#i would say something about james being an idiot but at this point i think that's a given

[duskstargazer]

[1925]

Despite being allocated to Thomas’s branch line, Annie and Clarabel would work on the main line from time to time. Thomas was always anxious about them whenever this was to take place.

One morning, he had every right to be concerned.

“You’re going too fast!" Gilbert shouted, angrily.

The only reply was a bark of laughter from the front of the train.

“Heavens, is he always like this?” Annie groaned, her wheels already beginning to ache.

“He’s new,” Edgar sighed, “but from what we’ve seen, he’s - ow! - got a lot to learn.”

“I miss Thomas already…” Clarabel sighed.

“So do I, dear,” Annie replied, gloomily. “So do I.”

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

3: COMPANY

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Bucky wants his best friends to get to know his girlfriend but a little voice makes him worry that there may be more going on between you and Steve.

Word count: 2.5k

Warning: miscommunications and Bucky Barnes being a colossal idiot (theme of this whole story)

Steve and Bucky walked down the corridor towards the large living room with the massive television screen. Their arms laden with drinks and snacks for themselves, you and Priya. Bucky wanted his best friends to get to know his girlfriend better and you'd begrudgingly agreed to a movie night, comforted by the knowledge that Steve would be present as a buffer for awkward questions.

Steve was smiling softly, happy to be able to relax with the people he cared most about without being interrupted to save the world. His self imposed responsibilities weighed heavily on his mind. Distractions where he could be Steve and not Captain America were hard to find. One of the things he loved about you and Bucky was that you both were his voice of reason, between the two of you, you would argue different sides of a point, until he was happy with the decision he had made. This was why seeing the two of you as a team made him so happy.

You had made yourself comfortable on yours and Bucky's favorite couch. It was just big enough for you and the beefy super soldier and in your mind, you imagined yourself and Bucky being comfortable under a throw blanket while you watched the movie. Your day dream was shattered as Priya dropped into the seat beside you.

"Oh gosh, this is so comfortable! Such a cuddle couch." She elbowed your side gently. "Hey, you think Bucky and I could sit here for the movie?"

It took every inch of your self control to stop a scowl from marring your features. "Sorry to be all Sheldon about this, but this is kinda my spot."

"Oh, yeah, I get it." She didn't, looking at you like she was indulging one of her young patients who was throwing a tantrum. “Do you mind if I sit until Jamie and Steve get back?”

"Sure." You tried to keep the sarcasm to a minimum. You had to play nice, for Bucky's sake.

"Hey Cricket, can I ask you something?" Priya’s voice was slightly hesitant.

"Course. What is it?" You replied. But you had a strong feeling you weren’t going to like what she was going to ask you and steeled yourself for it.

"Do you and Jamie have any history of being more than… just friends?"

"No." You suppressed a sigh. You had expected an annoying comment, as opposed to something that would break your heart all over again. "No, just friends. Why’d you ask?" You felt suspicious of her line of questioning.

"Oh, I was just curious. I know you're not his type and all, so I wasn't very worried about it, but I figured there's always a possibility." She shrugged.

"Bucky and I have never been anything more than friends." You confirmed through gritted teeth, and it was killing you.

"Okay," Priya smiled happily. "That makes me feel better. I really like him, and I just wanted to make sure there weren't any lingering feelings between you two."

"I'm happy for you," you lied through a smile.

"Thanks, Cricket. I appreciate that. And I'm glad we had this conversation, it's always good to clear the air."

"Absolutely."

"Thanks for being so understanding. You're a great friend, I’m glad that James and I have you."

Steve and Bucky as they paused momentarily, not wanting to interrupt your conversation, but at the same time, curious about what you were saying. They both felt a little awkward for eavesdropping but they didn’t feel comfortable making their presence known. Steve glanced over at Bucky, wondering what his reaction would be, but Bucky’s face was bathed in darkness and impossible to read.

When Priya said she was glad to have you as a friend, Steve nudged him gently. "Come on," he jerked his head, urging Bucky to follow. He walked into the lounge and deposited the snacks on the table in front of you and Priya.

"Thanks, Steve!" you reached forwards to grab a bowl of popcorn, but Bucky was blocking you. You swatted his legs playfully. "Buck! What’re you doing?"

"Cricket, can you move over a bit so I can sit with Priya?" Bucky looked at you with wide eyes and pouty lips. How could you say no?

Reluctantly, you got off the couch, Bucky giving you a questioning frown as you did so. You shuffled over and settled in next to Steve, feeling a stab of disappointment that Bucky had chosen to sit with Priya instead of you.

"Did you ladies pick a movie?" Steve asked.

You shook your head, but Priya volunteered a suggestion in a heartbeat. "You've Got Mail!"

Steve pulled up the film from Tony’s endless supply of media and hit play. As the movie started, you tried to focus on the screen, but your eyes kept gazing over to Priya and Bucky and how his arm was draped cozily over her shoulder. Your mind kept wandering back to the conversation you just had with Priya. You couldn’t help but wish that there had been more between you and your best friend. What made her think that you weren’t his type? You bristled at the thought. Bucky had never expressed his preferences to a woman’s appearance. Had he mentioned something to her?

Steve noticed your distraction and leaned over to whisper in your ear. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, trying to push aside your feelings of jealousy and insecurity. "I’m fine," you whispered back. "Just a little tired."

Steve gave you a knowing look, but didn’t press the issue. Instead he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, offering you comfort and support. As the movie played on, you found yourself leaning into Steve’s side, feeling safe and protected in his presence. You couldn’t help but wonder what could have been if things had been different between you and Bucky.

As you and Steve turned back to the movie, Priya leaned towards Bucky and whispered to him conspiratorially. "I think Cricket and Steve make such a cute couple, don't you think? They looked so cozy on their Coney Island date!"

Bucky looked down at her with surprise. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t feared that you and Steve might be more than friends, but it shocked him that other people considered it. As long as he was the only one to think it, he could have lived in denial, but having someone else voice it with such confidence made his skin crawl.

"Um, I don't know. They seem to get along well as friends."

"Oh come on, Jamie. I can see the way they look at each other. We should totally set them up! I mean look how he has his arm around her!" 

Bucky hummed with hesitation. "I don't think that's a good idea, Priya."

"Why not? They would be perfect together!"

"I just...I don't think it's the right time for them to start dating." Bucky answered, not avoiding eye contact, his eyes glued to Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.

Priya was starting to sense that something was off. "Jamie, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Look, Steve doesn’t really talk to people about this, but he had a girl, back in the 40s, Peggy. He isn’t over her. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them to enter a relationship when Steve still has feelings for Peggy." Bucky winced internally, hating himself for using Steve’s past to cover for himself.

"Wow, I had no idea," Priya said softly, her eyes widening in surprise. "That must be really tough for him."

Bucky nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for using Steve’s past as an excuse. "Yeah, it’s been hard for him. He’s never really gotten over her."

Priya looked thoughtful for a moment before turning back to Bucky. "Well, I’m glad you told me. I wouldn’t want to cause any unnecessary drama. They're lucky to have you looking out for them."

Bucky gave her a terse smile, grateful that she understood. "No problem. I just want what’s best for both of them."

As the movie came to an end, you and Steve exchanged a look, both of you feeling a sense of contentment and comfort in each other’s presence. Despite the awkwardness and tension that had filled the room earlier, you were grateful for the friendship and support that you had in each other. Unfortunately for the two of you, your closeness did nothing to assuage the envy that burned deep inside Bucky.

As everyone got up to leave, Priya turned to you and Steve with a smile. "Thanks for the movie night, guys. I had a great time."

You and Steve both nodded, returning her smile. "Anytime," you said, feeling a sense of relief that the night had gone smoothly.

As you and Steve walked out of the living room together, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for having him by your side. Maybe things weren’t meant to be with Bucky, but you knew that you had a true friend in Steve, someone who would always be there for you no matter what.

On the other hand, Bucky went to bed that night with Priya’s words burned on the back of his brain. Why did she think that there might have been something between him and you? She had worsened his fears about you and Steve. Would his oldest friend really betray his trust that way? Surely you would have mentioned that to him, wouldn’t you? The tiny voice in his head that sounded just like you, asked him why he would assume such a thing, since he had hidden his relationship for so long. 

*

Your voice of conscience in his mind did nothing to mitigate his turbulent thoughts. In fact they swirled around his brain until he found himself confronting you about them. This was becoming too common an occurrence. He blurted out the words while he found you training in the gym.

"You went to Coney Island with Steve." He tried to sound nonchalant as he spotted you with your weights.

You grunted your response, trying to stand up with the heavy weight balanced across your shoulders. Eyes screwed shut with the effort of pushing your knees apart to push yourself upright. You panted slightly, trying to recover your composure, but Bucky wasn’t ready to give up on his point.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were going?"

"Oh, I’m sorry," you attempted a shrug before going back into a squat. "It was Steve’s idea and honestly, I didn’t think it was a big deal since you were busy with Priya."

"It is a big deal! We promised we'd go together."

Your face dropped slightly as you stood up, remembering the promise you’d made almost a year ago. Things had been so chaotic and you’d forgotten about it. You put the barbell back on the rack before replying. "I know, and I was really looking forward to it." There was a sadness in your tone that you couldn’t hide. "But when you started dating Priya, I thought things had changed. I didn’t think you’d care."

"That doesn’t mean we can’t still hang out. You’re my best friend, too." Bucky leaned against the rack, as you busied yourself with unloading the bar.

"I know, and I’m sorry." You hid your face as you answered. "I just felt left out when you didn’t tell me about Priya."

"I’m sorry, I know I should’ve told you. But seeing you at Coney Island with Steve really hurt."

"Wait," you spun around with surprise. "You saw me at Coney Island?"

"Yeah…" Bucky’s anger abated slightly as he realized what he was saying to you.

You huffed. "You were there?"

Bucky had the decency to look ashamed.

"And you’re getting on my case? I mean Steve took me there as a surprise to cheer me up after I got sick. I didn’t decide to go there without you. And it’s not like Steve knew about our promise. What were you doing there, Bucky?"

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I was there with Priya. We were on a date."

You felt a pang of jealousy and hurt, but you pushed it down but the aggression in your tone was unmistakable. "I see. Well, I’m sorry if I upset you by being there with Steve. But I'd like to point out that you didn't seem to have any issues going with Priya."

Bucky looked at you, his expression softening. "I’m sorry, Cricket. I should’ve told you about Priya - about Coney Island, about dating her. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just…"

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "It’s okay, Bucky. Just…next time, can you please just be honest with me?"

"Yeah," Bucky nodded. "and hey, you'd tell me if you were, right? As in dating… someone."

"Yeah, I'll keep you apprised." You rolled your eyes and shook your head with a small laugh.

"Even if it was Steve?"

“Why do you keep asking me that? Are you trying to set me up with Steve? Because I don't have those kinds of feelings for him.”

“You don’t? Because Priya said-”

"Bucky, why don't you ask me about me instead of your girlfriend?" The irritation you'd felt about his indignation earlier rose inside you again, enough that you decided to walk away from it.

He caught up to you outside the gym, heart pounding in his chest. "Hey, Cricket," he called out, his voice filled with sincerity. "I’m sorry for how I acted back there. I was wrong, and I shouldn’t have let my jealousy get the best of me. Can we talk?"

You turned to face him, your expression guarded but curious. "What do you want to talk about, Bucky?"

Bucky took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I want to apologize for not being upfront with you. I value our friendship, and I don’t want to lose that because of my own insecurities. I’m sorry for hurting you… and I want to make things right."

You studied him for a moment, your eyes searching his handsome face for sincerity. The way he looked back at you softened your resolve and after a moment, you nodded. “I appreciate your apology, Bucky. Let’s move past this and focus on our friendship.”

Bucky nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders as he heard your words. "Of course. And hey, maybe we can still go to Coney Island together sometime. Just the two of us."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "I’d like that."

Bucky fell in step beside you, as you walked away from the gym, the tension between you slowly dissipating. He knew he had a lot of work to do to rebuild the trust between you, but he was willing to put in the effort. He was grateful for your forgiveness and determined to show you that he was a true friend, even if he couldn't have anything more.

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[loveinhawkins]

The RV careens out of the trailer park and hits the open road with what pretty much amounts to ‘all speed, no grace.’ The turn Steve makes is, quite frankly, abysmal; he’s sure that if his driving instructor could see him now, the poor man would be weeping in distress.

Yet his passengers erupt into cheers as they pass the Leaving Hawkins sign, like he’s pulled some kind of James Bond move.

And, for all his insistence on being the absolute antithesis to so-called ‘jock culture’, Eddie rushes over to the driver’s seat, starts squeezing Steve’s shoulder with decidedly jock-like exuberance.

“Holy shit, holy shit, that was so fucking cool, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s definitely broken through the depression stage of the ‘finding out there’s an alternate dimension in Hawkins’ journey—landing firmly in the fuck it, might as well have some fun stage.

Steve could tell they’d reached that point even before the goddamn ‘big boy’ comment, when Eddie had taken one look at the Michael Myers mask, looked Max dead in the eye and said, “This is gonna be. So fuckin’ stupid. Let’s do it.”

Steve goes through a few seconds more of having his shoulder pummelled before saying, “Dude, you’re doing a shitty job at being undercover, stay down.”

“Like, do you have any idea,” Eddie says breathily, as if Steve hasn’t spoken, “just how perfect that was? That was, God, a childhood dream fully—”

“You dreamed of stealing an RV?” Steve says dubiously.

“Not in such crude literal terms, no. C’mon, Harrington, you must’ve had an imagination once—”

“Hey!”

“—didn’t you ever dream of, like, daring escapes, pulling the sword outta the stone, all that shit?”

Steve thinks about it. “I mean,” he says, “when I was a kid, I just kinda… climbed trees and stuff.”

Eddie sighs as if he can’t decide whether Steve’s done something especially annoying or endearing. “Of course you did.”

They reach a stop sign and Eddie finally flops into the passenger seat, facing Steve like he’s sitting side saddle on a horse.

“So,” Steve says, “I take a right after this, yeah?”

“Mm-hmm, well remembered, Mr Getaway Driver.”

Steve scoffs, glances over—finds Eddie framing him with his index finger and thumb, like a director trying to capture the perfect shot.

“James Dean,” Eddie says authoritatively, dropping his hands.

“What?”

“Was tryin’ to figure it out, your whole look, you know? Very Rebel Without a Cause.”

“Okay,” Steve says, “but I have a cause, we all do.”

Eddie just blinks at him, and Steve chuckles.

“You, idiot.”

“Oh.”

Steve has a moment to appreciate the way Eddie’s eyes go all soft and maybe just a little shiny, before he has to set off again. He takes the right turning.

“We should watch it,” Eddie says eventually. “Hell, I’ll take any movie. Just gimme, like, two hours of not having to think.”

“Tell me about it.”

Steve’s sure he’ll never complain about double VHS tapes ever again. Then a thought occurs to him.

“Shit.” He calls to the back. “Rob?”

“Yeah?”

“Y’know when we left Family Video, did we even lock up?”

“Yes,” Robin says followed immediately by, “No?”

Steve snorts. “God, we’re so fired.”

He hears Robin making her way up to the front, then Eddie saying, “Oof, Buckley, that was right in the ribs.”

“Why the sudden concern about our jobs, dingus?”

“I’m not concerned, I just got reminded of—Eddie was mentioning—”

“—Rebel Without a Cause,” Eddie finishes.

“Oh, Steve, I know you’ve seen it, I put it on last week!”

“Uh, maybe I was preoccupied doing, I dunno, my job.”

“It’s the one with—”

“James Dean,” Eddie cuts in.

“Yeah, I gathered, thanks,” Steve says sarcastically, but he can’t help smiling as he does so.

“—and it’s, you know,” Robin goes on, “troubled kid moves to a new town, and—”

“Aw,” Steve says, “you think I’m troubled, Munson?”

“It’s all in the eyes, Harrington. Such depths.”

“Right?” Robin says, and she’s laughing, tongue-in-cheek, “I’ve always said so.”

“You ever considered wearing a leather jacket?”

Steve laughs, too. “Tell ya what, Eddie, why don’t I just wear all your clothes?”

“Well, we know denim suits you.”

“If only you saw his last car-stealing outfit, Eddie.”

Steve sighs. “Robin, shut it.”

“Excuse me,” Eddie says, “d’you have form, Harrington? Grand theft auto form?”

“Literally once. Crazy circumstances.” Rest in peace, Todfather. “It was a Cadillac.”

“A Cadillac.” Eddie sighs dreamily. “Do you have any photos?”

“Uh, no, I was kinda busy.”

“I shall mourn the loss.”

“Take the next left here,” Nancy calls, which Steve is grateful for—the directions had gone completely out of his head.

“Wheeler, come up to the front,” Eddie says, “it’s a party.”

She must do, because her voice sounds much closer when she says, “Shit, I think I forgot to lock up, too.”

“Don’t worry,” Steve says, “no-one’s gonna ransack The Weekly Streak.”

Another stop sign—Steve looks over, smirks at how Eddie has ended up squished between Nancy and Robin, all of them sharing the one seat.

“They better not.” To Eddie, Nancy adds, “I think I gave your uncle the impression that I’m doing a big piece on you. Like, testimonials for an innocent man, stuff like that.”

For a flicker of a second, Eddie looks nauseated at the thought—Steve spots the shift, the decision to make a joke about it.

“Well, Wheeler, you better make me sound good.”

“Oh, I was going more for journalistic integrity.”

“Hey.”

Steve hears a couple of thumps behind him; without even glancing in the mirror, he says, “Sit your asses down, shitheads, don’t make me turn this thing around.”

