#james | ❛ a voice calling him to greatness. ❜ ( replies. )

[moonlightspencie]

don't want you like a best friend

Description: James is nervous about his inexperience with girls. Luckily he has a best friend who's more than willing to help. (based on an idea formed in part by @amiableness. check out the post)

Pairing: best friend!James Potter x fem!Reader

Warnings: DESPERATE!james, inexperienced!james, blowjob (m receiving), porn with barely any plot

Word Count: 2.5k

a/n: kind of muggle!au? doesn't really matter in the context of this though lmao

You walked into James's flat, quite pleased he'd given you a key. It was much easier to bother him whenever you pleased when you could just waltz in any time.

"James!" you called out, toeing off your shoes.

"In here!" he shouted back.

You followed his voice to his room, seeing him laying on his tummy watching tv. You ran up to his bed and flopping down on it next to him. He laughed in that squeaky, joyful way he only ever seemed to do around you.

"Hi," he greeted with a cheeky smile.

"Hi," you replied with an equal grin, then glanced at the television. "What are you watching?"

"Nature documentary about penguins," he responded simply.

You glanced up at him with a quirked brow. "Why?"

"Cause I like penguins," he shrugged.

"...we need to get you a girlfriend."

He went a little quiet, prompting you to look at him again. You tilted your head.

"James?"

He chewed his lip. "I– I do kind of have a date. Tomorrow."

"What?" you exclaimed, suddenly sitting up straight. "Who? Since when?"

His cheeks went a little pink. "Sirius set it up for me."

"Oh my god! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I'm nervous!"

You chuckled softly, still in a bit of disbelief. The boy had been single for far too long in your opinion, especially considering how much girls threw themselves at him in school. He always said that it was just because he had high standards, but part of you was half-convinced he must be terrified of girls. Or commitment. Maybe both.

"I just... I can't believe it. Is she cute?"

He almost grimaced. Not a great sign.

"Uh oh," you snorted a laugh.

"It's not that she's ugly! She's... she is pretty, its just," he sighed, shrugging a little, "she's not really my type, I guess."

"At this point, I'm beginning to believe you don't have a type."

He frowned. "Hey."

"Just saying, James. You never date, and it's not for lack of girls who like you."

"I kind of have to like them back for that to work."

"You sure you're not scared of girls?" you asked with a laugh.

He chuckled a little, shaking his head. "No."

"Commitment?"

"No."

"...Sex?"

"Ugh, don't say that," he groaned, dropping his face against the mattress.

You laughed again. "Sounds like a yes. It's really not that scary."

"It's kinda scary," he mumbled against his comforter.

"James," you called quietly, resting your cheek on the mattress to look at him.

He turned his face towards you, his cheeks pink and his hair even messier than usual. His lips were slightly pouty. Frankly, it was absolutely adorable.

"Everyone but me has done it at this point. The furthest I ever got was touching a boob over clothes in fifth year."

You couldn't help but to laugh at that, causing him to whine your name in protest.

"Sorry..." you said, not all that apologetic. "It's just... cute. You get so flustered. It's really not a big deal."

"It is a big deal to me."

"Aw. I'm sorry, Jamie. I just mean that nobody's going to fault you for being inexperienced."

"They might!"

"No they won't."

"You don't know that."

"At any rate, I think it's sweet."

"But I'm not having sex with you," he argued, then snapped his mouth shut, his cheeks going even darker. "That sounds... I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," you ran a hand through his hair, and he leaned into the touch. "I just mean to say that I'm sure if I think it's sweet, other girls would also probably think it's cute."

"I'm a man. I shouldn't be cute, I should be... strong and masculine. Hot."

"You're very hot, James."

He sighed, still pouting a little.

"Put that lip away," you muttered, tapping his bottom lip.

"You're being mean."

"No, I'm not."

"You're teasing me," he pouted again.

"What? How?"

"You're very hot, James," he mocked in an overly-high-pitched voice.

You snorted a laugh. "Heaven forbid I tell my hot best friend that he is, in fact, hot."

He fell quiet for a moment. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do."

"Mm," he hummed softly, then sighed. "Why can't there be more girls like you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, smiling curiously.

"You're always so sweet to me. I just wish there were more girls who act like you, cause then I could just... do it with them and not be so worried about it."

You raised your brows, trying to hold back another laugh. "Oh, really?"

"Don't tease me."

"I'm not. Just, why don't–" you stopped abruptly.

He looked at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"If you're so worried about getting your first time over with, then why don't you just do it with me?"

He looked like he got the wind knocked out of him in that moment, blinking a few times as if he was trying to wake up from a dream. He opened his mouth a few times, though no sound came out.

"I just mean that... you said you'd do it with a girl like me, so why not me? You trust me, I know what I'm doing, you know I won't judge," you listed off some reasons. "It could work, you know?"

"Cause you're... you're my best friend."

"And?"

"And friends don't do that."

"Friends do that all the time," you replied with a shrug.

"What?" he asked, looking totally mortified.

"Friends have sex all the time."

"Since when?"

"Since forever," you chuckled a little. "I'm not saying we have to. Just putting it out there, since you're so nervous about it and all."

"I–I don't..."

"You don't have to say yes."

"I know," he nodded, looking a little uncomfortable. "It's just... I don't think I'm ready to do all of that right now."

You smile a little. "I'm not saying I'd take you to pound town right now..."

"Ugh," he groaned.

"Sorry. I just mean to say that, if you wanted to, we could start slow. Work you up to the main event."

He chewed his lip, looking away from you. You sighed softly, then stood from the bed.

"Alright. Let's go and grab a snack or something and take your mind off all this. Stop stressing so much," you said, trying to grab his arm to pull him up.

He shook his head. "Can't."

"What? Yes, you can."

"No, I can't," he emphasized, his cheeks still dark.

"Why not."

He stared at you for a moment, then whined, dropping his head into the comforter again. He mumbled something into the fabric, causing you to groan in annoyance.

"What are you saying? I can't hear you when you mumble."

"You don't understand," he said, looking at you again with a pouty face. "You're not a guy."

"What the hell is that supposed to... Oh," your eyes widened. You let out a disbelieving, delighted little giggle. "Are you–"

"Please don't talk about it. It'll make it worse," he said quickly in his whiny little voice.

"Aww. Poor baby."

"Stop it."

"Let me see."

His eyes widened comically. "What?"

"Let me see. Come on, turn over," you giggle, trying to turn him.

"Lovie, no, I..."

"Please?" you pouted, knowing he could never resist it.

He whined. "Please don't. It's embarrassing."

"It's hot."

He gulped. "...It is?"

You nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of flattering, too. The fact that I barely suggested it and you got all excited."

"It's not my fault. I just... my brain started thinking..."

"Yeah, brains tend to do that," you joked, relishing in him being all flustered. It was so unlike his usual demeanor. "Come on, Jamie. I just want to see."

He swallowed, nodding a little awkwardly before he turned onto his back. You smirked a little to yourself at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. You sat back on the bed right next to him, glancing back at his nervous face.

"Can I touch?"

"I... I don't know."

"Just over the pants right now."

He considered it for a few moments, before taking a deep breath, nodding.

"Okay," he said quietly, his hands balling into fists.

You smiled. "Relax."

You let your hand rest on his thigh first, watching him as his eyes trailed your every move. You slowly slid up his leg, teasingly, just so you could see him sweat a little at the thought of being touched for the first time. He was generally quite confident, but somehow missed out on anything and everything intimate outside of kissing.

He sucked in a breath as you reached his hip, looking as if he could pass out.

"Hey," you said gently, trying to catch his eye. "Take a deep breath. Relax. It's supposed to feel good."

He sniffed, nodding shakily. "Y-yeah. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Jamie. Just... relax. Okay?"

"Okay."

You let your hand move again, barely ghosting over his bulge, the tips of your fingers touching the fabric of his sweatpants. You looked up at his face. His cheeks were red, and his eyes were wide and almost glossy. His pretty, pouty lips were just barely parted as he waited in anticipation for your next move.

You lowered your hand, gripping him gently through his pants, forcing a shaky gasp through his lips. You smirked to yourself a little, stroking him through his pants.

"Feels good, huh?" you asked in a quiet voice.

He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a pathetic little moan. You chuckled at the sound, stroking him again. He was bigger than you expected him to be, but not terribly massive. His hips bucked into your hand, another soft whine coming from him.

"Aww. You like it, huh?"

He nodded, breath coming in short.

"Can I do a little more?"

"Uh..."

"I think you'll like it."

"M-maybe," he gasped out, looking utterly wrecked already.

"Can I take off your pants?"

He looked at your face again. "Huh?"

"Can I take them off? I wanna touch you," you stated simply.

He whimpered. "Um... For... for what?"

You furrowed your brow. "So I can feel you. I just want to touch your skin. It'll feel better for you, too. You touch yourself, right?"

"I... Y-yeah. Yeah, sometimes."

"And I assume you don't do it through your pants, right?" you laugh a little.

He merely swallows, nodding dumbly. "Right."

"So... Can I touch you like that? I won't do it unless you say yes."

"Oh..." he sucked in a shaky breath. "O-okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes."

You smiled, hooking your fingers in his sweatpants and underwear. "Hips up, please."

He followed your instructions easily, lifting his hips for you. You tugged everything down in one go, leaving it all pooled at his ankles on the bed. You nearly moaned yourself when you saw him, hard and leaky and ready. You traced his dick softly with your fingertips, impressed with him, and drawing another moan from his lips.

"So pretty, Jamie. Look at you."

"Don't... fuck," he gasped. "Don't say that."

"I mean it. Your cock is perfect."

He whimpered again, sounding like he could cry. You wrapped a hand around him, stroking him softly as hips bucked into your hand, soft moans and squeaks leaving him in utter desperation.

