#i think it should be from James POV

[mo0nagedaydr3am]

actually this is genius. i’m writing ideas rn🤭

Why hasn’t anyone wrote a diary from one of the marauders perspectives? Like we get all the perspectives from them but we never actually get a story told by them as if they were writing it you know? I personally would love that. I don’t care who wrote the diary, it could be Sirius, James, Remus, or Peter I would still eat it up. Or! What if each marauder had a diary and these pieces in their diaries were added together to make a story? I don’t know where I am going with this but I know that this idea is awesome:)

[ellecdc]

ive been thinking about stone-faced unamused independent reader and how james and barty would absolutely love to baby her and treat her like a princess and she has none of it..until shes feeling sort of down and like she needs their love and support so she gives in and theyre both so shocked and excited theyre like little dogs wagging their tails spinning around her

hiii....I'm back to apologizing to everyone who sent me in requests 2.5+ months ago for me to hoard them until inspiration struck! hope I did it justice hahaha

poly!darksun x black cat!reader and Sirius who just doesn't Get It

CW: fem!reader, reader is maybe a little mean but obviously James and Barty are into that shit, Sirius' POV so a very unreliable narrator

Sirius Black believed himself to be a pretty open-minded person.

He believed that love was love, he staunchly disagreed with blood status and had a lot of respect for muggle-borns, and believed in the fair treatment of beasts and other magical creatures in the Wizarding World.

But no matter how open-minded Sirius believed himself to be, he could not for the life of him figure out how in the hells James Potter and Barty Crouch Junior found their way to you.

Sirius admittedly had a hard enough time finding out that his best friend was dating his semi-estranged little brother’s maniacal (read: bat-shit crazy) best friend, but this? 

This made no sense to him. 

At least when it came to the likes of Barty Crouch Junior, James had found someone who could rival him in energy and enthusiasm. James could run for seven hours straight at a gods-honest sprint and Barty was just about crazy enough to try as well. Barty never denied his more intrusive thoughts and James was morbidly curious enough to watch those thoughts play out.

And both of them seemed to love hard; even if Sirius didn’t approve of that love, even if he didn’t like that love, he could admit that it, at the very least, made sense for him.

But where James was all golden retriever energy and Barty was some kind deranged, rabid mutt straight from the depths of hell, you….

Well, Sirius wasn’t sure exactly what you were. 

Where James was sweet and Barty was enthusiastic, you were utterly unimpressed. 

Where James was excitable and Barty was chaotic, you were completely apathetic.

And where James and Barty could be…slightly codependent, you seemed wholly disinterested in having either of them (or anyone for that matter) near you. 

“Sod off; I can carry my own damned books.” You had spat at Barty as he tried to take them from you. 

And Sirius had to stand there and watch both Barty and James stare after you with a lovesick look adorning their faces as you stalked away from them. 

“Well isn’t she just a ray of sunshine?” Sirius muttered derisively, earning him a threatening glare from Barty and a frustrated stare from James.

“You’re one to talk, Pads; I watched Remus actually growl at a first year who tried to take the last pumpkin pastie at dinner last night.” He grumbled before redirecting Barty away from Sirius’ jugular. 

And that seemed to be your response to pretty much anything those two did; you elbowed James in the stomach when he held the door open for you like a ‘poncy chauffeur’, you stomped on Barty’s foot when he offered you his elbow on the moving staircase, and you never seemed particularly pleased should they wind up in your vicinity.

Yet…

Yet you never made any effort to actually remove them from your vicinity, nor did you make any effort to leave theirs.

In fact, if Sirius wasn’t mistaken, he was sure he saw your shoulders relax ever so slightly when you realised the people pulling out the chair across from you in the library were James and Barty. 

They tensed right back up when Sirius and Peter accompanied them, but that's besides the point.

No, you didn’t converse with any  of them. Yes, you completely ignored any attempts at conversation from James or Barty - save taking the opportunity to correct them in their debate about their potions homework. And just once, Sirius was certain he’d heard you whisper a quiet thank you to Barty when he helped you find the page number for the answer to number 47 of your Herbology homework. 

It seemed to Sirius that no matter how staunchly you refused to allow either boy to fawn over you, you weren’t completely averse to their company. And though this amount of dedication didn’t exactly surprise Sirius coming from James, seeing as he spent four and half years of his school life pursuing a completely disinterested witch, he was confused that Barty hadn’t gotten bored yet.

It was all very peculiar, Sirius thought. 

Even more peculiar was when Barty and James had been snuggling in James’ bed as James quizzed Moony for the upcoming Alchemy test when there was a tentative knock on the dormitory door. 

Peter looked up from his Ancient Runes homework to look at Sirius, James and Barty lifted their heads to look at Sirius, and Remus turned in his desk chair to look at Sirius.

“What?” Sirius asked. “I didn’t knock.”

“You’re the only one not currently doing anything.” Remus countered.

Sirius paused in his throwing and catching of James’ pilfered snitch to look at him incredulously.

“I am too doing something.” He argued, holding the snitch between his thumb and forefinger and waving it at him. “Besides, Junior’s just laying there.”

“I’m a guest, Black. It’d be terribly improper for me to answer your dormitory door.”

“Answer the sodding door, Sirius.” Remus grumbled as he turned back towards James.

“A ray of sunshine.” James sing-songed for Sirius’ benefit, clearly still not over his passing comment of you from days ago. 

Sirius let out a dramatically petulant sigh as he stood to open the door.

Your face pinched when you saw who had answered, though Sirius had to hand it to you how quickly you corrected your expression.

Before you had a chance to tell Sirius why you were here, he looked back over his shoulder at James’ bed.

“See, I don’t think I should have to open the door for your bird!”

All that was heard was a painful sounding thump and James muttering “Barty, my glasses” before Barty materialised at the door. 

“Hi Treasure!” He greeted enthusiastically.

Sirius watched your eyes narrow as you seemingly debated whether or not to make a fuss over his nickname before ultimately deciding against it. 

“Angel!” James cheered as he, too, rounded the corner and shoved Sirius out of the way. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Sirius sat back down on his bed where he could see you consider your options carefully. 

Finally, after having the two sods stand there no doubt smothering you in smiles and soft eyes did you look shyly down at your shoes. “Can I…hang out with you guys for the afternoon?” You asked quietly.

Barty and James exchanged a - quite comical, in Sirius’ opinion - excited look before returning their gazes to you. “Of course!” They chorused; the volume startling you into lifting your head to look at them nervously. 

James cleared his throat and moved out of the door frame, ushering you in. “Of course you can.” He offered quieter this time, guiding you towards his bed as he looked over his shoulder and mouthed “oh my gods” at Barty who was eagerly following behind you. 

“What have you been up to today?” James asked then, clearly wondering what motivated this impromptu and voluntary visit but not wanting to chance whatever spell had been cast to get you here. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed, anxiously picking at your nail beds as each boy sat tentatively beside you. 

“I was studying in the library…” You offered, sounding horribly robotic and rehearsed in your response before you let out a shuddering sigh. Sirius watched as you visibly deflated and leaned slightly closer into Barty’s side. “I’ve had a bit of a headache all day.” You admit.

James and Barty both coo in unison as James cautiously rubs circles on your back; you let him.

“You have a headache?” Sirius deadpanned from across the room. “And you came here? To these two? Are they not the source?” 

“Get out.” Barty spat, braving himself as he tightened his arm around you; once again, you let him. 

“You can’t kick me out of my own dorm room, Junior!” Sirius argued. “Why don’t you go to your dorm room?”

“Oh, do you want to know what your baby brother and Rosier were up to before I left? Because I’ll happily scar you with that knowledge, Black.” Barty threatened. 

Sirius, who was not ashamed to admit he was perhaps more than slightly immature, simply covered his ears and started singing to drown out the sound of Barty’s voice.

“That’s it, everyone out.” James barked then; tone taking on an air of Gryffindor quidditch captain.

Remus scoffed indignantly at that as Peter - clearly the wisest of the bunch - simply began packing up his homework. “You promised to help me pass this test!”

“Oh for Salazar’s sake, Lupin; the answers are A, D, B, B, A, C, D, A, A, true, true, false, Nicholas Flammel.” Barty barked at him, causing Remus to blink owlishly at him. 

“Fine.” Remus finally said as he stood, shocking Sirius into silence at his quick acquiescence to such abhorrent demands. “Let’s go, Sirius.” 

Sirius, feeling awfully petulant, hurled the snitch towards James’ head who quickly and calmly caught it before offering it to you as Remus hauled him off the bed by his wrist and all but dragged him towards the door. 

“But it’s not fair, Moony!” Sirius pouted as he slammed on the breaks just outside the threshold of their dorm room.

“Sirius.” Remus started solemnly. “How many times did you try to convince me to snuggle with you at night before we started dating?”

“217.” Sirius answered readily, relishing in the soft smile Remus had clearly tried and failed at fighting off. 

“Right, 217 times you tried to convince me to snuggle with you; and how many of those times did I deny you?”

“216.”

“Right.” Remus agreed. “And what had James done to ensure that I would relent that one time?”

Sirius let out a pained sigh as he looked to the heavens. “He charmed his, Pete’s, and your bed to the ceiling so there was only one option.” 

“Right.” Remus agreed again, softer this time as he rested his hand at the juncture of Sirius’ neck and shoulder and rubbed his thumb along the column of his throat. “So don’t you think the least we could do right now is just let them have the room?” 

Sirius looked back into the room in time to see you smiling softly at something James was saying as Barty placed what appeared to be a wet cloth to the back of your neck; your eyes closing and face relaxing in relief, leaning back into Barty as James massaged your calves and carried on in his story. 

“What did I do to deserve this?” Sirius whined then, leaning his head into his boyfriend’s chest as he watched you curl up, not unlike a cat who had finally decided to sit on its person’s lap.

“Can you maybe try to remind yourself that James deserves this?” Remus whispered into Sirius’ hair.

“For Godric’s sake, Moony.” Sirius grumbled as he stood and began storming off in the direction of the common room. “Why d’you have to be so bloody reasonable all of the time!?”

[crescenthistory]

hihi i love ur work sm <3 could you pls do a barty crouch jr sunshine x grump except the reader is the grump? ik barty isnt rlly sunshine like but he seems a lot more outgoing and energetic when compared to the reader. for the prompt could it be a.6 where the reader is just being her usual grumpy self and barty sort of mocks her? if the idea doesnt sound so appealing u dont have to do it i understand !! (also ignore the fact i submitted this earlier but forgot to put the prompt lmfao)

hi sweetheart! first of all, no i will not ignore your earlier ask because what you said about my writing was soso sweet and i think about it daily<33 i am a truther of barty being the sunshine in these dynamics because his chaotic energy needs a bit of a grumpy counterpart which is why i'm also a bartylus truther shhh so i'm in love with your idea, thanks darling xx this was so fun to write, why is he like this

Prompt: A.6 "Aren't you just a sweetheart?"

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), you are in gryffindor sorry and marauders!bestie, mostly barty pov so it's sassy and biased, banter/bickering, language, some innuendos/suggestive jokes, they do not kiss physically but are making out in barty's head tbh, jegulus appearance my loves, a little bit of bartylus snuck in there

Note: i love their dynamic here, might write some more blurbs with the same storyline/concept

continuation can be found here <3 and here

Barty could not believe Regulus had betrayed him on such a carnal level.

Becoming chummy with Gryffindors in general should be considered a cardinal sin, but shagging one on the regular? Insisting that shagging was a “crude term” for it and insisting Barty accept that his best friend, stupid wanker, is actually in love with and dating James Potter, the epitome of Gryffindor bravado?

Absolutely unacceptable. Arguably a hate crime, and he told Regulus as much, only to be met with an eye roll as the black haired boy continued to drag him along to where his new boyfriend was sitting in the Great Hall, surrounded by friends.

“Well, if it isn’t Baby Black?” A girl called as Regulus approached the group, hauling Barty along with him. Others around smiled and greeted Regulus – not Barty.

“Shut it, McKinnon,” Regulus grumbled, sheepishly taking the seat on James’s left that he had saved for him. Barty could spot a slight pinkish blush creeping up on Regulus’s cheeks when James murmured a hey love and kissed his cheek.

Barty could puke at the sight.

Nevertheless, he shoved some Gryffindors further down the table to take a seat beside Regulus. For whatever reason, he had believed it necessary to bring Barty with him every single time he meets James’s gnarly pack, so Barty assumed the role of protective friend while still making it exponentially clear that he disapproves.

“No acknowledgement for me then?” Barty looked around the table who were in one degree or another cooing at the fresh couple. All except Sirius, who, like Barty, was faux gagging at the sight.

It’s a new low for Sirius Black to be your one ally.

“Make yourself note-worthy, and we’ll say hello to you, Junior.” The gruff voice came from you, who conveniently was sitting opposite Barty this morning.

You were thus far the most tolerable of James’s friends, mostly because you had yet to be as loud and obnoxious as the rest, despite the red and gold around your neck. You had yet to say almost anything at all, but what you did say had a habit of drawing a snort from Barty. Mostly because it was never particularly kind.

Your eyes didn’t leave the crossword puzzle you were working on as you ate, shutting out the bickering around you, yet somehow picking up on Barty’s comment. 

Intriguing. 

“I take great personal offence to that, Treasure.” Barty's voice was incredulous but he sported a contradicting wicked grin, happy at the opportunity to wreak a bit of havoc if he must be seated here.

“Ew.” You looked up at that, eyes narrowing at the pet name he gave you. He decided then and there, that was the only way he would refer to you from now on. “And good. Maybe it can help you build some character.”

“Oh, come on,” James butted in, finally drawing his eyes from Regulus – who he had sneaked an arm around before the boy could protest at the public display of affection – and looking at his dear friend and his disgruntled friend-in-law. “Be nice to Junior, he slithered here all the way from the comforts of his dungeon.”

“So did your boytoy, Potter, so watch your mouth.” Sirius, James and Regulus all winced at the word boytoy, though for very different reasons.

“And so I am being nice to him,” James retorted, squeezing Regulus as he looked down at him. “Aren’t I, love?”

“Shut up,” Regulus whispered.

“You’ve already said that today, Reggie,” McKinnon replied with a sly grin. “Find another comeback, why don’t ya?”

Regulus just rolled his eyes at her while Sirius bumped his shoulder into hers in a sign of approval.

“Anyway.” Barty drew the attention back to him as he spoke up, but his eyes were trained on you. “Build some character you say? What character would you like me to be, Treasure?"

You sized him up, clearly debating whether to follow James's advice or take Barty's bait. The latter seemed to win.

"Someone less disruptive would be a great start."

"That would hold more bite if you didn't willingly surround yourself with this lot," Barty laughed, waving his arms a bit too theatrically towards your friends, some of which were scowling at him, others nodding in agreement. Barty swore he could hear James whisper fair under his breath.

"Willingly is a bit of a stretch." You side-eyed Sirius beside you with a sly grin, who took a few seconds to process your sentence. Once he realised, he gasped and swatted at your arm for the disrespect.

Barty was enjoying himself much more than he expected.

"Aren't you just a sweetheart?" His grin never faltered as he continued his one-sided staring contest with you. As if you were the only thing in the room of notice, as if your friends weren't right there and needed to be won over by him as well.

“I can be,” you drawled, fighting to keep your face neutral. “You just gotta earn it."

Barty tilted his head, eyes narrowing with interest as he studied you. There was something undeniably magnetic about your sharp tongue, the way you seemed to remain so unbothered by the chaos swirling around the table.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, inching just a bit closer. “And how do I do that?”

Finally, you locked eyes with him properly, levelling him with your stare. Your expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe?—beneath your cold exterior.

"That ship sailed so long ago, you can't even see it from harbour, Junior."

"Good thing I can swim." Barty winked at you, and part of him thought he caught you look flustered for half a moment as his comments grew flirtier by the minute.

“Fine by me, easier to drown you if you jump in the water willingly."

Barty barked a laugh, unphased by your words. "Don't threaten me with a good time." He could feel Regulus giving him a look from his right, but Barty ignored it. He was far too entertained by you now. “Tell me, do you give everyone such a warm welcome, or am I just special?”

Your lips twitched, but you held your ground, flicking your eyes back to the crossword in front of you. “You’re just annoying.”