“Don’t make me turn this thing around!” Lucas parrots.

Max scoffs playfully: “Nineteen going on forty.”

“Eddie was standing before!” Erica points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, Eddie’s a law unto himself. Look, just sit down and, like, make a list or something, I’ll stop off for food after we’ve—”

Dustin laughs. “You really are forty.”

“Uh-huh, one more wisecrack and you’re not getting any chocolate pudding.”

Steve’s hamming it up, he knows he is—smiles to himself as he hears a quartet of giggles.

“Can you believe they used to think I was cool?” he says.

“I dunno, Harrington,” Eddie says warmly, “at least one of them doth protest too much.”

Nancy stands in search of a pen, Robin following, insisting to Dustin that, “We’re getting one of those camp stoves, if I don’t eat something hot soon, I’m gonna die.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. Maybe it’s because they’ll soon be arriving at The War Zone; his levity slips just a little when he says, “It’s probably, like, a proximity thing. Henderson’ll have a scientific term for it.”

Eddie chuckles. “What, the Steve Harrington effect?”

Steve shrugs. “You get too close, the shine wears off eventually.”

He doesn’t realise until he’s said it that the joking, perhaps, has stopped somewhere along the way.

“Huh,” Eddie says. “I’m no scientist, but that doesn’t sound like the Steve Harrington effect to me.”

“No?” Steve says.

He can see the parking lot in the distance, and he gestures for Eddie to duck.

“Nope,” Eddie says. Steve can hear him moving, crouching to hide behind the driver’s seat.

He parks and everyone’s abruptly all business, deciding who’s staying in the RV, who’s going into The War Zone.

Steve hates it, has a sudden intense longing to keep talking about movies, to just be stupid.

And maybe Eddie can tell, because just before Steve heads out, he catches his eye, smiles.

“Hey, don’t worry, Harrington,” he says with a tiny, fleeting wink. “You’re still my leading man.”

[ghostbustting]

So i’ve had this like thought in the back of my head for some odd reason but here it is:

Your best friends with James in the RTL era and you guys were just casually talking in the living room of the metali-mansion and somehow the conversation goes to celebrity’s you’d fuck. You answer first by saying Dave Mustaine as a joke and he ends up getting really annoyed with you and when you ask him about it he just fucks you🤤

i'm sososo sorry for being slow with requests, i just had a looooong roadtrip yesterday and currently working in an active organization, i promise i'm working on every req 😭

╰┈➤“𝑾𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑵𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑹„ ๋࣭⭑

James Hetfield x Reader

Contains Smut

The peanut I threw flew through the air and landed into James’ mouth perfectly, causing a pack of laughter to erupt from both of us as we high five each other proudly, making us look like two idiots, here sitting on the couch in the living room of Metallica’s so called ‘Metallimansion’.

It was afternoon here at El Cerrito, California. His friends were all off somewhere else, so since he was alone, he decided to invite me here to hang out together, just the two of us alone in this house.

I never really mind when he wanted to do these hang outs, James was a great company and all, always have been for the rest of our friendship.

I sit back down with my legs on James’ lap, one of his hand resting lightly on one of my ankles while we snack on some peanuts and talk about stupid stuffs, something we’ve done not once, not twice, not even thrice, probably thousands times before.

That’s when he suddenly snapped his fingers and point to me, “Aha! I got a good one!” He smirked, I can already tell by his stupid smirk that he’ll clearly say something idiotic.

With an eye roll, I smile back at him and raise my eyebrows, my expression showing I was amused. “What is it, Het?” I ask, sighing as I prepare for whatever stupid words come out of his mouth next.

The way his lips curve up into that stupid smirk was something I’d see on a daily basis ever since we became friends, often finding it being built up before he say or do something only a complete buffoon would do.

And just as I expected, he say, “Name a celebrity you’d fuck.”

The living room once again became filled with our in sync stupid laughter, I grin and nudged him with my foot, “You first!”

He shook his head with a laugh, his long blond hair shaking along with his head while his eyes squinting slightly from how wide he was smiling, looking drunk while being as sober as he ever was.

He swatted my feet off his lap, crossing his arms like a bratty kid. “Nu-uh. I’m the one who came up with it, you answer.” He say with that same stupid cheeky smile.

My eyes rolls yet again, amused by his childish question, at the same time being used to his mostly immature behavior.

I look up at the ceiling and hum, thinking. My finger tapping on my bottom lip as my mind think of the perfect celebrity I would like to have a sinful fun with, a small grin staying on my face.

The grin only became wider when I found my answer, James was quick to catch onto the sign. “Who?!” He ask excitedly.

A small laugh leave my grinning lips when I see how excited he became before I took deep breaths and answer his question, “Dave Mustaine.”

I pursed my lips, trying not to let more giggles leave my lips as I watch the expression on his face closely. Well honestly, I didn’t really mean it completely when I said I’d fuck Dave Mustaine.

Sure, Mustaine’s good looking and charming and talented and all, but my main plan was just to play around with James, knowing the small grudge that was held between the two metal vocalists. And by the new look on the blond’s face, I can tell I succeeded.

His eyebrows furrow at my answer, his stupid smirk almost immediately evaporated into thin air, his lips scowling instead, showing genuine annoyance no matter how much he try to hide it. His position on the couch shifted, showing a slight tense in him as he shift.

“Really? Out of all the other celebrities?”

I shrug and chuckle, “He’s cute. Nice hair also.”

James rolled his eyes and cross his arms, sighing. “His hair literally just looks like shredded carrots, what’s so nice about that?” He look away, I can see his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.

“No it doesn’t!” I laughed and shake my head, finding this situation and the way my simple answer that was meant to be a joke was making him act amusing. He had his arms crossed, huffing as he look away like a kid that’s about to throw a tantrum.

He scoff and finally looked at me again, “He’s a drunk.”

“Weren’t you all?”

James groaned and lean back on the couch, his head thrown back while he rub his face. “I bet he wouldn’t even be a good fuck!” He say a bit louder now, almost yelling. I didn’t even think he would be that annoyed to even start yelling.

A bit surprised by the sudden yell, I sigh and roll my eyes. “And you would?” I scoff playfully, almost as if mocking him in a way.

Suddenly, he sat up straight again and his head snapped to me, raising an eyebrow as a small smirk appear again on his face, while still having a hint of annoyance in his expression. He stood up, his footsteps slowly making his way closer to my side of the couch.

My smile slowly fade little by little as he lean down, his face right in front of mine, his blue eyes meeting mine, the annoyance in his gaze now also accompanied by a hint of playfulness.

Something in the way he looked at me made my thoughts stop, finding myself becoming nervous from the proximity between both of our faces which are now inches away from one another.

A chuckle leaves his lips as he speaks up, his voice low. “Is that a dare?”

I can feel my heart pounding now rather than beating, my breath hitching. My mind starts to wonder with endless thoughts of what he means by this, how close our faces are, and what would happen next between us, here on this couch, in this living room, in this empty ‘Metallimansion’.

Slowly, I start to gain control of myself again, finding my own smirk returning to my lips as I tilt my head, raising my eyebrows. “What if it is?”

At that moment, I didn’t realize how much of a turn my words would make.

At that moment, I didn’t realize what he was implying on.

That is until he pushed me back on the couch and his hands grabbed onto my face, his fingers gripping my cheeks tightly while his lips smashed onto mine, his eyes closing in an instant.

His lips were rubbing against mine, the sensation making my own eyes close as well, finding myself enjoying the way his lips felt on mine, the way his tongue tastes as it slips past my lips and meets mine.

My mind couldn’t even process how good a simple kiss with my own bestfriend feels. Everything that went on with our connected lips feels right, feels amazing, feels addicting. It makes me long for more of him.

His hands that were once on my face now trails down to my body, his fingers finding their way to grip onto the bottom of my shirt, pulling it off me in a millisecond.

Suddenly, his head buried into my chest, his hand pushed down the cups of my bra to release my breasts from the ‘boob-jail’, giving him easy access to grab and grope on them while his lips went to wrap around one of my nipples.

Moans were pulled out of my lips by the time he sucked and nipped on my nipple, my back arching into him, a silent beg for more of his touch and lips, a silent beg for him to continue, a silent beg for him to go even more further.

My silent begs seems to be granted when his other hand slowly trail down to the hem of my pants, slipping past it along with my panties with such ease.

A gasp left my throat when his fingers found their way to my dripping cunt, toying with my aching clit before he starts rubbing harsh circles on it, pulling out even louder moans, his name slipping out of my lips, voicing out my need for him.

“S-shit..” I whimper when he start inserting two digits of his fingers into my aching pussy, pumping them in and out of me with not a single mercy.

I can feel a smirk being formed on his lips that are still wrapped around my now erect nipple, slick with his saliva. But now my mind are too fixated on the way his fingers exit and enter my cunt in a loop, curling them up every now and then.

Shaking ever so slightly, my legs wraps around his arm as I start to grind my hips against his fingers, desperate for more of that feeling.

A chuckle leave his lips yet again as he pull back from my breasts, “Feel good, eh?” He smirked, his hands leaving my pussy right when it just started to feel even better per second.

“Hey—!” I was cut off short by him flipping me over with such ease that it caused me to land harshly on the couch by my stomach. I grunt, “Bitch..” I mutter, earning another breathy laugh from James before he grabbed onto my hips and lift them up.

Letting out a shaky breath, I place my hands on the back of the couch as he bend me over it, his other hand on his belt, unbuckling it while he whispers into my ear, “I’ll make you regret every single letter that left your mouth just a second ago and turn those words into filthy noises you won’t believe silly old James Hetfield would be able to pull out of you.”

The way he spoke, the way he worded out his sentence, the way he breathes into my ear, the way he held my hip. It was all too unreal to make me believe we’d stay as friends only after all of this ends.

“W-whatever..” I huffed as I hear his pants fall to the floor, making my hear thump with anticipation of what’s about to happen next.

That’s when I feel his tip brushing up and down my folds before pushing past them and entering my slick hole. I gasp at the feeling of his hard cock entering me, his hands gently massaging my hips and ass.

His hips meets my ass as he slowly starts to get a hang of his thrusts, getting faster and harder by the seconds, grunts leaving his lips, accompanying my loud moans.

I can feel the tip of his cock meeting that weak spot in me, making my back arch and the loudest moan escape my throat out of how much pleasure he is causing me. "Fuck.."

"Was your pussy always this tight? Goddamn..." He groaned, his hands now fixated on my hips, gripping them tightly while he lead me back and forth against his hips, our movement making loud skin slapping noises.

My fingers dug into the soft cushiong of the back of the couch, my knees weak by the second while he continue to thrust in and out of me.

"...Only for you.. Only for you.." I utter out while panting, my breathing loud and hard to control.

Another gasp escapes me when the palm of his big hand meets the skin of my ass, which later on created a big red mark of his hand, my skin aching from how hard he hit me.

James laugh came out breathy yet loud, muttering out. "Didn't knew my best friend would be such a slut for me.."

A whine leave my slightly parted lips, my legs shaking while trying to keep myself up from how much he makes me want to just crumble and fall by just fucking me so fast and good.

He was so rough, yet so careful at the same time. The way he fucked me was surreal. Never in my whole life have I ever though that the man that will make me want to cum so fast would be my own best friend. And never in my whole life would I ever admit it. Until now, perchance.

"Fuck.. oh fuck..! James!" My eyes widens to the point they look like they're about to pop out of their sockets, my lips parting even wider as I let out yet another loud moan, my knees almost giving up on me. But his hands stays on my hips and keeps me up straight, not even caring about my moment of weakness.

"You hear that— you hear yourself?" He leaned over and grunted in my ear, his arms wrapping around my stomach and holding me close to his body, still thrusting. "You hear that name? Does that sounds like 'Dave' to you?"

"N-no.."

"Then what is it?"

"James.."

"Say that again?"

"Ja—James..!!"

I gasped, my release coming out in a sudden without my consent, fluids of my cum gushing out of my cunt uncontrollably and dripping out through our connected sex.

James groaned behind me, his grip on my hips tightening a little as he fuck my now slick hole, "Fuck fuck fuck! Shit.."

Not long after, his came inside me, his seed filling up my hole, making me feel even more full while his groan fills my ear, the genuine pleasure visible in his voice.

Once we recover from our intense release, he grabbed onto me and flip us over, sitting on the couch and pulling me on his lap. His hands went to my cheeks before he starts kissing me again.

My eyes flutter close while my lips move against his, the palm of my hands resting gently on his heaving chest while his were in my hair, brushing some of the strands away from my face.

When we pull apart from each other, he smirk up at me, his hands moving down to rest on my thighs, rubbing up and down them soothingly while I lean down to rest my forehead on his own.

"Still think Mustaine would be better?"

I chuckle and shake my head, kissing the tip of his nose.

"Never."

[monzabee]

this is a relationship, that i don’t think anyone saw coming  – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and Charles think you are successfully fooling everyone on the grid, when in reality you are the ones being fooled.

Pairing: charles leclerc x merc!driver!reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: cursing, kissing, hiding a relationship (and doing it very badly), smut elements! (in one of the scenes, nothing penetrative), idiots to lovers, sexism and racism in motorsports, pop culture references (bad and many of them).

Request: “Hello! Can I request a charles leclerc imagine where the reader is a f1 driver and they try to hide their relationship from the paddock, but everyone knows and in the end they just reveal it. Thanks xx” + “this is not a request, but, can you use a dialogue from one of your favourite tv shows/series?”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! the title comes from an episode of the kardashians, but it was very popular on tiktok for a while so here you go! the request for this one was so good, and i had so much fun writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i do. the dialogue i used for the second request/promt is from season 1 episode 9 of suits, which is one of my absolute favourite tv series of all time (even though it has too many legal inaccuracies), and you can watch the scene from here. ALSO, because i can never choose one, i decided to use another dialogue from season 1 episode 18 of gilmore girls, and i think it is the best piece of television ever written, and you can watch it from here. there are a bunch of pop culture references in there, so if you can spot them, you are a star! thank you anons for your requests, and i hope you guys enjoy this one! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles is not stupid, in fact, he prides himself in being smart. However, as one of his best friends are looking at him with an unamused glare, he suddenly fears that he might have been stupid when he was getting ready before arriving at the venue for the party tonight.

“You are not dressed,” Pierre drawls, “What are you wearing?”

“A suit?” Charles asks, confused as he looks at his friend’s attire. “What are you wearing?” 

Pierre points to the outfit he’s wearing, which consists of brown pants with a linen shirt and a brown vest thrown over it, an annoyed look washes over his face as he explains, “I’m Indiana Jones, this is a costume party, Charles.” 

“Why would you have a costume party when you’re turning 27?” Charles’ face scrunches up in even more confusion. 

“Because it’s fun, and it’s my birthday.” Pierre rolls his eyes, “We have to do something about it; Kika, I need help!” He calls out to her girlfriend, who rushes into the room in a white dress and a very voluminous blonde wig. 

“What’s wrong?” Kika asks, her eyes falling on Charles’ outfits as she groans disappointedly, “Who are you supposed to be?” 

“I didn’t know!” Charles argues. 

“Mate,” Pierre objects, “it was on the invitation; ‘Hollywood Icons’?” 

“We can fix this,” Kika tries to offer Charles a supportive smile. “You could be… Patrick Bateman?” 

Charles’ eyes widen with shock, “From ‘American Psycho’?”

“Morbid, Kiks,” Pierre shakes his head. 

Kika shrugs, “He’s hot. What about Brad Pitt in ‘Mr. and Mrs. Smith’?”

“Does he even wear a suit in that one?” Pierre asks, still shaking his head in thought. 

Kika lets out a loud groan, “James Bond!”

“That could work–” Charles start saying at the same time Pierre objects, “The suit is not sharp enough.” 

“Then give him a tie, Pierre.” Kika frowns. “God, the two of you are like children, not even the girls had this much trouble, and the two of us almost matched.” 

You’re shivering when you finally arrive at the venue thanks to the thin trench coat thrown over your costume. You link your arm with Lily, who is holding Alex’s hand and the two of them are dressed up as Jack and Rose. “Why are we doing this, again?”

“Because we like Pierre, he is nice.” Lily turns to Alex to let him fix her ginger wig for her as she replies to you.

“I don’t know, I think I want to go back to the hotel.” You mumble, your hands nervously playing with the belt of your coat. 

“Just give it a try, Y/N,” Alex smiles at you. “We’ll take you back if you’re still feeling nervous.” 

You nod your head with a sigh as you let Lily pull you in towards the entrance of the apartment building. You’re too busy admiring the Italian architecture when you hear a squeal. “You guys made it!” Alex excuses himself to go greet some of the other drivers and you smile at Kika as she pulls you and Lily in for a hug at the same time as she chants, “I’m dying to see your guys’ costumes, show me, show me!”

You laugh softly as you take of your coat, pulling gasps from both of the girls looking over your outfit. “You both knew what my costume was going to be!” You whine, holding your coat close to your body. 

“I didn’t know it was going to be –” Lily starts, looking at Kika for help. 

“Tight,” Kika clears her throat, “it’s very tight, and your body looks amazing!” 

“You’re literally a model, Kiks,” you mumble, “can we please focus on Lily and how historically accurate her costume is? Not to mention yours, I mean, Marilyn?”

“You look amazing, Lily.” Kika agrees, giving her a warm smile. “And thank you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Kika,” she turns to you, “thank you, Y/N. I’m going to find Alex, meet you at the bar?” 

“Sure, see you.” You tell her, smiling as she starts to walk towards the crowd. 

“Let me take your coat,” Kika leans over you. “You should grab a drink before more people arrive, Pierre made sure to invite half of the city, it seems like.” 