"P-please," he begged, staring at you as if you hung the stars.

"Please?"

"I... I don't know," he shook his head, his lip quivering.

"You need more?"

He sniffled, nodding quickly. "So bad. Please."

"Can I suck your cock, love?"

The sound that left his lips was utterly pornographic, his chest heaving like he'd run a marathon.

"God..."

"That's not my name, baby," you stroke him again. "I need you to say yes if this is what you want."

"Y-yes. Fuck yes," he said, his hips still shifting under you, trying to get more friction from your hand.

"So needy," you chide jokingly, moving to settle between his legs.

He whined watching you climb between his legs, nearly hyperventilating at the sight and feeling of you kissing along his stomach with your hand pushing his shirt up.

"So pretty," he groaned, stroking your hair.

You smiled against his stomach, licking nearly up to his chest just to hear him make that sound again. You kissed back down his stomach, barely ghosting over the tip of his cock at you looked back up at him.

"Ready?"

He nodded, in a trance as he watched you. You kept his eye contact as you darted your tongue out, tasting him for the first time. He practically sobbed in pleasure, pulling on your hair slightly.

"Told you it would feel good, baby," you mutter, licking from base to tip as he squirmed under your touch. "Isn't this nice?"

"Mmmm..." he nodded, chest heaving.

"Good boy," you kissed his tip.

You stared up at him, smiling to yourself at his sweet little reactions as you started stroking him. He looked so adorable totally wrecked. Like he could pass out at any moment. You couldn't help but to want more.

You wet your lips, figuring you could probably fit most of him into your mouth in one go: so you decided to give it a go. You licked him once more, then shoved his cock down your throat, letting it hit far enough to make you gag.

He shouted, gasping for air before he fell into a puddle of moans and desperate praises of your name. You pulled off of him, but only for a second before you went back down, sucking on him as if your life depended on it. It felt like it did.

He gripped the fabric of his comforter, sobbing in pleasure as his hips jutted up into your mouth. You were about to pull off to make some sly remark, when he whimpered loudly, shooting his cum down your throat. You hummed around him, swallowing everything you could despite your utter surprise that he had finished so quickly. He whined and kept his grip tight in your hair until he was done, his seed dribbling past your lips as you couldn't quite swallow everything. You weren't sure if you'd ever witnessed someone cumming so much before.

You did your best to clean him off without making him overly-sensitive, and finally pulled off.

"Mm... Holy fuck, Jamie. You cum that much every time?” You ask, chuckling a little despite being wildly aroused.

He shook his head, sweaty and still whimpering.

"Awww," you cooed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "You okay?"

"That... that felt..."

"What?"

"Best thing ever," he managed breathily.

You laughed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he uttered, a small smile on his face as he opened his eyes. "I... you're really good at that."

"Apparently too good," you snorted.

"Maybe," he nodded, then hummed softly in pleasure. "Sorry for cumming so fast."

"It was sweet."

"It's not sweet," he shook his head.

"I think so. You're so sensitive," you kissed his cheek.

He hummed again, then sighed softly. You watched him as he took a few steadying breaths before he moved his eyes back to you. He let his eyes linger on your form for several moments, then chewed his lip. He looked up at you, clearly debating something in his mind.

Then he smiled a little.

"Can I return the favor next time?"

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Ooo can I please request a Bucky x fem!Enhanced!reader where she is Tony Stark’s daughter (he didn’t know about her until she found him an adult and now they’re super close) and she has mind reading powers and telepathy She is also super close with the other Avengers (especially Steve and Sam). She meets and falls in love with Bucky when she does a study abroad program for a year is Romania, the same time Bucky is on the run and living in Romania. Imagine Steve’s surprise when he tracks down Bucky to his apartment and finds Y/n living there with him in a serious relationship. And imagine her Dad’s surprise when SHEILD agents not only drag in Steve, Sam, Bucky, T’Challa, but also his daughter (who is now crying in his arms wanting Bucky, her bf). And because she can read minds, she knows what Zemo’s intentions are but couldn’t stop him in time?🥺 Anyways, Tony, Steve, and Bucky all want her to stay far away from the civil war but she hides on the Steve/Bucky’s jet and follows them and stops the three of them from fighting but they accidentally really hurt her in the process? The Avengers get back together?

(Endgame never happens)

Can’t Break Up Love » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend/Enhanced!Reader, Dad!Tony Stark x Daughter/Enhanced!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America, Sam Wilson/Falcon, and T’Challa/Black Panther

Summary: Summary is what the request says⤴️

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, language, mentions of HYDRA, accidental injuries, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵 it’s so amazingly described🥰

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! GIF credit goes to the creator.

Finding out you’re the daughter of a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist is something you would’ve never expected. You expected your dad to be just a regular guy, which he is in a way… kinda. All though, he is a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, he’s also Iron Man and an Avenger, which is the coolest thing ever. After your mom told you who he is, you contacted him and met him. Now, you and Tony have an amazing father daughter relationship.

“Are you sure you want to study abroad in Romania for a semester?” Tony asks.

“Yes, dad. You know I love to travel.” You say with a smile.

“You know I’m just looking after you, super girl.” He says.

You smiled and hugged him.

“Thank you for letting me use the jet.” You say.

“Anytime.” Tony replies. “Call me when you land.” He says, kissing your forehead.

“Will do, dad.” You smiled.

———

That was a few weeks ago. You’re still getting used to Romania. You were staring down at the map to the apartment building you’re staying in when you accidentally bumped into someone, causing you to drop your stuff.

“I am so sorry!” You apologized.

“It’s ok.” The man said.

You crouched down to pick up your things and so did the man.

“I’m James, but everyone calls me Bucky.” Bucky introduces himself.

“I’m Y/N.” You introduced.

“Are you visiting?” He asks curiously.

“Yes, but I’m also studying abroad for a semester.” You tell him.

“I’ve been here for a while so if you want, I can show you around.” He suggests.

“Yes please!” You say almost immediately.

Bucky chuckles.

“Where are you headed to?” He asks.

“My apartment.” You tell him, pointing to it on the map.

“You’re in luck. That’s where I live too.” He smiles.

“That’s great! I’ll see a friendly face.” You say with a smile.

Bucky walked you to the apartment building you two live in. As if it were fate, you and Bucky live on the same floor. There’s a few apartments in between you guys.

“I’d invite you in, but I have to study for a test tomorrow.” You say.

“No worries. Hopefully we’ll see each other tomorrow.” Bucky says with hopefulness in his voice.

“Hopefully.” You say with the same hopefulness in your voice.

You stood on your tippy toes and kissed his cheek before going into your apartment. Bucky had a smile on his face when he walked in his own apartment. He felt a newfound warmth in his heart and so did you.

The next day, you were so nervous about the test. Your mind was all over the place. That all washed away when you seen Bucky in the hallway of the apartment building.

“Good luck on your test.” Bucky smiles.

“Thank you!” You smiled back.

“Can I walk you to school?” He asks.

“Sure.” You replied.

The walk to school didn’t take long. You and Bucky talked the whole walk. It turns out that you and Bucky have a lot in common.

“Thank you for walking me to school, Bucky.” You smiled.

“Anytime, doll.” He smiles.

Bucky kissed your cheek, making you blush and smile.

“That kiss is for good luck.” He says.

“Thank you.” You smiled again.

“Now, go take that test.” He says, giving you a pat on the back.

You nodded and walked in the building with high hopes that you’d pass your test.

A few days have passed since you’ve taken your test. You were still positive that you did good on it. When you got your test back, you were over the moon with the grade you got that you went straight to Bucky’s apartment to show it to him. You repeatedly and rapidly knocked on his door till he opened it.

“Give a man a chance to open the door, doll.” Bucky jokes.

You held your test up, showing Bucky your grade. Bucky took it from your hand and looked at it, smiling when he saw your grade.

“You got an A! Good job, doll!” He says with a smile.

Out of nowhere, you kissed him, surprising the both of you. Your eyes widened when you realized what you were doing. You quickly pulled away.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!” You apologized.

“Why are you apologizing?” Bucky asks.

Before you could answer, Bucky kissed you. This time, you didn’t pull away. Your hands grasped onto the fabric of his sweatshirt. Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you inside of his apartment and closed the door so no one walked by and seen you two kissing. That’s when you and Bucky started to fall in love with each other.

As you and Bucky got to know each other more, you two went on dates. Bucky asked you to be his girlfriend and he also asked you to be his girlfriend, which you happily said yes to both. Since Bucky is on the run, he wanted to have at home dates. You didn’t question it. You thought it was cute. Although, you don’t the reason why he’s on the run, you figured he’d tell you the reason when he’s ready to.

“Tell me something else I don’t know about you.” You say, maneuvering yourself so you were sitting sideways and criss crossed on the couch.

“You pretty much know everything about me, doll face.” Bucky says, laying his metal arm across the back of the couch.

Bucky found the confidence to tell you and show you that he has a metal arm. At first, he thought you’d be scared of him cause of it, but you’re not. You accept Bucky the way he is.

“I know, but I want to know more about you.” You pouted.

Bucky can’t resist it when you pout. He leaned towards you and kissed you before leaning back against the arm of the couch.

“Let’s see…” Bucky thought to himself for a moment. “Would you believe me if I told you that I’m actually almost 100 years old.” He says.

“There’s no way you’re almost 100 years old.” You said.

“I am.” He confirms.

“How?” You asked. “You look like you’re in your late 30s or early 40s.” You say.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I was actually born in 1917.” He tells you.

“So my boyfriend is an old man?” You giggled.

Bucky playfully narrowed his eyes at you.