Regulus groaned softly, clearly wishing he could disappear into the floor. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to subject himself—and by extension, Barty—to the whirlwind that was James Potter and his pack of friends, but he also wasn’t blind. He saw the way Barty’s attention had shifted, how your sharp, biting comments had hooked him in a way nothing else had managed to. He could practically feel the chaos brewing.

James, ever the peacemaker, clapped his hands together. “Right, well, now that we’ve all sufficiently insulted each other—again—how about we chat about something less murder-y?”

“No promises,” you murmured, flipping a page of the Daily Prophet as you continued working through the puzzle.

“Good efforts, Potter, but I fear she's just too intrigued by me” Barty sighed, leaning back in his seat as if exhausted by the mere prospect of attention. “I have that effect on people.”

“Oh, sure,” McKinnon chimed in, rolling her eyes. “We’re all positively obsessed with you.”

Sirius, looking entirely too pleased with himself, gave you an exaggerated wink. “I’d pay good money to see her put you in your place, Junior.”

“And I’d pay good money to see you mind your own business,” you retorted coolly, not even sparing Sirius a glance. Neither boy seemed sure if the comment was meant for Sirius or Barty, but didn't let that deter their entertainment.

Barty watched the exchange with open fascination. He couldn’t help but admire how easily you held your own amongst this overzealous group, considering their tendency to overwhelm people with their loud, boisterous energy. You were like a still, cold lake amidst a storm, unbothered by the wind and waves crashing around you.

He leaned closer to Regulus, his voice dropping slightly as he muttered, “I like her.”

Regulus, still recovering from the emotional whiplash of being dragged between Barty and James’s worlds, gave Barty a flat look. “Don’t.”

Barty’s grin only widened. “Too late.”

It became a strange, almost delirious routine for Barty to be swirled into the life of James Potter and Co. He minded it less and less, irritation soothed almost instantly once he saw you.

He sought you out every time Regulus brought him along, plopping down beside you on the common room couches, leaning on your chair at the library, catching your eye in the hallways. You presented begrudgingly, always rolling your eyes and scoffing, but your resolve crumbled slowly and the smile you were fighting became more insistent.

You and your dry retorts, you with your books or puzzles in hand, you and your knowing looks that grew more affectionate.

Barty was thoroughly fascinated.

"Don't screw this up for me please," Regulus would whine as the two of them walked back to the Slytherin dorms with just a few minutes left before curfew. They had dragged out their time sprawled across the couches by the fireplace at Gryffindor.

This time, as most times of late, Regulus hadn't asked Barty to come – he hadn't needed to. While the two usually spent most of their time together, Barty had practically been glued to his side as of late, ready to jump on the opportunity to see you.

"I won't," Barty dragged out the words with annoyance, as if he had said them a thousand times as of late. "Don't worry your pretty head so much Reggie, James won't care that I'm bantering with his bestie."

"It's not just the bantering I'm worried about," Regulus muttered, but Barty caught it clear as day. He gave his friend a look that demanded further explanation.

"You clearly fancy her, Barty!" He just blinked, as if to say and? Regulus groaned. "Just don't mess anything up with her to the point where she gets so angry she doesn't want to see you anymore. I don't want to have to deal with managing my time between you and James because she wants you dead."

Barty sighed dreamily at those last words, whispering wouldn't that be hot? Regulus gave him a corrective slap up the back of his head.

"I won't okay, I won't!" Barty was the one grumbling now, trying to deal with the infatuation in his stomach, just aching to go back and bicker some more with you, while also calming his best friend down. "I don't want to actually like hurt her or anything, I just like getting a little rise out of her."

Regulus paused before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, levelling Barty with a glare. He realised then that he seemed to have a type of person he prefers to associate with, because you had given him that same look earlier when you debated each other about who should get to sit in the comfy chair. He suggested you just sit in his lap in the chair – a great compromise, really – and a beautiful blush crept up on your face when you scoffed.

"If she will make you happy, please do go for it. But be careful, please." Regulus's tone of voice was intent, leaving little room for argument.

Barty still found some, of course, but he was soft for his friend and gave way.

"Fine, don't worry, I've got it under control," he all but whined. "It's not everyday stoic Regulus Black begs me for anything, so fine."

There was a smile on Regulus's face when he shoved him then, finally stepping into the Slytherin dorms to call it a night.

You were in the library the first time Barty got you all to himself.

It was a Saturday afternoon when Barty found himself wandering through the library, absentmindedly scanning the rows of books. He wasn’t really paying attention, more so killing time before his next Quidditch practice and possibly looking for some trouble, when he spotted you in a far corner. Much better.

For once you were free from your larger than life friends, nose peacefully buried in another one of your books as you twirled your quill before your fingers. Barty knew you were waiting to scribble something in the margin, and a surprisingly soft warmth sprouted in his chest when you did. A small smile tugged at his lips as he made his way over to you, leaning casually against the bookshelf beside you.

“Fancy seeing you here, Treasure.”

You didn’t even bother looking up. “If you’re here to annoy me, I’ll hex you. Finally got some peace and quiet."

Barty laughed, taking the seat across from you without invitation. “You wound me. What makes you think I’m here to annoy you? Maybe I just wanted some quality company.”

“Quality company?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow as you finally looked up from your book. “And yet you chose to sit with me.”

“Exactly,” Barty replied smoothly, flashing you a grin. “You’re the most interesting person in this castle, and I’m bored. I’m sure you can entertain me.”

You gave him a long, appraising look, as if trying to figure out what his angle was. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Nope.” His characteristic cheshire cat grin was playing across his features, and you ignored the stirring it caused inside you.

A pause stretched between you as your staring contest prolonged, and for a moment, Barty thought you were going to ignore him, go back to your book, and continue the delicate balance of biting banter and cold indifference that had marked all your previous interactions.

Then, much to his surprise, you closed your book with your fingers keeping your page. You leaned back in your chair as you regarded him with a calculating gaze. “Fine. Though if you’re so desperate for company, then you tell me something interesting. Junior.”

Barty blinked, not having expected you to actually engage. His grin grew and he felt pride bloom in your chest as you began to sport your own.

"Oh, I'll tell you anything you want, if it'll keep your attention on me, Treasure."

[isakvaltersnake]

things from the 2001 television programme band of brothers that haunt me to this day:

- we’re paratroopers lieutenant, we’re supposed to be surrounded. not to be your 60 year old military obsessed uncle about it but that line goes hard

- nix’s little giggle he does sometimes

- I’ll never forgive them for leaving gene’s medic training out of their training montage. in fact you know what? go back in time, film a parallel sequel of the other 9 eps from gene’s pov

- popeye’s “they called you guys too?” and the way his accent specifically scratches my brain

- they gave me moose heyliger and his massachusetts accent for like 20 minutes then the narrative snatched him away from me and i still miss him

- the way meehan looks at winters after he tells him to close the flap, in fact let’s talk about how every single one of winters’ commanders are obsessed with him in one way or another he truly is the it girl

- the chaos and fear that precedes gene and the calm and comfort that follows him

- I know everyone thinks “we’ll go to chicago, I’ll take you there” is the insane line but the one that actually makes me lose sleep is “what, and give up all this?” THAT MAN SAID I WOULD RATHER LIVE THROUGH THE HORRORS OF WAR THAN HAVE LIVED MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU

- alley is So Beautiful and I don’t think we collectively talk about it enough

- babe being some rando replacement in episode three and whilst his other replacement friends are being absolutely roasted he is immediately adopted by bill and then gets gene fucking roe of all people to connect to him?? he’s too powerful I need to study him

- speirs being this ghoulish terrifying boogeyman until lip is anywhere near him then he’s suddenly dimples and kicking his feet and giggling

- speaking of lip and speirs their little sarcastic in jokes, lip finishing speirs’ sentences fml it’s giving married

- you been working out? IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?? LIEB YOU SLUT?? THEN YOURE GONNA LAY IN HIS BED WAITING FOR HIM??? insane behaviour

- the unexplored but high potential friendships and the way I wanted like 16 more episodes for shifty and lip, nix and luz, nix and web, sisk and perconte, winters and gene, grant and tab, lieb and alley, speirs and harry, etc

- the more haggard and bitchy nix gets the hotter he gets. he also must be studied.

- “you should pack up those ears and go home” ok sobel kinda ate with that one ngl

- speaking of sobel the little confused/bewildered/piss-pants faces he makes david schwimmer the actor you are

- the silly little wide stance pennywise ass run hall does before he gets murked RIP king

- klepto speirs ilysm

- joe toye and his brass knuckles are v sexy

- sink letting nix give winters his oak leaves was very shipper girl of him

- lip harry nix speirs winters in the eagle’s nest dream blunt rotation

- the unsustainable amount of cunt served by nix, frank, babe, and luz at all times is truly a marvel

- tab really checked lip’s dick and balls mid battle and honestly that’s friendship

- bit parts for simon pegg, tom hardy, andrew scott, james mcavoy, michael fassbender, jimmy fallon ?? bob casting director you will always be famous

- peacock is so fine if he was even a little good at his job I’d be obsessed with him (special shout out to the scene of him getting sent home on furlough)

- I could list out every one of their meaningful little moments together but really it’s babe and gene just tethering and grounding each other and how they seem to gravitate to each other out of blind instinct? that’s some Brontë whatever our souls are made of bullshit I’m afraid

- ok I know I said I wasn’t talking about little meaningful moments but gene staring across the convent at where babe is sitting, lost in the peace

-bull in replacements getting imprinted on by a bunch of baby ducks and being SO PLEASED ABOUT IT he’s not the stepfather, he’s the father that stepped up

- speaking of, the underutilization of bull in the back half is such an out of character bad call

- you are officers, you are grown ups, you oughta know. HE’S RIGHT AND HE SHOULD SAY IT AND THAT’S ON GENE BEING THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO TELL OFF WINTERS

- I know nix and winters are married and whatever but the real married couple behaviour is luz constantly pissing off joe and joe immediately letting it go

- lip and speirs and their mutual competency kink

- I’M REAL SORRY FRANK skinny ilysm

[marypaol]

Say You Won’t Let Go

Harry James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Harry wants to stay with her till they’re gray and old… as long as she doesn’t let go.

Warnings: Kissing? Talk of future? I think that’s it! <3

Note: In Harry’s POV yet it’s third person. I hope that makes sense to y’all. :)

Note #2: Based on the song “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur. Not the whole song though. (Some lyrics)

Between each lyric- time skip. Lyrics in italics! :)

Masterlist

Requests closed at the moment

Also started another blog! @honeychamomile1

I pulled you closer to my chest. And you asked me to stay over, I said, “I already told ya, I think that you should get some rest.”

“I’m so tired.” She grumbled. Her body squirmed under the blankets as she tried to seek a comfortable position.

“I know.” Harry chuckled in response, his fingers traveling along the skin of her arm as he kissed her temple.

She hummed, her eyes once closed but when he responded she fluttered them open, eyes sparkling at the sight of him.

“You’re so pretty, Harry.” She laughed out, hand coming up to stroke his cheek, then reaching up to adjust his glasses.

She pulled him forward with her arm around his neck, digging her face into it, and he thanked Merlin she couldn’t see his red face then. He pulled her closer to his chest, arm wrapped around her back as she was once now flushed against him.

“You should stay the night.” She whispered, snuggling herself deeper into him as she kissed the skin of his neck.

He squirmed at the feeling, the tickle sensation spreading from the area she was kissing to his toes. He sighed once she stopped, having to stop the giggles that were threatening to leave his mouth.

He leaned back, taking his arm out from behind her back so she wouldn’t crush it and stroked her hair out of her face as he looked at her.

“I already told you,” he sighed. “you should get some rest.”

She groaned at his reminder, hands reaching up to ruffle his already messed up hair. She was gonna be honest, there wasn’t a time she saw it neat. That that she was complaining, his feisty hair was one of her favorite things about him.

She then pouted when her eyes met his. He chuckled at her stubbornness, shaking his head at her.

“Don’t look at me like that, I have to go back to Ron.” He reminded with a teasing warning look.

“I was hoping you would stay when I gave you the puppy eyes.” She said, putting the show on again. He shook his head once again as an answer.

She pouted deeper, her eyes dropping before she gained composure again to hide the fact she was tired.

“Rude.” She muttered, dropping her hands from his hair.

He laughed on how cute she looked, kissing her pout away with a soft kiss to the lips.

When you looked over your shoulder

For a minute I forget that I’m older

I wanna dance with you right now

Oh, and you look as beautiful as ever

And I swear that everyday you’ll get better

You make me feel this way somehow

Harry could hear the shuffling from the seat next to him, his lover not seeming to be finding a satisfactory position to sit in while doing their work.

“I don’t know what to write!” She exclaimed, dropping her quill as she made movements in the air with her hands in exasperation.

Harry shrugged, peeking at the page number she was on in her textbook and turning to it in his own. The two were doing their Divination homework, Professor Trelawney wanting them to see how the next month for them will go.

“I’m about done with taking this seriously,” she started, shaking her head.

“You’ve been thinking I’ve been?” Harry added, but she continued, ignoring his comment.

“I’m making it up.” She decided, grabbing her quill and looking at her book, humming as she found a potential imaginary scenario that will most likely not happen anyways.

“I’ll….lose a bet….?” She suggested, still looking at her book.

Harry nods before realizing she’s not looking at him.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he replies. “Um…and I’ll…be unlucky for one week.”

She grinned at him. “Mine’s more believable.”

He scoffed. “My book doesn’t have any good ones!” He said as an excuse.

She laughed. “We have the same book!”

“Whatever-get me a different Divination book in the library, will ya?”

She rolled her eyes but got up nonetheless, searching the shelves for something better for the boy. Even though the book she was using was just fine.

She heard him close the book he was previously using and looked over her shoulder at him.

Harry just so happened to be already looking at her, and forgot everything he was thinking about moments prior. He forgot he was a year older since his birthday was in the summer, forgot that his mind should be focused on school work. His brain was occupied with thoughts on how beautiful she looked at the moment. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of him looking flustered just by looking at her, his bright green eyes something she easily got lost in.

He suddenly had the urge to get up and dance with her right in the middle of the library, despite his lack of dancing skills. He wanted to embrace her as a way to claim her his, despite the fact she already was.

Everyday she seemed to get more beautiful, more breathtaking, and more gorgeous.

Even after she chuckled at his act, turning away with thoughts all about him, a soft fuzzy feeling flooded Harry, making him feel all warm inside.

His fingertips became tingly, itching to touch her face her hair her everything. She just left him and he already longed for her to come back.

She did just that a couple minutes later, laying a book down for him as they exchanged smiles.

I'm so in love with you

And I hope you know

Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold

We've come so far, my dear

Look how we've grown

And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old

Just say you won't let go

Just say you won't let go

“Say you won’t let go.”

The sentence made her head come up from his chest, her fingers halting their movements on his hand.

She looked at him and laughed halfheartedly. “What?”

He was serious when she looked at him, and so her small smile dropped suddenly at his serious mood switch.

“Say you won’t let go.” Harry repeated.

“You know I won’t, Harry.” She whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek, the smooth skin soft beneath her finger tips.

“Promise?” Harry asked hesitantly, doubt swarming in his stomach.

She sat up then, and for a split dying second he thought she was gonna leave, leaving him alone in the bed.

Instead she sat on his lap, his back leaning against the headboard. She sighed, legs on either side of his waist as her arms came up, sliding up his shoulders before her hands wrapped around his neck. “Harry,” she whispered, leaning closer.

“I want to stay with you until we’re grey and old. So old we don’t be able to get out of bed, so old neither of us can hear properly anymore. So old that we both have wrinkles covering our faces and even more when we smile. And I do that a lot around you.” She added, smiling as she said such things.

“Really?” Harry asked, voice barely audible. But she heard him well, nodding her head. “Yes,” she started, leaning closer and pecking his lips, sweet and soft, loving and kind. “And I definitely won’t be letting go any time soon.”

“I love you.” Harry whispered.

“And I love you.” She said back against his lips.

I hope you guys liked it!