You thank her before she leaves to hang your coat, taking a deep breath as you start moving between dancing people, some of whom greet you as you make your way towards the bar. You give the bar tender a tight smile as you order yourself a gin and tonic, strawberry, of course. The first thing Charles notices about you is your hair, having memorised all the different tones mixed between your locks. His eyes travels down your body, his eyes linger particularly on your dress; the white bodice is connected to the tie dye skirt by a metal circle, and it is oh so tight, accentuating all your curves in the best way possible. His legs start to move towards you in their own volition when his eyes reach the leather thigh-high boots, his voice is thick as he approach you from your right. “Y/N.” 

You look at him with your lips parted in shock, your voice coming out in a low breath. “Charles, you’re here.” You let him take one of your hands into his as you lock eyes with him. “I thought you were going to be in Monaco.” 

“I was already in Italy for the car testing.” He explains, his fingers gently caress your inner wrist. “I’ve missed you. Were you back at home?” 

“I’ve missed you too,” a smile takes over your face, “yes, I’m trying to get used to changing cities.” 

“I’ll give you a private tour when we go back.” He offers, eliciting a giggle from you as you reach for your drink and take a sip from the straw. His breath hitches for a moment when he focuses too much on the way your red-painted lips close around the plastic, but he’s quick to shake it off. “Did you see the pictures on Twitter?”

“The ones with Frédéric?” You ask him and he nods in return. The pictures he is referring to being his new team principle giving your four-year-old niece some daisies. There is a teasing smile on your lips as you say, “Don’t worry, Charles, I’m not coming for a Ferrari seat. He was just giving Cecily some flowers when we were passing by.” 

“I wish you would’ve brought her into the garage, I’ve missed her.” The pout he’s sporting lets you know that he is being genuine and not putting on a show for your attention. 

“You know I couldn’t, I had to get back to my own garage before the race.” The emphasis you use makes him roll his eyes as his fingers occupy themselves with the stacked bracelets on your wrist. “Who are you supposed to be, anyway?”

“James Bond.” He replies in an unattached voice, exhaling a deep breath. “I didn’t realise it was a costume party.”

“Charles,” you laugh, head tilted to the side as you keep holding his gaze, “it was on the invitation, darling.” 

He groans, “I know that, now. Pierre was not impressed when I first showed up.”

“I can imagine.” You agree in a sympathetic voice. “Maybe we should’ve thought of something before you left last week.”

“Oh, yeah, like what? Vivian?” He smirks, his eyes going over your body once more, but without any shame this time. “Do you have any idea how great you look?”

“It was the last movie we watched.” You shrug, a coy smile on your lips. “Maybe you could’ve been a ballerina, like Natalie Portman, in ‘Black Swan’.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh. “Oh please, you know how good my legs would look in tights compared to yours.” 

“Oh, chéri,” You tut, stepping closer to him as you rake your fingers down on his tie. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

“I would crush you.” He challenges as he lifts an eyebrow.

You shake your head. “You wouldn’t touch me.” 

“Why not?” He asks, amused. 

You shrug in a nonchalant manner. “Because you'd be too busy staring at me in tights.” 

“No I wouldn’t,” Charles argues, shaking his head slightly. 

“You’re doing it right now.” You sing in a light voice. 

“You’re not wearing any.” He points out, his hands moving to rest on the bare skin of your waist, curtesy of the cut-outs your dress provides. 

You tug on his tie to draw him closer to you, his lips lingering near his ear as you whisper, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

He is left speechless when you let him go, grab your drink and start walking towards your teammate, making sure to add an extra sway to your hips because you know Charles is watching you to confirm what you’ve just told him. 

You have a secret, and it’s big – big, huge. And it has something to do with the Monegasque laying beneath you. Charles talks about the last few days he spent at the Ferrari factory as you listen to him, your eyes focused on the way his face moves through various expressions when he talks about the car. Your chin is placed on your hands which are placed together on his chest, giving you the perfect view of his face. His fingers are moving on the bare skin on your back, the white bed sheet pulled up only enough to cover the globe of your ass. Although you try your best to keep up with his stream of consciousness, humming where accurate and asking him questions here and there, but Charles can see the sleepy look in your eyes through your hooded eyes. 

“Are you okay, mon soleil?” He asks, his chest rumbling with his voice underneath your hands. 

“Sleepy,” you mumble, leaning up against him to bury your face against the side of his neck, “you’re warm, though.” 

He pulls the sheet up your body; interpreting the way you shiver as you being cold, when the actual reason is the pleasure the skin to skin contact brings. “You can go back to sleep; we still have some time.” The incoherent mumbles leaving your lips makes him chuckle, which in return makes you smile against him. Your fingers trace over the edge of his five o’clock shadow, and you suddenly find yourself thanking whatever deity is up there that he forgot to shave because of all the commotion of travelling over the past few days. “What did you just say?”

“It’s just funny that you tell me I should sleep after you’ve kept me up the entire night, darling.” Your breathy chuckle hits the side of his neck as he lets out a chuckle of his own. 

“I didn’t hear you complaining at any point,” he raises one of  his brows, earning him a pat against his chest and you making yourself rise enough to glare at him. 

You try your best to frown at him, locking your gaze with his, as you can feel the heat starting to rise up to your face at the mention of your not so innocent activities of last night. “You’re incorrigible, Charles.” 

“Oh, chérie,” he coos, brushing the pad of his thumb over the swell of your cupids-bow. You’re about to give in and give him a kiss when he rises up, himself, with a frown and you in his arms. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask in a worried voice, following his line of vision to your closed bedroom door. 

“Does anyone else have your keys?” Charles asks, “I heard the front door open–”

Your eyes widen as you scramble to get off him, pulling the sheet up to cover your nakedness. “Charles, hide!” You hiss, while trying to force him to move. 

“Y/N?” You hear your assistant, Margo, yell through the house. “I got those thermal things you wanted!” 

“One second, please!” You call back to her, looking at Charles with pleading eyes. Thankfully, he manages to hide underneath the sheets just before Margo barges into the room. Even more luckily, the duvet over the sheets ends up hiding his body seamlessly. “Hi, Margo.” You give her the best smile you can muster up under the situation, your hand still clutching the bedsheet on your chest with enough force to make your hand hurt. 

“Oh my god, are you naked under there?” Margo babbles, a light blush covering her cheeks. “Since when do you sleep naked?”

“Um… I heard it’s good for your circulation?” You answer her in an unsure voice, causing Charles to tighten his hands on your thighs in warning, you have no idea how he managed to squeeze between them in the first place. “Thank you for the thermals, you’re an angel.”

“N-no problem.” She smiles at you nervously, obviously stressed because of the lack of clothes on your body for the sake of professionalism. “Toto wanted me to tell you that he is meeting up with Lewis for lunch later and asked me to ask you to join them if you were free.” 

“Sure, do you know wh-when?” You stutter during the last word, feeling Charles’ fingers and breath coming closer to your center. 

Margo checks her watch, then looks back up at you. “Around three, at that Italian place the team went out for dinner the last time.” 

You nod in acknowledgement as you try the remember the exact location of the restaurant she mentioned, gasping because Charles decides to give your clit a little lick before taking it between his lips to gently suck on it. “I’ll be there!” You rush out, hands gripping the white sheet even tighter. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Margo asks while eyeing you up with worry, “Should I take you to a doctor, or something?” 

“Oh no, I’m fine, honey.” You wave her off with a nervous chuckle. “I think it’s all in your – head!”

“Um.. okay. I’ll see you later, then.” Margo mumbles as she leaves your room with red cheeks. 

You throw your head back in a groan over the awkward encounter, waiting until hearing the front door open and close before pulling the sheets back and glaring at the man between your thighs, who still has his mouth on you, by the way. “You are evil, Charles, pure evil! What were you thinking?” 

He draws back slightly to raise a questioning brow. “Do you want me to stop?” However, he resumes his torture when you don’t answer him, looking up at you while grinning like the devil himself as he murmurs into your skin, “That’s what I thought.”

It’s hard, being a woman in the motorsport world, and especially in F1. While some may say it’s unprecedented, and you’d agree, you also think there’s going to be misogynistic pigs in any sector you might end up working in, so why not have some fun? The article comes out the day before the race, right before the qualifying session. You’re not the one to check your phone before going on track, but an urge to do so pokes at you when you realise people are giving you worried looks in the Mercedes garage. Your jaw tightens as you read through the article, fingers tightening around your phone as you read every single sexist comment being made about the way you dress, talk, and your entire F1 career and accomplishments being discredited just because of your gender. You’re absolutely fuming as you throw your phone onto the couch in your driver’s room and grab your helmet and balaclava as you walk briskly towards the garage. 

Both Toto and Lewis look at you with surprised, but worried, looks as you announce, “Make me go out first.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Toto asks, sharing a worried glance with Lewis. “You usually wait for a while for other people to–.” 

“No, I’m sure.” You tug on your balaclava as you add, “Make sure I’m on softs, please.” 

The two men watch you walk off towards your car, Lewis mumbling, “Hell hath no fury like the woman scorned.” The Austrian turns to him, eyebrows raised, which causes him to roll his eyes. “Yes, Toto, I read.”

You’re a force to be reckoned with on track during qualifying. Although having not the best start to the season, you push your Mercedes to its absolute limits, managing to outpace even the Red Bulls, and constantly asking your engineer for another lap until Toto has to ask you to retire for the day – in long story short, you are the pole sitter for the Sunday’s race. There are four people waiting for you when you get out of your car, those four people being: Toto, Susie, Lewis and Mick – though you’re pretty sure the latter was dragged into this intervention because you’re usually unable to get angry next to the reserve driver. 

“You were reckless out there, Y/N.” Toto frowns, crossing his arms over his chest (Mick copies his actions, nodding, as he does his best to give you a stern look). 

“I drove the best I have in over a year,” you argue, “we are starting on P1 tomorrow because of my driving today.” 

“I don’t care if we start P20, you know you shouldn’t have gone out there that angry!” Susie places a pacifying hand on your team principle’s arm when his voice gets higher. 

“We know you were angry about the article,” Lewis starts, but you cut him off as you grumble,

“A very astute conversation, Lewis.” You snap, not allowing him to continue as you begin ranting, “He called me a ‘Malibu Barbie’, and suggested that I should find another career, do you know how disheartening that is?”

“They called me Ken once,” Mick mumbles with a small pout on his lips, quickly mumbling “sorry,” when you give him a scathing look. 

“There will always be journalists who are against you and me,” Lewis goes on to remind you, “I told that before you signed, and before your first race.” 

“I know, but–” You stop to swallow down a sob, tilting your head back to delay the tears which are threatening to come out. “They implied that I’ve slept my way up to where I am today,” you inhale a deep breath as your voice wavers, “I’m so tired of my accomplishments being reduced to this.” 

“Men will always be afraid of women who have the ability to be better at their jobs than they are,” Susie smiles softly at you – soft, but not pitiful, you realise. “It doesn’t mean that we should give up, it means that we do our best to make sure they are proved wrong.” 

“You could’ve hurt yourself and others today,” Toto shakes his head, “you almost collided with both of the Ferraris.” 

Your entire break pauses at the mention of the red cars, mind quickly drifting to the owner of the eyes you love looking into, but you’re quick to snap yourself out, “Are they okay?”

“Both Carlos and Charles are fine,” Susie assures you.

“No more reckless driving,” Toto points a finger at you and then to Lewis, who raises his arms in surrender. “I mean it.” He pats you on the back before leaving, whispering a quick, “Good job today, kiddo.” 

“Why do I get in trouble because of you?” Lewis wonders aloud, his hands on his hips. 

“We haven’t been teammates for that long, Lewis.” You squint your eyes. 

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Mick asks with a concerned look on his face. 

You nod in thought, pointed to both of them. “I will be, but I need both of your help.” 

Mick gulps, voice tentative as he asks, “We’re not doing anything illegal, are we?”

After you’re done explaining your plan to your teammates, you say goodbye to both of them and make your way towards your driver’s room. Charles gets up, quickly, from the couch as you enter, shocked expressions on both of your faces. “H-how did you get in here?”

“I had to sneak in through the back,” he explains as he gets closer to you, hands quickly cup your cheek for his thumbs to swipe under your eyes. “Chérie, did you cry?”

“I- no!” You shake your head as you try to get him off. “I’m just- ugh, I’m just so angry!”

He lets you rant in his arms, eventually giving in and shedding a few tears of frustration, but he doesn’t comment until you’re done with your thoughts, and when he does comment, it is not to undermine your feelings. He takes you back to the hotel, and before the two of you leave your garage, he sneaks a soft kiss on your lips which has you melting in his arms. Unbeknown to you, Susie, Toto and Lewis watch the interaction from the other end of the corridor, with the latter murmuring, “Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.” Lewis gives Toto a side-eye as the team principle looks at him with the same surprised look from before, “For the last time, man, I read!”

All the eyes in the car are on you, the next morning when you, Mick and Lewis arrive to the track in the same car. “You ready to leave?” Lewis asks you, looking at you from the rear-view mirror from the passenger seat; Mick drove to the track instead of you because you told them both there was no way you were driving with the heels you wore today. 

“It’s now or never,” you mutter, subconsciously fixing your hair.

“Give them hell.” Mick turns back to smile at you, and you give him a nervous smile as you exit the car. 

A few people around the entrance turn to give you funny looks, you reply to some of them by offering a thin-lipped smile. The real show starts when you finally enter the racing grounds, photographers turning to snap a picture of you when they realise it’s actually you. You plaster on a plastic smile, waving at them as you do your absolute best to walk in the 6-inch heels which were definitely not the brightest idea you’ve ever had.

“Hi, Barbie!” A similar voice calls out to you, and you smile genuinely for the first time as you call back. ,

“Hi, Ken!” You turn towards Pierre, pushing your sunglasses up towards your hair as you watch the Frenchman walk towards you with Carlos and Charles behind him. 

“Please tell me it’s a wig,” Carlos frowns, his eyes lingering on your suddenly platinum hair. 

“I’m having fun as a blonde, Carlos.” You shrug innocently, your arms crossing over your chest, and the pink dress you’ve decided to wear for the occasion. 

Pierre nods in support, “Blondes do have more fun, Carlos.” 

“I- Why?” Carlos asks, not getting the joke shared between you and Pierre. “I don’t understand.” 

“Fine, no soup for you, then.” You mumble rolling your eyes. However, your eyes widen when you realise he genuinely doesn’t get the reference. “Seriously- Carlos, it’s from Seinfeld.” 

“I’ve never watched it.” He admits, his frown still prominent on his face. 

“It’s okay, mate,” Pierre assures him taking him away to explain the joke to him, which leaves you and Charles alone. 

You turn to Charles with a coy smile on your face. “You like the new look?”

“I- but, when?” He asks you, more confused then ever. “You were not blonde when I left last night.”

“Mick bought the dye for me.” You explain, trying to supress a grin. “We stayed up all night trying to bleach my hair.” 

“You stayed up all night?” Charles asks, more concerned now that he learns that you didn’t have a good night’s sleep. “That’s so wrong, mon soleil, why did you do it? Is it about the article? Of course, it is.” 

“Charles, calm down, darling.” You place a hand on his chest, even though you’re hyperaware of the fact that both of you are out in the open. “I’m just going to prove something, alright? I feel fine.” 

“You should’ve slept.” Charles frowns, taking a deep breath. “Are you sure you feel good enough to be in a car?”

You nod excitedly. “Positive, I have a race to win. And wait until you see what Lewis and I are going to wear.” 

“I can’t wait, chérie.” 

Just as you promised Charles, you win the race. Your pace is even better than the previous day, but instead of being fuelled by anger, you are fuelled by determination to win. Your engineers play Aqua’s Barbie Girl as a surprise, and to make things even better, Lewis and you stand on the podium in a Mercedes 1-2 in your matching pink helmets and shoes – even Toto donned pink glasses for the occasion. Charles lets out a hearty laugh alongside you on the podium when he sees your outfits. Yeah, you decide in that moment, this one is for the girls.

You and Charles’ relationship happened so unexpectedly, but that doesn’t mean that you regret a secret moment of it. It all started when you were moving to Monte Carlo at the end of last year’s season, and Charles was the only one available to help you in the process – not that you asked him of course, he offered you to help because he is a gentleman like that. It didn’t take the both of you long enough to go on dates as you spent more and more time together, and it was a natural transition to both of you dating each other exclusively. Despite what you expected, the first time Charles actually kissed you was on a cliff overlooking the entirety of Monte Carlo, the view was beautiful, but you were still apprehensive because of your location on the cliff. So, being the gentleman he is, Charles offered to hold you, and that’s when he decided to kiss you. 

Lewis comes back to the table after taking a phone call as he apologises, “Sorry, I was on the phone; long distance.”

“God?” You ask him, mockingly nodding, which makes George and Carmen laugh.

“London,” Lewis clarifies as he gives you a questioning look. 

You gasp as you ask. “God lives in London?” 

“No, my mother in lives in London.” Lewis replies in the calmest voice he can muster. 

“You mother is God?” You ask right back, without the appearance of joking. Your small discussion grabs the attention of other drivers and couples as the two of you continue bickering. 

“Y/N,” Lewis tries to warn you, but you continue on with your rant. 

Leaning towards Charles, Alex and Lily who are seated close together, you announce, “So, God is a woman.” 

“Y/N!” Lewis groans this time. 

“And my teammates mother, it’s so cool! I’m definitely going to ask for strategy points for the next season.” 