“I’ll let the old joke slide this time. Now it’s your turn to tell me something I don’t know about you.” Bucky says.

You hummed to yourself and bit your bottom lip as you thought of something. You finally thought of something. You never told Bucky that you have mind reading and telepathy powers. You were scared of what he’ll think when he finds out. Now is a better time than never to tell him.

“I have powers.” You tell him, fiddling with your fingers.

“What kind of powers?” He asks curiously.

“Mind reading and telepathy.” You tell him.

“How did you get them?” He asks.

“HYDRA.” You answered.

Bucky already knew your experience with HYDRA couldn’t have been any better than his without asking. Any experience with HYDRA is horrible.

“I’m sorry you had to endure the pain of HYDRA.” Bucky says softly and sympathetically.

“Thanks.” You say, giving him a soft smile.

Bucky kissed you to lighten the mood. You smiled against his lips and cupped his stubbly cheeks, rubbing your thumbs against the stubble of his beard.

“I love you, baby.” You whispered.

“I love you too, babydoll.” He whispers back.

The next day, you and Bucky went to the market down the street from where you two live. You two walked there hand in hand. You sensed something off about Bucky when you two left the apartment. You didn’t need to read his mind to know something was wrong. He was on high alert the whole time. You didn’t want to pester him about it though.

“Baby, look! They have those cookies I was telling you about you about the other day!” You exclaimed excitedly, showing him the package of cookies.

“That’s nice, doll. We should get them.” Bucky says.

“Yes!” You say, pumping your fist in the air out of excitement.

Bucky got a few plums from the fruit stand. As you two were paying for yours and his groceries, Bucky knew something didn’t feel right. It was like a gut feeling. He looked across the street, making eye contact with the vendor. The man looked at Bucky and then looked at the newspaper. It didn’t take him long to realize who Bucky is. Even in a disguise, he still recognized him. He ran out of his stand. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you watched him run.

“That was weird.” You say.

“I know right.” Bucky says.

You and Bucky walked hand in hand as you two crossed the street, walking to the stand the man ran away from. Bucky picked up the newspaper, seeing his picture on it.

This is not true. How could he have done something horrible in Vienna if he’s been with you all day? Unless if someone is trying to frame him for something he didn’t even do. That has to be it.

Bucky’s jaw clenched as he looked around.

“We have to go.” Bucky says, wrapping his arm around you protectively.

“Where?” You asked.

“Home.” He says.

Little did the both of you know that Steve was in yours and Bucky’s apartment while you guys were out. Steve looked around the apartment, finding your things there. He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out why your things would be in Bucky’s apartment. As soon as you and Bucky walked in the apartment, your eyes went wide when you seen Steve dressed in his Captain America suit. Steve turned around, seeing you and Bucky standing a few feet away from him. He also noticed you two holding hands.

“Y/N?” Steve asks.

“Hi, Steve.” You say.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“I live with Bucky.” You tell him.

That was enough to tell Steve that you and Bucky are in a serious relationship.

“Do you know who I am?” Steve asks, adverting his attention to Bucky.

“You’re Steve. I read about you in the museum.” Bucky says.

You stood next to Bucky, listening to the two men talk. You had no clue what was going on. You were clueless about why Steve was there.

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore.” Bucky says.

That when it hit you. The reason why Steve is there is to protect Bucky and also you.

“Whatever you think he did, he didn’t do it.” You chimed in, defending Bucky.

“I’m on your side.” Steve assures.

“They’re coming your way.” Sam informs Steve in his ear piece.

“Why did you pull me out of the river?” Steve asks Bucky.

Bucky’s mind was all over the place. He knew the reason why he pulled Steve out of the river, but he didn’t know in that moment.

“I don’t know.” Bucky answers.

“Yes you do.” Steve says.

That’s when something was thrown through the window. You three looked down, eyes widening when you guys realized it was a bomb.

“What the f-” Bucky grabbed you and held you close to him, picking up the mattress to use it as a shield when the bomb exploded.

Then the door was busted open and cops entered the apartment. Bucky pushed you to Steve. Not in a rude way. In a way of protecting you. Your eyes were wide as you watched your boyfriend tried to fight off the cops.

“Buck, stop!” Steve put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re gonna kill someone!” He says.

Bucky knocked Steve to the floor and used his metal fist to punch a hole in the floor next to Steve, pulling a backpack out from underneath the floorboards.

“I’m not gonna kill anyone.” Bucky says.

Bucky shoved the backpack in your hands and looked deep in your eyes.

“Do you trust me?” Bucky asks.

“With my life.” You answered.

“Take this backpack and jump onto the roof across the balcony and I’ll come find you, ok?” He says.

“Ok.” You said.

Bucky gave you a quick peck on the lips before going back to fighting off the cops with Steve’s help. You put the backpack on your back and looked at the roof across from yours and Bucky’s apartment. You took a couple deep breathes before running and jumping to the roof. Surprisingly, you didn’t hurt yourself. You were surprised that you could jump that far.

“That was so cool!” You say to yourself.

Sam seen you on the roof as he flew over it.

“Who’s the person who just jumped on the roof from the apartment?” Sam asks.

“Y/N. Keep an eye on her.” Steve informs him.

“Got it, Cap!” He replies.

Sam flew down toward you. You looked up and seen Sam.

“Oh shit.” You mumbled to yourself.

Sam’s here too? What the hell is going on?

Something in your mind was telling you to run and you did. Bucky jumped to the roof you’re on a moment later.

“Doll!” Bucky shouts.

You stopped running when you heard Bucky’s voice. You turned around and ran to him. You gave him the backpack. He was about to put it on his back when someone in an all black suit that looked like a cat jumped onto the roof, coming out of nowhere.

You were so confused at this point. You decided to read the person’s mind. Your eyes glowed blue as you read his mind, your eyes widening what you read from his mind. The person who attacked Bucky wants him dead or locked up for something he was framed for.

Bucky managed to get away from the guy and ran, grabbing your hand. You and Bucky got to the edge of the roof. Before you could ask how you two were going to get down, Bucky wrapped his right arm around you with a tight grip and used his metal arm to slide down the wall. The guy in the all black cat suit followed you guys. Steve also caught up with you guys, running after you guys. Sam followed you guys from above.

Cars swerved to avoid hitting you guys. That’s when Bucky grabbed a motorcycle, throwing the person off of it and you two got on it. Not too long after that, you, Bucky, Steve, Sam, and the guy in the cat looking costume got stopped by Rhodey and the cops. You guys held your hands up in surrender.

“Congratulations, Cap. You’re a criminal. So are you Y/N. Your dad isn’t going to be proud of you when he finds out.” Rhodey says.

Bucky got shoved to the ground and handcuffed.

“Bucky!” You screamed.

Steve wrapped his arms around your waist before and pulled you against him you could get to your boyfriend. Bucky looked at you with sadness in his eyes. He didn’t mean for you to get involved in any of this. He was just trying to protect you and tried his best to avoid all of this from happening.

You guys got put into a transport vehicle and the right was quiet. Your face was covered in tears and you fiddled with your fingers. You also found out the guy who was in the Black Panther costume is T’Challa.

“Do you like cats?” Sam’s asks T’Challa.

“Sam…” Steve warns.

“He showed up dressed as a cat and you don’t want to know more?” He says.

“I do.” You say with a small giggle.

“Y/N wants to know too.” He says.

Steve turned around, giving you and Sam a warning look. You two remained quiet after that.

“Are you ok?” Sam asks you.

“I would say yes, but I just witnessed my boyfriend getting arrested for something he didn’t even do so I’m pretty far from ok.” You answered.

“Hang in there, little Stark.” He says, patting your knee.

The vehicle pulled up to a big building. You weren’t sure what it was. You watched as Bucky was being hauled around in a pod type of thing. You took a couple steps in his direction, but Sam stopped you by grabbing your arm and gently pulled you towards him.

“I know you want to go to him, but you can’t right now.” Sam says softly.

Your eyes teared up again. You seen your dad a few feet away. You ran straight to him and hugged him, breaking down in tears. Tony was surprised to see you and wondered why you were in the transport vehicle with Steve, Sam, and T’Challa. He didn’t question it though. He’s just happy to see you.

“It’s ok, super girl.” Tony whispers, comforting you.

Tony took you to a room that looks like a conference room. Steve and Sam followed.

“He didn’t do it.” You say after a few minutes.

“You can’t be too sure about that, kid.” Sharon says.

“No one fucking asked for your damn opinion!” You practically hissed at her.

Sharon scoffed before walking of the room.

“Bucky wasn’t in Vienna or wherever this happened. He was with me the whole time.” You tell everyone truthfully.

Steve and Sam believed you, but not so much your dad.

“How can you be so sure?” Tony asks.

“Cause I would’ve known if he did something he shouldn’t have done.” You say.

The more Tony stared at you, he could tell that there’s something you’re not telling him.

“What are you not telling me, young lady?” Tony asks in his dad voice.

You slid down in your chair and fiddled with your fingers.

“Tell him, Y/N.” Steve says softly.

“Tell me what?” Tony asks, looking from you to Steve and back to you.

You really didn’t want to tell your dad that your boyfriend is the former Winter Soldier. You already knew that he wouldn’t stop asking if you don’t tell him so you might as well tell him before he finds out from someone else.

“Bucky is my boyfriend.” You tell him after a few seconds.

It was quiet after that. You looked up at your dad to see a look on his face that appears when he’s pissed off about something. You already knew this wasn’t going to be good.

“No, absolutely not.” Tony says.

“I love him, dad! He loves me too!” You exclaimed.

“You are not dating someone who’s a criminal.” He says.

“I said no! You are not dating him!” He says, raising his voice.

Your bottom lip quivered and you stood up from your chair, running out of the room.