[vault-kid]

(@distractedrighter - hopefully its fine to screenshot & share ur tags! i wanted to reply but i wrote a testament... heh get it... and couldn't fit it all in the notes so)

woah.. i love how you explained it. thank you for adding to this!! personally, i dont think james would be a hardcore religious person either, but like you said, it was def present to keep Catherine alive in a way (not to mention its HER fave verse). but yeah i do like to think that, even if he was never THAT religious before, james' faith (if any) stumbled but, as the LW grew, he probably used it (or began using it) as a way to cope with Catherine's death and use it as a way to reconnect with her even after her death, aside from working and researching on Project Purity throughout the years, and ofc to maintain that connection of mother and child. hes a curious, hopeful man, but obviously not a blind, religious follower, or even someone to really force it down his child's throat. i dont think he'd use the "if you [___], you're going to hell" against his kid though, but ofc, he would teach them about ethics and morals and use religion/his faith to go hand in hand with it, but not necessarily limit it to his beliefs. he just wants his kid to be a good kid, but ofc still share and practice that aspect with them. i feel like he would express his religious beliefs in subtle ways, but not entirely too vague. maybe something Catherine would do if she were still alive? So definitely present it and implement it in his child's life, although not necessarily to an extreme. 

i have a hard time explaining myself so sorry if i just keep repeating myself, yapping and not making sense but HOPEFULLY I DID OKAY, LOL.

i do like how you mentioned the vault propaganda tho! i didnt even think about that, so in that case, i definitely feel like the LW would be raised religious, not just by James, but by other residents, most especially the elders or the more conservative adults if that makes sense. not necessarily directly (like preaching or praying or direct religious conversations), but by your typical, casual conversations that reference religion. and like you mentioned, it would just be a part of the propaganda and vault culture, so. i may just be implementing the way i was raised, but i definitely think that regardless, there was definitely a religious upbringing or something in the LW's life other than James constantly bringing up the Revelations verse, so its def interesting to talk about and hearing others ppls pov and perspectives, etc.  not to mention i love seeing other LWs and how theyre written and portrayed (if thats the correct word).

also fun fact today (August 17th) is the day James leaves the Vault, so there's that!

i like to personally think that the Lone Wanderer, obviously raised religious (christian) to some degree, had their incredulity with religion for good after seeing James die.

or maybe even after James left, and they were forced to be the Wasteland's errand person using their morals and beliefs for the good of humanity, but ultimately just being used.

faith slowly fading, turning into hatred and resentment, or maybe just a lost soul wondering why God abandoned them just like everyone else did.

[cherubfae]

𝔞 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 || {𝔧𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡}

tags: nsfw, smut, fem!reader, strangers to lovers, injuries, slight age gap (reader is late 20s, james in late 30s}, told in third pov/jame's pov, slight derogatory terms, slight dubcon (just in case)

Calloused hands, rough from years of manual work, scrape across her lovely skin eliciting the sweetest sigh James thinks he's ever heard.

"That thing sure knocked you around good. Does it hurt?" Subtly his fingertips brush against the cut lingering on her soft jaw, thumb smoothing over the bruise that swelled on her chin from when she had been knocked down by Pyramid Head. Her little wince pulls at his heartstrings and immediately he drops his hands, watery blue eyes searching hers.

"My abdomen hurts more." She let out a soft chuckle, her lashes fluttering as she leans back on the old motel bed, stained with years of age and disuse, her head rests against the rotting headboard. Her hand instinctively rubs at the bandages around her tummy as she recalls its existence, though it was hard to forget once an otherworldly demon looking butcher strikes you cleanly with the point of his Great Knife. Thankfully, she had pulled off and with the bleeding staunched, she was resigned to believe there wasn't any internal damage.

James looks sorrowful. "I'm... I'm sorry. I'm glad I found you when I did." There was truth in his words as he gently takes her bandaged hand in his own, fingers idly brushing against her palm. Where glass had embedded into her palm. He had been meticulous in cleaning her wounds, ensuring that he would stave off any infection as best as he could.

He had only learned of her name mere days before. Honestly, he wasn't sure how long they've been locked into Silent Hill together. She had been called to this place too, for what, James didn't know and felt impolite to ask. Her judgement was her own as was his. Humans were capable of cruel things as much as they were beautiful, but he couldn't imagine what sort of sin this lovely woman needed to atone for. It's cliche but she truly wasn't like other women he'd known.

Truly, he didn't know of anyone else who would look at a demon seconds after being stabbed and smirk in the very face of life-threatening danger. How her primal scream sounded as she drove a pointed spike underneath Pyramid Head's helmet and into the weird fleshy mutation and twisted. Blackened blood, thick like oil, spewed from the visceral wound like a faucet and the creature's pained roar mixed with her scream.

The memory sent a thrilling tremor through James. There was something so deliciously enticing and feral about her.

James couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so good. Sure, he fisted his cock like his life depended on it on an almost daily basis, but having such a warm, tight pussy surrounding him made his head swim with pleasure.

"Y-you sure this is okay for your stomach?" James swallowed thickly; head dully thudded against the headboard behind him. His hands grip at her waist, thumbs swirling circles against her hipbones. His heart skittered as she smirked down at him, leaning down to kiss him. Greedily, he accepted, moaning at her taste. His tongue swiping out to chase hers as he thrusted upwards into her.

Rolling the two over, James's hand slid to rest above her ass, grabbing a handful of the soft globes as pressing her flush to him. Hiking a leg over his waist, he weakly remembered he should take it easy on her, she was injured after all. But it had been so long, and she felt so fuckin' good. So fuckin' warm. He couldn't stop now. Not when he finally grasped what he'd been craving for so long.

Even the slight ringing in his ears couldn't drown out the wet sounds of his cock pistoning in and out of her dripping core. How his name fell from her lips like a reverent prayer. He felt like a dog, deep in a rut, pounding into a willing bitch. A primal spark exploded in his gut, cock throbbing, his release nearby.

"J-James... I'm..." Oh, fuck, that's cute. She can't even finish her sentence.

Whimpering against his lips, she can barely keep her eyes open to look at him. She was beautiful, ethereal. Blinking rapidly, her hands have a tight hold on his biceps. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd left bruises. In fact, he hoped she did. Chuckling, he softly kissed her lips, faintly tasting the vanilla on them. A kind action compared to the ferociousness behind his thrusts. She came on his thick cock with a cry, her knees digging into his sides as he fucked her through it.

Praising, James nuzzled her softly. "That's it, sweetheart."

Give it to me. Now. James hid his face into her neck, peppering sweet kisses all over her sweaty skin. He parted her thighs further, pounding into her hard enough for the old bed to creak and groan, his swollen balls flexing as he came into her. Doubling his efforts, he didn't stop. Fingers tapping against her clit, he smirks against her neck as pleased squeaks fell from her glossy lips. He loved her supple body jolted against him, how responsive her body was to his touch, and especially how the lingering tremors of her orgasm sparked life back into his softening cock. He simply wasn't going to stop after one orgasm. No, he needed more, and he was going to get it, finally.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part I

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Summary: Y/N kept being reincarnated into the world for seemingly endless of lifetimes with the lasting, vivid memories of her past lover during the 40's, Sargent James B. Barnes. While she thought this was a 'punishment' for her sins, she was also unknowingly oblivious to the fact that James was still alive somewhere, almost forever frozen in the time.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 6.5k++ (hella long bc lots to cover in the story building part)

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just slow induced angst for your daily consumption (i guess?) It has a hopeful ending so don't let the first warning chase you away. reincarnation concept. an attempt to follow exact mcu timeline (forgive if i'm wrong at certain parts). slight religious contents. grief & loss. graphic violence. deaths. mention of suicide. a lot of reader's pov, story building > dialogs (sorry guys).

P/S: Another impulsive writing from me y'all. I hope you don't get bored of this tendency of mine lol. I just need to let the fantasies out before it consumes me. So... anyway, it's gonna be another 3 parts fic cause for the love of god, I cannot commit for more :') Also, my first attempt of writing 40's bucky!!! I'm honestly scared. I hope you like it!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Italy, 1943 – His return

If there was one thing that Bucky should have expected when he decided to be in a relationship with Y/N was it would be that he had to accept her for who she was; stubborn, clumsy, bold, clever, sweet and most certainly the prettiest dame he ever met.

He might have unknowingly signed up for it the moment he quite literally fell for her at one of those Stark's science expo. Bucky had been stealing glances at this one pretty lady in the crowd; adored in soft mint dress that falls right below her knees.

It wasn't even a scandalous dress to wear in public but somehow Bucky was more than ecstatic to marvel at her beauty. There was no such thing as a too long of a stare, especially when she laughed like that; throwing her head in amusement, the loose strands of her curls fall back across her shoulders as they slightly shook to the rhythm of her laughter.

A careless misstep – that Bucky could see from a mile away – had caused her to stagger backwards and twisted her ankle into an inevitable fall. Somehow, Bucky managed to slither his way through the crowd towards her, almost jumping forward to catch her before she landed on the ground.

Not only that he was the one who fell first, but he also fell hard.

So, it was expected that Bucky knew what he had got himself into. At least, that was what Y/N had been repeating in her head to convince herself for what she had done. Now that she was sitting at the back of the wobbly military truck, the fear had slowly started to seep into her, causing shivers to crawl all over her nerves.

Y/N just knew it in her guts that Bucky would be absolutely furious when he sees her but what does he expect her to do when she hadn't receive any letters from him for months now. So, when she heard that they needed more medic volunteers at the Italy base, she signed up without thinking twice about it.

"There has been a recent attack on the 107th. Too many casualties and much more whose heavily injured. You might have your hands full the moment you arrive to the base. There are few rules..." The lieutenant's voice was as rigid just as his demenour when he continued to inform the situation to the troops of medical staff.

No matter how much she wanted to pay attention to his words, Y/N couldn't help but to tune in only at his first few sentences. Casualties and heavily injured. Her hands moved to search for the cross pendent hanging from the necklace around her collarbone, gripping it tight as she prayed that her lover was not categorized under any of those dire circumstances.

What the lieutenant said in that truck could never be more true; as the moment they stepped into the medic tent, Y/N and the others were quickly pulled to assist the fallen men. It was truly heartbreaking and horrid to witness the dreading truth behind what the public posed as the "heroes of the country".

Surely they were proud to fight for the nation but then again no human being should ever had to suffer the consequences of war; not the civilians and certainly not the soldiers.

After seemingly hours of continuous stitching, wrapping and patching up; surrounded sound of groaning pain and the endless cycle of inhaling the distinct scent of fresh blood, burned flesh and the bitter of anticeptic odor; the injured soldiers were finally taken care of and had been put to rest.

Y/N looked around the tent, noting the unorganized mess around the patients; the result of the panic and chaos of the whole situation. A thought came to her mind, she might need to do some cleaning up before writing down medical record for each one of the patients.

That was when the lieutenant entered into the tent, and his stern gaze swiftly analyzed the much calmer scene, "Thank you for your service, everybody. I assume the soldiers are stabilized?"

"Yes, sir." One of the battalion doctor replied as he approached, while the rest of the team watched from where they stood.

The lieutenant simply nodded, "Good." He paused for awhile and looked around,  "Now, have any of you met Captain America before?"

There were bunch of no's murmured around the medical staff, some of them just shook their head as an answer and the lieutenant nodded again, "Well, I guess you are all just darn lucky cause he's here to perform. You are invited to come and join the others to watch, if you want to." He informed.

"Steve's here?" She thought to herself.

As the lieutenant continued to explain some things about accommodation, food and medical supplies, Y/N's head were filled with thought that her dear friend, Steve.

"I wonder if he gotten any words from James."

"Maybe he got letters from him?"

"Or could it be that he was here to find James too?

There were so many questions kept circulating in her head that by the time she snapped out of them, the lieutenant was already long gone and some of the volunteers went out to untangle themselves from the hours of stressful tension.

As a nurse herself, she felt the need to take care of her patients and finish her job before anything else. So, she started to clean up the shredded clothes, bloodied guazes and the other medical tools that needed to be sterilized and put away.

By the time she finished, it finally dawned to her that there was no trace of Bucky in the medic tent. Which means he didn't fall into the heavily injured category. So, there was two left; the one she prayed for and the other that dreaded her to even think about.

Y/N quickly made her way towards the tent where she can find the soldier in charge. However, if she was focused during one of the lieutenant's speech in the truck, she would've heard that she and the others were not authorized to enter certain parts of the base, which include the higher ups' tents.

When she was turned down by the soldiers, she sadly walked away towards the main area where Steve was supposed to perform. The drag of her feet across the dusty sand was heavy; but no more heavier than the burden in her heart.

She watched as her black pump shoes gradually covered with light sand. Finding it odd that a few weeks ago she was standing on the shiny tile of a hospital in Brooklyn and now she was halfway across the world in the middle of the chaos of a war.

The things she'd do for love.

Soon enough, the dry ground was wet from the sudden down pour, turning it into a murky soggy path. Y/N quickly ran towards the main area; where apparently the show was long over. "Did I missed Steve?" She thought as she stepped into the tent where the performers supposed to be.

The tent turned out to be empty as she suspected. There was only the sound of drizzling raindrops above it was left behind.

She looked around the area and saw the costumes for the performers were still there; the pleated white and red skirt hanging on the rack, white gloves clipped with them, the captain's shield with notes sticking at the back of it and the iconic blue helmet-mask plastered with the obvious letter of A.

She peeked a little to the right only to see Steve hunched down on the floor, curling into himself just as he always did back when he was left beaten up in the alleyway somewhere in Brooklyn.

A thought passed through her mind; maybe the upgrade of his size doesn't really change his habits.

Y/N walked closer to see him holding his sketchbook on one hand and another was a pencil pressing across the paper. The tip scribled up and down, lining the drawing of a monkey on a unicycle. "I guess the serum does not amplify your art skills huh, Stevie?" she teased as she approached the blonde man.

Steve lifted up his head as he turned towards the familiar voice, "y/n?" His face lit up as he recognized her face. He stood on his feet and pulled her into a tight hug, "It's so good to see you." He sighed, he haven't seen her since his departure to be paraded around the world as the 'symbol of freedom'.

He clearly remembers what he wrote in the letter regarding her wish to volunteer as a medic for the war; practically begging her to not do this and stay home.

But alas, it took awhile for him to process it but when it came to him, he gently pushed her away, "Wait.. what are you doing here?" His brows creased into a worried frown.

Y/N simply smiled as she responded, "They needed help, so I volueentered."

Steve shook his head in disbelief, "I know that." He sighed as a frown deepened across his feature, "Bucky made me promise not to let you do stuff like this."

In which Y/N countered, "And he remind you not to do anything stupid until he get back; so..." she purposely trailed her words for him to draw the conclusion on his own.

He let out a long sigh before concluding, "Bucky's gonna kill us."

Since, Bucky was in the topic, Y/N wanted to take the oppurtunity to asked Steve about him, "About that, have you heard--"

A woman's voice came from her back, cutting in between her words, "Steve?"

Steve nervously distance himself from Y/N as he shyly greeted the brunette, "Hi."

The woman continued to stare at Y/N trying to figure out her role and relationship to Steve but before she could get any strange idea, he quickly introduced her, "This is y/n. She's a good friend of mine at home."

A spark of realization glint through her eyes "I see. I'm Peggy. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand towards Y/N, in which she gladly shook it in hers as she reintroduced herself, "You too. I'm y/n."

After the brief exchange of smile between the two ladies, Steve continued to ask Peggy, "What are you doing here?"

Peggy sighed as she explained, "Officially, I'm not here at all." She paused as she picked her words, "I just came by to oversee the situation after the recent attack."

Although Y/N knew what Peggy meant, she was one of the medic staff that had been stitching up the aftermath of that attack after all. However, Steve on the other hand seemed to be lost.

Peggy further explained, "Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano, more than 200 men went up against him and less than 50 returned." She paused, "Your audience contained what's left of the 107th."

Steve's blues widen in realization that almost looked much like panic, "The 107th?"

"What?" Peggy prompt quickly.

Steve then turned his head to Y/N, "Bucky?" He questioned shortly.

But even she was hoping that he'll know something about Bucky, apparently she was wrong, "I tried to ask but I'm not authorized to enter the tent. I was hoping you heard from him."

Seeing the panic in Steve's eyes, she knew that her lover was no where near the safety that she prayed for. But before fear could set in, Steve sprinted out of the tent, "Come on!" he shouted as Y/N and Peggy ran closely behind him.