The table shares a laugh as you and Lewis continue bickering back and forth, eliciting laughs from people who watch you with amusement. Eventually, Pierre clears his throat. “Okay, what is everyone’s plans for the break?” he asks, trying to look over the long table. 

“Isa and I are off to Mallorca,” Carlos announces as she presses a sweet kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m going back home,” Yuki shrugs. 

“I’m going to see Chloe and Scotty,” Lance mumbles, “and probably Daniel, too.” 

Everyone goes around to announce their plans for the break, but when it comes to you and Charles, you are nervous as you announce, “I’m just going to stay home, get to know the city, you know?”

“Yeah, same.” Charles nods, thinking he got away with his evasive answer. 

“You’re going to get to know the city you were born and raised in?” Fernando asks with a knowing smirk. 

“You can always find new things if you know where to look,” Charles replies in a serious tone, trying to appear stern as he nods to strengthen his point. You’re busy squeezing his hand under the table to death. 

“Yeah, like what?” Max asks, which earns him a slap on the arm from Kelly. “What? I’m curious.” 

“Like, umm, like-like cafés, and bookshops, and you know those little stores which sell souvenirs but not the generic kind?” He rambles, trying to think of more examples. 

“Okay that’s enough,” Lewis cuts him off, shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “We all know the two of you are dating. The entire grid, and engineers, and probably most of the team principles.” 

“What?” You laugh nervously, trying to shrug him off. “Don’t be stupid.” 

“Yeah, we are not dating.” Charles shakes his head, his octave going up as he receives looks from people around the table. “We are not!”

“Drop the act, it’s disgusting the way you two look at each other.” Checo complains from the other side of the table. 

“Yeah, and I can see him doing stuff to your hand under the table.” Lance winces. 

“He is not doing stuff to my hand under the table!” You squeal, but Charles is too busy trying to contain his laughter next to you. “Is this funny to you, Charles?” 

“I mean, a little bit,” Charles confirms, finally succumbing to his laugher, “we have nothing to hide now, chérie.”

“I knew it!” Pierre exclaims, “I told you I saw them together at my birthday!” He tells his girlfriend. 

“Toto and I saw them kissing after quali,” Lewis shrugs. 

You gasp as you turn towards him. “You did not!”

“Yes we did,” Lewis argues, “even Susie saw.” 

Charles pulls you towards himself, still laughing over people arguing whether they saw you together over the past year or not, as he wraps your arms around your shoulder, you murmur to him, “I am so crashing next to him next year, Daniel style.” You take a pause to think, “No, Mazepin style.”

“Maybe not crash into your teammate for the sake of poor Toto, mon soleil.” 

You let out an unsatisfied grumble as you hear Alex complain to Lily, “Why didn’t she tell me? I thought we were best friends!” You groan and look around the table at all the people around you, who are all surprisingly supportive of your relationship, you smile as you press a soft kiss to Charles’ lips. 

He grins as he asks, “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” you shrug, “I just think you’re pretty cool.” 

“I think you’re pretty cool, too, my love.” He mumbles and gives you another kiss despite few groans coming from around the table. 

[veritas-scribblings]

disagree / challenge - @jegulus-microfic - words: 972

The door slams behind Regulus. 

James is left standing alone in an empty room in the apartment he shares with Sirius. He doesn’t quite know how they got here. He doesn’t quite know what they’d been arguing about or when the switch had happened, because they’d been holding each other on the couch a moment ago. There had been kisses involved, some friendly jibes, and James had been showing Regulus Sirius’s record collection.

It had been lovely. James had been happy. Thinking to himself, how lucky am I? Thinking, isn’t this wonderful? And, let’s stay like this forever.

And then somehow—he just isn’t sure how—an argument had started, and Regulus had yelled at him, and James had been so taken off-guard that he’d snapped back.

And now Regulus is gone. 

And James just really, really, really wants him to come back. However, if his experience with Blacks are anything to go by—if Sirius can be used as a point of reference—Regulus is just going to need his time and his space. Time and space are precious commodities for Blacks, who very frequently have control taken out of their hands. They can’t be forced to so anything before they’re ready, or they snap and they bite and there are wounds. 

‘Tough break,’ Peter says. He drops down onto the couch next to James and offers him a Bertie Bott.

James wrinkles his nose, because, what are they? Ten? Regulus is unpredictable enough. James doesn’t need his food to be equally unpredictable.

Peter shrugs, pops a bean into his mouth and dramatically gags. He doesn’t spit it out, though. He swallows. James would have a dirty, witty quip about that, normally, but he’s not in the mood. 

‘Hey,’ Peter says, thoughtful. ‘You know when Moony and Padfoot started dating, and they’d always be getting into fights and Sirius would be just doing really shit things? And we were like, what gives? You’ve been…excuse the pun…mooning over Moony for ages and now you’re being an asshat?’ 

James sighs. Peter can never take the direct route to a point, and James is so very tired of the scenic route. He’d like to be infantilised, please. Break it to him easy. Treat him like an idiot. No fucking riddles, thank you very much. 

‘Yes,’ James says, and he hopes that the stress he pours into the word is enough for Peter to just…be fucking direct.

‘Strange that,’ is all that Peter says, and then rifles around in the bag of beans for something that looks vaguely safe. It’s pink. Possibly candy floss.

‘I’ve had a long day, Wormtail, please just get to the point.’ James takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes, hoping that being just a little bit exaggerated about it all gets his point across. 

The bean obviously isn’t candy floss, because Peter wrinkles his nose as he chews and swallows. ‘You’ve read the Sirius Black manual. Think of Regulus as a…smaller, meaner version of Sirius. When Sirius and Remus were having trouble, what did you say?’

James blinks. Frowns. ‘Stop being a git?’

‘Actually, I think the specific words you used were, “stop being a dick head”, but no. After that. What did you say?’

James groans, dropping his head into his hands, because..well, he gets it. They took the scenic route to the point, but they got there in the end and Peter looks damned smug about it all. He always does after dropping words of wisdom. Like he feels like Albus Dumbledore, taking your hand, guiding your way. 

When Peter pops a bean into his mouth, James can’t help the little spark of satisfaction he gets when Peter once more gags.

James waits exactly five hours before going to find Regulus. Probably not enough time, but he’s impatient and he’s been watching the clock. And he just wants to take Regulus in his arms, kiss him, and then tell Regulus he’s an idiot and very, very wrong and James isn’t going anywhere. 

He would have done exactly that, but when Regulus answers the door he still looks angry. The ‘I’ll bite your tongue off if you try to kiss me’ kind of angry. 

So James just says, ‘I’m not going anywhere, so you can stop.’ 

They haven’t been together long and it’s all still so very new to James: Regulus and Regulus’s person, and Regulus’s habits, and Regulus’s beliefs, and Regulus’s unique characteristics. James knows that the Sirius Black Handling Manual will get him partway, but he also knows that Regulus is different enough from Sirius that if James tried to literally call him out on things the way he does with Sirius…

…well, Regulus is enough of a bastard that he will probably actually leave and never come back. Or he’ll kill James. Whichever Regulus felt, that particular day, would be easier for him to deal with.

Regulus doesn’t say anything, just narrows his eyes and stares at James like he could set James on flames with sheer willpower. 

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ James says, very much heartened by the fact that Regulus has not slammed the door in his face. ‘I really like you. I might…’ James pauses, wants to say: I might actually love you, but he doesn’t want to scare Regulus. ‘I might…more than like you. And, couples fight. And, I think you’re worth it, that we’re worth it. You know.’

James wants to say, I believe in you. He wants to say, you deserve love, you’re worthy of it. He wants to say, you don’t need to test me, I won’t leave you.

But he doesn’t. Because while it works with Sirius, he knows it won’t work with Regulus. That to Regulus, actions speak louder, so James will just have to show him.

And not go anywhere.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 14 - Voice

@jegulus-microfic April 14, Word count 703

It's happened again. We're having a series. But only for a couple of prompts this time.

First part

“What’s happened to you then? That tall chap was easy on the eyes.” Sirius snickered as he perched on the sofa’s arm next to Regulus’s head and ruffled his curls. 

“Get off you twat!” Regulus pushed his brother’s hand away. He hissed as the movement jolted his ankle. Sirius’s jolly grin turned to concern. 

“Are you hurt? Oh my god, Reggie. What happened?” Before he could explain, James returned with two steaming cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. Regulus felt his mouth begin to drool. 

“Hi,” James grinned at Sirius. “I’m James.” He held out his hand. Sirius considered it for a second before taking it and giving it a firm shake. 

“Sirius, Regulus’s brother. Do you know how he hurt himself?” Regulus watched as James’s face flushed when he stuttered out an explanation that confused Sirius even more. 

“Wait, what do shrinking trees have to do with Regulus?” Sirius asked cocking his head to the side as he tried to figure out James’s mess of a story. 

“He was on a run he didn’t have any business being on, and he took me out,” Regulus explained. 

“What, like on a date?” Sirius waggled his eyebrows at him. 

“No, as in he’s a buffoon who can’t ski and nearly killed me!” Regulus’s voice rose. A few of the guests in the lobby looked over at the trio. Regulus shuffled down, hiding his face. “Great, thanks for that, Sirius.” He ground his teeth. 

“Hey, don’t blame me. I wasn’t the one screaming.” Sirius was having the time of his life. Regulus had had enough. He put his untouched drink onto the coffee table and tried to stand. He immediately sat down again. This was going to be harder than he thought. Then, those strong arms gathered him up. 

“Which room are you in?” James asked him. His mind had gone blank.

“210,” Sirius answered for him. James turned and walked over to the lift. He shuffled Regulus slightly so he could press the call button and then settled him back against his chest. Regulus still couldn’t think of a good protest. 

James stopped outside Regulus’s room and didn’t move. It took Regulus longer than he cared to admit to figure out he needed the key card. 

Regulus wiggled in James’s arms as he tried to dig his wallet out of his pocket. 

“Damn it, I can’t quite,” He gave up. “Can you put me down for a second?” James carefully put him on his feet against the wall so he had something to lean on. He dug his hand into his snowsuit and pulled it free. 

James wrapped his arm around Regulus’s waist and helped him hop through the door. He stopped, unsure of where he wanted to sit. The bed would probably be best as it was close to the bathroom, and he could prop his ankle up, but he didn’t know how he felt about having a stranger see his bedroom.

“Where’s your bed?” James asked, looking around the room. “Did they only give you a pull-out?”

“What are you on about? The bedrooms through there.” He pointed at his bedroom door. What’s a pull-out?” He asked, bewildered. 

“It’s a sofa that turns into a bed.” James smiled at him. Regulus was about to thank him for his help when he was suddenly in James’s arms again. 

“Why do you keep picking me up!” He cried as he tried to escape. 

“Dr Lupin said you shouldn’t put any weight on it, and this is the easiest way to move you. I’m just doing what a good boyfriend would do.” James smirked at him. Regulus was not impressed. 

“You do know that we’re not boyfriends, right?” Regulus said as James opened his bedroom door. “Right?!” His voice cracked with nerves as James leaned over his bed and dropped him on the soft mattress. 

“Yes, Regulus. I’m not an idiot. We’ve only just met. Anyway,” He said, standing up. “I’ve got the whole week to win you over. No need to rush.” He blew him a kiss as he left the room. Regulus was stunned. He’d never had anyone be that forward with him, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t intrigued. 

Next part

[cosmal]

hey! i saw you have your requests open so i wanted to req a james or remus x reader where she goes off on a tangent about something she loves and then cuts herself off because she doesn’t think he’ll want to hear about it, and he is just very kind and explains that he likes to hear her talk and doesn’t find her annoying? i’m talking to a guy rn and he’s so nice but recently he dismissed a topic i’m really interested in (inadvertently i think) and i felt so silly for even bringing it up :’) ik james or remus would be so comforting!!!

it’s okay if not though! i hope you’re having a beautiful day 💞

ramble

summary james lets you ramble about your favourite tv show

content james potter x fem!reader

note men just dont get the point, do they!!!! fuck him. thanks for the req though lovely <3

You've managed to steal James away. A moment where you've worked the courage to talk to only him, not talk to him through other points his friends have made. It's just you and him and he's asked you about your favourite TV show.

"So, they're about to release a new season," you say. Your hands are talking more than your mouth is. Pointing and waving around to get your point across. "And," you think you should pause to take a breath but you don't, "and she's back."

"Who?" James asks you. He sets his drink down to fold his arms across his chest and leans in.

"Veronica!" you say excitedly, eyes creasing with pleasure. You're radiating excitement. "She's not dead. She was just missing, trapped somewhere. I’m not sure yet, the trailer doesn’t show much. How cool?"

James nods and hums and then his name is called out from across the lawn. You think it's Sirius. James doesn't pay him any mind.

"And then there's Alexander," you're talking quietly now, still just as excited, "her lover. God, he's been looking for her for centuries. Romance isn't dead."

You pause to take a breath but mainly because Sirius is still trying to gain James's attention. Standing by the fire bucket with a bunch of sticks in his hand.

"Sorry, one moment," James says, soft smile and apologetic eyes, and turns to face his friend. He's got his hand on your knee. "What?"

"Do you wanna roast marshmallows?" Sirius asks and can tell James is incensed. He has it in him to look sheepish.

"What? No, I don't, Sirius." You've never heard James get angry at Sirius. You think you might laugh but feel worse because it's because of you. "Can't you see I'm talking?"

"Whatever," Sirius grumbles.

James turns back and looks like he's about to apologise again. You beat him to it. "Sorry, James." You turn your head and feel yourself heating up. "Shit, sorry. I've started rambling again. You can go see your friends."

"What?" James' face softens and it hits you right in the chest. He's still got his hand at your knee. He squeezes it when your face ducks down. "No, ignore Sirius. He's being his usual annoying self."

You bite your lip and still feel bad. You've sat here and rambled about a TV show he's unfortunately had the displeasure of asking you about. "He's your friend."

"He's a dickhead," he grumbles but has it in him to smile. You know he doesn't mean it. They're basically like brothers; you've only known James for a few months.

"You can go roast marshmallows if you want." You feel stupid when you say it. There's the tiniest bit in you that hopes he doesn't want to. By the off chance he doesn't, you promise to shut up.

"I don't want to roast marshmallows. I couldn't think of anything worse." James laughs and grabs his empty cup. Your breathing jumps. "Hey, let's got grab another drink and you can tell me more about this show, yeah?"

You blink at him. "Really?"

James stands and holds his hands out. You stare at his arms, where his biceps strain underneath his white button-down. He's gotta be cold. "Yeah, what were you saying about Alexander? Centuries? That is romantic."

You think you beam. You know you look like an idiot. Smiling up at him until your cheeks apple. You try to tamp down the way he's making you feel but fail immensely. He looks at you with all the patience in the world until you snap out of it.

You take his hands and think being here is warmer than the space around the bonfire. "Totally romantic," you swoon. A little too dramatic. You feel worse when James guides you through the swarm of people in Emmeline's backyard. He wraps his hand around your elbow. "I envy their relationship. I mean, who can say the love of their life searched for them across time and space for hundreds of years?"

James starts to pour your drink before his. You'd told him once, an offhanded comment weeks ago, your drink of choice. He apparently remembered. "Looks like I have a bit of competition.''

"Yeah?"

James nods and hands you your drink. Stronger than usual. You don't mind, you might need it. "I've gotta lift my romance game," he says. "Gotta impress you somehow. I don't know how to time travel but I'm a good hand holder."

You giggle and let him take your hand. "I don't think you'll need time travel, James."

He doesn't. He lets you ramble all night.

[bri-cheeses]

Good Friends - Part 3

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 487 | Part two is here |

-

“Thanks for that,” Evan said sourly, still looking annoyed.

James winced. “I’m sorry.”

A long suffering sigh escaped Evan. He looked down at his drink.

“No, no, I know you are.” James frowned at the defeated tone of Evan’s voice. “And I shouldn’t take it out on you. I just get tired of the way he reacts to things sometimes, that’s all.”

And if that wasn’t one of the saddest things James had ever heard, he didn’t know what was. He didn’t want to overstep, but… he liked Evan, despite not talking to him all that much. And when James cared about someone, he hated to see them unhappy, so he just couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Then why don’t you say anything about it?”

Evan’s eyebrows pinched at James’s words, and he looked in the direction that Barty and Regulus had gone off in.

“We’re getting there,” Evan said decisively.“It’s slow going, sure, but it’ll work out.”

James decided against pointing out the fact that Evan sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince James. And with his refusal to burst Evan’s bubble, they settled into a comfortable silence.

At least, James thought it was comfortable. Evan looked content with it, but as a general rule, James had never been the best with silences. But if Evan didn’t feel like talking, then that was fine by him.

Just when James started to fidget with restlessness, Barty and Regulus returned.

Evan, of course, lit up like a Christmas tree. James imagined that he looked similar as Regulus walked toward him, looking simultaneously heavenly and downright sinful as always. Merlin, James loved him.

“What did you do to get Barty back to normal?” James asked, voice low. He was curious about how one went about handling this whole situation.

Regulus leveled an unimpressed look at Barty, who was busy handing Evan a drink, letting their fingers brush against each other for just a bit too long. James felt a frown tug at his mouth at Evan’s pained expression.

“I just told him that you had a hard time distinguishing platonic relationships from romantic ones.”

James turned to look at him.

“Really?” He asked incredulously.

“Sorry, but it worked. They’re back to their usual idiotic selves, so I think it was a win.”

And James immediately realized that Regulus was right about them being back to normal. Barty had a fond look on his face as he watched Evan gesture about something that had happened, occasionally spilling a bit of drink over the side of his cup as he moved. Each time, Barty would step closer and right Evan’s hand for him, the tiny action somehow so intimate that it felt like an intrusion for anyone to be watching it.