“Are you going to go after her?” Sam asks.

“No.” Tony rubs his hands over his face. “She’s going to calm down and come to her senses and realize I’m right.” Tony says.

“She’s in love with him. I’ve seen it.” Steve says.

Tony looks at Steve, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Who’s side are you on, Rogers?” Tony asks.

“I’m on your daughter’s side.” Steve says.

All Tony did was scoff.

When you ran of the room, you decided to wander around the building to try to find Bucky. You found him in an almost empty room. There was nothing but the metal pod Bucky was in and a table and chair in front of it. There was a man in there with Bucky, who’s name is Helmut Zemo.

Before you could do anything the power went out and a red lit up the room. Zemo started reading words from a book in Russian. You didn’t understand what he was saying, but you knew it was good cause Bucky was starting to get mad.

“Stop it!” Bucky growls.

Zemo kept reading the words. Bucky broke free from the restrains and pounded his metal fist against the door of the metal pod like a caged animal trying to get out of its cage. When he finally broke free from the metal pod, he slowly stood up with a dark look in his eyes. The whole room was silent. It was like a calm before a storm.

You decided to take the opportunity to read Zemo’s mind to see what his intentions are. Your eyes glowed blue as you read his mind. The things he was thinking about at the moment was a mission report from December 16, 1991 and he wanted to see an empire fall. You were curious to know what those two things meant.

All hell broke loose before you could do anything. Your eyes went wide. You quickly hid alongside the wall. You closed your eyes and tried to process what you just saw.

“Y/N, where’s Bucky?” Steve asks.

You pointed to the room next to you. Steve went in there and so did you and Sam. Zemo was laying on the floor. Steve picked him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Steve growls.

“To see an empire fall.” Zemo says.

Out of anger, you punched Zemo in the face, giving a bloody nose.

“What the hell did you do to my boyfriend?!” You asked.

“You’ll find out soon, Miss. Stark.” Zemo says, smirking facetiously.

What’s that supposed to mean and how does this man know your name?

That’s when Bucky came out of nowhere and started throwing punches at Steve and Sam. You backed up against the wall so you didn’t get caught up in the mix. Even as the Winter Soldier, Bucky would never hurt you. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he did hurt you.

“Get Y/N out of here!” Steve says to Sam.

Sam nodded and grabbed your arm. You two started running and exited the building. Sam saw Zemo’s jacket on the ground. He picked it up and then looked around. He dropped it back on the ground.

“Stay here.” Sam says.

You nodded. You assumed Sam went back inside to help Steve. You felt like you should do something to help so you came up with a plan. You figured that the quinjet was somewhere around there. You figured if you hid somewhere on the quinjet that you could stop something bad from happening. So you found it and got on it, hiding somewhere inside of it so no one could see you. You also found a mission suit that belongs to Natasha and put it on so you blended in more.

During the flight, you didn’t know where Bucky and Steve were going until you heard one of them say HYDRA. You didn’t know which base they were going to though. The conversation Bucky and Steve were having made you tear up. The things HYDRA did to Bucky and made him do broke your heart.

What it seemed like hours, you were still hiding in the quinjet. You wanted to go inside of the base before it was too late, but not too early. You managed to sneak inside of the base without Bucky and Steve seeing you. You hid along the walls and stayed quiet. You seen your dad there too.

What’s your dad doing here?

You watched as anger bubble in your dad as he watched a video on a small screen.

“Did you know?” Tony asks Steve.

“I didn’t it was him.” Steve says.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers!” He says. “Did you know?” He asks again.

Steve nodded his head yes. Tony blasted Steve with an energy blast, which he blocked with his shield. Bucky rose his gun to defend Steve, but Tony blasted it out of his hands. Your eyes went wide. You knew this was just going to get worst. You needed to stop it and now’s that time.

“Dad, stop!” You shouted, coming out of your hiding spot.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Tony asks.

“Stopping you from killing my boyfriend.” You say.

“Kid, if you knew why I’m doing this, you’d understand.” He says.

Tony rose his hand up, blasting an energy blast at Bucky. Steve threw his shield to Bucky and he caught it, holding it in front of himself. The energy blast hit the shield and then came flying towards you. It hit you before you could jump out of the way. Everyone’s hearts dropped to the pits of their stomachs and their eyes grew wide. Bucky was the first one to be by your side.

“Doll, wake up.” Bucky whispers, gently tapping your cheek.

Tony shoved Bucky aside to get to you. Steve got down by your side too. Tony placed his hand on your chest where heart is.

“Jarvis, check for a heartbeat.” Tony says.

“Heartbeat detected, but she’s in critical condition and needs medical attention.” Jarvis informs him.

“We need to get her to a hospital.” Steve says.

Bucky picked you up bridal style and carried you to the quinjet with Steve and Tony following behind him. As Steve flew the quinjet, Tony watched Bucky closely with you. Bucky whispered nothing but sweet words to you. Seeing how sweet and loving Bucky is with you, made Tony want to change his mind about how he thinks about him.

You woke up a few hours later in a hospital room. Your eyes squinted to adjust to the light. You heard a monitor beeping and the voices of your dad and your boyfriend.

“Guys, she’s awake.” Steve says.

You turned your head to the right to see Bucky, Steve, and your dad.

“Hi, doll.” Bucky smiles. “How do you feel?” He asks.

“Like I got hit by a truck.” You winced. “What happened?” You asked.

“You got hit with an energy blast that was meant for Bucky.” Steve says.

“The doctors want you to stay here for a few days for observation.” Tony says.

After a few days in the hospital, you were able to go home. Home meaning the Avengers compound. Your dad and Bucky talked it out and he’s living in the compound. Bucky is sharing your bedroom with you. Tony, Steve, Sam, and the rest of the Avengers talked everything out and got the team back together. They even asked Bucky to be part of the team, which he happily accepted.

“How do you feel?” Bucky asks softly.

“I don’t feel as sore as I did a few days ago. Your kisses made me feel better.” You says.

“I’ll happily give you more kisses, doll” He says.

“Then what are you waiting for, Sarge?” You murmured softly and playfully.

Bucky leaned down, kissing you sweetly and passionately. The kiss was short lived when Jarvis’s voice sounded through the intercom of the lounge room.

“Mr. Stark said to get back to work, Sergeant Barnes.” Jarvis says

Bucky groaned, making you giggle.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky says softly and kissed you once more.

“I love you too, baby.” You murmured softly.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[sunday-bug]

Friday Night Flirts

Pairing: College Student!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Content: flirty banter, somewhat grumpy reader x sunshine Bucky, Bucky is your brother's roommate, mild smut, no explicit sex, but definitely suggestive

Synopsis: Your brother’s roommate, Bucky, turns out to be more than just an annoyance - a study session turns into a bit more.

A/N: my entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo for AA Spring Bingo

Prompt/Square: "Roommates"/3

Card Number: AAS002

Fucking Colin. Always hungover. Always late for class. He’d flunk out if it weren’t for you, his dutiful twin sister. The golden child. You rap on the dorm door three times. 

An irritated groan comes from the other side. “Colin! Open up you dumbass!” You raise your fist and start banging more aggressively, bringing your fist back and letting it fly forward as the door swings open. Your fist meets a chest… a hard chest. Definitely not your brother’s chest.

“Good morning, sunshine,” an unfamiliar voice bellows. Your eyes meet the stranger’s.

“Who are you?” You ask, annoyed, as you scoot past him to throw a bag of Advil, Pedialyte, and a breakfast burrito at your brother. “Drink this, take three Advil, and eat that. And stop getting smashed on school nights, idiot.”

“Your girl is a buzzkill,” the tall stranger says to your brother. 

“Ew, she’s my sister, bro,” he spits out, taking a big drink of the Pedialyte. 

“Again, who the hell are you?” You ask him.

“I’m Bucky,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“He just transferred in. Got assigned to be my roommate. Knows all the good party places,” Colin explains, taking a tiny bite of burrito.

“Lovely. That’s just what you need,” you say sarcastically to your brother.

“You seem like you could use some fun,” Bucky chortles. “Relax. He’s fine.”

You snort, “Clearly. He’s hungover to Heaven on a Wednesday morning.” You look at your brother and see his face has turned ashen, a sheen of sweat covering his face.

“I’m gonna-“ he starts, running out the hall presumably to puke.

“Great,” you mutter, shaking your head, looking at Colin’s pile of textbooks and schoolwork on his desk. Your eyes turn to Bucky’s side of the room and you notice his unmade bed, unsurprisingly clean desk, and a poster of a band you like.

He notices you looking at the poster. “They’re a prog metal band,” he offers. “I’m sure you haven’t heard of them.”

Your eyes flit to him in irritation. “I saw them in the city last summer, actually. One of my favorites.”

“You?” He asks incredulously. “You don’t seem like…”

“Go on, what’s your first impression of me?” You press, arms folding over your chest.

“Prissy,” he admits with a laugh. “High strung. Bit of a ball buster.”

“How sweet,” you reply, rolling your eyes. You give him your name and introduce yourself properly. “I’m Colin’s twin sister. Linguistics major. Certified ball buster. Allegedly a priss. Just looking out for my brother.”

Bucky laughs and follows your lead. “I’m James, but everyone calls me Bucky. Fine arts major. Certified in motorcycle safety. Allegedly great in bed. Just making sure my new roommate has a good time.”

“You’re trouble,” you mutter, exasperated.

“And you look like you could use some,” he smirks, taking a step closer to you. 

“I assure you that I can find trouble without you as a tour guide, Bucky,” you offer, relaxing your arms at your side.

“I like how you say my name,” he utters, moving closer still.

“If you think you’re being charming, it’s not working,” you whisper.