When they arrived to the tent, fortunately they had the permission to enter with the help of Peggy. "Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. What is your plan today?" Colonel Philips greeted in a teasing manner.

Steve didn't even bother to greet the colonel as he demanded, "I need the casualty list from Azzano." In which the Philips responded, "You don't get to give me orders, son."

Knowing that arguments won't help the situation, he control his tone of voice and spoke, "I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th." He took a short breath and insisted, "Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-"

Colonel Phillips stood on his feet as he walked towards a table behind him, "I can spell. I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count." He paused before turning around to eye on Steve and briefly on the very worried looking nurse next to him.

"But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry." There was a flash of sincerity in his eyes when he looked towards Y/N.

The optimistic Steve continued to insist more about other possibilities than casualties, "What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" They went back and forth about the what is the 'right' thing to do, "Yes, it's called 'winning the war'. "

And suddenly sound of the heavy rain fall was all Y/N could hear, then comes the booming of her heartbeat as the panic started to deprive her of any optimism; clouding her judgment to think of anything near to positive outcomes such as Steve.

It was getting harder to breath and the anxiety slowly choked her from within, forcing tears to pool in her eyes. Peggy swiftly took a hold on Y/N, before her knees managed to fall to the ground. The muffled sound of Peggy's voice managed to come through but not enough to wake her from the despair.

Before she knew it, Steve was already gone for an unauthorized rescue mission with the help from Peggy. And ever since, Y/N had spend every waking moment digging her knees into the uneven ground under her tent. Her elbows were bruised from how hard she propped them on the steel edge of the army green cot. Her palms almost dented to shape of the silver cross as she desperately squeeze it between her hold.

She prayed and prayed for his return. For both of her dearest to be safe, to find their way home.

Every part of her body was numb and all she hoped for was to have her prayers be answered. And it seems like God heard her whispers of the night.

Like the others, Y/N was drawn to the commotion as the crowd was getter louder. At first she noticed a few, then the circle of soldiers were geting thicker when the survivors joined the rest of them. There were chantings of "Captain America" that echoed throughout the base and that gave her relief to know that Steve was safe.

But it was not enough to tame her anxiousness. Y/N's focus has never been sharper when her eyes scanned the crowd, she slithered her way between the jumping joy of the soldiers, grabbing onto some men who she mistook as Bucky; until she saw him.

Her heartbeat ramped increasingly as she pushed through the soldiers, finding strength from the blood pumping excitement when she recognize those steel blues and that cheeky smile. Not long before she managed to grab onto his hand and pulled his attention to her.

It was brief but he knew that face anywhere; and suddenly his whole body was engulf into a familiar tight hug that he thought he could never be able to feel again. "James." her voice stuttered even if it was just one word that came out of her lips.

"y/n?" Bucky called her name, almost in disbelief.

God, she never knew that she was able to miss his voice this much.

"Doll, what you doing here?" He gently lead her away, which she reluctantly followed, "I'm here for you." There was no need of lies now that Bucky was here in her arms.

His gaze soften with a mix of concern and joy, "What do you mean you're here for me?" Bucky couldn't help but to let out a short laugh, "Sweetheart, you do realized that you're in the middle of a warzone?" His brows quirked as he reminded.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course, she realized that. The moment she saw that form for the volunteer enlistment, she already knew that. But, it didn't stop her to sign up, does it?

She laced her fingers into his, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James." she whispered as she leaned closer, "So, please just shut up and kiss me."

Bucky might have just realized it now; what a stubborn, demanding, crazy little lover got himself. Though at the same time, he had never been more charmed.

Bucky sighed in defeat before running his tongue on his lower lip, "Well then, come here you little minx" he took her by the head and gave her the most desperate yet sweetest kiss she could never forget.

Brooklyn, 1944 – Promises, promises

It was the day that Steve, Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos were depolying to the Austrian Alps for one of the biggest mission since Captain's impulsive rescue mission in Italy last year.

Apparently, Zola was on the move and predicted to be passing though the location while travelling on a train.

This wasn't the first time she had sent Bucky away, but the fear of each departure always felt like it was her first; especially when she thought about the promise of death that's chained to a soldier's fate.

The closer the time of departure, the stronger her grip on Bucky's uniform becomes. And Bucky didn't need to say anything because he knows her too well; she won't take any of his sweet words as a cure for her distress.

Instead, Bucky slowly swayed her from side to side as their embrace tightens with need; her face hidden in the crook of his neck while his arms secured around her waist. He had to smile as it reminded him of their late night dance, barefoot on the kitchen floor of his tiny apartment.

He could feel the teasing gaze coming from his back as well as the whistles of the Howling Commandos playfully making fun of him. Bucky was also well aware of the fact that everyone had made theirs bets on when will the Sargent James B. Barnes finally get down on his knees for his little nightingale of a nurse.

Unsurprisingly, Steve might just win the bet afterall. That punk just had know everything about him.

Y/N snuggled closer into him, "Come home to me, James." She whispered against his skin before pulling away. Teary eyes threatened to spill its salty liquid as she looked up at him, "Promise me."

Bucky's charming smile lighten his features as he leaned to press a kiss in her forehead, "I promise."

Brooklyn, 1945 – Loved and lost

Months gone by, entered the new year, and it always felt like eternity for Y/N. She spent nights kneeling next to her bed and days on the church's floor; practically begging to God for the life of her lover, for keeping him away from death.

And the letters from Bucky also come and goes within those few months' time, with his promises of coming home; laced in the words of his longing and love for her.

But, little did she knew, that promise met it's end of the bargain when the dreaded letter came to her hands. It came from the man she met back in Italy base, Colonel Phillips, sending the words of condolences for the death Sargent James B. Barnes during his honourable mission at the Austrian Alps.

But the first time she read to words, it didn't even register in her head. It was as if her brain failed to translate the text; unable to make it so she understood what they meant. Y/N had been re-reading the same lines over and over and over until it finally clicked.

The usually bright eyes of hers were now slowly filled with tears, she was in the state of shock; that even if her brain knew exactly what had happened but her heart wasn't ready for it. 

The tears started to fall down onto the letter. Drip by drip. And all of the sudden she lost every word that she could ever think of. Her silent scream; suffocating her with each breath she took desperately gripping onto the fragile piece of paper, holding it to her chest hold as if that would help to ease the pain in her heart.

Y/N could feel it in her ripping guts. How all the threads of every joyful memories she could ever once recall; they unraveled in a way that broke her to pieces until they were all but a rumpled of strings scattered about her feet.

A sharp fall had forced Y/N down to her knees, skin digging into the hard floor as her hands trembled silently, clutching onto the letter.

At first when she opened her mouth, there was not a single sound came out as her breath ripped from her lungs. Each left her with scars of loss and every waking minute in this reality was just pure pain.

Her body bend forward until her forehead meets the cold floor; that was when she wailed – an agonizing scream that left a haunting memory to the neighbours around her apartment.

She cried like there was too much raw pain inside that she could never contained. She cried like her soul needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release a loathful rage on the world. 

But it was more than just crying, it was the sobbing of a woman that drained of all hope. She sank on floor, willing herself to be swallowed by the dread and loss. Just screaming out the agonies that been dancing across her vulnerable veins. 

Her chest violently quivered as she was desperately trying to catch the air. She collected every last energy that she had to call out the name of the lover she had loss, "James.." Her gasping breath whispered against the floor, "You promised." 

A month later the nation celebrate to the announcement to the end of a war, but to Y/N it was just another wave of mourning grief to a loss of another precious person in her life; Steve.

Amidst the loud sound of cheering and laughter, she rushed away from the crowd to the place that she had put all her faith into. Stumbling through the empty church and falling at the feet of Jesus' statue, Y/N looked up at the face of God; not with her usual admiration but instead with so much loath, rage and despair.

The night sky was brighten to the flashing light from the firework but all she could think of was how similar the sound of it to a firing canon in the war.

And the thought of Bucky and Steve run through her mind.

She had been nothing but faithful to the lord, religiously prayed for no more than saving the life of people she held dear to her heart.

But, God thought it would be merciful to let them die.

Y/N harshly ripped the cross necklace from her neck, tearing her skin apart in the process. She gripped on the cross in her hands, much like she would few months back but for completely different reason.

The crimson of her blood tainted the white collar of her nurse uniform as she she cursed the all mighty God for what he had done. Ever since, she swore to herself to never be naive to the illusion of God's mercy ever again.

Washington D.C., 2014 – An old friend

Fate is full with irony and God has his way of twisting them for his own pleasure.

When Y/N died in the 60's, old and unmarried, even if she doesn't believe in God anymore, her dying wish was to be able to meet her lover and friend again.

At least one more time.

But lo and be hold, he had different plans for her. Y/N's body did die that night on the hospital bed but her soul never did. It was as if she was woken up from sleep in another body with the same face as her, that's when she realized she has been reincarnated.

Apparently, she was only born in the same family lineage as her original life; whether coming from her younger brother or cousin or anyone related back to her bloodline. And sharing even the tiniest amount of blood of her own, triggers every single memory from her previous life.

This wasn't what she wanted.

She didn't want to live knowing she cannot be with Bucky.

So on the second life, she did the unthinkable. She took her own life, thinking that she would finally leave the world behind but she didn't.

It happened again.

And again.

And again.

So, when she reached her sixth life, she realized that she will never able to meet James and Steve ever again; that was when she went rogue.

Her sixth life was filled with rage and vengeance; to the point that she took the idea of life very lightly. So, instead of living until the old days, she searched for revenge and got herself tragically killed in the process.

Now, the 18 year old Y/N was in her seventh life, with a new name that was given by her seventh parents, "Evelyn" , and the spitting image of her first life. From her dark raven hair to the light brown of her eyes. This time, she decided to try to accept the cruel fate; the cursed that God had placed on her for the sin that she made decades ago.

Y/N walked around the Smithsomian Museum, specifically at the American history section where they put up Captain America's exhibit. It's been how many lifetimes since she surround herself with knowledge of a past that she once lived.

This was the first time, since her first life. And most probably the last time since she was going overseas in a week to continue her studies in Asia.

She walked along the line up display of the Howling Commandos suits, remembering the living flesh of them as she took steps forward to each, stopping in front of Bucky's.

Flashes of him appeared to where the figure stood; the memories was so vivid that she could still feel fabric of his suit against her, the electrifying feeling on his skin on her own.

She ripped her gaze away just to be greeted by the portrait of Bucky, plastered so huge and proud on the memorial of one of the Howling Commandos section. Despite the cracking of her heart, her body move on its own; as they knew that deep down, Y/N's heart will always be yearning for her lover.

Her gaze soften with longing and nostalgic as she slowly blink at his features. His considerably messy hair, that little frown that he does to act mysterious for the ladies, and the thin layer of beard that she loved to leave her lipstick marks on.

Y/N's daydream were cut short when someone pulled her by the arm, startling her into a defensive mode. Her sixth life's habit almost broke through when she nearly flipped the man on the floor but thankfully she stopped herself as she recognized those blue eyes.

The man's face looked pale like he had seen a ghost, as he uttered a name that she haven't heard for decades, "y/n?"

"Steve..." she called his name wordlessly.

She knew he was alive. Everybody does.

When the news came out in 2011, she was merely a 15 year old kid back then. Apparently, the super soldier serum helped him to survive the ice.

She remembered how her parents rushed to her room when they heard the sudden cluttering sounds of panic upstairs, only to find their daughter on the floor looking pale while her cup of iced coffee spilling in all over her study desk as the viral youtube video of Captain America running through New York city barefoot playing on the screen of her computer.

She remembered the feeling of both disbelief and joy that rushed through body as her parents helped her to sit up on her bed. The moment that it sunk into her head, she began to cry. Streams of joyful tears broke from her shaky body, each drop washed the painful burden in her heart as her parents lulled her to sleep.

Y/N never made an effort to meet him after knowing truth. Because who would believe her?

She wasn't Steve.

There wasn't any super soldier serum in her blood. There wasn't any tank of chemical that drown her with power.

She was cursed and now she had to live with it.

Meanwhile, Steve seemed to be trapped in a spiralling confusion of his own. He examined each of her features and he had not a single doubt that she has the same face to an old friend in the 40's.

The same friend that he knew died of old age in the 60's.

But, how come the person managed to have the exact same face to hers. Now that he looked closer, she was younger than the last time he saw Y/N.

She looked like she was in her late teens, "Are you really y/n?" His voice was soft as he muttered.

Y/N bit the insides of her cheeks, holding back the urge of telling him the truth, "Sorry, I think you got the wrong person." she tried to untangle his grasp around her arm.

Even her voice was similar to Y/N, and she was looking at Bucky's photo like she knew him.

How could she say that she's was not Y/N?

Steve reluctantly let go of her arms and took a step away after seeing the distress on her face, "I-I'm sorry. You remind me of someone I know." He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She was just too similar looking to someone precious that he left behind.

"It's okay, sir." She smiled gently, like the way she usually does when Steve apologizes for his impulsiveness of picking a fight in alleyways. She looked up to the taller man as she continued, "Thank you for being alive..." she hesitated to call him by his name so instead she called for his other name, "...Captain."

She thanked him sincerely before walking away, leaving Steve to reminisce the memories of his life with Y/N and Bucky as he stared at Bucky's memorial.

The next week, she left the United States for Asia where she planned to spend 4 years studying at the National University of Singapore, leaving her past behind in hopes of moving forward with her life, refusing to care about the avengers shenanigans anymore, including her dear friend, Steve.

New York, 2018 – New norms

When half of the population was wiped out from the earth, two of them was Y/N's parents. And like every other people who had lost their loved ones during the blip, her parents sudden absence truly take a toll on her, especially when she was planning to live a long life with them.

After graduating and getting a decent job in Singapore, she was forced to go back to New York when it happened. Y/N couldn't just let her childhood house left abandoned, she simply can't let that happen.

You would thought a person who had multiple lifetimes would be used to losing someone they love but no. It only gets worst as the years go by.

The more Y/N tried to fit into the new norms, the more that she could feel herself slipping into old habits of her sixth life.

Until that one drunken night when she visited the Smithsomian Museum again after years of forcing herself to forget about him; it took her one look at the potrait of Bucky, she knew what she had to do.

Germany, 2023 – An old nemesis

Nearly 5 years into the blip and Y/N was already becoming a legend in the underground scene. They called her the Deathstalker. She never really knew the origin of it but nevertheless she chooses to stick with the newly founded identity.

With the skills she picked up on her sixth life, she easily became the most deadly assassin in the business. Seemingly in a constant competition of reputation with the highly popular, black widow assassins.

Though she couldn't care less about who was winning the battle, she only cares about tracking anything or anyone related to Hydra.

After that fateful night at the museum, she couldn't help but to think that this must be her calling.

If the curse made her technically immortal, then why not became the hunter destined to slay the monster. They said that Hydra will never die, but so was she. And if anything good came out from this curse, then she might as well use it to avenge Bucky.

And bring the old nemesis to the ground.

Her sixth life was similar to this but she wasn't going to make the same mistake. The flaming greed to have her revenge was too strong back then, it lead her to be hasty and clumsy, which then let her to an early death.

But, she's grown out of those immaturity.

Nowadays, she takes her time and still get the job done flawlessly. Just like she is now, when the soft but dark sound of her chuckle, interrupted the silence that had claimed the room.

The poor man was sitting limp on the chair with his body tied with it. He had been like this for seemingly hours with a knife in one of his thighs, which trembled with the vibrations of his body.

More so, when Y/N twisted them, causing a keen of pain to clawed up his throat and spilled out a hoarse groan.

"Where is it?" Her fingers wrapped around the handle, as she watched the man tossed his head, more with fear than trying to answer.

"I don't like to repeat myself." Y/N slid the blade free, causing a noise he would not forget. The man sagged against his bonds, panting as he watched the blood surged and dribbled out of the wound.

But then he felt the prick against his other leg, wide eyes turning to watch as the knife was held above his skin, Y/N's hand flat against the top, ready to push in. "Where the fuck is it?" her tone was eerie as the voice changer in her mask produced an emotionless robotic effect on it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The thick german accent seethed through his voice as he grunted in pain.

There was only boredom in Y/N's eyes as she gazes straight into his. A stab of the knife went through his thigh without a warning, until the tip of it almost met the flat surface of the chair beneath it.