And despite Barty’s flightiness, James chose to believe what Evan had said earlier.

They would work it out.

They had to.

-

(The End!)

[ma1dita]

this will be our year

this was a request! find it here

words: 2.5k

summary: james does his best to plan reader's birthday! it's not as easy as you think

warnings: james is a leader not a planner, fluff!! bestfriend!james returns mwahaha

a/n: so sorry for this being literally two weeks after your birthday anon! life was kicking my ass but i hope you enjoy! writing many characters is something im trying to learn to make more organic

(posted and edited too many times to count 11/6/23)

—

There are a few things in life that James likes to think he’s very good at: making plans, pulling pranks, playing quidditch, and doing absolutely anything he can to make you smile. At first, he would laugh it off when his friends would say you two had something special. He is a gentleman, after all. James is the type of friend any of the girls would trust with a secret, or the one to borrow hair potion from when you’re in a pinch.

He loves to join in the gossip and crash your sleepovers when the boys are being ‘dreadfully boring’ (his words, not yours). He holds your bag when you walk to class (only yours, he’ll push Marlene’s books to the ground and run off laughing), bribes Peter with an extra helping of bacon to move his butt out of ‘your seat’ (whichever one was to the right of him) at breakfast, and definitely writes to his mom asking about what to get you for your birthday (and how much he’s been wanting to ask you out for almost about three years now).

Right... James is a great friend, so when you get all excited about your birthday, gushing about how you want to celebrate this year, he takes one look at the excitement on your face and hatches the perfect plan. Or so he thinks.

“I just can’t wait to celebrate with you guys, and not have to worry about exams, or projects, or boys, or curfew…” you muse, laying across Mary and Remus’s laps as everyone’s gathered in the common room. Sirius, and Peter are chasing each other with throw pillows while Dorcas and Lily share headphones on the other sofa. James beelines towards you, crawling across the open space.

“Boys? What boys have been worrying you, dove?” he says snidely, sneaking towards the space near your belly, looking up at your relaxed figure.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mary giggles, and Remus huffs back laughter as he pats your head. James peers up at you as you smile knowingly.

“It’s a secret.” you smile, reaching out to poke his chin.

“You keep secrets from me now? From your most good-looking, bestest friend ever that plans the coolest awesomest birthday parties for you?”

Well, he did have a point. Ever since he accidentally flung you into the Black Lake third year in a prank meant for Snape, he’s almost always waited on you hand and foot. He had to, for your immediate response to laugh and flip him into the lake ‘qualified’ you as a Marauder (plus he thought you were really pretty—he swore he stopped crushing on Lily the next day.) And every birthday since has been bigger and better. Fourth year was the movie marathon out on the quidditch pitch; Fifth year was the picnic out next to Black Lake, and now you couldn’t wait to see what he has planned.

You look at the boy thoughtfully, smiling down at him and he swears it’s his favorite sight in the world.

“You don’t always have to know everything, Prongs…”

He chases after your hand with his mouth, trying to chomp one of your fingers. Idiot.

“Of course I do, or else no birthday party for you!” he jokes, and you giggle at the notion. He wouldn’t dare. He loves to celebrate you. Maybe this will be the year he asks you out… Is that cheesy? Or lame? James sighs, fussing with a string on his sweater, suddenly silent amongst the chaos of his lively friends. He’s got a lot of work to do.

—

The next week was filled with James’ hasty preparations and all of your friends were put up to the task of making his vision come together. Remus and Peter would get the booze, Mary and Alice would bake the sweet treats, Sirius and Lily were working on decorations, and Marlene and Dorcas were busy enchanting a record player to amplify through the party space James would get ready in the Room of Requirement. He’s been a little high-strung, overcalculating his endless to-do list to impress you.

All of them have been so…busy, and it was a bit lonely. You thought they might plan something with you, or for you, but you haven’t seen much of them in the past few days. Every bump in the corridor or spotting in the common room was a flurry of hushed whispers and giggles at jokes that flew over your head. Even dinner with them has been oddly silent, like watching a film but not being able to penetrate the scene that unfolds.

Peering down at the map one day after class, you see your friends’ names flitting around the map, all of them hanging out together, but not with you. That is, until a big hand nabs the parchment from your grasp.

“Hey!” “Sorry doll, need it for something important.” Sirius grins, pulling Lily along as they walk off briskly.

“Do you guys want to study later?” You call out after them, and they keep on walking, hands in their cloaks. Weird.

Many more of your requests have been denied. It’s a fickle thing, to suddenly feel unwanted in your group of friends. As a Marauder, you’ve earned your place there. But if Remus and Peter didn’t want to sneak out for a midnight snack, and Alice and Mary went shopping already, without you… Marlene and Dorcas were nowhere to be found.

That means you only had your favorite person to badger… James. You drag him into a broom closet after Muggle Studies one day, crossing your arms and looking up at him with frustration.

“Jeez, love, you’re stronger than you look!” He says sheepishly, hands landing on your waist.

“What are you all up to? Where have you been?” The pout on your face makes his knees weak, and it’d be so easy to just tell you….

No…He thinks, hardening his resolve as his thumb reaches out to smooth the crease in your forehead.

“Prongs,” you whine, poking his chest. The dim yellow lightbulb swings overhead, almost clobbering him in the skull.

“Why, you miss me that much?” He grins, prodding at your cheek. It’s cramped in here enough, and he hunches over your frame, unable to stop his smile at the look on your face.

“Yeah. I miss all of my friends. I sound like Moaning Myrtle whining after you lot! I wanna be involved in whatever you all are doing…” Delicate hands pull at the drawstrings of his hoodie and he feels like his chest tightens too.

“Hey, we haven’t forgotten you, so don’t worry, pretty girl. Your birthday’s coming up, right? You excited for that?” James’ thumb rubs at your cheek and he really wonders if, in any other instance, this could be platonic. Surely, you must like him too, right? Everything he does is to make you smile. He feels like he’s in a one-man show trying to embellish himself for your attention, and he’s waiting for the applause. Your hand grabs his as you lean into his touch.

“Got anything special planned?” You ask teasingly, and James can feel the warmth of your smile in his palm.

“For you? Of course.” He squeezes your cheek and you rip away from him, laughing. As you walk out of the closet, your shoulders bump as he wraps an arm around you.

“Don’t worry too much, dove. It’ll all work out,” he says, glad that you’re smiling again. “Wouldn’t let you have a terrible birthday. Never in a million years.”

“Exactly. What type of best friend would you be?” You smirk, walking off to your next class.

The thing is, he hopes you won’t be best friends by the end of it though. James huffs as he puts his hands in his pockets, walking in the opposite direction. This will be the year…. And it’s unsure if it’s a promise to himself or to you.

—

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Marauder plan of action without some mayhem. James had taken it upon himself to organize his big list of to-dos, assign jobs, and make sure everything was set up for your birthday. The Room of Requirement was decked out in enchanted sparklers, a huge cake was adorned by a spotlight in the corner of the room, and all your friends were there to celebrate you. Mary’s putting the final touches on the gift pile before she looks to Sirius and Peter, who are horsing around the room running through the balloons.

“Something’s missing,” she remarks, and the others scamper around to figure out what it is. Lily double checks the sound system for your favorite songs, Marlene makes sure the drinks are flowing and at the table set up in the back. Dorcas whacks Peter and Sirius to stop popping the balloons, and Remus, the smart one, turns on his heel to stomp towards James, who is looking like he could implode from stress at any given moment.

“Prongs…” Remus muses, unsure if he should laugh, or wring his neck.

“What did I forget?” he says sheepishly, looking down at his watch. A balloon pops.

“Did you invite the birthday girl?” Oh shit.

“HAH—Moony, you’re not supposed to be the funny one here, of course I….” his eyes fall down to his scroll of to-dos, looking at the only thing unmarked on his list.

• Get her to come to the best birthday celebration ever.

“I forgot to tell her, didn’t I…”

Right. James might’ve glossed over that one. His nervous laughter shrivels at the sight of his friends’ faces of disbelief as they bombard him with questions and profanities and so, he bolts out of there, trying to find you on the map.

—

Surprisingly, James finds you in the kitchen, sitting infront of a lone cupcake and the house elves singing you the worst rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ there ever was to magical folk. What should be his plan of action? Acting nonchalant, or owning up to his flub? All of his thoughts go out the window when he sees your despondent sigh at the lit candle, thinking your friends have forgotten his absolute favorite day of the entire year.

“Pretty girl, why are you so sad?” he says, rushing to meet you at the table. You’re pulling at your sleeves and looking at the cupcake in disappointment.

“Did you all forget about me?” you ask, bottom lip trembling at the notion. James shakes his head rapidly, so much so that his glasses are skewed as he looks at you.

“How could we forget the best birthday girl?”

“I’m the only birthday girl, and I haven’t seen any of you today. You didn’t even eat dinner with me,” you pout. Your huff of a sigh blows out the sad little candle, and it almost makes you want to crumple up in embarrassment. Your finger reaches out to sample some of the icing, and you bring it to your mouth, James following the movement with his eyes.

“I’m sorry dove. I might’ve messed up for this one,” he mutters, hating to see you upset.

“If you forgot to plan anything, it’s okay…. You’re not obligated to.” Your head falls to the slope of your shoulder, looking bashful at the idea of being celebrated. But James hasn’t gone all this way to see you unhappy.

“That’s the funny thing about it, erm…. I need you to come with me.” He pulls at your arm, but you won’t budge. How mortifying to conceptualize how you feel in this moment, feeling smaller than ever. A birthday is just a day, after all. Maybe they can make it up to you tomorrow.

“I dunno Prongs, I think I should just go to bed and wake up with a better attitude, yeah? It’s really oka–HEY!” James lifts you out of your chair and throws you over his shoulder, securing you to him before he bolts out of the kitchens. Your vision is blurred and all you can see is the massive muscles rippling down his back as he runs. His bum is quite nice too.

“James Potter, what in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing? Put me down this instant or I’ll hex you into next week!” You screech, before he puts a silencing charm on you to not alert Filch of your antics. You reach out to hit his buttock as he exclaims, “Ow! Cheeky…. I promise you’ll like this, dove. You really thought we’d forget your birthday?”

There comes a point when he paces back and forth in front of the same stretch of wall and you think he’s insane, talking to himself and turning in circles. After the third lap, he sets you down, your arms crossed and quite stern at the trip he’s taken you on. James smooths your hair down before he looks you in the eyes, standing a bit closer than a friend would, but Godric is he excited to show you his work.

“Ahem. Do you really think I’d forget your big day, pretty girl? It’s my favorite day of the year!” He smiles and you shake your head with a smile. He nudges the door open to reveal all your friends, yelling “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Still inaudible, your mouth is gaping wide in shock, silent laughter escaping your mouth. Marlene and Dorcas carry the cake over to you before they sing in all sorts of tunes, none of them on key and possibly worse than the house elves. The light of the candles caresses the warmth in your cheeks as you look at your friends in wonder. You mumble something like a ‘thank you’ but they can’t comprehend it until Remus undoes the charm, whacking James across the head.

—

Later, James sneaks behind you, throwing an arm around your waist, whispering ‘Happy birthday’ for the millionth time, but he’ll never get tired of telling you how much he cares.

“Are you happy, birthday girl?” he smiles, and you get on your tiptoes to give him a kiss that lands on the corner of his mouth. The applause is back, thundering in his ears before he realizes it’s the sound of his heart when you’re near.

Yeah, this will be the year everything changes. His plans are racking up into a list in his brain as you gaze at him all starry-eyed and smiley. Your friends are all looking at you knowingly, and he can’t wait to get to work, for there is just so much to do.

—

“In case you foolishly forget: I am never not thinking of you.” - Virginia Woolf

taglist: @jsjcue

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing: this will be our year by lowland hum

[outromoony]

Under the Same Umbrella

@jilymicrofics | Prompt: dress | Word count: 889

James was late, again.

Which shouldn’t be a surprise at this point, really, except this was the fourth time this month, and his boss would absolutely fire him if he didn’t arrive at work in the next ten minutes

In his defense, the traffic had been horrible all morning due to the rain. James loved the rain; he loved the sound of it drumming against the windows and the cozy feeling it brought as he curled up with a book on the couch. Today, however, he couldn’t love it. Every time thunder sounded in the sky or a drop touched his hair because his umbrella wasn’t big enough, he was reminded of the passage of time and the fact that he was just waiting for the bus to arrive at the stop. It should have been here by now, but there was no bus in sight, and James was late.

He sighed, thinking it might be better to call his boss and explain the situation. However, knowing his boss, even death wasn’t a good enough excuse to skip work, so he wasn’t sure what good that would do.

He was about to pull his phone from his pocket when, from the corner of his eye, something caught his attention.

It was a lady—a gorgeous lady. James dared to say the most beautiful lady he had ever seen in his entire life. He could not take his eyes off her; her beautiful red hair was one of the most mesmerizing things he had ever seen. She was soaked from head to toe, her yellow dress clinging to her skin. She looked cold, hugging herself as she looked around, as if she was waiting for someone.

James didn’t even have to think twice; he approached her and put his umbrella over her. It was too small for him anyway, she would fit better under it.

The moment the lady realized the water wasn’t touching her anymore, she lifted her head with a surprised expression on her face. From up close, James could see perfectly the freckles adorning her cheeks. He couldn’t help but think they were prettier than the stars.

“I—thank you,” she murmured, clearly hesitant to take the umbrella when he offered it to her. Seconds later, her eyes widened. “Wait, you’re getting all wet! No, no, please take it back—”

“It’s alright,” he smiled, trying to assure her. “I don’t mind a little water.”

“This is not a little water, you could catch a cold!” she exclaimed, and that was the moment James realized her makeup was all ruined because of the rain, and still, she looked like a dream. “Come here.”

Before James could realize what was happening, she had pulled him by the arm and now they were both under the umbrella, their shoulders touching in a way that made James’ skin tingle. They were both getting soaked now; barely half of his face wasn’t getting wet by the rain, but the lady looked up at him with the most beautiful, pleased smile, so he was happy with getting half soaked.

“Are you waiting for someone?” James asked, trying to start a conversation despite the weather’s attempts to drown out his voice.

“I was,” she sighed, looking at the ground. “But I guess he—I don’t really know.”

James hummed in understanding, except he couldn’t really understand. How could anyone leave a lady like her in the middle of the rain? How could anyone leave anyone like this?

“I’m sorry,” he said, because he really didn’t know what he was supposed to say. “He sounds like an idiot.”

She chuckled, and oh—if that wasn’t the most beautiful sound James had ever heard. “He is,” she sighed. “I have a great history of being interested in idiots.”

James couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face.

“Well, today is your lucky day,” he said. “Because you are under an umbrella with the biggest idiot you could possibly find.”

That made her laugh—a loud, enchanting laugh that made James’ heart flutter. “Is that so?”

James nodded. “And I will probably be jobless by tomorrow, since I just noticed the bus left without me.”

They both turned their heads to watch the bus moving away from them. James should have been more worried about it, about the fact that he was about to lose his job—but he couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck in that moment.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, though she couldn’t hide the small smile at the corner of her lips. James shrugged.

“If I’m about to lose my job, at least it was for a good reason.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You think keeping me dry is a good reason?”

“Absolutely,” James replied with a grin. “Keeping you dry and making you smile, even if just for a moment, is definitely worth it. Besides, I could use the company while I figure out how to explain this to my boss.”

She chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she looked him in the eye. “Well, in that case, I suppose I can offer my expertise in crafting creative excuses.”

And in that moment, as they looked at each other while the rain started to lighten, James didn’t need to be an expert to sense that this wouldn’t be their last meeting—God, he prayed it wouldn’t.

[slasher-dasher]

Hi hi!

Are you able to write headcanons for Bo Sinclair, Billy Lenz, Billy Loomis, Pyramid Head, with a fail girl or a Girlfailure s/o? Or something like that?

In the movies/games they’re in, the protagonist is usually innocent, resourceful, and morally good. So how would they be with a person who has committed some terrible action (killing a person close to them by accident or selfish reason), is kind of a loser, pathetic-ish, etc. They’re good with weapons, and survive literally anything though. They try to compensate for what they did often, and feels like helping them or doing what the slashers say does that.

Very grateful of their love, and the type to say “I would die for you!” Instead of “I love you” like a normal person. I was thinking of James Sunderland and Michael Afton, and my mind came to this, haha.

Slashers w/a Girlfailure S/O

︶꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Bo Sinclair:

Bo has led a bunch of people to their waxy deaths, and he was intent on doing the same to you

How you were able to avoid literally every trap set around town baffled him to the point where he took matters into his own hands

He was even more surprised to see that you had done the same to one of the statues that had gotten a little courageous and tried to escape with you

"Darlin' you are so goddamn pathetic" "You mean it? 🥺" You've been his ever since. Bo rarely lets you out of his sight because he likes to watch you fumble with all the tasks/chores he gives you

He does put your knowledge of weapons to good use when the victims escape. He sends you "on the hunt", as he likes to call it, and often stays back to watch you work

Billy Lenz:

You're the first to figure out that he's up in the attic purely by wandering up there to grab stuff out of storage (he immediately tackled you). You surprised him by actually being able to fight him off!

Sometimes he likes to call just to see what he can get you to ramble about (or confess); he was very caught off guard when you started using his own tactics on him and promptly hung up the first time. You didn't hear from him for a few hours--

Billy is almost always on your heels; there have been many close-calls with the other members in the house and his hiding places get more creative every day

The difference between you two is that Billy is very reactive when he feels his guilt, where you internalize it; Billy kills to defend/on impulse and you kill to protect/by choice.