His eyes move over your body quickly before meeting yours again. “You might want to tell your body to catch up with your mind then. It’s giving you away, darlin'."

You furrow your brow and look down, seeing your peaked nipples poking through your thin T-shirt. You cross your arms again, covering your breasts. “I’m just cold.”

“Just cold,” he repeats with a smirk, looking down at his watch. “I gotta get to class.”

You feel the smallest tug of disappointment in your gut, but steel yourself with snark. “Of course. You wouldn’t want that 2.0 GPA to slip!”

Bucky gathers a sketchbook, a few books, and sticks a pencil behind his ear. He puts his hand on the door to leave. “3.8 actually,” he offers with a smile before taking off. 

Colin walks back in a few moments later, looking a bit better. “You missed your first class,” you say. “Don’t miss the next one, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, curling into his bed. “I set my alarm. I got it.”

“Okay, see you later,” you say before leaving his dorm. 

—

It's Friday night. You have your planner on your desk and all of your assignments for the upcoming week laid out. Your roommate is going home for the weekend so you have your dorm to yourself to study and get ahead. Your phone pings.

Colin: I think I left my wallet in ur purse 

You’d gone to the gym together and for a bite to eat last night and remember him throwing it in your bag. You check your purse and find it. 

You: Yeah, I have it. When will you be here?

Colin: Can u bring it to me? I gotta shower

You huff, annoyed. 

You: Fine. Be there in 5.

You throw a sweatshirt over your bra and bike shorts, grab your purse, and trek to his dorm. At least it was nice outside. The door to his room is cracked when you get there so you knock once and enter. 

“Hi, sunshine,” a familiar voice bellows. Bucky is standing by his bed, shirtless and glistening, a towel slung low on his hips. “My eyes are up here,” he teases.

You scoff, “Where’s Colin?”

“Just left to shower. What’s up?”

“I have his wallet,” you say, reaching into your purse and walking over to set it on your brother’s desk.

“Do you keep tabs on his spending too?” Bucky teases.

“He left it in my bag, asshole,” you mutter, watching him rifle through his closet. 

“You know I’m teasing you, right? You’re cute when you get all riled up,” he smirks, picking out a blue t-shirt and throwing it on his bed. He assesses your casual outfit. “Don’t tell me you’re staying in on a Friday night.”

You look down at your sweatshirt and shorts and swallow. “I have a lot of studying-“

Colin storms back into the dorm at that moment, hands raised in glee. “She texted me, bro!”

“No shit?” Bucky asks, high-fiving your brother. 

“She wants to go out tonight,” Colin says. “I know we were gonna-“

Bucky cuts him off, “Go out with her, man. Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something to do.”

“Okay, man. Thanks,” he says, toweling off his hair. You plop down on Colin’s desk chair, swiveling around and snooping through his notes and textbooks as he gets dressed, pockets his wallet, and rushes out the door. 

You laugh and stand up. “Good for him. Guess I’ll see ya around.”

“Wait,” Bucky starts. “Don’t go.”

You raise your eyebrows, hand on the doorknob. “Don’t go?”

“I mean, do you wanna do something tonight? With me?” He asks quietly, still in a towel. Your mind goes back to your solo study session in your dorm. 

“I really was planning to study,” you say. 

“Can I make a suggestion?” He asks, pulling a pair of sweats from a drawer. 

“Um, sure?”

“What if I study with you, and then we do something fun?”

“You want to study with me? On a Friday night?”

“And then we’ll do something fun, yes,” he clarifies.

“I already have all of my stuff set up in my dorm, though,” you mutter. 

“So we’ll study there,” he says nonchalantly.

“Oh, um, okay,” you agree. “I’ll just wait in the hall so you can get dressed,” you say, slipping out into the hallway. You scroll mindlessly on your phone while you wait for Bucky. He slips out after a couple minutes, sketchpad in hand and you breathe in. “Did you put cologne on? To study?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “What? I can’t smell nice?”

You smile to yourself and nudge off the wall, leading the way to your dorm. “Let’s go.”

The walk back to your room is odd. People look at you, or rather, at you walking with Bucky. He seems to know everyone, despite recently transferring in. 

“You, uh, you make friends pretty easily, huh?” You ask.

“I’m a nice guy,” he shrugs. “Not my fault you’re antisocial.”

“I’m not antisocial, asshole. I’m… shy,” you clarify, realizing how lame that sounds. You open the door to your building and the RA at the front desk’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull at the sight of you with Bucky. You wave and head up to your room. It’s not that you’ve never had a boy in your room, but maybe not a boy of Bucky’s… caliber. 

“I take it your roommate actually enjoys her Friday nights,” he quips as you let him into your empty dorm room.

“She went home for the weekend. And for your information, I do enjoy my Friday nights.”

“Do you have a speaker?” He asks, ignoring your rebuttal, scrolling through Spotify. You nod to the small speaker on your desk and watch him pick a playlist.

A familiar song plays and you smirk. “I like this one.”

“Me too,” he says, perusing your books and study materials. “Looks serious.”

“It can be,” you offer. “What do you need to work on?”

“Just a few sketches for my still life class.” He takes off his shoes and sits on your bed, getting comfortable quickly as he opens his sketchpad. You watch him stick his tongue between his teeth in concentration and can’t help but smile as you sit down at your desk. Propping your legs up on your desk, you lean back and read from your textbook, making highlights over important passages. You hear Bucky flip the page of his sketchbook, sigh, and the sound of pencil on paper. After a half hour or so, you readjust your position and hear his pencil stop moving. He clears his throat.

“Can I see?” You ask, eyeing his sketch pad.

“Um…”

“No pressure,” you say, waving off the question. 

“You can see,” he says sheepishly, turning the sketchpad to you. It takes you a split second to recognize yourself on the paper in the same sweatshirt you’re wearing now, bare legs propped up on your desk, a book in your lap. Your eyes flit from the drawing to him and then back. 

“So, you’re really good,” you say with a small laugh. 

“I’m okay,” he offers with a shrug. “I had to miss a class this week, so I’m working on extra credit.”

“What did you miss?” You ask.

The slightest blush blooms on the apples of his cheeks. “The nude model.”

“Ah,” you say quietly. “So you thought my bare legs might suffice?”

“I, uh, I should have asked before I started sketching. I’m sorry,” he says, closing his book. 

You realize he thinks you’re upset. “No, Bucky, it’s fine. Really. It’s a lovely drawing. It’s flattering, actually, to see how someone else sees me.”

He swallows, “Yeah, well you’re not exactly hard to look at.”

It’s your turn to blush. You feel your entire body heat, and suddenly your dorm feels very small and hot. You shut your textbook and shed your sweatshirt. “Sorry, it’s warm in here.”

Bucky eyes your bra and shorts combo - you normally don’t think much of it, as it’s something you wear to the gym regularly, but it’s like he’s undressing you with his eyes. And you’re so okay with it. “It’s okay,” he breathes. The way his eyes darken uncoils something inside of you and you make a decision.

“We’ve studied,” you start, “and you mentioned doing something fun after, but I just wouldn’t feel right if you didn’t get full points for your extra credit assignment.” You stand up and walk to your bed. “Don’t you think?”

Bucky smirks nervously. “What are you suggesting?” 

“Sit at my desk, and I’ll show you,” you say. Your heart is slamming in your chest, but the way he’s looking at you is making you feel bold as hell and like you want to prove his assumptions about you wrong. He gets up and sits in your desk chair and you take his place on your bed. His cologne lingers and goosebumps rise on your skin. You arrange your pillows so you’re lying down but facing him. “Draw me.”

The smallest smile paints his face and he shakes his head slightly, turning to a fresh page in his sketchbook and pulling the pencil from behind his ear into his hand. “Put your foot up on the headboard,” he directs you, taking your ankle gently in his hand and planting it where he wants it. His touch - the first time he’s actually touched you - feels like fire. 

“Wait,” you say. “This isn’t right.” 

His head falls. “I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable-”

You cut him off and sit up. “No, it’s not that,” you say. “You said you missed the nude modeling class, so…” You pull your bra over your head, freeing your breasts. A small noise escapes Bucky’s throat and you smile as you remove your bike shorts, leaving you in your underwear. You lie back on the bed as he instructed before, one foot on the headboard, the other planted on the mattress. You bring one hand up over your head and rest the other on your ribcage. 

“How’s this?” You ask, finally looking into his eyes. His throat bobs as his eyes travel up and down your nearly naked form. 

“Fucking lush,” he whispers. “You’re perfect.”

You smile and move your hand up from your ribcage to your breast, brushing over your hardened bud. 

“Oh, fuck, don’t do that,” he breathes, closing his eyes. “I won’t be able to concentrate.”

You giggle and put your hand back in a safe place. “Okay, I’ll behave. Go ahead and sketch. I’ll stay still.”

He smiles and looks down at his sketchpad, stroking the first lines of your form across the page. A slow, sultry song comes over the speaker and he clears his throat, adjusting the notebook in his lap. The air conditioning kicks on after a few minutes of him sketching and the cool breezes from the vents licks across your bare skin, making your nipples peak once again. Bucky notices immediately and focuses his pencil on one part of the paper, his eyes shifting from your breasts to the page. The blush in his cheeks deepens, and his arousal is obvious through his sweatpants. The sight of his excitement turns you on, and you can feel yourself grow wet. You shift just slightly, clenching your thighs together for some form of relief. His hand comes up to move your legs back into position and you shy away, teasing him. 

“Isn’t that the first rule of nude modeling? You can’t touch the model?” You ask.

He chuckles lightly, holding his hand up in surrender. “Fine, no touching.”

You move your legs back into position and he notices the evidence of your arousal on your underwear. “All of that without even touching you?” 