The whole room echoed with the sound of the whimpering and cries of his struggle, "Please, I swear to God I don't know what you're talking about." He pleaded as fast as he can, when he felt the shortage of breaths in his lungs due to dealing with the excruciating pain.

"Playing dumb isn't going to help you, mutt." She twisted the knife, pulled out and stabbed it again causing him to fall into an almost delirious state, "Please, please please, I swear I don't know anything about the serum." He blurted out of misery.

There it was.

The thing she wanted to hear.

Y/N's eyebrow quirked in interest, "I never mentioned the serum in our conversation, no?"

He fucked up.

He knew that he fucked up.

But, does it matter when his body was searing in pain?

By the end of the intense interrogation, Y/N finally got the intel she needed to find and destroy whatever was left behind by Wilfred Nagel, who was recruited by the CIA to recreate the super soldier serum.

Those greedy fuckers just cannot stay away from things that shouldn't be meddled with. Even Y/N could see the potential threats of a successful recreation the super soldier serum; they were practically asking for Hydra to revive to its glory days.

And she would not allow that to happen.

She needed to destroy it before its finished.

A loud wail left the man's lips, almost sounded a little strained as he had been screaming in pain for hours. Y/N mercilessly grabbed him by his sweaty chin as she pried his mouth open. Knowing exactly what was coming, the man begged, "Oh lord, please please help me please."

Leaning closer she coldly spoke, "The gods doesn't care about you. Trust me I've been there." With a swift strike, she forced her knife down his throat, and a splash of red tainted her mask, nearly got into her eyes but she managed to blink before it does.

She stood still as she watched him gurgle on his own blood as death collected his soul. Wiping the blood away from her eyelid, she walked out of the abandoned building with a mission to finish; all the while blissfully oblivious to the war that the avengers were fighting to their death on the other side of the world.

Madripoor, 2024 – The most prized asset

The returned of her parents were as sudden as the lost. Though she was glad that they were back, however she had to live a double life now that they kept asking about her job and personal life as they wanted to catch up for the lost of time in 5 years.

Y/N felt bad for lying to her parents but it was for their own good. Now, that she had sent them to a honeymoon to travel all over Europe, she felt better in pursuing her mission without concerns.

Besides the joyful return there was also the awful ones.

Now, that Wilfred Nagel was back from the blip. The serum was perfected to its finest version. And was stolen by bunch of kids protesting for equal rights.

What a fucking mess that was.

But, she would deal with that later. The main focus right now was to find the man itself. There would be no more serums if the source is eradicated.

That was her priority.

With her face hidden behind her signature mask, Y/N walked through the messy crowd as she searches for Shelby's men. This should be a short meeting, since Shelby and her had history together; or more to a favour that she owns to Y/N.

However, when she tried to tune in into the hushed conversations in the crowd, she noticed that the murmurs seemed to be divided into two hot topics; one about the sudden appreance of the Deathstalker, which was herself, and second was surprisingly about the return of another notorious assassin. 

Then when the conversations died down, a fight suddenly broke out. Y/N hold on the handle of her blades from the side of her thighs, as she stiffed into a defensive mode.

While on the other hand, the crowd seemed to be more interested in recording the fight, than avoiding it.

She seemlessly weaved her way through the people, only to see that the action ended with a man choked onto the bar table. The was attacker's face turned away from her, she could only see his figure from the back.

Then, a gleam of gold caught her attention, Y/N squinted her eyes as she analyzed the man's left arm.

It was not the pattern of the sleeve from his suit.

It was his arm.

A black bionic arm.

Which reminded of her of someone she came across in her sixth life; but his arm was a tin foil silver with a red star on his upper side. At the time, he was Hydra's most prized asset, they called him the Winter Soldier.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: yes, I am well aware that left y'all hanging but I still hope you enjoy this one. Tell me what you think so far, I'm curious if y'all cry at the part where she received the letter or maybe you can comment of something else, I'd still love to hear them ♡

[foodiegoogie]

wonder what's in the cards for us?

james potter x ex!reader ✮ 1.7k

summary: you live in james’ mind, rent-free, even after all these years.

cw/tags: gn!reader (no use of y/n), lovers (mentioned) to exes to (???), muggle!au, modern!au, (sorta???) angst... w/ an ending (wink wonk), and as u can probably already tell, this is from james' pov :>

note: now i also didnt know what i was doing with this one even more than the other james fic i just wrote 😭 but thats fine, ive managed to churn it out at least! so to whoever comes across this, well.. i hope you give it a chance 🫶 bcoz james is a very lovesick puppy here despite the angsty vibe LOL and also, this is yet again based on another niki song called, "facebook friends" 😋 ENJOYY !

( ♡ )

Amidst a desk full of open textbooks filled with dog-eared pages, highlighted phrases, and color-coordinated tabs lies a laptop—also opened, the screen glaring brightly within the dark confines of James Potter’s dorm room, with multiple tabs open on a browser; they consist of articles, research domains, and the like.

In front of this laptop is James Potter himself, staring right at the screen with a sullen look on his face. He has his headphones on (most likely listening to a song matching his mood), his forearms are placed onto the desk, and his chin is resting on them. It was easy to say that James was currently not having the time of his life trying to study for finals.

But then again, he was also currently not studying for finals despite being surrounded by his textbooks, along with the multiple tabs opened on his computer. No, he was staring right at an open Facebook tab, eyes darting over every single aspect of a specific profile as his fingers swiped up and down on the touchpad, scrolling through the profile.

He’s inherently aware that he should be studying, of course. Like many other college students think, the finals season was a force to be reckoned with, and it was absolutely critical that every spare time spent is for studying for the examinations. But as far as James was also aware of—he couldn’t sit still and be laser-focused on doing godforsaken tasks such as studying for his finals.

And so, here he was, scrolling mindlessly on your Facebook profile. Because, really, he tends to get into a sentimental mood whenever he studies. It’s either he’s looking at a photo album and reminiscing memories, grabbing random things displayed around his room and thinking about what they meant to him, or, you know, scrolling mindlessly on Facebook because that’s where his past connection with you is immortalized.

He doesn’t quite know how it all started—for one thing, he remembers being a highschool heartthrob, girls and boys alike falling at his feet. And if he was feeling particularly spunky, he’d entertain a few pretty birds or two. All the while, they had never meant anything to him other than an ego boost or just a mere distraction (which, he admittedly thinks now, made him a dick).

But amongst all of these flings, James remembers one differently than the others. He remembers you—you and your smile, your laugh, your ability to make him feel like he’s on top of the world, your ability to suddenly make everything good in the world only ten times better. He remembers absolutely everything about you. Both the good, and the bad.

He never tries to think of the bad, but even as he reminisces on the good times he’s had with you, it makes him feel just as sad as when he thinks of the bad times. So it’s a never-ending struggle against keeping you close in his memories whilst also being aware that it wasn’t right, it wasn’t healthy for him. Only fools have attachment issues with their highschool ex that they carry on to their college life.

Perhaps that was why it had all gone downhill for the both of you, he thought. As a young teenage boy capable of attracting attention from left and right, and regularly switching between person to person, he couldn’t handle ‘serious.’ He’d selfishly wanted you all to himself, but without the limits of commitment. Meanwhile, you wanted ‘serious.’ You wanted commitment. James was scared because he was unfamiliar with it all.

So naturally, you had drifted apart, never again boarding on the seesaw of your ‘relationship’ with each other. The one that bordered on the line between friends and lovers.

And in a petty attempt to ‘get back at you’ and forget about you wholly, James strived to disconnect you from across all his social media accounts, erasing any and every semblance of a connection between the two of you.

Well, all except Facebook.

It’s a guilty pleasure for him, checking on your Facebook profile every now and then. And each time, it comes to his surprise that he’s still even able to view your profile freely, as you hadn’t made the move to unfriend him like he expected you to. He feels lucky that he’s still able to keep up with your life despite not having to be in it anymore. But then again, you had always been kind back then; it’s one of the many other reasons why he still loves you, really.

But oh, how he wishes he was still in it.

James would never admit it aloud to anyone that even after all this time, he’s still not over you. Yet, at the same time, he doesn’t want to be over you. You were the next best thing to something he didn’t even know he was looking for at the time. He had underestimated how much of an impact your presence had made on him, regardless of how brief it was.

He misses you, so to speak.

It’s a pretty shitty feeling, to miss someone he can’t really see anymore, nor talk to or reach out to.

On some days, it’s easy to bear. College keeps him busy, his friends keep him entertained, and he’s been going out on a few dates, too - trying to find someone better than you so he can finally subdue the lingering feelings in his heart, and end this endless cycle of longing and waiting and loving.

And most nights, he’s able to sleep peacefully with dreams of a distant fantasy where he’s managed to finally find someone new, someone better. Someone else who could give him what you took back.

But on the other days and nights, James faces the harsh truths that there was simply no one better than you, and that a part of him will always long for you back in his life, right where you belonged.

And so, as he scrolls through your Facebook profile, and sees glimpses into your life nowadays, he can’t help but miss you more than he already does, unknowingly and unforgivably. Of course, he’s highly aware that shamelessly stalking you every now and then was incredibly creepy of him, yet, he can’t help it. He’s silently relieved by the fact that there appears to be no sign of you in a relationship at the moment, almost selfishly thinking, maybe I have a chance.

But he knows it’s a far stretch, knows that whatever the both of you had with each other was a thing of the past now; nothing but a fleeting memory. And now that he’s a little older and wiser than he was when he met you, James has resigned himself to the fact that he may never be with you again in the way he wants to.

He’s not afraid of ‘serious’ anymore, nor is he afraid of commitment, and he no longer blames it on his unfamiliarity with them either. Now, he wants it too.

But as always, he was late to realize it. And at the same time, you were no longer there to wait for him to.

And so, as James continues to pine after you even after all this time, he’s foolishly hoping that the two of you would cross paths again; get to know each other again, get to know him again now that he’s managed to grow into a better version of himself. He wishes that you’d met this version of him first, because maybe then, you would have stayed together.

But of course, as the harsh reality of things would have it, James is more than happy to just stay friends with you on Facebook. He’ll keep you close in his memories while silently hoping for a chance to try again. To try it all with you again.

Suddenly, he feels the desk shake from beneath him, a vibrating sensation that pulls him out of his thoughts of you. It comes from his phone, which now shows a wacky selfie of Sirius, indicating a call from him.

James stares at it for a few seconds, debating on whether he should answer his friend’s call despite the likely reason that it’s just another one of Sirius’ jests or drunk calls, or maybe even a butt dial. But he decides to welcome the distraction eventually, placing his headphones around his neck as he moved to grab the phone, pressing it to his ear.

“Hello—”

“OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR, YOU MORON! I’VE BEEN KNOCKING FOR THE PAST TEN MINUTES HERE!”

James nearly jolts out of his seat as he pulls the phone away from his ear by Sirius’ yelling. He has half a mind to yell back at him and explain that he was ‘in the middle of something,’ which led to his not noticing his friends’ knocking.

But he doesn’t find the energy to do it no matter how annoying Sirius was being. So, he sighs.

James hears the banging on his door now, and the yelling comes again from both outside his door, and the speakers on his phone. It forms an echo of Sirius’ voice demanding that he be let in, and it gives James a headache.

He calls out, “I’m coming!” in an annoyed voice, rushing to close the open tab of your Facebook profile on his laptop so he could finally open the door for his friend.

What James doesn’t notice though is that during the process of closing the tab, he’d managed to accidentally leave a like on one of your old posts. He never visits your profile again after letting Sirius come in and hang around his dorm for the remainder of the day. Thus, imagine his surprise the next day, as he opens the Facebook tab again, finding a message waiting for him, and from you.

hi james :) how are you doing?

And just like that, the inhibitions that had once held him back from indulging in his desires to try another chance with you are completely shed as James hastily typed out his response.

( ♡ )

surprise! it's an open ending ;) thanks for reading the whole thing <333 and as always, likes, replies, and reblogs are very much appreciated :] lmk what u thought abt this!!! <3

[yallthemwitches]

The Sound of Silence

Minerva always had a soft spot for Potter. Maybe that's why when it was time to choose a Head Boy alongside Lily Evans, he was was clearly the only option--- A series of vignettes of James and Lily's seventh year through McGonagall's POV.

AN: Posting this one a day early because I won't have time tomorrow (sorry) Written for Jily Week 2024, Day 5: Matchmaker (hosted by @kay-elle-cee and @sunshinemarauder)...Fully dedicate this one to the many teacher meetings I've sat through where we all devolve into gossiping about students. AO3 Link Here

I.

They sat around a circular table which always reminded Minerva of a story she heard as a child. Her colleagues had shuffled in slowly, still rosy with summer and the ever rejuvenating feeling of silence after a school years worth of endless noise. 

Filius sat next to her, pulling out a pipe and stoking it with a flame emitted from his short stubby finger. He sighed and a puff of smoke wafted into the middle of the table. 

“Here we are again—” he said to no one in particular. Minerva just clasped her hands on the table and waited for the final stragglers to trickle in.

Albus sat on the other side of the sphere and regarded his staff with half-amusement. Many of them had been long friends—giving centuries of their lives to the school. How many powerful witches and wizards had they watched slip out of these doors with their collective spirit within them? If the thought wasn’t so saccharine, Minerva would have perhaps felt a little proud. 

Albus cleared his throat and the staff settled. At this point they needed no commencement speech on why they all were called from their little parts of the castle to assemble, nor did they want one. The golden rule was short meetings were the best ones.

Horace spoke first. He always did. 

“Obviously I think there’s no arguing that Lily Evans should be the first pick.”

There was a rumble of agreement. Even Filius made a reluctant nod. He never willingly wanted to agree with Horace on much of anything.

“That’s a fine choice Horace, but are you not worried about the matter of her blood status? I’m sure you are not ignorant of the current news and I can imagine your house is quite…vocal about these happenings.”

McGonagall heard a snort from Filius which was hard to miss seeing as it bounced his whole body slightly off his chair. 

“Oh, Albus, must we always make these things so political,” Horace whined, “Evans is a brilliant witch…the best of her year—I’m sure we can—we can—” He teetered off, not knowing how to finish. It wasn’t a secret that despite his affinity for the muggleborn, his house was not so keen to accept her. They all would be idiots to disregard the dangers of putting someone of her status in charge in the current climate. 

But Albus didn’t press further. It was never his nature. “Then it’s settled. Lily Evans is Head Girl.” There was another mumbled agreement. Horace’s face was pink and slightly sweaty, but he nodded all the same.

“So onwards to—” 

There was a shuffle of teachers. Sybill spoke first:

“Oh, Oh! I choose the Delile boy. His tea leaves have always shown potential.” A couple seats down, Pomona snorted. 

“Colin Delile? That boy tried to eat a handful of nightshade thinking it was mint last year—”

“Well, I vote for Ambroise Cunningham: smart, good quidditch player (“mediocre quidditch player,” Minerva thought) and has a good head on his shoulders!” Interjected Rolanda.

There were some nods in agreement but Filius started to tut. 

“Are you all forgetting that Cunningham and Evans dated two years ago? They’ll kill each other!”

“Oh, I would hardly call that dating,” Horace scoffed.

“They certainly looked like they were dating when I found them in the charms broom closet that October!” Filius shot back. 

He had a point. She wouldn’t call Filius her friend per se but she had a fond appreciation for him being insightful when it came to the students’ lives. He was very discreet, perhaps with the help of his size, but he always was up to date on each of their lives. 

Minerva mulled a thought around for a minute while drowning out the verbal quidditch that was occurring for the rest of the staff. It was a gamble, certainly. But she had never been the one to shy away from a challenge. 

Raising her voice above the riffraff she called out, “I say James Potter should be Head Boy.”

The room went silent. Around the table, every set of eyes peered at her with mixtures of shock.

Chaos erupted. 

“Potter can’t keep himself out of detention to save his life,” screamed Aurora.

“That and his little group were growing muggle drugs in the west greenhouses!” Pomona chimed in. 

Albus didn’t even try to get order. He just continued to stare at her with an expression that twinkled beyond the room.

Minerva huffed. “Well, can any of you deny that he is brilliant?” Everyone paused. A wave of indecision rushed through the group. 

