then, Sassenach.”

“Damn right, Fraser.”

“Ye look beautiful, Claire. I meant to say that first.”

“Thank you,” I replied softly.

I no longer cared if anyone saw me with Jamie, my wedding date. The real reason he was here vanished in the trembling air. We sat in silence for an innumerable amount of songs, the bass lines reverberating through the soles of my shoes. Eventually, all the champagne I’d drunk made its way through my system and I needed the loo.

“Excuse me, I need to find the ladies’ room.”

He stood up as I did, offering me his arm. I waved off his suggestion of escorting me all the way to the foyer, reassuring him I was fine and would just be a moment. I remembered this time to lift my skirt slightly to avoid falling, and tottered over to the hall’s entrance, where the toilets would be. Bingo. Once I took care of business, I was set to return to the ballroom when someone grabbed my arm.

“Claire.”

It was Frank. I cursed my glass face as I tried to remain impassive. I yanked my arm out of his grip and stepped back; he moved closer, and my heart pounded. I immediately realized that what I was feeling was not nerves, apprehension, nor any trace of tender feelings towards him. It was pure loathing.

I stared him down, wondering at what point in the past year I had stopped yearning for what could have been, and now found myself glaring back with nothing but contempt. Frank must have read this in my expression; his demeanor changed, turning charming and seductive.

“Claire, please. I need to talk to you.”

“There’s nothing to say, Frank. Leave me alone.” I tried to step around him, but he moved with me easily, hand outstretched. I slapped it away.

“What you saw at the restaurant—she’s a colleague from work. There was nothing inappropriate in it at all—”

“So why talk to me? Afraid I might go to Sandy and tell her? I’m not that petty, Frank,” I said, venom in my tone.

“There is nothing to tell. I just wanted to clarify—”

“Just go, Frank. Go, live your life, and try not to make Sandy’s life miserable. For the sake of your child if not her own.”

“Darling?”

I peered around Frank’s head to find Sandy standing there, hands cradling the enormous swell of her stomach. His face flushed crimson as he turned to look at her and he put his arm around her. All I could do was shake my head and move past them. I could hear Frank begin to make excuses, saying I had approached him, and that felt like the final straw.

I stopped to touch her briefly on the shoulder. “I wish you the very best. Truly.” I managed a sincere smile for Sandy and saw her lip quiver. I understood then she knew about Frank and his honeyed words, his excuses and twisted lies, and was trying to make the best out of a complicated situation. I walked away resolutely, blessedly free. I couldn’t wait to share my epiphany with Jamie.

Once back in the ballroom, all I wanted to do was find Jamie and pick up where we had left off at my apartment. Grab him by the lapels of his fancy jacket and press against him, kiss him senseless, and maybe, later, discover if it was true what they said about Scotsmen and kilts.

The floor was packed, and I struggled to make my way through the dancing crowd. Finally, I could make out Jamie’s tall form from afar, the flashing lights making his hair a bright beacon. When I snagged two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, I nearly tripped again on the hem of my dress. I managed to regain my balance, catching my hip on a chair—but not a drop spilled. I glanced up to try and catch Jamie’s eye, to see if he was also smiling foolishly at my graceless feat.

When I spotted him, he wasn’t looking at me. I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a tulip’s stem.

Jamie was kissing Annalise.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 38: Aunt Marge's Big Mistake

Remus had never really considered the smell of dog repugnant before, but the puddle he landed in and the odor that met his nose was really trying to change that. "Are you shitting me!" He howled in disgust as he pulled himself free.

Sirius whistled from atop a rickety pile of empty dog crates. "You must have really pissed off someone in another life."

"I hope you fall on your head from there," he snapped as he waved his wand to remove the mess, though that still didn't remove the lingering scent from his own nose.

The two took eyes off each other and instead spent a moment to glance around and realize they were the only two out here. Sirius, in his usual feats of ease and grace, landed on his feet beside Remus and the two cautiously circled the area to find themselves in some sort of barn, which mostly seemed to be used for storage. Stacks of dog-food, of a high premium quality, were in carefully managed containers as well as an assortment of collars, and even a few medical supplies.

"I'm feeling a little creeped out now," Sirius muttered, rubbing his neck and eyeing the cages he'd been upon.

Neither got the chance to make much more sense of it when the barn doors swung open wide, and Frank's surprised face peered in. "Oi, I found um!"

"Where are we?" Remus asked as they joined him at the door to find an even wider expanse beyond, quite the gorgeous acreage for some sight beyond, and a bulldog sitting at Frank's feet wagging it's tail curiously up at the pair.

"You're guess is as good as ours," James assured as he came up beside Frank. "Everyone else is inside that house," he gestured beyond the two where they couldn't yet see from the inside, "but I'm suspecting we're dealing with an animal lover. There's bulldogs all over the place round here."

The one watching at their feet was on the younger side, completely white, and rather healthy in weight Sirius decided as he knelt down and scooped up the pup.

"Let's go see if they've found the book yet, spread some light on this nonsense," Frank sighed.

Circling around the side of the barn found a very nice bungalow, clearly very well kept up with bright shutters opened wide. Even from their view as they approached what must be the backdoor they could already see inside the kitchen, where bright yellow wallpaper was abound and even more pictures of bulldogs hung from surfaces. Inside saw Peter at the table, face in hands and looking exhausted, with two more bulldogs sniffing curiously around his feet and Regulus at the table beside him. The two stopped talking when they entered, but to the others surprise there hadn't been much noise of hostility in either tones.