I think it's very clear that you and Billy harbor a similar guilt- Killing does distress and upset him and although it's subtle, he sees the same in you too. He appreciates when you try to help him, and he tries to help you too! But neither of you end up feeling any relief

Billy Loomis:

He picks on you often, sometimes to get a reaction (affectionate) and sometimes to be an asshole (derogatory)

Billy likes to toy with your guilt by making you help him with his calls, specifically by being on-scene and waiting to strike. He would never admit it, but he was a little jealous that you were better at chases than he was

"But Billy you told me to cha-" "I didn't tell you to almost get killed!! You might be good with a knife but I won't help you if you get caught."

Loves to admire you after a chase. He knows the look in your eyes because it's the same one in his, patches up any scrapes or stabs while calling you an idiot for almost getting caught, admires and even compliments your strategy, it's when he's the most honest.

Billy doesn't expect you to atone for anything. Just follow his plan and don't get caught. He's making you into a perfect partner in crime~

Pyramid Head:

Silent Hill is known to have visitors who are looking for a way to compensate for their sins, so he's not surprised when you come looking for the same thing

What Silent Hill is not known for is having visitors who can fight back. Most try to grab a pipe to defend themselves but you, you were either very lucky or very resourceful.

Every time he thought you were done for he'd be pleasantly surprised with the improvised weapon you grabbed appeared seemingly out of thin air in front of you

He liked to watch you fight off a group of monsters before intervening, it wasn't much fun when you got overwhelmed

Often carries you back to safety. Many of the monsters and residents learn that Pyramid Head is not far when you are nearby so they eventually learn to steer clear of you

(James Sunderland is v girlfail-core so I absolutely get it)

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic december 14 - stare - 2127 words (i apologise)

aka the Hogwarts School charmed mistletoe predicament

The first time it happens it’s truly purely by accident.

Regulus is walking back from the library, exhausted and sleep sluggish. It’s certainly close to curfew again or else Ms. Pince wouldn’t have woken him where he’d fallen asleep over his 3 feet parchment of Potions essay.

He’s barely keeping his eyes open, cozily buried in an extra cloak, imbedded with a heating charm and books hugged closely to his chest when he rounds a corner and runs directly into something.

Someone, Regulus realizes, as deft arms wrap around him to keep them upright.

The collision had shook most of Regulus’ slumber out of him and they only stagger for another moment, bodies pressed together before Regulus is about to pull his wand and tell this unattentive, idiot berk of a human being what he thinks of people that can’t keep their fucking hands to themsel—

“Shit, sorry- I’m sorry, did I—” and oh, Regulus knows that voice. Would recognise that scent of broom polish, citrus, spice and boy anywhere. James’ atrocious mess of a hair is tickling Regulus’ temples and the older boy is speaking again before he’s even entirely reared back to blink him into focus. Just the three soft syllables of his name whispered against the shell of Regulus’ ear. 

And only then does James Potter take a half step back and pull to his full height, beaming down at Regulus with his stupid dimpled grin and his stupid round glasses that rest always just a smidge crookedly on his big nose.

“Hi Regulus,” and fuck James, honestly. Fuck him and then fuck him some more for the way the words drip like molten honey from his tongue and send a shiver racing down Regulus’ spine.

That’s when Regulus notices James’ hands still being wound around his waist. “Potter,” he says pointedly with a look between them.

All it does though is make James’ eyes droop and his grin tug into a lopsided smirk. 

Regulus rolls his eyes and sets onto just striding past James when he feels his feet eerily unable to move.

He looks down in confusion, tries again to shuffle his feet and take a step in any direction, unsuccessful. 

When Regulus’ head snaps back up to scowl at James this one is regarding Regulus’ predicament with a lax jaw, lips parted.

“Unstick the bloody charm, James, before I hex your kneecaps away,” Regulus threatens, wand pointed at James’ broad chest. He’s only wearing a T-shirt, the nutter. It’s freezing!

James, in a very unimpressed manner, simply bats the wand away gently and then does something weird with his knees and hips, twisting and turning.

Regulus watches this foolery for about 15 seconds before he’s done with it. “What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re achieving here?”

“Shh.”

“Wha– Did you just shush me?” a humorless laugh tumbles out of Regulus. He might be a little sleep deprived. “Oh, you must be fucking joki—”

Regulus breaks off into an incredulous noise when James clamps a palm over Regulus mouth to shut him up as he tips his head back to stare at the ceiling.

The wood of his wand is searing in Regulus’ palm, itching him to use it but he can’t quite help himself when his gaze follows James’.

Above their heads are the usual wall torches, adorned by greenery and Christmas decorations in all kinds of forms and house colors. There’s a little bow of green silver and red and golden tull adorned in these particular fir twigs. 

Though when Regulus blinks the adornment a little sharper into focus he realizes that they’re actually two.

The second one floating just shy of the sprigs wreath and oh, no.

Regulus recognises the white little berries. The dull, tear-shaped leaves where it floats right above their heads.

Oh, Merlin, please don’t let it be-

“A charmed mistletoe,” James confirms, voice husky.

Regulus’ eyes widen and when his chin drops down James’ chocolate brown eyes are already there, right in front of him. Bright and glinting a little in the flickering light before the skin around the corners crinkle in a sickeningly adorable way when he erupts into an enormous smile.

“No,” Regulus says, shaking his head. “No.”

James, the bastard, huffs a laugh, frame shaking with it. Completely at ease apparently.

“Regs,” James tries, tone placating.

“Nope, nah-uh– Non.”

“Resorting to French, are we?”

“Not in a million lifetimes, Potter.”

“Reg, love—”

“No, I- how would we even- fuck, merde. Je n’arrive pas à y croire—”

“Regulus.” Broad hands circling his waist again. 

Regulus is momentarily startled into silence by the contact.

“It won’t let us move until we kiss in any form, I’ve seen it happen just this morning,” James says, voice low and honest. Before he adds in a grumble, “Made us late to Transfiguration third period when Sirius refused to let Remus give a Ravenclaw sixth year a little peck.”

Regulus is going to scream.

Instead, he punches James in his stomach with his free hand.

The older boy grunts, hand wrapping around Regulus’ wrist as if to confiscate it. “Easy there, now,” he presses out between gritted teeth, tone low and warning.

A frustrated noise rips from Regulus’ throat as he feels himself flush, boring a hole into the air above James’ shoulder with his eyes. Oh, this can’t be happening. Why must these things always happen to Regulus?

“What were you even doing down here?” Regulus asks, incredulously. 

“Snack duty,” James shrugs—the way his pecs and shoulders are stretching the thin cotton is bordering on indecent, “Know a shortcut or two into the kitchens.”

He’s still holding onto Regulus’ wrist, now carefully caressing the pad of his thumb there in small circles that do little to slowen Regulus’ rabbiting heartbeat.

Regulus sighs explosively and then promptly raises their joined hands up to James’ face, his knuckles up.

“Here.”

“‘Here’ what?”

Regulus jabs his slack hand more pointedly in front of James’ nose.

James gives him a look that’s equally fond as it is patronizing, “That won’t do.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I saw,” James snarks back. “Remember, I told you? This morning. Pads throwing a tantrum. Jingle any bells?”

Regulus growls in the back of his throat, “Try anyways.”

And yeah, that was probably the wrong thing to say. A mistake. 

Regulus swallows hard, wishes he would chew the words back. But it’s already too late.

“Oh?” James makes, a satisfied little smile on his lips. Momentarily digging his teeth into his lower one before he adjusts his hold around Regulus’ hand.

Fingers sliding down until their encircling his and his thumb brushing over the bony length of Regulus thin fingers there too.

His gaze unrelenting, unblinking as he lifts Regulus and gives him a small kiss on his knuckles. Chaste, unlingering but warm. Warm and so, so soft. Very pleasant.

With that thought Regulus immediately rips his hand back, flight kicking in. Although he doesn’t come very far when he realizes he’s still unable to move his feet.

Still stuck.

Regulus feels a vein throbbing in his forehead.

James sighs across from him. “It has to be somewhere on the face.”

Regulus balks.

James rolls his eyes. “C’mon Regs, the cheek? Isn’t that how French people greet each other anyways?” His brown eyes regard him a little pleadingly. Always so honest and eager and true.

“Fine,” Regulus presses out, absently biting on the inside of his lower lip. “Just the cheek.”

James nods, raising his hands to presumably pull Regulus’ closer.

Regulus bats them away with his books but before James can do more than raise his eyebrows impatiently he grumbles, “I’ll do it.”

James lips part around a silent oh and then he blinks a little stupidly at Regulus. Like a slow owl that’s flown into one too many windows or something. Regulus wants to squeeze him to death.

And then the urge to hit him overcomes that again when he can see James’ lips twitching with a terribly badly suppressed grin.

So Regulus punches him in the shoulder for good measure before he sets his hand down there on the juncture of James’ neck muscles. He’s warm under Regulus’ touch, despite the thin clothing, and he allows himself one last glance into those doe eyes before he lifts slightly onto his toes and sways in.

James’ scent is even stronger there, and Regulus is a little confused for a second when a wave of mint and something sweet and tangy hits his nose. James’ soap, perhaps?

Regulus doesn’t know how much time has gone by yet with them standing so close, and that’s dangerous. He focuses back on the task at hand, mapping out the appropriate patch of skin to place his lips. Merlin, this is bonkers. 

There’s a faint shadow of short stubble along the hinge of James’ jaw and up into his hairline. A pair of dark freckles just past that, right under the jut of his cheekbone. That’ll do.

Regulus takes a steadying breath and leans in.

The skin there is warm too as Regulus brushes his mouth against it. Warm and alive and making his lips tingle with it. Just the tiniest press, barely making a sound and Regulus has to work hard to extract himself from James’ orbit. The smell, the warmth of him almost like a magnetic pull to Regulus’ fingers, his lips, his chest. 

James is gazing at him a little drunkenly when Regulus pulls back again.

“Again,” he rasps.

Regulus cocks his head, scowling at him as he strangles the books to his chest, clutching at them like a lifeline before he makes to leave.

Unsuccessful. What?

“I’m sorry, bad joke,” James amends quickly, taking a half step to the side, “But don’t already leave ag—”

“James,” Regulus cuts him off. 

“Why don’t you join me on the way to the kitc—”

“James.”

The older boy shuts up.

“Why were you able to step aside when I still can’t?”

A crease forms between James’ thick eyebrows, “Er–”

“Why can you move?” Regulus asks again, baffled. To drive his point home he nudges James, prompting him to take another step.

James looks back at him with big eyes before his features erupt into a gleeful smile. He chuckles a little disbelievingly and then steps in again.

Regulus instantly fixes him with a narrow eyed glare.

James really leans in, moving slowly to cup Regulus’ face. Slow enough for Regulus to bat him away again. He doesn’t this time.

“Because I haven’t fulfilled my part of the equation yet.”

It’s spoken so softly in the small space between them that it doesn’t even cross Regulus’ mind to do anything besides give a tiny nod and then tilt his head to the side accommodatingly.

There’s shaky breath over his lower face, minty, and then James physically angles his face how he needs him. A smidge more to the side and his thumb guiding him beautifully by the chin. Body warmth radiating off him and reaching Regulus anywhere he isn’t shielded by his books. And then it’s the press of even warmer lips on the center of his cheek. Long and sweet, not firm but not shy either. A prickle of facial hair, just a hint of it. And the spice of him again as James keeps his lips pressed against his damn cheek and Regulus stares unseeingly over his shoulder, fingers nearly cramping in their grip.

The pressure lifts gradually at some point and when James pulls back his lips ghost over Regulus’ skin up until the corner of his mouth and for an insane moment Regulus thinks James is going to turn his head and kiss him on the mouth too.

There’s a second of damp breath spilling over Regulus’ parted lips that he’s not entirely sure he imagined and then the barely there touch is gone.

Regulus swallows heavily, nearly chokes on it, a strangled sound escaping him when he tries clearing his throat.

James’ lips twitch onto a sweet little smile, like he’s just so happy about all of this and if Regulus’ legs weren’t seconds from giving out he’d kick him in the shins.

His gaze is even droopier now and he’s not really meeting Regulus’ eyes. Fixated on a spot just a little lower and when Regulus licks his lips—simply a nervous habit, no intention behind the action—he sways dangerously in again.

Regulus takes an instinctive step back, a breath of relief spilling out of him at the fact that he’s able to again. “Don’t get any ideas now, Potter,” he adds, if a little shakily.

“Mm, that’s already too late, I’m afraid.”

“Goodnight.”

“Think I just found my Christmas sweetheart, actually,” James calls after him, grin evident in his voice.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

So i was hoping to request for trope tuesday. I was thinking grumpy reader x sunshine sirius and like kinda 10 things I hate about you type storyline but obviously in your own way of course. :)

happy trope tuesday! omg i kind of adored this request, so i got a bit carried away; i hope it's not too long... it ended up being very 10 things i hate about you inspired but i just love that movie and it just kind of flowed that way... hope you enjoy!!

for my 250 Followers Writing Event!

Tropey Tuesday 🎭 trope: grumpy x sunshine, enemies to lovers-ish

pairing: Sirius Black x reader

word count: 5.9k

“C’mon, Pads, pleaaase,” James pleads for the millionth time that morning. “No. Can’t you just drop it yet? You’re starting to seriously get on my nerves,” Sirius replies, flicking ashes off his cigarette and taking another drag. 

“Fucking hell. What are friends for then, huh? If not to have your back in the darkest of times?” he accuses. 

“I’d hardly call taking Evans out the ‘darkest of times,’ you drama queen. I mean, you are a pretty dull date, Prongs, but don’t be so hard on yourself.” “Hilarious,” he deadpans. “But the point is there isn’t going to be a date unless her sister goes too. Their dad is mental. Thinks Lily shouldn’t be going out alone her first year at uni or something. And he’ll know if she goes; I think he can track her and Y/N’s phones or some psychotic shit like that.” “Yes, yes, you’ve mentioned it.” “Have I? Because you don’t seem to be getting it, dickhead. C’mon, I’d do it for you.” “Oh, would you? You’d go out with the most grim girl you’ve ever laid eyes on, having to worry all night she might stab you if you don’t open the door for her — or if you do actually, knowing her,” Sirius muses. “I would,” he replies certainly. “In fact, I’d do it even if I knew she would stab me. I’d take a knife for you, Black.” “Alright, easy, Prongs. I love you too, but no need to get so dramatic.”

“If you really loved me, you’d do this for me.” “You aren’t gonna let up are you?” “Not a chance.” “Fucking hell.” Sirius flicks away the butt of his cig and walks away, thinking he still had until he found you to change his mind. 

You’re sitting in a courtyard outside reading, and it crosses Sirius’s mind that in the odd moments in which you didn’t look so angry, you were actually kind of… beautiful? 

You’re engrossed in your book when you hear, “Hello, gorgeous.” Sirius smiles at you, taking a seat beside you, leaning close. 

“Can I help you?” you shoot. “Funny you should offer,” he jests. “Yes, yes you can in fact.” You look annoyed, not amused; he’s not used to this reaction but treads on, “It would be a marvelous help actually if you’d join me on Saturday. As I’m sure you know, there’s a party. Half the uni is going, but I reckon it will be rather dull unless you’re there.” He puts on his most seductive smirk. “No, thanks.” You close your book, get up, and leave. He’s sitting there, a bit awe-struck, when he sees you simply sit back down somewhere else, in plain view of his, and continue reading. 

“She’s mental,” he whispers to himself. 

“I tried, Prongs. Leave it, won’t you?” he sighs exasperatedly later that afternoon.

“No, I won’t. Since when are you one to give up so easily? So she didn’t say yes right away, big deal.” “She didn’t not say yes; she said ‘no.’ Very emphatically I might add.” 

“So be more charming! That usually works for you, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that earlier. Thanks, James. Thanks so much,” he says sardonically. “I tried. It’s not as if I went up to her and didn’t try to be charming.”

“If you manage to get her to the party, I will buy you that new guitar you want so much.”

Sirius freezes. Interesting. 

“You can’t afford it,” he shoots.   “I can.” “You’ll back out for some idiotic loophole reason.” “I won’t.” Sirius groans and goes off again. 

“I think you and I got off on the wrong foot.” You’re lying in the grass, headphones on, eyes closed. You look serene. You don’t respond. He shifts and steps closer, accidentally shielding your face from the sun. This gets your attention. 

“What?” you ask, freeing one ear from your headphone, sitting up. He clears his throat and squats down in front of you. 

“I said, I think you and I got off on the wrong foot.” “Oh. Didn’t hear you,” you say simply, pointing at the headphones. “Yes, I gathered.” 

There is an awkward pause. It lingers.

“So…,” you say softly. “Is there something else, or…” 

Bloody hell; was it just him, or did you hate everyone this much?

“What are you listening to?” he tries. “Why do you care?” you reply. You don’t sound angry, though. It comes out like a normal question; he’s just confused as to how you think it is one. 

“I love music,” he says, taking a seat. 

“Okay…” You look genuinely confused. “I love music too, but it doesn’t mean I give a shit what that bloke over there is listening to.” You gesture toward some guy with his headphones in too. 

“Right. Well. I’m interested in music, but I’m also interested in you.” “Why?” “Are you serious?” “Do I sound like I’m joking?” “No, you sound like you’ve never had a conversation with anyone in your life.” He sounds a bit exasperated. He realizes this after the fact and internally cringes for his lack of patience, thinking it will set him back (if he’s made any progress at all) but is surprised at your lack of reaction. 