“And we know he’s a good leader. The Gryffindor team has won every year since he became captain.” Horace grumbled something under his breath but she ignored it. 

“---And, we are going to need someone who is willing to help, Hecate forbid, if there is an attack of some sort due to all this Dark Lord bunk. He might be scrappy and a fool sometimes, but he’d be able to hold his ground for the others.”

There was a hesitant noise of agreement around the table. People shifted in their seats, not able to find fault in her logic but also not enjoying its outcome. 

“And what about Evans then?” Horace had his arms crossed against his chest. “Potter has been tormenting the poor girl for years. They would be rubbish, absolute rubbish—”

“Ah, shut it Horace,” Filius scoffed, “We all know those two have been clouding up this school with sexual tension for a better half of a year now.” More nods all around. 

Minerva had hoped that no one would make the romance argument, but it couldn’t be helped. Potter and Evans had been making all of their lives unbearable, with their oblivious pining and rowing. It was like watching an ouroboros eat itself the way the two provoked each other. There was a small part of her that even hoped that matching the two together would end their purgatory. 

“Ah, the ancient magic of young love,” Albus mused to himself, stroking his beard. “I won’t deny that I like the idea. Are there…any others who seriously denounce the decision to make Potter Head Boy?”

Horace made a few grumbles, but ultimately kept quiet. He knew once Albus made a decision, he wasn’t easy to sway. 

“Then it’s settled, Lily Evans and James Potter.”

“Hecate help us,” Pomona mumbled under her breath. 

II. 

She watched as they shifted next to each other uncomfortably. Both of them dawned golden badges with encrusted initials on them that looked too heavy to be pinned to their robes. She had honestly expected more hiccups on the first day back, but something had already seemed to have shifted between them. Evans actually smiled when Potter offered her some dessert, took it from him and blushed when their hands grazed. She said something and James let out a laugh that made her smile as well. 

“Now, that’s interesting.” Filius whistled, sitting next to her at the great banquet. “Maybe your little matchmaking stunt was unneeded.” He side-eyed her and she didn’t entertain his amusement.

She looked back at the young couple. Potter had begun to explain something with extreme animation. He waved his hands around and Lily actually laughed at his antics. When he finally finished whatever he was saying, his hand rested on the bench between them and Minerva swore she saw Evans place hers on top of his.

“Oh Merlin, what have I done.”

III. 

“I think we have Miss Evans to thank for his rehabilitation. That girl can do anything,” Horace chortled at lunch a week later. 

“What are you talking about? He blew up the Slytherin bathroom just yesterday.”

“Well—he would have done it six more times already if it wasn’t for her influence!”

No one could argue that there was a great change between the two Heads. Horace wasn’t wrong, Potter was being better behaved this year and in turn Evans had started to cozy up to him more and more. Even at that moment, they entered the great hall together. Potter had both of their bags slung over his shoulder and his eyes were glued to her. As they sat, Evans pulled his glasses off in a fuss, cast a cleaning charm on them, then put them back on his face. Her hand lingered to push some of his unruly hair away and he made a dopey swooning smile. 

“It's like watching a dead body be reanimated,” Filius nodded towards the two. 

“You’re being dramatic.” 

“Don’t act like you aren’t seeing this. At this rate they’ll be married by graduation.”

She looked over again. They were sitting so close that their shoulders were touching. Black was engaging them in conversation with a lively reenactment of some muggle movie they had watched, but the couple seemed to be hardly listening. Slowly, like attempting to touch fire, Evans leaned her head onto James shoulder—slightly hovering it in indecision for a moment before putting her weight fully on his. Potter perked up, then dared to place an arm around her waist.

Filius let out a low whistle. Horace moaned.

“I was really hoping she would get with one of the Black boys..” Horace mumbled, “ blood purity aside, I do think they would be better suited…”

But he got cut off by Pomona who came half sprinting down the table. 

“Are you seeing this?? Potter! Evans!” 

VI. 

Christmas break was already upon them, which meant all of the professors were stretched too thin to think. Heads of house always had the worst of it. On one hand that meant she didn’t have to see Horace chortling around the castle half as much, but on the other she now had the Gryffindor house and the two Head students to preside over. As she walked, she mumbled to herself about how she would never offer up a Gryffindor into the Head position again. 

She mounted the stone steps towards the Heads’ office, trying to balance all the rolled parchments in her arms. Entering the small elaborate passage, she could see the light of the office was on. 

As she approached the image of them became more clear. Potter was elongated over the couch with his feet dangling lazily over the edge of the armrest. Evans laid between his splayed legs and over his torso. Using her forearms, she propped up on his chest and seemed to be drawing small circles into his shirt. Potter fiddled with her hair, twisting it through his fingers as though it was a snitch evading being caught. 

They spoke in low tones so she could hardly make out what they were saying. Potter said something to make her laugh tinkle into the cavernous room before tugging lightly on her to become eye level. Minerva watched with a sinking feeling as her two Head students locked lips, and proceeded to not break away from each other for a long time. 

She stood there in the passage, feeling a bit sorry for herself for being in this position: busy, overworked, trying to teach a class while helping Albus get a counterforce together...and now apparently being too sheepish to tell her Head Students to stop snogging long enough to take some of the work off her hands. 

With a little shriek from Evans, Potter flipped them over so he was now hovering over her while a hand disappeared somewhere Minerva did not want to guess. Admitting a sort of defeat, she spun on her heel and left the way she came. 

V.

The morning of the last day of school started like all of the other 200 times she’d done it. She woke up, made herself some tea, shifted into her cat form and curled around her bedroom window. 

A knock rattled the door. She lifted her head and hoped that whoever was bothering her would take the hint. Another set of knocks, and distinctly not Albus’ typical rap. She did a cat’s equivalent of a sigh and changed herself human again. 

She opened the door to find Potter looking out of breath and somewhat sheepish. Not a good start. 

“Good morning Minnie,” he beamed at her. 

“Mr. Potter, can I help you? It’s 6am…”

Potter ran a hand through his hair. On a glance over he looked suspiciously put together for the time of day. 

“Er, yes actually. I’m hoping I banked enough goodwill with you to ask for a favor?” Even he sounded unsure of himself. She didn’t know what it was about him, but he always knew how to hit her soft spot. 

“I don’t know about this goodwill, but I’m listening.”

He let out a relieved huff then suddenly became very animated. “Brilliant—ok. I can’t really tell you right now, because it's kind of a secret, but I would really really love it— and be forever grateful to you— if you kept students away from the lake this afternoon.”

Minerva blinked at him. There was no bone in his body that was not being sincere, she could see that, but how often had he looked the same when he wanted to do one of his little stunts. 

Seeing her pursed lips, he continued. “I swear. I solemnly swear it's not a prank. Just please.”

“Ok.” 

“Wait, what?” he blinked at her like she had grown two heads.

“Don't make me regret this decision Potter.”

“I won’t— would never. Ah, Thank you Minnie! You’re a doll!” He turned and bounded down the stairs.

XXX

It turned out to be quite difficult to keep students away from the lake, but she managed. The clock was ringing 3pm and she was starting to wonder how long she was supposed to keep things up when she spotted them. Potter and Evans were walking hand in hand. They both hadn’t changed into their regular clothes yet and Evans was talking softly. Potter looked like he wasn’t hearing a word of it. Honestly, he looked wrecked. Whatever was on his mind was clearly eating him alive—not at all the same collected boy that had knocked on her door that morning. 

The lakeside was cleared as promised and they walked beside it before stopping and looking out at the mountains far away. It struck Minerva this would be the last time she would see these two in this setting. The next time they would meet they would be equals, fighting what now felt like an impossible war. She savored the moment of seeing two people in love, unaffected for perhaps the final time by death and sadness. 

Potter turned to Evans looking like he was about to combust. Evans must have noticed because her brow furrowed and she placed a hand on his chest, which he immediately grabbed and held in both hands. Very shaky, he lowered himself onto one knee. 

She waited for noise. For some sort of big show that Potter and his mates set up for the occasion, for students to come bursting at the seams of the castle to ruin the moment, for even just the sound of a yes.

Instead, there was silence. A blissful, pure silence. She must have blinked and missed it because Potter’s arms were wrapped around her now, lifting her off the ground. Tears poured from both of their eyes as they in turn tried to wipe the other's face—opting finally for kissing each tear off each other’s cheeks. There was no noise—just sweet relief. 

For a split second, the two reverted back into their eleventh year selves. Small, unsure, and holding onto each other tightly against the weight of a world still unknown to them. It was the first time in a long time she wanted to cradle something in her arms. To tell them it was going to be alright; to keep them whole.

[velocesainz]

Hey! Lobe your wriying so much! You're really talented! Can I get a blazer with a turtleneck and flowy skirt paired with a headband please? Preferably George Russell if you write for him but if not maybe Oscar Piastri or Lando Norris? Thank you!

A/n: hope you enjoy! Thank you for the request

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist |

Keeping covered

Summary: Reader and George are in a forbidden relationship as her father is George’s boss. When they are alone in her fathers house they can’t help but get naughty

Pairing: George Russel x Wolff! Reader

Warnings: smut mdni

Order receipt:

Turtleneck: I'm going to mark you up so everyone knows you're mine

Blazer: Can you feel how how much you turn me on

Flowy Skirt: I wonder how your father would feel if he knew what was going on between us

Headband: Secret relationship

Reader pov:

I was in the Williams garage speaking with some of my fellow engineers when our team principal, James vowles came in

“Everyone please keep doing what you were. Y/n I would like to speak to you”

I nervously walked to James’s office

Had i done something wron? Was I getting fired?

“Y/n your father wants to promote you to the Mercedes team. You are a very talented mechanic and I feel like this is a very good opportunity that you should take”

This was an amazing opportunity for sure but the problem was George was a driver at Mercedes

I was in a secret relationship with him concealed from the public eye since my dad doesn’t exactly have a calm demeanour

With me being in his garage it would be nearly impossible to sneak around

With us being separate garages where my dad couldn’t constantly monitoring me it had worked out but now I was stuck

Later that night I had a dinner with my dad and a few members of the Mercedes team so I figured I would ask George what to do then

Timeskip:

I dressed in a simple black maxi satin dress and put on makeup and headed to my dads house for the dinner

I walked in and instantly was met with the eyes all on me

I weaved my way through the crowd and reached the main table where my dad was speaking to George

I gulped hard

George looked extremely hot in the simple white button up and black jeans that he was wearing

Both of them noticed me and asked me to join them and asked me to take a seat and I went and sat next to George

“So y/n/n what do you think about the offer? I’m assuming James already talked to you about it”

I saw George look at me curiously

“I’m still considering the options dad, I have a few people to consult”

My dad sighed and dropped the topic

As everyone slowly made their way to the table and everyone started making conversation I felt George’s hand creep up to grab my hand and lead to the tent that was formed in his pants

He leant in and whispered

“Can you feel how much you turn me on darling”

I felt heat rush into my cheeks and I tried my best to ignore the needy ache between my thighs for the rest of the dinner

Timeskip:

The dinner was almost over and people were slowly staring to leave the house

“Alright y/n could you stay at the house today? I have to head out for some work and George is staying, he’ll take the guest room”

I couldn’t pass up on an opportunity to be home alone with George

“Sure dad no problem” I replied and went up to head up to get ready for tonight with George

I finished showering and put on a set of black lacy lingerie under a set of black lacy pajamas and made my way to the guest room where George was

“My my my darling, don’t you look ravishing”

He grabbed me by my waist and pressed his lips into mine in a hot, needy kiss

I began working on the buttons of his shirt while he worked on removing the pajama set

He laid me down on the bed and started kissing all over my body, sucking and leaving marks everywhere

“I’m gonna mark you up so everyone knows you’re mine” he said huskily into my ear and continued sucking

His fingers made their way to my clit and ran through my dripping folds

“Desperate are we darling?”

“Please George i need you right now”

He took out a condom from his jeans pocket, pulling down his jeans and boxers and putting the condom on

He positioned himself at my entrances and entered me slowly causing us both to groan loudly

“Fuck darling you feel so fucking good”

He continued thrusting into me at a fast and rough pace

“I wonder how your dad would feel if he knew what was going on between us. Bet he would be pretty pussed huh?”

His animalistic pace bright us both closer and closer to our orgasms till the point I was unable to form words

I felt him twitch inside me as we both approached our highs

“George I’m gonna-“

“Me too darling-“

We both groaned finishing at the same time

George pulled out and threw the condom away.

He pulled me closer and cuddled me

“I can’t wait till the day we work together. I get to see you all the damn time”

A/n: hello lovelies! Hope you enjoyed this fic. Sorry for the fics being slow to come out but I promise there are more to come. I have about 10 requests sitting in my drafts and I’ll try to get them done as soon as possible. As always leave your feedback Kissies ✨

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daisies, i think- bucky barnes

~ bucky barnes x fem!reader ~tags/cw: angst, budding friendship and romance, set in CA:CW timeline where Bucky is in Romania trying to piece back together his life, mixed POV ~ wc: 1.2k ~ not proofread

premise: ex-avengers employee, you have moved to Europe in order to get away from all things Shield. It is in Romania that you bump into a familiar man, a face you have only seen in the secret files you managed to get a glance at. You befriend the ghost of a man, determined to help him undo all the bad the world has done to him.

"You like Jasmine, right?" Bucky asks from across the small coffee table. 

"Uh, yeah. How did you-?" You grin at him, eyes squinting in apprehension at the sudden declaration. 

"I can remember some things," he answers and returns to the bowl of steaming noodles. "Not everything, but some things." the clarification comes a moment later. 

It's been two months since you moved into the small apartment on the outskirts of Bucharest. Two months of living in close quarters with Bucky, two months of getting to know him on a level you never thought you would. Two months. 

You clear your throat and ask. "What kind do you like?"

"Daisies. I think." He doesn't look up from his bowl, but you can see a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "I saw them a lot while…"

Still unsure of how to refer to the period when he wasn't himself. "They grow everywhere, so I can always find them, and they're nice to look at." 

The noodles sit abandoned in front of you now. Your attention has shifted wholly onto James, who continues to eat despite disclosing something that shattered your heart. He never stopped being that young boy who was lost, never stopped looking for life in the depths of hell, never stopped being Bucky. 

"You gonna write that in your book?" 

The question catches you off guard. 

"You have that little book you write in. I thought it was a diary but you only write in after I tell you something. Plus I saw my name a bunch’a times”

Your cheeks flush. 

"Is it bad stuff?" Bucky looks up now, blue eyes broken and defeated. 

"No! Nothing bad!" You rush to answer, scrambling for the book you tucked under the table and flip it open to your latest entry. "It's all good things, actually. Stuff that you like or remember or stories you tell me." 

Bucky's posture relaxes, shoulders sagging a little at the assurance you weren't keeping tabs on his slip-ups. 

You continue, opening to a page filled with drawings of stars and planets.  "This is when you told me that you went to the Stark expo before you shipped off and how you wished you could see space one day." you point to the stars that adorn the margin. "That's why there are little stars. I've been writing it all down so that if one day you need to remember something and we aren't together, I can give you the book, and you'll have all your memories." 

The heat in your cheeks deepens as you confess your reasoning behind the notetaking. 

"Steve, your umm…"

"I know Steve," Bucky confirms with a slight smile. 

"Steve has a book just like this with all the things he missed or wants to remember, so I copied him." it feels infantile using the word copied, but you can't think of anything better. "You can have it now if you want?'

"You leavin' me?" The sadness returns for a split second.

"No." your answer is firm. 

Light floods his blue eyes, shimmering like the sun on the ocean. "Then keep it. I'll take it when you finish it."

There's hope in his words. Determination that he will remember who he was and who he hopes to be. You find yourself smiling at that, admiring how much he is trying and how you can see yourself finishing this book and starting another.

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

"Do you think we should get some curtains?" your proposal has Bucky pausing in the kitchen, boiling water sloshing in the small pot he had just pulled from the stove.

He looks to the windows, plastered with newspapers to keep out prying eyes, and while he never thought about customising his apartment, your suggestion stirs something within him.