"Come on Wormy," Sirius said at once with chipper, going forward and clasping him on the shoulder while forcefully putting the puppy near his face. "Won't get back to our world tell we find the book, sitting around worrying ain't going to fix that."

"Alice already found the book," Regulus shrugged without concern.

"Well then let's get to it," Frank agreed going past them into the living room. Alice was sitting on the floor next to a snoring pooch as tan as the carpet rather than the plastic bound furniture, while four more dogs of the same breed were all lazing about comfortably, one nursing a litter of three. Lily was crouched down beside the proud mama, stroking a little fawn one.

"Don't be getting ideas now," he cautioned as he offered to take the book from Alice before sitting down by a brindle colored one with a rather rotund stomach and very round teets, likely promising another litter soon. "We don't have time to be hunting down formulas for puppies."

"I know," she sighed as she relaxed against the wall and glanced out the front window where a picturesque well stood on a hill. "It's just nice to land somewhere so pleasant for once. This isn't any of our houses, seems to just be some nice person who breeds dogs. I don't know what Harry has to do with this place, but it seems to be something good for once."

"Chapter title doesn't indicate as much," Frank said in surprise as he cracked the book open. The opening was as horrendous as usual, none of them ever actually enjoyed hearing of the Dursleys many ways they managed to make Harry feel as unwelcome as possible in that house.

Things picked up with interest though, when the Muggle news casually said a certain name.

The other five walked slowly into the room, eyeing Frank like they thought he was playing his first prank. Even Pettigrew was looking more lively again, still clutching the little white pup to his chest a little too tight as he went from looking at the book to not only his best friend, but the brother that shared the Black name.

"Did we miss something?" Potter demanded, wand clutched in one hand and the other balled into a fist. Frank found that a tad dramatic. It was the Muggle news after all, and while it had caught him off guard, there was certainly no reason for his him to be getting defensive over it.

"No, not really," he said calmly, already turning back to the book. "I'd think you heard as well as I, someone named Black broke out of a Muggle prison." The group remained cluttered in the doorway while Frank finished, though there really wasn't much more to be said from the news.

Lupin made an awkward sort of noise that may have possibly been an attempt at a laugh. He put a casual arm around his friend and eyed the brother with that same pained sort of look that was desperately striving for carefree. "Well, what do you suppose you two get up to in the future?"

"Stop exaggerating Moony," the elder of the two brothers pushed his friend away with a much more natural look of uncare. "Just something being stirred up in the Muggle world, how could anyone break out of Azkaban for it to be related to us?"

"Yeah," Regulus quickly muttered agreement, but his brows were still ruffled with confusion and uncertainty. Frank couldn't blame him. Of the two, he'd put money down the youngest would certainly break the news first in You-Know-Who's service rather than the toerag and self proclaimed savior to James Potter.

Harry very obviously had no reason to dwell on this, so it made sense he was distracted by the next interruption of someone named Marge coming about. His reaction to the news was distracting enough to get to them as well.

"What's that horrid woman done then?" Lily snapped in frustration. Already more than sick of the way these horrid people treated her son, she had half a mind to slap Petunia across the face when she saw her again, even if she still doubted herself to go through with it. This perverse future version of a life without her in it already featured a bitter best friend who treated her son so horrid and she was still bound and determined to find a way to an answer for that, her sister was a slightly lesser concern but one she'd have to deal with eventually.

At least this particular problem wasn't on her plate, this Marge was Vernon's sister, and the location they happened to be at suddenly made more sense. Then her hand froze on the little pups warm fur as the their surroundings went from cheerful to claustrophobic in seconds as the laundry list of misdeeds she'd done to Harry were listed. The bright wallpaper was sickening, the little box of dog treats placed sporadically had her clenching her jaw in disgust, and the walking stick left propped against the back door was something everyone was eyeing to be broken in half.

This was no innocent woman breeding dogs for a living, this was a horrible woman, just like every other person in Harry's life who treated that kid like scum, for what?! Lily felt fooled as she sat there shaking with rage, taken in by the beautiful countryside and calm animals around her not to realize there was always something repugnant under the surface.

Of course things only got worse when the woman arrived, Lily couldn't help but get defensive. Of Potter of all things! And not just Harry! This Marge woman shamelessly took to taking criticizing to an inhuman level in regards to Harry and even going so far as to putting this blame on his parentage. As many times as she'd wanted to curse Potter's face off, at least she knew why he deserved it! This woman didn't know anything about them, and what she was saying to a child was reprehensible!

Between this, Petunia not having the decency to say a single word in defense like some part of her still hoped for, and the revelation the woman actually had puppies drowned, Harry magically blowing her up was a blessing.

Lily didn't burst out with cheers like the Marauders, or even resort to the other three muttering things they'd like to do to this woman instead of something so mild, Lily just let herself relax. She released a stream of breath, her shoulders slumped, and she scooped the little ball of folded skin that was the wrinkly puppy just finished nursing and tucked the babe into her neck. It was by far the most mild victory Harry had ever dished out on his own, but really, it was somehow the most satisfying.

Defeating Voldemort, twice, was still such a fantastical thing for something of their future, let alone a kid of hers to be doing it, she still just hadn't quite grasped that concept. This however was something she and her son could readily agree on, no one would be saying such atrocious things and getting away with it.

The news that Harry was leaving that house was a welcomed one, she couldn't stop herself from laughing in relief. Of all the times she'd escaped a very similar house and words from her sister, the idea of escape was one she knew intimately. As Frank warned the closing sentence was upon them, she regretfully set the little pup back down next to its mother and watched Pettigrew finally do the same.