“I just don’t see why you would be,” you say calmly. 

He’s heard girls say similar to him many times, some out of actual insecurity, some just fishing for his compliments. Your tone is unlike any of theirs, and he’s not sure what to make of it.  “You don’t see what? Why I would be interested in you?”

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been vaguely aware of each other for a long time; had a class together and such. You never seemed interested then.” Feeling a bit more himself again, he replies smoothly, “Did you want me to be, love?”

You groan a little. 

“Oh, I was dying for it,” you say, deadpan. “You were all I thought about,” you add dramatically. “I couldn’t focus on anything all day, and at night,” you lean toward him, like you’re about to tell him the deepest secret, “I’d touch myself to the thought of you.” You make a fake-scandalized expression, gasping sarcastically, then turn away as if nothing strange had just happened, turning the volume up on your music and adjusting your headphones again. You laid back down and closed your eyes, ignoring his presence beside you. 

His mind had no idea which thread to chase. It was torn between dissecting how what he thought would offend you didn’t and what he thought would charm you offended you, marveling at how easily you had just joked about your wanking, or coming up with A) a way to convince James this was not happening or… (he seemed excited at the thought) B) a way to convince you to pay attention to him. While this all churned on the surface, in the back of his mind he registered the song you were listening to, which he heard in the fraction of time between your turning it up and putting your headphones back on. He loved that song. 

“How’d it go with Fender?” James asks, entering their flat and plopping down onto the sofa next to Sirius. 

“With what?” Sirius looks at him as though he’s gone mad. “Fender,” he repeats, as if that clarified anything. “Okay. See, the way I see it,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “is that you can think of her as your guitar. That way you’ll want her as badly as that bloody fender and you’ll get off your arse and figure it out.” “Don’t you see how that’s a little, I don’t know, objectifying?” 

“Perfect, she’s rubbing off on you already; I know how much of a feminist she is. This is great; one step closer to love.” “Love?” Sirius’s disbelief is palpable. “When did this go from a meaningless date to help you out to love?” He grimaces a bit… then he grimaces a lot — but this at his realization that it wasn’t the idea of love, or even being in love with you, that made him grimace, but the idea that that didn’t even seem like a possibility. 

“She’s mental, Prongs,” he says quickly, trying to distract himself. “I have no idea what to say to her, and everything I say falls flat, or worse.” “So now you know what it’s like to not look like a demigod and just have to flash a smile to get a girl’s attention. Have you ever thought about talking to her about something she likes? or something you like even. Just not vapid lines that would work regardless of who’s on the receiving end?” 

Sirius squints at him and says, “I tried that, you twat. Asked her about music.” “And she didn’t like that?” 

Sirius pauses, thinking back. “I don’t know,” he responds honestly.

“Well, did she seem annoyed?” “No. Not yet.” “When did she get annoyed?” Sirius winces. “When I asked her if she’d had a crush on me when we had a class together.” 

James slaps the back of his head.

 

A few days go by, the weekend and fated party soon approaching. Sirius is out at a retro record shop in the late afternoon, and a t-shirt with the band name and logo of the group you were listening to the other day, Greta Van Fleet, catches his attention. It’s a cool shirt. And he likes them too. He’s not just thinking of getting it as a potential conversation starter for you. Truly… 

He walks out of the shop, up two records and a t-shirt. 

He runs a couple errands, kills a bit of time, and heads over to the campus pub to meet James and Remus. When he walks in, he’s struck by the sight of you, sitting alone in a corner booth, a pint and a book in front of you. 

James comes to greet him, and he reciprocates, trying to act natural, but as soon as he gets the chance, hoping you haven’t spotted him (he’s pretty sure; he’s barely taken his eyes off of you, so he probably would’ve noticed), he dodges to the toilets, bag in hand. 

When he comes back out, James asks, “Did you just change, mate?” 

“Uh, yeah. Spilled something on my shirt earlier and had a spare.” James accepts this explanation as reasonable and doesn’t spend more time on it. 

They get some drinks and are met by Remus, but as James heads to an empty booth, Sirius grabs his arm and drags him in the other direction. “Let’s sit over there actually.” “Why?” “Just looks more spacious.” And grants a better view of you, he doesn’t add. James looks skeptical but follows, and the three of them settle in. 

Sirius is distracted, occasionally gracing the conversation with a nod of his head or a simple “oh, yeah?” 

James is so caught up in a story, he doesn’t seem to notice, but Remus, ever observant, teases, “You know, if you’d rather go sit with Evans, Sirius, we won’t be offended.” James looks over, catching sight of you for the first time, a little disappointed at which Evans it was.

“What?” Sirius replies lamely. 

“Oh, come on, Padfoot. You haven’t stopped staring at her since we got here.” 

“Brilliant! Another chance,” exudes James. 

“Another chance at what?” asks Remus. “Sirius is taking her to the party on Saturday.” “I’m not,” Sirius interjects harshly. After a beat he adds exasperatedly, looking toward Remus, “James wants me to be taking her to the party on Saturday. That way her sister will come along too and grace him with her presence.” 

“You know,” James muses, “Fender doesn’t look as scary from this far away. I reckon you should go talk to her, Pads.” “Fender?” asks Remus.

“Don’t ask,” deadpans Sirius. “Well? Go on, then,” James urges. “Relax, mate. I’ll go later; just give me a minute.” 

“Are you… nervous?” “Oh, and you wouldn’t be? After she’s rejected you twice in one week?” “Oh, I definitely would be, but you? It’s shocking. This might have a few upsides beyond my date with Lily. I like seeing you flustered.” “I’m not flustered,” Sirius shoots defensively. “I’m just trying to have a drink with my mates without all the nagging, alright? Is that too much to ask?”

“Yes,” James jokes but has mercy on him and continues his conversation with Remus after a threatening, “We’ll come back to this” and a grin. 

Sirius is watching you when the song in the pub changes. You smile a little bit, and he hates how it makes his heart flutter. When the lyrics start, your mouth moves along with them, singing under your breath, and you move a bit with the music. You look beautiful lost in your own world like that. Just then, you look up, and your eyes meet his. They widen, and you freeze, looking a bit embarrassed. He wants to look away but braves on, holding your gaze and attempting to smile in greeting. You give a strained smile in response and look down shyly. It’s a strange look on you, timid. Sirius is not surprised to find it suits you, but he is surprised to find that he misses snarky and strong on you. 

You look back again as if you couldn’t help it, and he catches your glance go down toward his shirt. Yes, he thinks. God, is this how most people normally feel? He feels pathetic, trying so hard to look interesting in front of you, wondering whether you could like him. Your attention is pulled away by the arrival of your sister, and when you stand up and hug her, he sees you smile brightly for the first time. It’s blinding.

“Heads up, Prongs,” he says, not looking away from you. James follows his gaze, and his hand instinctively goes to his hair. Remus scoffs amusedly. 

You both look over, and James awkwardly pulls his hand from his hair and waves at Lily. She gives a giddy laugh and waves back. She turns to you and whispers something, and you shake your head vehemently in response. You start to argue in loud whispers that are still too far away to make out, but eventually Lily just rolls her eyes, looks back over, and gestures for the boys to join you. You look furious.

James doesn’t skip a beat, grabbing his drink and heading over with a confident, “Come on then.”

He pushes Sirius into the booth on your side and slides in next to Lily, Remus sliding in after him, ending up on his other side. Lily, James, and Remus start up an easy chat, but you and Sirius stay quiet. He feels tense, his palms probably sweaty, and the feeling is quite foreign to him. He fiddles with his glass in front of him, not looking sideways at you. “Nice shirt,” you say softly. 

He looks down, as if he doesn’t know exactly what shirt he’s wearing, then looks up at you, responding “thanks” in his best attempt at a casual tone. “You like them?” he adds, knowing the answer. 

You nod. “A lot actually.” “Me too.” “Clearly,” you laugh a little, nodding toward his shirt, and he loves the sound of it. “Why else would you wear this shirt?’ Why else indeed. 

“Yeah,” he laughs, a bit strained still but starting to loosen up. 

“You seem different,” you say. Again with the directness. He needs to learn how to handle it better for future conversations. He catches himself in this thought and can’t help but register his high hopes for the existence of said future conversations. 

“Do I?” “Yeah. I don’t know. You seem…” You seem a bit lost for words then finish, “like the acoustic version to your regular electric.” 

His eyebrows go up, surprised at such phrasing, followed closely by the corners of his lips, intoxicated by it. He doesn’t know what to say, and for the first time, that seems like the beginning of potentially beautiful possibility instead of just an obstacle to overcome as soon as possible. He’s never been so at peace with not saying anything. He just smiles. 

You smile too, and into the quiet space he’s created, whisper, “I like it.” He can’t help his smug smirk at this; he’s still himself after all, but it’s more teasing than before, and this time when you roll your eyes, you lips don’t lose their smile. 

You shift a bit, listening to whatever your sister is saying then tense up suddenly. Sirius has been so distracted just watching you, he has no idea what was said that stressed you out so much. He finally pays attention to try to piece it together. “Right, Y/N?” Lily asks. “Umm,” you don’t answer. “That’s brilliant, right, Sirius?” James says now. “Sorry, what’s brilliant?” “Y/N. Going to the party Saturday,” he responds. Sirius looks inquisitively at you. 

“I never said I was going,” you say, your demeanour back to its regular grumpy one. “In fact, I wasn’t planning to,” you finish with some finality. Lily leans into your shoulder, making puppy dog eyes at you. “But you’ve reconsidered just for me, right? Pleeeaasee, Y/N, pleeaasee.” 

You roll your eyes and bump her off of you but don’t say anything. You opt to take a swig of your drink instead despite the four pairs of eyes still intently watching you. Sirius has the odd sensation that that somehow actually doesn’t affect you, being seen, and it fascinates him. You don’t even look like you’re considering anymore when Lily bumps your shoulder with hers and fake-whispers, “pleeeaaaseee.” 

You roll your eyes again, but give in with a simple, “fine.”

“Ah!! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Lily chants, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your cheek between her praises. You’re grimacing; James is beaming. 

Saturday rolls around, and James and Sirius are finishing getting ready to go. Sirius is searching the messy living room for his leather jacket as he says, “No, mate, I’ll just meet you there.” “What are you talking about? Of course you should walk her there.” “She never said she was going with me. She just said she’d go. I don’t know why she’d expect — or want — me to show up at her flat.” “Just ask her.” “Don’t have her number.” 

James takes his out of his pocket, types something, waits a moment. A ding sounds; he sends another message, and now Sirius’s phone sounds. He opens it to a text from James with your phone number. “Just asked Lily,” James says smugly. Sirius rolls his eyes and plops onto the sofa, debating, spinning his phone in his hand. 

“What do I say?” “Figure it out, playboy,” James says as he goes back into his room, probably to check his hair again.

Sirius starts typing a message. 

hey, Y/N, it’s sirius… how are you? What am I, fifty? he thinks to himself, shaking his head. He erases the how are you?, replacing it with lily gave james your number then james gave it to me. Fucking hell. He erases that too. 

He writes, hey Y/N, it’s sirius… do you want me to come with james to get you and lily? and hits send before he can overthink it. 

He tosses his phone to the side, but he can’t stop looking over at it, and his leg is bouncing up and down rapidly. He’s wringing his hands together, fiddling with his rings when his phone vibrates. He snatches it up immediately, opening it to find one word from you: sure. Good enough, he thinks, and there’s an energy to his step he didn’t have before as he grabs his jacket, saunters to James’s room, and drags him out of the flat.

As you follow Lily out the door, Sirius swallows hard. You look stunning. Lily is all made up, her face looking much more perfect than most days, her heels looking like they’ll hurt after one block. Your look is more low-key. Your eyeliner makes your eyes even more striking than usual, but you still look like yourself. You’re wearing a classic pair of converse that look cool with your long leather coat. 

“Hey,” he greets when you’re standing in front of him.

“Hey,” you say back. You sway from the heels of your feet to your toes a bit then you both turn to walk behind James and Lily, who have their arms wrapped around each other and are already talking animatedly.

The first few minutes of the walk are completely silent between the two of you. Though it’s strangely not awkward, Sirius wants to talk to you, just doesn’t know where to start. He decides to just dive into the deep end. “What’s it like not caring what people think about you? Just saying what you want to say, or,” he chuckles at the current situation, “not saying anything?” You look at him seriously for a moment, considering him.

“I care what some people think about me. Just not everyone. And especially not random guys just because they’re attractive, and I’m supposed to put in some big effort to make myself attractive to them. I have better things to use, even better things to waste, my time and energy on.” You shrug. 

“What’s your favourite waste of time?” he asks, grinning, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. You’re looking down in front of you, but he can see you smile. 

“Um, funky question. Because I guess it’d be music. Getting high and just lying there listening to it, feeling it,” you laugh. “But that hardly seems like a waste.” You’re cheerful, and it’s addicting. Sirius laughs and says, “Hardly sounds like a waste at all. Sounds brilliant.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, still smiling. “How about yours?” 

“Hm. I don’t know. Can’t just copy your answer, can I?” “Nope,” you pop. 

“Damn. Well, in that case, I’ll go with just hanging out with James and Remus, not really doing much in particular.” 

You nod. “Hardly sounds like a waste at all.” You smile at each other and chuckle. 

When you get to the party, music is blasting, and it’s already full of people, many of whom seem to be drunk already. Sirius catches you looking around with a huge grimace on your face, and he finds it adorable. “Your favourite way to spend a Saturday night?” he asks cheekily, having to lean close due to the noise. You look at him and roll your eyes, but there’s a trace of a smile on your lips. 

Several people greet Sirius, and he laughs and jokes with them. He’s clearly great at being the life of the party. You’ve already lost track of James and Lily. Hoping she’s having fun, you just hang back near Sirius, not engaging with his friends. No matter how glad he seems to see someone, though, he always comes back to you.

“You don’t have to linger, you know. I’ll be fine by myself.” “It’s everyone else I’m worried about. Given the murderous look on your face,” he laughs, though he can’t ignore the sting of the word “linger.” 

You scoff but seem amused. “Besides,” he adds more quietly, “I want to be with you.” 

“Okay,” you smile. “Okay,” he confirms happily. 

As the night goes on, you actually chat more and more easily. Commentary on the DJ’s (usually subpar) performance helps. You’re laughing together, and his hopes are high that you’re having a good time. “I actually like this one,” you say, wincing in amused embarrassment when a dancey pop song comes on. 

“Wanna dance?” he asks excitedly. 

“Um, I’m not much of a dancer,” you admit. “That’s alright. Me neither. Fancy it anyway?”

You bite your lower lip, considering, before nodding. 

He takes your hand and guides you between crowds of people to the area functioning as a dance floor. You stand close to each other, face to face, and it takes some time to get into the rhythm. Sirius finds you adorable as you cover your face with your hand, laughing at yourself. He grabs your hand, uncovering your face, and spins you. You laugh and put your other hand on his shoulder when you’re facing him again. He puts his hand on your hip, and you two move with the music, letting go. You dance a few more songs before you lean into his ear to say something. The contact shoots a thrill down his spine. “Wanna get some air? I’m getting really warm in here,” you semi-yell. He nods and grabs your hand again, walking with you out onto the quieter, emptier patio. You take a deep breath and sigh in contentment at the fresh air, leaning on your forearms on the porch ledge. You look lovely all flushed. 

“What?” you ask, laughing lightly. “What?” he repeats, smiling but uncertain. “You’re looking at me funny.” He’s debating telling you the truth, telling you it’s because he thinks you’re beautiful, when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He just shakes his head casually as he goes to check it. He sees an unimportant message and just puts his phone down on the ledge in front of you both. You just stand there quietly with each other, shoulder to shoulder, and he fucking loves it. He feels at peace and excited simultaneously.

“Mind if I smoke?” he asks you, reaching into his pocket. 

“Not as much as your lungs,” you retort. He gives you a “very funny” look. “I don’t mind,” you say more softly. He pulls out his cigs but keeps digging in his pockets. “Shit, forgot my lighter. Gonna go steal one from anyone I know real quick. Be right back,” he says, bumping your shoulder with his. You nod happily. 

You’re standing there alone when his phone lights up in front of you. 

A text from James reads, saw you sneak off with fender 👀 looks like you oughtta be grateful instead of annoyed in the end 

Followed quickly by one from Remus, okay can one of you please explain the nickname now? it’s weird

James again, i promised sirius i’d buy him that fender he keeps going on about if he suffered a date with Y/N for me

Your stomach drops, and you feel like you’re going to be sick, your ears ringing with more than the after-effects of the loud music. 

Sirius comes back, putting his hand on your lower back with a sweet “hey.”

You grab his phone, shove it in his chest, and seethingly say, “Fuck you, Black. Hope you didn’t have to suffer too much.” Your shoulder shoves him aggressively as you storm off. 

He looks at his phone, and pure horror courses through him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he keeps repeating as he speeds after you through the crowds. He doesn’t catch up until you’re a good way down the street away from the party. 

“Y/N! Wait! Please wait a second,” he calls, out of breath, as he reaches you, grabbing your forearm to try to turn you toward him. His heart shatters at the sight that meets him. You’re crying. 

You yank your arm away from him and spit out, “Leave me alone.” 

“Please. Please just let me explain. I wanted to be with you tonight. Please,” he pleads, walking fast to keep up with you. 

“Oh, fuck off. You don’t have to keep it up anymore; your friend got what he wanted.” “It’s not like that, okay? You can ask him if you want! He’ll tell you I wanted you to come with me; he’ll tell you I like you.” “I’m sure he’ll tell me whatever you want him to, Black, but I’m really not interested. Please just leave me the fuck alone.” You start walking faster, and he stops dead in his tracks. He doesn’t know what he could possibly say, and he just stands there in the middle of the road, the worst feeling he’s ever felt weighing him down to the spot.