You gasp quietly at his comment before quipping back, “I could say the same for you.” You eye the growing bulge in his sweatpants. 

“Take them off,” he begs, nodding to your underwear. You swallow and nod once, slowly sliding your underwear off. Bucky licks his lips at the sight of you completely naked and sits back down in your desk chair, picking up his sketchpad. “I’m almost done.”

“Good,” you breathe.

“Good?” He asks, looking up at you from under his dark lashes, pencil poised above the paper. 

You nod, trying to convey what you want without actually saying the words. 

“I thought I couldn’t touch the model,” he says cheekily, concentrating on his work. 

“Maybe we can break that rule,” you sigh, letting your hand travel lower to where your body is begging for it.

“Jesus Christ, I’m definitely not going to finish if you start doing that,” he mutters.

“But you said you’re almost done,” you hiss, starting to rub slow circles around your clit. “So finish.”

“Oh, I intend to finish,” he growls, dropping the sketchpad on your desk and shedding his shirt and sweats in seconds before climbing on the bed with you. Your body clenches in anticipation as he surrounds you - his muscles, his fucking cologne, his erection pressing into your leg. 

“Are you still sad about your Friday night in?” You breathe, kissing his neck and pushing your hand under the waistband of his boxers, gripping him gently.

Bucky gasps and smiles, biting your earlobe. “Fuck no. I think you’re onto something with Friday night study sessions. Now c’mere.”

[zrvllya]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

────────────

is it over now, taylor swift

────────────

james potter x reader ! one shot ⏾

how to haunt someone politely

ᵎ!ᵎ angst, emotional hurt, grief/mourning, parental death (mentioned), alcohol use, reconciliation, angst with hope, female rage somehow, trust issues, pining, pensieve, past betrayal, lowercase intended, miscommunication, second chance perhaps?

word count [ 6,800 ]

────────────

the great hall buzzed with morning chatter, but it all faded to white noise as you stared blankly at your untouched porridge. three hundred takeout coffees later—that's how the song went, right? except in your case, it was three hundred breakfasts later, three hundred classes later, three hundred nights of staring at the ceiling while your roommates slept peacefully.

"you need to eat something," remus murmured beside you, his voice gentle but firm. "you've lost weight."

"not hungry," you replied, pushing the bowl away. your eyes unconsciously drifted across the table, landing on him—james potter, laughing at something sirius had said, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners the way they used to when you'd whisper stupid jokes against his neck at three in the morning.

he caught you looking. you didn't look away fast enough.

something flashed across his face—pain, maybe? good. let him hurt. let him fucking hurt like you did.

"he asks about you," remus said quietly, following your gaze. "all the time."

"fascinating," you replied, voice dripping with venom. "tell him to keep asking. i'll keep not giving a shit."

remus sighed. "you know why he—"

"don't," you cut him off. "i don't care if his dad was dying, rem. i would have been there for him. instead, he chose to push me away, to be cruel, to make me hate him. and then he fucked jessica hall at that party two days later."

you stood up abruptly, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "i have ancient runes."

"it's thursday," remus pointed out. "you don't have ancient runes until—"

"then i'll be early."

"i'm not leaving," you whispered against his chest, two summers ago at potter manor. outside, rain lashed against the windows, but inside james' bedroom, everything was warm. his parents were downstairs, preparing dinner, and you'd snuck up to his room simply to hold each other.

"ever?" he asked, his fingers tracing patterns on your spine.

"ever," you confirmed, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "they'll have to drag me out."

"good," he murmured, tipping your chin up to kiss you properly. "because i love you more than anything in this world."

"more than quidditch?" you teased.

"infinitely more than quidditch," he said solemnly.

"then i guess you're stuck with me," you whispered.

"promise?" he asked.

"promise."

in ancient runes, you could barely focus. professor babbling's voice washed over you as you stared out the window at the quidditch pitch. james would be there later for practice. you used to watch him practice, bundled in his oversized jumper, cheering him on. now you avoided the pitch entirely.

"miss y/l/n," professor babbling called. "perhaps you'd like to translate this passage for us?"

you dragged your eyes from the window, scanning the runes on the board. your mind was blank.

"i—i'm sorry, professor. i wasn't—"

"paying attention, clearly," she finished for you. "see me after class."

the rest of the lecture dragged on. when the bell finally rang, you approached babbling's desk with reluctance.

"this is the third time this month, miss y/l/n," she said, looking at you over her spectacles. "your marks are slipping."

"i know, professor. i'm sorry."

her expression softened. "is everything alright? you've always been one of my best students."

"just tired," you lied. "i'll do better."

she nodded, unconvinced. "i expect your translation essay on my desk by monday morning."

the library was quiet that evening. you'd claimed your usual corner table, surrounded by ancient runes texts and parchment, trying to focus on anything but memories of him.

footsteps approached. you didn't look up.

"can i sit here?"

your quill froze mid-word. his voice still affected you, still sent electricity down your spine despite everything. you refused to look up.

"everywhere else is taken," james added softly.

"library's big, potter," you replied coldly. "find another spot."

"please," he said, and something in his voice made you finally look up.

he looked awful. well, awful for james potter, which meant he was still unfairly beautiful but clearly suffering. dark circles beneath his eyes, hair more chaotic than usual, tie loose around his neck. he'd lost weight too, you noticed with unwanted concern.

"what do you want?" you asked.

"to study," he replied, holding up his transfiguration textbook. "nothing else."

against your better judgment, you nodded once. he slid into the chair across from you, careful to keep distance between you.

for thirty minutes, you worked in tense silence. you could feel his eyes on you occasionally, but every time you looked up, he was focused on his book.

until—

"your hair's different," he said suddenly.

you touched the ends of your hair self-consciously. you'd cut it after the breakup, a desperate attempt to feel different, to be someone new.

"observant," you muttered.

"i like it," he offered.

"i didn't do it for you."

"i know," he said quietly. "you never did anything for me. that's what i loved about you."

loved. past tense. the word stung more than it should have.

"is there a point to this conversation?" you asked sharply.

james looked down at his hands. "i just... miss talking to you."

"you should have thought about that before you made me hate you."

his eyes flashed with hurt. "is that what you think i did?"

"it's what you did, james," you said, your voice finally betraying emotion. "you were cruel. deliberate. you pushed and pushed until i broke. and then you fucked jessica hall two days later."

"it wasn't like that," he said, so quietly you almost didn't hear him.

"enlighten me, then," you challenged. "tell me how it was."

he opened his mouth, then closed it again. his eyes—those stupid hazel eyes you used to get lost in—filled with something like regret.

"i can't," he finally said.

you laughed bitterly. "that's what i thought."

you gathered your books and stood. "stay at the table. i'll go."

"wait," he said, reaching for your wrist but stopping just short of touching you. "your essay. is it for babbling?"

"what's it to you?"

"you translated this wrong," he said, pointing to a line on your parchment. "it's not 'eternal darkness' here—it's 'temporary shadow.'"

you stared at him. "since when do you know ancient runes?"

a flush crept up his neck. "i've been studying it. i know how much you love it."

the implication hung between you. he'd been learning your favorite subject, even after everything.

"well, thanks," you said stiffly, correcting the translation. then, against your better judgment: "how's your dad?"

pain flickered across his face. "he, uh... he died. last month."

your heart dropped. "james, i'm—"

"don't," he cut you off. "don't say you're sorry. i know you are. it's who you are."

silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words.

"i should go," you finally said.

"for what it's worth, i never slept with jessica."

you froze, back still to him.

"she passed out on the couch," he continued quietly. "i put a blanket over her and slept on the floor. everyone just assumed..."

"why are you telling me this now?" you asked, still not turning around.

"because i'm tired of you thinking i'm someone i'm not," he said simply. "i'm many things, but i'm not a liar. and i never stopped loving you."

"you're an asshole!" you screamed, tears streaming down your face. three months ago, in an empty classroom, the beginning of the end.

"if that's what you think, then leave," james said coldly, his face a mask of indifference that didn't reach his eyes.

"what happened to you?" you asked, voice breaking. "where is the james i fell in love with?"

"maybe he was never real," he replied, turning away. "maybe this is who i really am."

"look at me," you demanded. when he didn't, you grabbed his arm. "look at me and tell me you don't love me anymore."

he finally turned, his eyes suspiciously bright. for a moment, his mask slipped, and you saw such pain that it stole your breath.

then it was gone, replaced by that cruel indifference. "i don't love you anymore."

the world stopped turning.

"liar," you whispered.

but you walked away anyway, because even if he was lying, he'd made his choice. and it wasn't you.

you didn't turn around in the library. you couldn't look at him, couldn't let him see how his words affected you.

"good night, james," you said, and walked away.

that night, you lay awake in your dormitory, staring at the ceiling. the anger that had sustained you for months was crumbling, leaving behind confusion and an ache that wouldn't subside.

"he never slept with her," you whispered to yourself. "he never slept with her."

but he'd still pushed you away. he'd still chosen to hurt you rather than let you support him through his father's illness. that betrayal couldn't be undone with one truth.

could it?

the next morning at breakfast, you felt his eyes on you the moment you entered the great hall. this time, you didn't look away. this time, you met his gaze across the crowded room.

he looked surprised, then hopeful. cautiously, he raised his hand in a small wave.

you didn't wave back. but you didn't look away either.

it wasn't forgiveness. it wasn't even the beginning of forgiveness. but it was something.

a crack in the ice.

maybe, three hundred more breakfasts from now, you'd be ready to hear him out. maybe you'd be ready to understand why he pushed you away when his father was dying, why he thought hurting you was better than letting you in.

or maybe not.

you picked up your spoon and began to eat your porridge, aware of him still watching you, aware of the small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

it wasn't over. not yet.

but whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.

three days passed. you'd caught him watching you in every shared class, during meals, in the corridors between lessons. his eyes followed you like a ghost, haunting your periphery.

you still hadn't spoken since that night in the library.