"If you want." the answer feels so domestic and ordinary that he forgets who and where he is. For a moment, he is no longer in a dingy apartment on the run and unstable in his own identity, but he is at home with you. He is in an apartment in Brooklyn, not far from where he grew up, in a small and cozy one-bedroom flat that he shares with you and your cat. You aren't the kind and strange girl who picked him up off the street like a stray, but you're so much more, someone he wishes he met in another life. He watches you frame the window with your fingers, face crinkled as you close one eye and determine the best shape and style of drapery for the space. His heart squeezes, a feeling wholly unfamiliar in his aching body.

"I can get some tomorrow after work?" another offer of complete and utter everyday ease. "Yellow? With daisies?"

Bucky grins at that.

"Or pink with jasmine?"

A small laugh escapes you, and you drop your hands. "One pink and one yellow?"

Bucky nods and returns to emptying that water from the pot, watching as the potatoes drop into the colander in the skin. He had offered to cook tonight, an easy recipe he had overheard while out today from two older ladies sitting in the square, their voices loud and bousitruous despite the sensitive nature of their conversation. The recipe was easy enough. Boil potatoes until soft, season them and cook them in the oven. Simple, easy. Perfect for his muddled mind to follow.

"Want help?" Your voice is closer, and Bucky jumps slightly. You reach out and grab his arm, hoping not to scare him further, but Bucky's heart starts in a race for an entirely different reason.

He gulps. "No need. thank you, ma'am." the words fall from his lips before his brain can form them.

"Ma'am?" you furrow your brows at him. "Where did that come from?"

Bucky turns to you, his face crinkled in confusion as he shakes his head. "I have no idea."

There is a beat of silence as you reach into your back pocket for the small book you had stuffed in there after your walk home. You open it to a blank page and date it to the top before writing your entry.

Calls people ma'am.

"Not people, women. " Bucky sighs as he reads over the edge of the paper. "Ladies, dames, girls."

"Dames?" laughter is building within you as he cites different words for women, most of which you hadn't heard outside of a movie from the forties.

You can't stop the laugh that spills from you, and soon, Bucky follows suit, enjoying how his stomach and shoulders feel as he laughs. It feels good, beyond good; its amazing, divine, marvelous, s'wonderful.

"You are a funny man, Bucky Barnes." You sigh as the laughter subsides, a hand sweeping over his shoulders. He notices how your fingers linger on the joint of his prosthetic arm, and for some reason, he doesn't feel as much guilt filling his stomach like lead. When they brush down his arms to entwine with his fingers, another sensation takes over his gut entirely. It's tingly and hot, twisting and sitting low in his body. He worries it's a bad feeling, familiar in a way that has his mind screaming, but there is no fear, no guilt, nothing but warmth like the sun on a winter's day, so he sits with it and lets you hold his hand until the timer on dinner dings.

a/n: apart of a bigger fic but this is sort of the first taste of it to see how I feel about writing/posting it.

[ellecdc]

can i request a reader x poly!marauders where the reader finds a stray kitten and she hides in her robes so she can feed it in morning and just carries it around school.

it’s the boys vs a kitten for reader’s attention, especially sirius sometimes he’s talking smack to the kitten who’s a asleep and then reader catches him and scolds him for it

loolllll poor Siri. Thanks for your request!

Sirius' Arch Nemesis

poly!marauders x fem!reader

CW: brief mention of Sirius' crappy childhood but very brief and it's only for dramatic effect (it's from Sirius' POV, obviously)

Some may deem this dramatic, but Sirius was very sure that this was quite possibly one of the worst things to have ever happened to him.

“Now, that’s a little dramatic, Pads.” Peter chided, watching you coo at a little bundle hidden beneath your robes as you fed it pieces of chicken at dinner.

“She used to feed me chicken like that.” Sirius pouted, causing Remus to snort.

“She’s never once fed you like that, Pads.”

“Awe, poor Siri.” James cooed, sounding awfully sympathetic to his musings; at least Sirius had one ally here. “Would you like me to feed you chicken like that?”

Sirius gave James his best kicked puppy impression (which was very easy seeing as he was a giant puppy and had spent his entire life training for it) and nodded. “Yes please, Jamie.”

James cooed again and pressed a kiss to Sirius’ cheek before dutifully stabbing a piece of chicken and bringing it to Sirius’ mouth.

“Merlin you guys are embarrassing.” Remus muttered as he turned back to watch you dote over the runty little kitten that you’d found in Hogsmeade last weekend all on its lonesome. 

“You should leave it here, dovey. His mama may be looking for him.” Remus tried, though he couldn’t deny that the kitten did look particularly pathetic. The tiny thing was shaking, crying, and looked sort of wet or dirty - Remus may not know much but he was quite certain no kitty mama would let their little one walk around in such a state.

Remus nearly whimpered when you turned your face up to the three boys standing over you with tears in your eyes, your face overflowing with empathy. “Can we wait here then? To see if the mama comes back for him?”

Remus ignored the petulant whining’s from Sirius as he sat himself down beside you in camaraderie with nothing more than a sigh. How could he say no to such a reasonable albeit emotional request?

“Jamie?” You murmured, and Remus wasn’t sure how much of the pout was honest and how much of it was to gain sympathy for your cause, but James was quickly at your side.

“Yes, angel?”

“Do you think you could ask Madame Rosmerta for some water? Maybe tuna if she has some?”

James looked like he really didn’t want to do that but also felt he was in no position to deny you.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He conceded, pressing a kiss to your hair and causing Sirius to grumble.

“Why don’t you come with me, Pads? Once we bring it back we can head to Zonko's whist these two wait.” James offered, causing Sirius to brighten up considerably.

Needless to say, the mama cat never did show up and the kitten let out a number of pathetic little sneezes from its curled-up place in your lap.

“It’s getting dark, dove. Curfew is soon.” Remus reminded you gently.

“I can’t leave it here, Rem.” You moaned, still never raising your eyes from the kitten as it kneaded biscuits into your robes.

And Remus really hated to admit it, but he didn’t think you could leave it here either.

So, thanks to your bleeding heart and Remus’ lack of self-restraint when it came to anything you ever wanted, Sirius was effectively being replaced by a tiny little devil.

“I don’t know why you’re so wound up about this Black.” Marlene taunted from her place in her girlfriend’s lap as said girlfriend massaged her scalp on the couch of the Gryffindor common room. “It’s just a tiny kitten.”

“'Just a tiny kitten'.” Sirius sneered back at his best friend. “Right, so tell me, Miss. ‘My-Girlfriend-Is-Currently-Snuggling-And-Petting-Me-Right-At-This-Very-Moment’, what do you see my girlfriend doing right now?”

Marlene barely maneuvered her head from Dorcas’ lap to see you curled up near the fire with a book in your hand and that stupid kitten in your lap. 

“She’s reading to her cat?” Dorcas responded bemusedly, clearly not seeing what the big deal is.

“Exactly!” Sirius huffed. “That should be me.”

“Oh, my gods.” Marlene grumbled as she stood from her place, grabbing Dorcas’ hand to pull her up too. “Can we go snuggle in the snake pit? I can’t handle Sirius’ level of dramatics tonight.”

“Some friend you are!” Sirius shouted at Marlene’s retreating form as the portrait hole closed behind them.

James and Remus were currently at a prefect’s meeting with James being head-boy and Remus as (the head-boy’s favourite) prefect. 

Usually, you and Sirius would spend this time together just the two of you, which was hard to come by sometimes in such a relationship as yours. One-time you guys went and used the bath in the prefect’s bathroom knowing that all the prefects would be busy for the next hour and having gained the password from your boyfriends’. Another time, you two fashioned your own prank without the help of the other Marauder’s and even got away with it!

But right now, Sirius just wanted to cuddle.

But that was fine! If it was animals you wanted to cuddle with, Sirius was more than happy to oblige.

With a quick glance to ensure that the common room was empty, Sirius quickly shifted into Padfoot and made his way over to you.

Padfoot was feeling pretty confident in his plan, that is until he heard a nasty little sound emanating from your lap.

“Sirius!” You scolded, picking up the now very spiky and angry looking kitten from your lap. “You’re scaring him, Pads!” You cooed, tucking the kitten into the collar of your jumper.

The portrait hole opened at this and James and Remus entered the room hand-in-hand, laughing about something before turning to take in the scene.

“Uh oh...” James started, making his way over to the two three of you currently sitting near the fire. “Did Padfoot try to eat the kitten?”

Padfoot harumphed the best he could in his current doggy form. Is good dog, he thought, would not eat...only maim.

“The kitten is frightened.” You pouted, looking to James for sympathy. James looked like he was considering giving it to you, but Remus spoke up as he scratched placatingly behind Padfoot’s ears.

“Perhaps you should bring him upstairs, dovey. Give him some quiet time.”

You readily agreed, much to Padfoot’s chagrin, and left the common room. Now you’d be all the way up there and he’d definitely not get any cuddles.

“Okay, is anyone else sort of jealous of the cat?” James finally muttered plainly once he knew you were out of ear shot.

Yes, Padfoot thought as he quickly shifted back to Sirius. “Yes! It’s like she’s replacing us!”

Remus scoffed at that. “No one is being replaced, boys. Just relax.”

Sirius levelled his boyfriend with a glare. “Yeah? When’s the last time she read to you by the fire, Moons?”

Remus paused and seemed to think on that for a moment before his eyes darted back to Sirius. “I still think you’re being dramatic.”

“It’s been since the kitten, hasn’t it Remus?” Sirius argued, not willing to let it go.

“Sirius, she’s allowed to love things other than us.”

Both Sirius and James scoffed at that. “I think bloody not!” James retorted. 

“I can concede if she likes other things, but she cannot love anything more than me! She needs to love me the most!” Sirius insisted, causing both of his boyfriends to look at him funny.

“Oh?” James asked with a bemused frown.

“Is that how it is, really? You think she loves you the most out of all of us?” Remus continued.

Sirius levelled them with a look he hoped portrayed a “yeah, duh”. 

“Is that how this relationship works for you Sirius? Which of us do you love the most?” James demanded, crossing his arms in that way Sirius loves because it makes his muscles bulge. 

“Me, obviously.” He answered simply.

“You’re your own favourite?” Remus deadpanned.

Sirius shrugged. “Yeah, I’m awesome.”

“You’re not supposed to have favourites!” James whined.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been like ‘oh merlin, right now Moony is my favourite’?” Sirius asked him.

James scoffed indignantly. “Right now, he very well might be!”

Instead of having the effect he hoped that comment would on Sirius, Sirius nodded in agreement. “See? Favourites.”

“You’re an idiot.” Remus grumbled as he stood and made his way upstairs.

“Do you really have favourites?” James asked quietly once Remus had left, his voice giving way to a vulnerability that made Sirius melt.

“Not a chance, bubs.” Sirius insisted, placing a kiss to James’ temple as he pulled the spectacled boy into his side. “I just like arguing with Moony; he makes it so easy to take the piss.”

James chuckled and allowed some tension to leave his body. 

“No, but seriously, what are we going to do about that kitten?” James piped up and pulled away so he could look into Sirius’ face.

“I suppose my current plan of feeding it to the Hippogriffs is a no?” Sirius asked. He was answered by an unamused glare from James.

“Fine. Fine. Hopefully the novelty will wear off soon.” Sirius conceded. For as much shit as he gave you, he did sort of love how much you loved anything and everything that might be in need of some; himself included.

James and Sirius watched the flames dance in the fireplace for some time, just enjoying the quiet company that the two of them very rarely shared together.

“Why don't we go see what those two are up to, hm?” James asked eventually, helping Sirius up from his position on the floor and heading up the stairs towards the boy's dorm.

The room was quiet as they entered and when Sirius turned after closing the door to survey the room, he let out a horrified gasp.

“How in the buggering hell did he manage that!?” He whisper shouted, pointing to Remus laying on his bed with you pulled into his side, nuzzled into the crook of his arm.

As James moved to survey the two of you from another side, his face morphed into a pained grimace. “Pads, maybe it’s best we-”

But it was too late, Sirius had seen all he needed to see.

“You bloody traitor!” He nearly shrieked, albeit not loud enough to stir you nor the stupid fucking kitten currently curled up in a very content ball on Remus’ chest from your respective slumber’s.

If Remus had been pretending to sleep, his ruse was given away by a smug smirk gracing his face.

“Better luck next time, Sirius.” He goaded, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your arm as you burrowed further into the werewolf’s side. 

Sirius had been beaten, crucio’d, starved, disowned and homeless in his eighteen years of life. But this right here was without a doubt the worst thing to have ever happened to him.

[crescenthistory]

heyyyy I’m just so in love with how you write Barty so I wanted to do two request if that’s okay! B6 and D8 (if it is with the series you already making even better!) and I love your writing I so much🤍🤍

hi lovie, thank you for your support<3 i've already written for both of these prompts, so i kinda reworked this, but kept the general vibe of sleepiness and fluff and the dynamic

Words: 2k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, use of y/n, remus pov near the full moon so joint aches and lots of anxiety, breaking curfew, I Need Everyone Near Where I Can Protect Them mindset, some minor suggestive quips, background wolfstar, just fluff really

Note: part of the grumpy!reader universe, set after the reveal to friends in and what about it?, but can be read as a stand alone drabble<3

The nearer the full moon crept, the deeper Remus’ protectiveness seemed to root itself into his heart, spreading out into his bloodstream. A wolfish instinct, if you could call it that, to keep his pack close. If his friends were out of his line of sight or, even worse, out of reach for his smell, anxiety burst through Remus’ body until he was left jittery and dizzy. 

That left him in the Gryffindor common room, a good 20 minutes after curfew on a Thursday evening, leg bouncing restlessly as he watched the portrait hole with hollow eyes. 

Sirius beside him had a hand on his knee, originally intended to quell its tremor, and once he realised that would not happen, it remained there as a support. The black haired boy seemed largely unbothered by everything, but the tension in his body betrayed him – though Remus was growing suspicious he was worried about something entirely different than he was. Namely, about him.

Across from them, James was draped over a grandfather chair, head repeatedly falling as he nodded off before he jerked himself back awake.

“How much longer are we going to stay here, Moons?” he managed to get out in between yawns, already worn out from quidditch practice earlier.

“Until our friend is safe in bed.” Remus squared his shoulders haughtily, leaving no room for argument. Then, “Where is she?” he muttered to himself, so quietly Sirius only barely caught it and had to fight back his sympathetic coo.

“Y/N is fine, baby,” he whispered, the hand on his knee shaking it slightly. “It’s not the first time she’s staying out late. Hells, we do it all the time, too!”

And Remus knew that. Of course he knew that. Every other time of the month, that knowledge would have allowed him to shake his head fondly at your antics, heading off to bed excited to hear about your adventures tomorrow.

Alas; this was not any other time of the month.

“I should go find her,” Remus thought out loud, groaning as he got up from his seat too quickly and his joints gave various sounds of complaint.

“Moony, there is no need–” Sirius started before cutting himself off, apparently thinking better. “My love, if there is anyone who can navigate Hogwarts after dark, it is that minx. The shadows would be scared off by her glare alone. And she won’t appreciate your interruption of whatever she is off doing now.”

“Or who,” James whispered through his sleepiness, horror seeping into his voice.

Sirius’ groan at the thought mirrored him. “Merlin’s beard, yeah, she’s probably off with Junior.”

“I don’t think I will ever get used to hearing that.” James righted himself slightly in his chair, dragging his hands up and down his face, failing at ridding it of sleep.

Remus, still standing, turned his hands outward in a dejected position. His friends’ derailing seemed to be of little notice to him. “But we don’t know. I need to know.”

“Rem,” Sirius whispered in that unbearably soft voice Remus thought himself the luckiest boy in the world to have directed at him. He got up from his seat, hands settling on Remus’ waist, both for comfort and for steading him, he suspected. “She is alright. She always is. And, whether I quite like it or not, if she is with Junior, she is double-y safe. If nothing else, that maniac is protective.”

Remus nodded, allowing himself some comfort as he gazed into Sirius’ silver eyes. “Yeah, she is, I know she is.”

A small, knowing smile tugged at Sirius’ lips. “But?”

“But I’m going to go get her.” Remus’ heart clenched a little in humiliation at how deep the wolf’s streak ran in him in these days, but he also would not let any discomfort get in the way of having his whole pack at home in their nests, where they belong. You can continue your adventures tomorrow.