You’re back in your flat, still crying, when your phone buzzes. 

Y/N

please 

can we please talk? 

it’s not what you think

i really want to talk to you

please

You put it on silent and toss it away.

You wake up with puffy eyes and four missed calls from Sirius from last night and another three from this morning. You delete the notifications and go take a shower, blasting your music. 

You get dressed carelessly, grab your bag, and shove your headphones on. You meet Lily in the living room on the way out, and she looks concerned. She tries to stop you, but you just say “I’m fine” and hurry out the door. 

You walk to a nearby park, a favourite spot of yours, and roam around for a while, hoping unsuccessfully to drown out your feelings in the music and movement. You sit down at a bench and take out your book. After reading the same sentence about ten times, you slam it shut and shove it back in your bag. You just sit there, and you’re struggling to keep the tears away as you let yourself replay your emotions from last night. You lie down on the grass, listening to your music again and shutting your eyes tight. After a while, it suddenly gets darker behind your eyelids, and you open your eyes to see what’s blocking the sun. Fuck. You’ve got to tell Lily to stop giving your phone number and probable locations to arseholes. 

Sirius is standing above you, a desperate look on his face. He squats down and grabs your hands as you move to grab your things, clearly planning to leave.

“Wait, Y/N. Please wait. I’m begging you.” 

“What do you want?” you ask harshly, taking your headphones off. 

“Just to talk to you. Please. Please let me apologize.” “You’ve apologized. Now leave me alone.” You turn away from him again and get up. 

“No, that’s not it. I want to make things right. You have to understand.” “Understand what exactly?” “I like you. I really like you. I think about you all the time; I want to spend more time with you.” “Another instrument in it for you?” you say scathingly. “No, no, of course not. That guitar thing was stupid. Really. It was really fucking stupid, and it was before we’d ever even talked! Well, you’d said a total of six words to me, but still, I had no idea how much I’d want to keep trying to get you to give me a chance without any other incentive.” You don’t say anything, but you also don’t go to leave, and Sirius sees this as serious progress. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I was a complete and total idiot to ever even entertain the idea, but it was just a silly thing before anything else happened.” “And what exactly is it that you think happened?” Your arms are crossed, and you still look like you want to murder him. 

“I saw how fucking incredible you are. And I got it in my head that the thing I want most in the world is a chance to keep seeing how incredible you are. Let’s see. What else happened? I bought a t-shirt just to get your attention; I made a fool of myself in front of my friends from how nervous I was to talk to you; I lost sleep thinking about everything you’d ever said to me, and how you’re like no one I’ve ever met; I wrote and rewrote the simplest message last night like a lovestruck idiot because I was dying for you to say you wanted to see me. Then what else? Oh, right, and correct me if I’m wrong here because this is where you come in: then I had a fucking brilliant time with you last night. I dreamt of wasting time with you, of getting to dance with you again, of making you laugh even though you’re gorgeous even when you look cross — like right now by the way — I even dreamt of sitting in silence with you for fuck’s sake.” He was out of breath by the time he finished his speech.

“How’d you know I liked Greta Van Fleet?” “What?” “I assume that’s the shirt you bought to get my attention. How’d you know I liked them?” “That’s what you’re asking me right now?” “Yes.” “Fucking hell, Y/N.” A beat. “I could hear it from your headphones that second day you blew me off.” You just nod, still looking solemn.

“You’re not,” you say after a moment.

“Not what?”

“Wrong. About last night. You know, its being brilliant. Before… well, before —”

“Before I cocked it all up with silly games I never should’ve played in the first place,” he interrupts. “Before my stomach fucking flipped at reading those messages and my heart broke at seeing you…,” he swallows the knot in his throat, “at making you cry.” He ventures a step toward you, and you don’t move away, just tighten your grip on yourself and look down. “I’m so so sorry I did, Y/N. And I’ll make it up to you if you’ll let me.” He puts a hand on your cheek, caressing you softly. His other hand comes to your arms, uncrossing them and intertwining your fingers with his. He steps a bit closer and speaks more softly as he asks, “What do you say, love?”

You stay silent for a few seconds then say, “Okay.” He scoffs in relief and disbelief, chuckling. 

“I just poured my heart out to you, and all you say is ‘okay’?”

“Yes,” you say, but after a second, a subtle smile lightens your features. He barks a laugh.

“I’ll take it,” he says, kissing your forehead. He lingers there a moment, still caressing your cheek, his lips hovering at your hairline, and when he leans back, he stays very close to your face, looking down at your lips. You push your chin up, bringing your faces even closer together. He smiles at this and closes the shrinking gap. 

Your kiss tastes like possibility, and as Sirius shifts, deepening it, he’s not surprised to find your tongues fall into rhythm with each other as easily as your bodies did on the dance floor last night. 

You clutch his jacket, pulling him closer as he envelops your mouth with his, the warmth of it coursing from where you’re connected down through your entire body. 

He leans his forehead against yours when you break apart. He gives your nose a peck then, your fingers still intertwined, says, “So. What do you want to do now?” “I don’t know.” Not letting go of his hand, you grab your stuff and start walking with him. “Maybe we can waste time. Or sit in silence.” He squints at you.

“Are you taking the piss?”

“Yeah, a little bit, yeah,” you grin guilty. 

He’s laughing, shaking his head, as he sarcastically says, “We’ll see when I make the effort of giving you another romantic speech.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” you say, squeezing his hand and kissing his cheek.

[weird-is-life]

If you feel inspired could we mere mortals have some insecure remus thinking his crush would never like him, maybe he thinks they're into sirius or james but literally everyone else thinks he's stupid or blind because it's obvious they're embarrassingly smitten and absolutely infatuated with him. remus lupin just deserves unconditional love ❤

Hiii lovely, I am so so so sorry, this took me so long😭 I hope you will like this, tho. Warnings: pet words, too much affection, fluff (1.1k) and yes, Remus deserves all the love in the world🥺

"You're staring," James nudges Remus to his shoulder, looking amused towards the other side of the Great Hall.

"What...- Did you say something?" Remus asks, eyes averting from your figure for a few seconds.

"I said," he chuckles," that you are staring and it's quite obvious, may I add."

"Oh." There's no point in denying, that he likes you and that he is hopelessly in love with you to James, because James knows how big Remus's crush is on you. Too bad, Remus thinks, that you like his best mate Sirius and not him.

Suddenly Sirius appears at the table, sitting down next to them, "Moony, what got you so red, huh?" he joins James to tease him. Remus just ignores him, stirring absent-mindlessly the food on his plate.

"Don't look so grim, Remus. We were just joking," James pats him on the shoulder. "But I don't know why you won't ask her out, she likes you."

"Jamie, I know you are trying to make me feel better, but please don't," he sighs," we all know she likes Sirius, and I respect that."

"What? Moony, don't be stupid," Sirius groans in frustration over how blind his best friend is," we may flirt sometimes, but that's just that, nothing more. She very clearly likes you."

"That's just simply not true, is it? What would she like about me? I'm me and she is well, y/n," he says rather calmly," there's no chance she likes me like that." With that Remus gets up and leaves, his breakfast remaining untouched. 

Of course, James and Sirius can't have Remus being this self-conscious and miserable, so they decide right there to make a party tonight and invite you. They are hoping, that it will be enough to get you two idiots to make a move.

-

Later that day, you come to the party, all dressed up in your prettiest dress just for one person, Remus. But as you scan the room, you can't find him anywhere.

As the party goes by and he doesn't appear to be coming, you excuse yourself from your friends, lying about not feeling well.

And as you step out of the Gryffindor common room with a frown on your face, you stumble right into something or rather someone, nearly falling on the ground. Luckily, they are quick to react and save you from falling embarrassingly on your ass.

"Easy there, sweetheart, don't want you to hurt yourself," you recognise Remus, without even looking at him. His voice and scent familiar to you.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to run into you like that," you say sheepishly, cheeks flushed as your mind registers the pet name.

"It's okay," he smiles at you, altough it falters a little before he asks" are you leaving the party already?"

"I was on my way out, yeah...."

"I-is the party not enjoyable?"

"Not really, my friend wasn't here, i only came, because i thought he'd be here" you say and you can see, how Remus's smile drops.    

Remus didn't know, you were seeing somebody."Oh," he says and then hesitantly adds, "but i-it's definitely his loss."

"I think so too," you say, biting back a smile at Remus's not knowing, "are you just now joining the party?"

His cheeks go pink a bit, " ahh, yes. I was planning on being here on time, but I seemed to have lost a track of time in the library."

"Well, from my side, you didn't miss out on anything yet, the party has really just started."

"Then you should stay, too." Remus tells you, he hopes, that you can see, he wants you to stay.

"I should?" you tease.

"Yes, I'd lo...-like for you to stay," he shyly admits.

"I would love to, but-"

Remus's interrupts you before you even get a chance to finish, " oh, I understand. You probably want to go look for your friend."

"Not at all,"you smile sweetly at him,"I was about to say, that I'd love to stay, but only if you get me some better drink, than the disgusting beer there." He looks at you, clearly confused.

"B-but what about your friend?" he doesn't want to overstep, if you already have a date for tonight.

"Remus....," you whine and put your face in your hands, "I don't understand how can you be so so smart and at the same time be this oblivious idiot."

"What do you mean?" he frowns.

"Fuck, okay," you sigh," I like you Remus. I wasn't waiting for some other guy, I was waiting for you."

His mouth is wide open, Remus thinks that he might be dreaming, because this can't be real, there is just no way. " I- what? Y-you like me?"

"Yes, I've liked you since like forever," you nervously mumble.

"But why?"

"Why?" you look confused at him.

"Well yeah, I'm just me, boring guy that spends all of his time with books or with his 2 mates. Sirius is definitely much more better, much more fun," he shakes his head, he thinks he isn't good enough for you.

"Are you serious? I'm not interested in Sirius, I'm interested in you," you poke his chest," you make me laugh, you are always up for explaining me something when i don't understand it. You are kind and most importantly you have a good heart," you blurt it all out, " I don't want Sirius, I want you, only you Remus."

He looks stunned, at loss for words for a moment, but when he finally catches up to what is happening, he bashfully confesses to you, "that's good, because I really really like you, too. So much, that i might pass out if i don't get to kiss you right now"

"Can you just kiss me then already, Rem? Please?" You impatiently tell him. He doesn't waste any time, his soft lips are kissing you, making you dizzy in a matter of second. It is a sweet but short kiss, that has you chasing his lips for more as soon as his pulls away. Remus chuckles at that, "I will definitely kiss you some more, sweetheart. I just need to get you that drink you wanted and tell you all the lovely things I think about you."

"Fine, but only if I get to tell you as well."

"But you already did," he protests, he doesn't think his heart can take any more fond words.

"That wasn't enough, I need to tell you all of it. Especially how handsome you are," you kiss his cheek and drag him towards the party with a huge grin.

The whole night you and Remus basically take turns at being sickeningly affectionate with your words about each other, as James and Sirius watch you two in horror and delight. They are glad to see Remus receiving all the love, that he very much deserves, but they are not so looking forward to witnessing these endearments all the time from now on.

Although, they won't mind it that much, if it keeps Remus this happy and content.

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Mmmmm

If u still want dialogue requests, maybe Sirius comforting the reader (platonically) due to her dad just generally sucking and being low-key sexist to her at some fancy "the noble and most ancient house of black" party/ball/whatever fancy rich ppl host? (She's also from one of those families, they're betrothed)

Also, hope ur day's better!!

I think this might have been a bit more angsty that you wanted to but I still hope you like it 😁 Warnings: arranged marriage; Lestrange!reader; reader is drunk; bad family situation (mentions and hints of abuse) Disclaimer:  I don’t own Harry Potter 😊 gif isn't mine 😊

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Till Death Do Us Part

"Hey! It's the rest of the Marauders!" you announced happily as Sirius opened the door to his dorm. "How come they weren't at our engagement party?" you asked, looking at him.

"Because, love, your parents only got us, your brothers, and my brother out for tonight, remember?"

"Oh, right" you giggled. "Don't worry guys, you didn't miss anything good. It was soooo boring" you laughed.

"We can see that, love" James smirked. "Is she drunk?"

"Hammered" Sirius explained as he walked you over to his bed. "I didn't want her to go back to Slytherin like this" he commented.

"Smart" Remus nodded. "What happened?"

"The usual" Sirius shrugged as you sat down on his bed. "Her father being a prick. My dad being a prick. Our mothers being-"

"Bitches" you snorted, before he could finish, making all four boys turn to look at you. "Sorry, that is no way to talk about my mother-in-law" you laughed.

"What about your mother?" Peter asked confused.

"Oh, she is a bitch" you assured him.

"Hey, could you guys... go get something form the kitchen to sober her up?" Sirius asked them, James quickly getting the hint that he wanted all three of them out of there, got up and nodded.

"Sure thing, mate" he said, looking at the other two and grabbing the Map. "Anything you fancy, love?"

"Oh, if they have anything with potatoes or cheese on it, you would make me the happiest woman on Earth, Potter" you smiled sweetly at him.

"I'll see what I can do" he winked at you before the three of them left.

"Do you have anything that I can use to take off my makeup?" you asked Sirius as he looked through his trunk for clothes to give you.

"Um, yeah" he said, leading you to the bathroom. He gave you whatever you needed, placed his clothes so you could change, and gave you a toothbrush you used whenever you stayed there, since this hadn't been the first time.

"Thanks, Siri" you smiled wearily at him before he started to leave. "W-wait, um-" you said, feeling your cheeks burn. "C-could you please help me with m-my dress?"

"Yeah" he smiled before he started working on the back of your dress.

When it was finally undone, Sirius saw you take in a deep breath and felt his heart aching a little at how uncomfortable it looked. But that wasn't all he noticed. He saw faint bruises on your back and your arms. He felt sick to his stomach knowing he recognized them very well, since he had very similar ones on his body.

"They don't hurt as much anymore" you said quietly as Sirius looked at you through the mirror. He placed a soft kiss on your head and turned around.

"I'll be right out if you need me, love, okay?" he said and you thanked him.

A few minutes later, you came out of the bathroom to find Sirius already in his pajamas, sitting on his bed. He offered you a smile and a glass of water which you gladly took, sitting next to him. The two of you were silent for a moment until you spoke again.

"I'm sorry you have to marry me" you said, quietly as you gripped your glass.

"What?" he asked a little confused. "Why would you say that?"

"I don't know" you shrugged. "You can do a lot better, as my brothers were pointing out tonight to your brother and everyone else" you chuckled sadly.

"Your brothers are idiots" he waved it off.

"Still" you said, quietly. "You can call it off if you want to. You know that, right?"

"So can you" he frowned, confused but you shook your head.

"It doesn't work that way with the women in our world, Sirius" you smiled wearily at him. "Plus, even if I could, I wouldn't" you informed him, surprising him a little. "I know that... you didn't even want to get married and... if you did, I wouldn't be your first choice, and I know we don't really love each other that way but... I was relieved when I found out it was you" you said with a small smile.

"You were?" he asked, confused and you nodded.

"I think you and Regulus are the only ones that aren't... like our parents" you said, quietly. "So, if my fate was to be with someone in any of those families" you said, resting your head on his shoulder. "I'm glad it's you" you smiled, not noticing Sirius smile as well.

"Well, I'm glad it's me too then" he said, kissing your forehead.

"You don't have to lie, Sirius" you chuckled sadly. "I know I'm not the prettiest, or the brightest, or... fit to be a wife, really, as my father likes to repeatedly point out" you said, breaking Sirius' heart at how little you thought of yourself. True, the two of you didn't have a romantic relationship, but you had been friends your entire lives and you had been the only one who didn't stop talking to him when he got sorted into Gryffindor. And he loved you very much. "I promise I'll try my best to be the wife you deserve, Siri" you said quietly, making Sirius pull away from you a little.

"Hey, look at me" he said, gently placing his hand on your cheek and making you face you. His heart broke when he saw a few tears in your eyes. "You don't have anything to prove, okay? Not to me. Ever" he assured you. "You are one of the best people I've met, and I'm not gonna let your stupid father or your idiot brothers convince you that you're not good enough. I know that this situation isn't ideal for either of us but, love, I would choose to marry you a million times before I'd let your father pick any of those pricks that could hurt you" he said in a stern tone. "We're gonna be okay, love" he said, hugging you to him. "And I promise I won't let anyone hurt you again" he said, kissing your temple before he turned you to face him again. "No more silly apologies, okay?" he smiled sweetly, wiping away the last few tears on your cheeks. "We're a team now. We're in this together... till death do us part" he said, making you laugh.

"You're an idiot" you chuckled.

"I'm your idiot" he smirked. "Foreveeer" he said in a creepy voice making you laugh and hit him with his pillow.

"Alright, lovebirds, we've got the food" James said, entering the dorm with Remus and Peter behind them carrying an endless amount of food with them.

"You guys know I'm not that drunk, right?" you laughed as the placed everything in the middle like a picnic.

"Well, that is very pretentious of you, Miss Lestrange" James chuckled. "We're also hungry" he informed you. "Plus, I got cheesy potatoes" he said, getting out a container and your eyes widen.

"I love you, Potter" you said, getting away from Sirius and grabbing the plate from him.

"Seriously? In front of your husband?" Sirius asked, offended, sitting next to you. Sirius was right. This situation was not ideal, but you'd choose him every day over anybody else. You were going to be okay.

The End

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A/N: hope you loves liked it!