"he's miserable," lily evans said, sliding into the seat next to you in the common room on friday night. your friendship with lily had always been complicated—her history with james, the way she'd become a tentative ally after your breakup.

"that's not my problem," you replied, not looking up from your charms essay.

lily sighed. "i know what he did was awful. but—"

"but what?" you snapped, finally meeting her eyes. "you're going to defend him now? after all the shit you've said about him over the years?"

"people change," she said quietly. "he's changed."

you laughed bitterly. "into what? someone who destroys the people who love him? who pushes away anyone who tries to help him?"

lily studied you for a long moment. "he didn't want you to watch his father die," she finally said. "he didn't want you to see him fall apart."

your quill snapped between your fingers, ink splattering across your parchment. "he told you that?"

"no," lily admitted. "remus did. but only because he's worried about you both."

you closed your eyes, fighting back the wave of emotions threatening to drown you. "i would have been there for him," you whispered. "through anything."

"i know," lily said gently. "that's exactly what scared him."

"i think i want to be an auror," you told james, sprawled across his bed that summer before fifth year, his parents downstairs making dinner. "or maybe a curse-breaker."

james traced his fingers along your arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. "you'd be brilliant at either."

"what about you?" you asked, turning to face him.

he shrugged. "dad wants me to join the ministry."

"but what do you want?"

james was quiet for a long moment. "i want to do something that matters," he finally said. "something brave."

you reached up, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "you're the bravest person i know, james potter."

he caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "only when i'm with you," he whispered. "you make me better than i am."

"no," you said, shaking your head. "i just see who you really are."

he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. "swear you'll never leave me," he whispered, vulnerability raw in his voice.

"i swear," you promised. "not even if you beg me to."

how terribly ironic those words would become.

you skipped dinner that night, taking refuge in the astronomy tower. the stars always calmed you, reminded you how small your problems really were in the grand scheme of things.

except this pain didn't feel small. it felt all-consuming.

"i thought i might find you here."

you didn't need to turn to know it was him. james' footsteps were as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

"are you following me now?" you asked, keeping your eyes on the stars.

"no," he said, stopping several feet away. "but i know you come here when you're upset."

"i'm not upset."

"liar," he said softly.

the accusation—so gentle, so knowing—broke something inside you. you spun around, fury rising like a tidal wave.

"don't you dare," you hissed. "don't you fucking dare call me a liar. not after what you did."

james flinched but held his ground. "i deserve that."

"you deserve worse," you spat. "you want to know what upsets me, james? the fact that you decided, all on your own, that i wasn't strong enough to handle your pain. that you'd rather destroy us than let me see you vulnerable."

"it wasn't about you not being strong enough," he said quietly.

"then what?" you demanded, stepping closer. "what possible reason could justify how you treated me?"

something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "you want to know how my father died?" he asked, voice cracking. "he wasted away. inch by inch. day by day. until he wasn't my father anymore—just a shell. i watched my mother break apart trying to save him, trying to be strong for him. i watched her lose herself in his suffering."

tears streamed down his face now, but he made no move to wipe them away. "i couldn't do that to you," he whispered. "i couldn't watch you destroy yourself trying to save me."

"that wasn't your choice to make," you said, your own voice breaking. "i loved you. i would have—"

"exactly," he interrupted. "you would have given everything. sacrificed everything. and i would have let you, because i was selfish and scared and falling apart."

you shook your head, anger warring with grief. "so instead you decided to be cruel?"

"i thought if you hated me, it would be easier," he admitted. "for both of us."

"don't touch me," james snapped, jerking away from your hand. two weeks before the breakup, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

"james, please," you begged. "talk to me. whatever's happening, we can face it together."

"there is no 'we,'" he said coldly. "there's me, and there's you, and right now i need you to leave me the fuck alone."

you stepped back as if slapped. "what's happened to you?"

he laughed, a hollow sound that chilled your blood. "maybe i'm finally showing you who i really am. maybe this is who i've always been."

"i don't believe that," you whispered.

"then you're a fool," he replied, walking away without looking back.

later that night, you found him on the quidditch pitch, flying recklessly in the pouring rain. when he finally landed, soaked and shivering, you were waiting with a towel and dry clothes.

he stared at you, something like desperation in his eyes. "why are you still here?" he asked, voice raw.

"because i love you," you said simply. "even when you're like this."

for a moment—just a moment—his mask cracked. he reached for you, pulling you against his wet clothes, burying his face in your neck. "i don't deserve you," he whispered.

"maybe not," you agreed, holding him tightly. "but you have me anyway."

the next day, he acted like it never happened. the walls were back up, higher than before.

"you broke my heart," you whispered in the astronomy tower, stars witnessing your confession. "not when we broke up—i could have survived that. you broke it when you made me believe i never really knew you at all."

james looked stricken. "i'm sorry," he said, and the words seemed torn from somewhere deep inside him. "god, i'm so fucking sorry."

"sorry doesn't fix anything."

"i know," he agreed. "nothing can fix what i did. but i need you to know that everything before—every moment, every word, every promise—that was real. that was the truest thing in my life."

silence stretched between you, heavy with history and pain and love that refused to die, no matter how badly you both had wounded it.

"i saw you," you finally said. "with that ravenclaw girl last week. she looks like me."

james paled. "it's not—"

"i don't care who you fuck, potter," you cut him off. "but at least have the decency not to replace me with my clone."

"she asked me for help with transfiguration," he said quietly. "nothing happened."

"do i look like i care?" you asked, but your voice betrayed you, cracking on the last word.

"yes," he said simply. "you do."

you turned away, unable to bear the honesty in his eyes. "leave me alone, james."

"i can't," he whispered. "i've tried. for months, i've tried. but i can't stop loving you. i can't stop missing you. i can't stop hating myself for what i did to us."

you closed your eyes, fighting back tears. "that's your problem, not mine."

"look at me," he pleaded. "just look at me and tell me you don't love me anymore."

the echo of your own words from months ago hit you like a physical blow. slowly, you turned to face him.

"i don't love you anymore," you said, but your voice shook, betraying the lie.

james stepped closer, closing the distance between you. "liar," he whispered, his breath warm against your face.

"i think i want to marry you someday," james murmured against your hair, both of you hidden beneath his invisibility cloak in the astronomy tower, breaking curfew to watch a meteor shower the winter of sixth year.

you laughed softly. "we're sixteen, james."

"i know," he said, tightening his arms around you. "but i also know what i want. who i want."

you turned in his arms to face him. "you might change your mind."

"never," he said with such conviction that your heart stuttered. "you're it for me. the rest of my life, you're it."

you kissed him then, slow and deep and full of promises neither of you were old enough to make but made anyway.

his proximity was intoxicating, dangerous. you could smell his cologne—the same one you'd given him last christmas. you stepped back, needing distance.

"we can't do this," you said. "you can't just decide you want me back and expect me to fall into your arms."

"i know," he said, not following when you retreated. "i know i have no right to ask anything of you."

"then what do you want from me?" you demanded.

james ran a hand through his hair—that familiar, infuriating gesture that had always made your heart skip. "a chance," he said simply. "not forgiveness, not yet. just... a chance to show you who i really am. who we were."

"i know who we were," you said bitterly. "we were everything. and then we were nothing."

"we were never nothing," he whispered.

you turned away, unable to look at him anymore. "i have to go."

"please," he said, desperation edging into his voice. "just tell me if there's any hope. even the smallest chance."

you paused at the door, not turning around. "i don't know, james," you admitted. "i honestly don't know."

three days later, you found a small package outside your dormitory door. inside was a vial of swirling silver memories and a note in james' handwriting: these are my truths. if you want to see them, pensieve in dumbledore's office. password is 'acid pops.' he knows you're coming.

you stared at the vial for hours, turning it over in your hands, watching the memories shimmer and dance.

did you want to see inside his head? see the truth he couldn't speak aloud?

did you want to risk understanding him?

because understanding might lead to forgiveness. and forgiveness might lead back to him.

and you weren't sure if you were ready to fall again, knowing how badly it would hurt if he let you break a second time.

but that night, as you lay in bed staring at the vial on your nightstand, you made your decision.

tomorrow, you would see his truths.

tomorrow, you would decide if what you had was truly over.

morning arrived with a sense of inevitability. you'd barely slept, the vial of memories a constant presence in your consciousness. by dawn, you were already dressed and waiting for an appropriate hour to visit the headmaster's office.

at precisely eight o'clock, you found yourself standing before the stone gargoyle.

"acid pops," you murmured, and the statue leapt aside, revealing the spiral staircase.

dumbledore was waiting, as if he'd been expecting you at this exact moment. his blue eyes twinkled knowingly over his half-moon spectacles.

"miss y/l/n," he greeted. "mr. potter informed me you might be visiting. the pensieve is ready for your use."

you clutched the vial tightly. "thank you, professor."

"memories are curious things," dumbledore mused as he led you to the cabinet where the pensieve sat. "they show us truth, but always through the lens of the one who experienced it. remember that as you view them."

with those cryptic words, he excused himself, leaving you alone with the shallow stone basin.

hands trembling slightly, you uncorked the vial and poured the silvery contents into the pensieve. the memories swirled, hypnotic and terrifying. taking a deep breath, you leaned forward until your face touched the surface, and then you were falling, falling...

────────────

james sat beside a hospital bed in st. mungo's, holding the frail hand of a man who barely resembled the strong, vibrant fleamont potter you remembered from previous summers. his father's skin was pallid, stretched thin over protruding bones, his breathing labored.