“Yeah, I know you are,” Sirius relented, pulling Remus into a quick, squeezing hug to ground him. “I’ll go get the map and the cloak and we’ll go.”

Before Sirius could finish his sentence, Remus had accio’d both into his hands.

“No, that’s alright, I’ll go myself.” When Sirius looked like he was about to argue, Remus waved his wand a little in his face as if to say down boy. “As Head Boy, I can get away easier with being out past curfew – you on the other hand, would be shackled up in Flich’s basement before you could get a word out.”

“I have been out past curfew without being caught before, Moons,” Sirius guffawed in true Sirius-offence. 

“Not when picking up one of your best friends from nighttime adventures with one of your least favourite people.” Despite his anxiety and tire, Remus shot Sirius a wink and a small grin that told him I know you, Pads.

Sirius sat back down on the sofa with a huff, crossing his arms petulantly. “Be quick, or I’ll be the grumbly wolf.”

Remus bent down – biting back a small groan as his hip objected – and pressed a wet smooch to Sirius’ forehead and ruffled his hair. “You already are, love.”

When Remus walked towards the portrait hole, map and cloak in hand, he passed a snoring James with his mouth agape. He had a creeping sensation that by the time he came back, Sirius would have woken the poor boy by poking his finger into his mouth.

Cloak around him for extra measure, Remus silently slid down the halls of Hogwarts, fumbling the map open to find you. Just as suspected, a small Y/N L/N was in the astronomy tower with a certain Bartemius Crouch Junior, foot steps almost on top of each other.

He almost cursed his friend for choosing her romantic get-away spot at the top of such an awful amount of stairs before he remembered the spell you had crafted for him with Madam Pomfrey just a few weeks back. You had dedicated your free time to inventing solutions for Remus’ different aches – “what’s the point of magic if not to make your life easier, Moons?” – and while this one was still a work in progress, it allowed the field of gravity around his legs to be lifted enough to take some of the pressure off his poor joints. It worked way better than the countless amounts of times James and Sirius had tried to wingardium leviosa him to class.

As he neared the door that your names were sheltered behind on the map, Remus’ nose was appeased as your familiar scent once more flooded him. Barty’s too, for that matter, and though that was a less welcoming one, Remus had come to find he didn’t much mind it either. 

However, he did not hear voices, which puzzled him. Nor any other sounds that perhaps would have had him turning around.

With a careful hand, Remus opened the creaking door to the very top of the astronomy tower, peaking his tawny curls through the opening and trying to behave as a normal concerned friend and not an anxious, possessive wolf.

“Lupin; to what do we owe the displeasure?”

The voice had all of its usual crass wittiness, but an eight of its usual volume. In the wide windowsill across from Remus, the one that had a view of most of Hogwarts’ grounds, sat Barty propped up with a few pillows and you, sleeping soundly on his chest. 

One arm was held protectively around you, his free hand carding gently through your hair. Your face was slightly smushed against his chest, breathing soft and steady.

Remus doubted he had ever seen you look so serene. It almost made him feel bad for interrupting. Almost.

“Good evening to you too, Junior,” he whispered, as he slowly made his way through the room and over to your sleeping form. He swore he could see Barty tighten his grip on you.

“Should a Head Boy be breaking curfew like this? What would good old Albus say?” 

“Well, when a member of his house doesn’t come home at night, I believe it is a Head Boy’s duty to come fetch them.” Remus tried to seem unbothered, not wanting Barty to know just how anxious he gets when his friends are apart. “Albus would certainly approve.”

Barty hummed, looking from him and down at you. The soft smile that played over his lips did not escape Remus. “I would argue she is home.” Barty’s voice was teasing, but it felt quite real for Remus.

“Is that where your relationship is at now?” There was no teasing in Remus’ voice, just soft curiosity. Support, even, though he could never tell Sirius that.

Barty’s eyes flickered up from you again, facing becoming a bit more stoney as he realised his own sleepiness was making him a tad more soft than he wanted to be in front of the Gryffindor.

“Whatever. Well, as you can see, she’s safe. So you can sod off again.”

“She should come back to the dormitories, Junior. I’m sure she wasn’t planning on spending the night sleeping in a stony windowsill, that can’t possibly be comfortable at length.” 

��Firstly, she is mostly sleeping on top of me right now and I’ll have you know I am super comfortable,” Barty quipped, eyeing Remus. “Secondly,–” a breath “– no, she wasn’t planning on sleeping here, but she did fall asleep. So.”

Remus nodded slowly as he read between the lines, trying to fight his small smile at Barty’s expense – he was sure he would not have appreciated it. “You don’t have the heart to wake her.”

Barty scoffed, but his eyes betrayed him. He was caught. “I don’t have a heart period, Lupin.”

“But?” Remus asked, amusement lining his voice in a way he realised mirrored how Sirius spoke to him earlier. Knowingly, affectionately. 

“But look at her, Lupin. I can’t wake her.” While speaking, Barty seemed to gesture towards your sleeping form with the nod of his jaw, refusing to move his hands from where they were drawing circles on your back and playing with your hair.

Remus hummed in agreement, smile officially bursting free of his hold.

“Oh, sodder off,” Barty grumbled as he saw Remus’ expression, but there seemed to be little to no malice in his voice.

“Sorry, sorry,” Remus laughed softly, careful not to wake you with their conversation. “Just… this was not what I expected to happen three years ago when James confessed his feelings for Regulus to me.”

Barty seemed to scowl at the thought of his best friend and his Gryffindor. “They’re disgusting.”

“Yeah,” Remus said fondly. “And so are you two. Ain’t it great?” 

Barty grumbled, hand in your hair stilling to hold the back of your head. “I’m still not waking her up for you.”

“No need. If you’re careful with shifting her, you could carry her back to the dorms with me.”

“You want me to carry her all the way to Gryffindor?” Barty asked incredulously, looking at Remus as if he was stupid. “I appreciate you noticing my spectacular biceps, but that’s just not happening.”

Remus’ eyes twinkled. “Actually, I’ve got just the spell to make it easier for you.”

And so, Barty carefully shuffled you in his arms while Remus had his wand aimed at the both of you, helping ease the gravity off your form so that it would both be easier for Barty to carry you and for you to continue sleeping.

When you were bridal style in his arms, you shifted a little, burying your face further into his neck. “Sorry, Treasure,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline.

“Fuck off, Junior, let me sleep,” you whined, growing comfortable and tired once more. Remus had to fight not to laugh loudly.

“It’s not my fault, the cops showed up to end our fun.” Barty looked at Remus conspiratorially, who only rolled his eyes in return, as he led the way back to Gryffindor. 

“Stop saying stupid things and let me sleep, baby.” Your voice was already drifting off once more and Barty grinned widely at your slurred words.

“Yes, ma’am.”

It amazed Remus how much this boy loved being insulted by you. Your perfect match, evidently.

As you drifted back to sleep, and the closer your little trio got to the common room where his partner and best friend were waiting, the more Remus’ nerves seemed to settle. Everyone is where they should be.

[aza-writes]

Our Little Wolf and Little Star

Married Wolfstar x twin!daughters (Willow and Selene)

Requested: no

Summary: Wolfstar adopted two twin girls and raise them the best they can. 

Warnings: description of birth (barely), some cursing, kinda cringe, but it’s for the vibes. 

A/N: EVERYONE LIVES AU. Mary Kate and Ashely movie vibes. Also… listen to Little Star by Dion and the Bellmonts and Li’l Red Riding Hood by Sam the Sham and the Pharohs for ultimate vibes. 

3rd Person POV

October 31st, 1980

The wait in the hospital was complete agony. Remus sat in an uncomfortable hospital waiting room chair. The only position that feels remotely comfortable is resting my head on my hands. His mind races faster and faster, watching his husband, Sirius, pace back and forth in front of him. James sits silently in the chair to the right of Remus. He’s trying his best to calm the pair down, but his words fall on deaf ears in Sirius and Remus’s overanalyzing ones. 

“Mates, you both need to calm down. Everything will be just fine.” 

Sirius stops his pacing and stares at James, his eyes wide with lack of sleep. “Calm down? What if something goes wrong? Why is it taking so long in the first place? It’s cause I’m stubborn, so they’re being stubborn to punish me? Fuck, I knew we should’ve used Remus’s-” 

“Siri, stop talking.”  Remus’s voice and eyes were stern as he sat back in the chair to get a better look at Sirius. The topic of who was going to donate sperm has been a sensitive one from the moment a surrogate was mentioned. The risk of passing his lycanthropy onto their future children was enough for the werewolf to insist on using Sirius’s for the donor. 

All Sirius does is roll his eyes and plop on the seat on the other side of Remus, head falling on Remus’s shoulder out of exhaustion and instinct. Remus’s hand slides into Sirius’s, their fingers intertwining. 

“I mean it. Plus, our kids would have your hair and height. That’s a win in my book.” Sirius moves his eyes to look up at Remus, but his head stays stationary.

Remus brought their hands up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of his husband’s. “It’s a little late for that now, innit?” 

The labor has been going on for 48 hours, but the couple’s anxieties have been going on since they found out the implantation was successful. It only intensified as the months went on, now at an all-time high. Both of them refusing to sleep in case the surrogate, Maud, started to push. They both wanted to be ready to run into the room and watch their daughters take their first breaths. 

As much as James tried to calm them down and convince them to sleep just for a bit, Remus and Sirius were too stubborn and sleep-deprived to listen. James even called Lily, hoping she would talk sense into them, but with her stuck at home with a one-month-old Harry, her over-the-phone and sleep-deprived threats were far less intimidating.

“Sirius, labor takes time. Lily was in labor for 12 hours. And you have twins, so of course, it’s going to take longer.” James’s voice was empathetic, but this sentence has been said three times already. Every comforting thing James could think of has been said, causing the words to lose meaning to Sirius. 

Although Remus was pretending to keep it together, he was a nervous wreck inside. He walked into the hospital as Remus Lupin: Wizard, Werewolf, Husband, but when he leaves, father will be added to that title. 

The muggle hospital seemed odd to the three wizards. It was much more controlled and secretive than anything in the wizarding world. The wing they were in was decorated with blue, pink, and yellow, with a quiet lullaby playing every so often, signifying a new baby had been born. Every lullaby that goes off that isn’t to celebrate baby Lupin allows jealousy and anxiety to grow more and more. 

“Sirius, Remus,” James takes a deep breath, “I know you don’t want to hear it, but maybe you should go home and get some sle-” 

“Sirius and Remus Lupin?” A nurse in pink scrubs walks into the waiting room. Her eyes scan and spot the two men rising from their chairs. She smiles at them and pulls her mask down. “Your surrogate is pushing; we’ll have you wait outside the room until she’s done. Come with me.” She turns around, and then men are quick to follow. 

James shouts a quick “Good luck!” but the fathers-to-be don’t even look back to respond. 

The two husbands wait outside the delivery suite, their hands intertwined. They waited less than ten minutes, their minds going a million kilometers a second, but none of those thoughts mattered when they heard a faint cry behind the door followed by a quiet lullaby version of “Happy Birthday” playing over the speakers. 

Remus’s eyes widen, the weight being lifted off his shoulders. Sirius’s smile widens immediately. It isn’t until they hear a second cry that the couple hug each other. Happy tears flow from Sirius’s eyes while he laughs out of relief. The soft lullaby plays again for the second baby girl, signaling everything is going well in the delivery room. 

A soft knock coming from inside the room interrupts their celebration. A nurse in pink scrubs walks into the hallway and smiles at the couple. “Would you like to come in and meet your daughters?” 

Sirius kisses Remus’s head as they enter the room. They’re given a bit of hand sanitizer before being given their little girls to hold. The two husbands thanked the surrogate a million times before being taken into a separate room to fill out paperwork as Maud recovered. 

The twins were no longer ideas and possibilities; they were real and in their arms. 

The two walk out into the waiting room with the babies swaddled in a soft pink blanket and pale yellow hats. Sirius’s tears started again when he saw the mass of people in the waiting room. It was no longer James, but everyone important in their lives was there to support the new parents. Lily was there with Harry, Regulus, Peter, Marlene and Dorcus, Mary, Alice, and Frank, who brought Neville. Even Andromeda showed up. 

“Everyone,” Remus’s voice was still a whisper, yet loud enough for the whole crowd to hear. “I am happy to present to you for the first time ever Willow Lily Lupin. Born at 7 lbs and 2 ounces. 1st born by 3 minutes.” He raises his elbow a bit, letting people get a better look at the sleeping baby in his arms. 

“And this is Selene Andromeda Lupin, who stands at 7 lbs and 5 ounces.” Sirius continues, smiling at the little bundle in his arms. His gaze couldn’t be broken even if he tried, and he didn’t want to. 

Regulus smiled softly before speaking up. “W and S, Wolf and Star, I’m assuming?” His eyes were locked on his big brother, someone he’d seen in this caring and protective role before, but this time it seemed out of love instead of fear. Regulus also wanted to start crying happy tears, but he refused to be in front of a large group. 

“I guess it is.” Sirius grinned and looked up at his brother before looking back down at the sleeping baby. “Hell, my Little Star.” 

“So Willow is Little Wolf then?” James ran the back of his finger over Willow’s cheek, replicating something he often does to Harry when he sleeps.

“I guess she is.” Remus's smile grows more if that is even possible. “Our little Wolf.” 

Sirius turns to his husband beaming. So much love and happiness filled his eyes. “Our girls.” 

Remus met Sirius’s gaze with the same love and tenderness. “Our girls.”

[dearheartdont]

Tagged!

tagged in WIP Wunday by @manicpixiedreamedwins. Thank you very much.

DBD, Charles POV, Payneland, getting ready for date night.

The suit is single-breasted and close-cut in a rich burgundy. After hours searching through photos on the internet (Crystal had done most of the searching), Charles had decided on tonic cloth for the fabric, so there is an inky blue sheen that flashes in and out of prominence when he moves. A paisley handkerchief peeks out of his breast pocket.

He looks good, Charles knows - Crystal had let out a teasing whistle when he changed into his new outfit - but something isn’t quite right.

It’s the tie. He’d worn one with his school uniform, but most of the time left it pulled loose and took the demerits teachers doled out for slovenly dress. He can’t really feel the knot around his neck, but it’s somehow still uncomfortable.

“At school, there was a joke,” Charles says, “What do you call a working-class lad in a suit?”

Crystal turns away from the bathroom mirror and repeats, “What do you call a working-class lad in a suit?

“The defendant.”

“That’s not funny.” Crystal watches him press his fingers to the knot of the tie.

“I didn’t think so either,” Charles says. It was something that the boys (and teachers) bandied about as the height of wit. Laughter following the punchline, eyes watching and waiting for Charles to join in. He had back then, smiling with teeth and pushing down the urge to bite back. He wouldn’t now.

“Get rid of the tie,” Crystal says, “you still look good without it.”

The tie fades and Charles undoes his top shirt button.

“Better. Now get out of my way so I can do my eyeliner.” The softness of Crystal’s voice in is opposition to the words. Charles allows himself to be shoved through the bathroom door and into the hotel bedroom.

He catches the tail end of what Niko is saying to Edwin. “--different can be good.”

Edwin does look different: a black tuxedo suit, white bowtie and black patent shoes. Like someone out of an old-timey advert selling cigarettes or expensive whiskey. Like someone who should be leading some fancy lady covered in sparkles round a ballroom, instead of taking Charles on a date.

They stare at each other in silence, until “Oh fuck me,” falls out of Charles’ mouth.

Niko giggles, but Charles doesn’t turn, eyes pinned to Edwin in front of him.

“Is it too much?” Edwin’s hands tug at his shirt cuffs, gold cufflinks flashing. “I forewent the waistcoat as they no longer seem to be the fashion, but this was the formal wear I was most familiar with."

“It was a good ‘fuck me’. You look like James Bond, mate.”

“I know who that is.” Edwin says, and there's that small, pleased smile that would be a grin on anyone else. “You look rather handsome too.”

“Only rather handsome?”

Edwin’s steps closer and reaches out his hands to fuss with Charles’ handkerchief. When satisfied, he presses a hand against Charles’ chest over the pocket. Edwin dips his face closer, so he can whisper into Charles’ ear. “Would you prefer ‘fuck me’ handsome, instead?”

Charles can’t reply, his throat suddenly too dry to make words.