"how is school, son?" fleamont asked, his voice a ghost of its former self.

"good," james lied, forcing a smile. "we're top of the house cup standings."

"and your girl?" fleamont's eyes brightened slightly. "when will you bring her to visit again?"

james swallowed hard. "soon, dad. she's... she's busy with exams."

another lie. you watched james' face carefully, saw the pain etched into every line.

euphemia potter entered then, carrying tea. her normally impeccable appearance was disheveled, dark circles prominent beneath her eyes. she looked like she'd aged years in months.

"james," she said, her voice brittle. "your father needs rest. perhaps you should return to school now."

james nodded, pressing a kiss to his father's forehead. "i'll be back next weekend."

in the corridor outside, euphemia collapsed against her son, silent tears streaming down her face. "the healers say there's nothing more they can do," she whispered. "it's just a matter of time now."

james held her, his own face a mask of controlled anguish. "how much time?"

"weeks. maybe a month."

you watched as something hardened in james' eyes—a decision forming.

"don't tell anyone," he said. "not yet."

the scene shifted. james in dumbledore's office, receiving the news of his father's deteriorating condition. "you'll need to prepare yourself, mr. potter," the headmaster said gently. "and perhaps consider who you wish to have support you through this difficult time."

"no one," james said firmly. "i don't want anyone to know."

dumbledore studied him over his spectacles. "isolation rarely eases grief, mr. potter."

"i'm not isolating myself," james argued. "i have my friends. sirius, remus, peter."

"and miss y/l/n?" dumbledore inquired. "surely she would want to support you."

the memory showed james turning away, his voice tight. "especially not her."

another shift. james in the boys' dormitory, sirius confronting him.

"you're destroying her," sirius said bluntly. "and yourself in the process."

"it's better this way," james insisted, pacing like a caged animal. "you've seen what this is doing to my mother. she's fading away right alongside him, sirius. i can't... i can't watch that happen to y/n too."

"so your solution is to make her hate you?" sirius demanded. "that's fucked up, prongs."

"she'll move on," james said, but his voice broke on the words. "she'll find someone better. someone whole."

"you're a fucking idiot," sirius said, but there was no heat in it—only sadness.

the scene changed again. james standing outside the charms classroom, watching you laugh with your friends. the naked longing on his face was devastating. remus appeared beside him.

"it's not too late," remus said quietly. "tell her the truth."

"it is too late," james replied, turning away as you emerged from the classroom. "i made sure of it."

memories began to blur together now—fragments of james receiving owls from st. mungo's, sleepless nights, moments where he nearly broke and ran to find you, only to stop himself. and underlying it all, a sense of desperate, suffocating love for you that he was systematically trying to destroy.

then the party after your breakup. james, drunk and miserable, while everyone around him celebrated. jessica hall approaching him, flirting openly.

"want to go somewhere quieter?" she suggested, trailing her fingers down his arm.

james looked at her through glazed eyes. for a moment, it seemed he might agree—might try to lose himself in someone else.

instead, he shook his head. "i can't," he said simply.

later, jessica passed out on the couch, james covering her with a blanket before collapsing on the floor nearby, tears streaming silently down his face as he clutched something in his hand—a small velvet box containing a ring you'd never seen.

the final memory was the most painful. james at his father's funeral, standing stoic beside his mother as they lowered the coffin into the ground. you weren't there—couldn't be there—because you didn't know.

afterward, in the empty potter house, james finally broke. he destroyed his room in a fit of grief and rage, shattering photo frames of the two of you, ripping down the quidditch posters you'd always teased him about, smashing the mirror where you'd once stood behind him, arms wrapped around his waist as you both got ready for the day.

when the destruction was complete, he sank to his knees among the debris, clutching a salvaged photograph of you to his chest, whispering your name like a prayer.

────────────

you emerged from the pensieve gasping, tears streaming down your face. the room spun around you as you gripped the edge of dumbledore's desk for support.

it was too much—too raw, too real. the james in those memories was both familiar and foreign. the boy you loved, twisted by grief and misguided protection.

you needed air. needed space to process what you'd seen.

dumbledore was nowhere in sight as you fled his office, running blindly through the corridors until you found yourself outside, the cool spring air hitting your tear-streaked face.

without conscious thought, your feet carried you toward the lake—your spot, where you and james had spent countless hours hidden from the world.

he was there. somehow, you knew he would be.

james sat beneath the beech tree, staring out at the water, looking more vulnerable than you'd seen him in months. he turned at the sound of your approach, hope and fear warring in his eyes.

"you saw," he said. not a question.

"i saw," you confirmed, your voice raw from crying.

silence stretched between you, filled with everything you couldn't say.

"why didn't you just tell me?" you finally asked, the question that had haunted you for months.

james looked down at his hands. "because you would have stayed," he said simply. "you would have sacrificed everything to be there for me, and i couldn't bear it."

"that wasn't your choice to make," you said, anger flaring again despite what you'd witnessed.

"i know," he admitted. "i know that now. i was... i was trying to protect you from my pain."

"by causing me pain instead?" you demanded, stepping closer. "by making me believe everything we had was a lie?"

james flinched. "i thought it would be easier if you hated me."

"easier for whom?" you spat. "certainly not for me. do you have any idea what it did to me, watching you become someone i didn't recognize? hearing you say you didn't love me anymore with that mouth that used to beg for mine?"

you were trembling now, months of suppressed rage finally breaking free. "that mouth that used to whisper how much you loved me, how you'd never hurt me—and then you turned into a lying traitor right before my eyes."

james looked stricken, each word landing like a physical blow.

"i deserved that," he whispered. "all of it and worse."

"yes, you did," you agreed. "you took everything from me, james. not just our relationship—you took my trust, my belief that i could recognize truth from lies, my ability to let anyone close again."

you sank down onto the grass, suddenly exhausted. "i understand why you did it now," you admitted. "but understanding doesn't erase what happened."

james remained standing, keeping his distance. "i don't expect it to," he said softly. "i just... i needed you to know the truth. even if it changes nothing between us."

you looked up at him, really looked at him for the first time in months. behind the grief and regret, you could still see traces of your james—the boy who had loved you completely, who had promised you forever and meant it.

"it changes things," you finally said, voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of the lake. "but i don't know how much."

hope flickered in his eyes—fragile, tentative. "what does that mean?"

you stood, brushing grass from your robes. "it means i need time, james. time to decide if what you did is something i can forgive. time to figure out if there's anything left worth salvaging."

"i'll give you all the time you need," he said immediately. "i'll wait—however long it takes."

you nodded, turning to leave, then paused. "your father... i wish i could have been there. for both of you."

james' eyes filled with tears. "he asked about you," he said, voice breaking. "right until the end."

the admission cracked something inside you. without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him—the first time you'd touched in months. he stiffened in surprise, then melted against you, his body shaking with silent sobs.

"i'm so sorry," he whispered against your hair. "i'm so fucking sorry."

you held him, letting him break apart in your arms the way he'd been so afraid to do. this wasn't forgiveness—not yet—but it was something. a beginning, perhaps. or at least not an ending.

when you finally pulled away, his face was wet with tears, but there was something lighter in his expression—as if sharing the burden had lifted some of his grief.

"i should go," you said softly.

he nodded, not trying to stop you. "thank you," he said. "for seeing. for understanding, even if you can't forgive."

you turned to leave, then looked back one last time. "i don't know if we can ever be what we were," you said honestly. "too much has happened. but maybe... maybe we can find out who we are now."

it wasn't a promise. it wasn't even hope, really. but it was possibility.

and for now, that would have to be enough.

a week passed. you avoided each other by unspoken agreement, both needing space to process what had happened by the lake.

you caught glimpses of him—in the great hall, during classes, across the common room. each time, your eyes would meet briefly before one of you looked away. the air between you was charged, electric with possibility and uncertainty.

your friends noticed the shift. "something's different," lily observed one evening as you both studied in the library. "between you and james."

"nothing's different," you lied, not looking up from your potions text.

lily arched an eyebrow. "you looked at him yesterday. actually looked at him, without that hatred in your eyes."

you sighed, closing your book. "i saw his memories," you admitted. "in dumbledore's pensieve."

"oh," lily said softly. "his father?"

you nodded. "and everything else."

"does that change things?"

you traced a finger along a scratch in the wooden table. "it explains things. i'm not sure it changes them."

but that wasn't entirely true. something had changed—you could feel it every time james entered a room, the awareness that prickled across your skin, the way your body still responded to his presence despite everything.

understanding had eroded some of your anger, but not all of it. in its place was something more complicated—a tangle of hurt, longing, and unresolved desire that made it difficult to breathe when he was near.

"i want you," james whispered against your neck, his hands sliding beneath your shirt. seventh year had just begun, before everything fell apart. you were hidden in the room of requirement, celebrating your anniversary.

"show me," you challenged, arching into his touch.

his eyes darkened as he looked at you, hunger and adoration mingling in his gaze. "tell me what you want," he said, voice rough with desire.

"everything," you replied, pulling him closer. "i want everything."

later, curled against him in the tangled sheets, you traced the contours of his face with gentle fingers. "promise me something," you whispered.

"anything," he said immediately.

"promise you'll always tell me the truth. no matter how difficult it is."

james caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "i promise," he said solemnly.

another promise broken.

the astronomy tower had become your refuge again, a place to escape when thoughts of james threatened to overwhelm you. past midnight on a friday, you leaned against the stone parapet, staring at the stars and trying to quiet your mind.

the door creaked open behind you.

you didn't need to turn to know who it was. weeks of avoiding each other, and now here he was, drawn to the same place as you.

"i'll go," james said quietly.

"stay," you replied, surprising yourself. "if you want."

he approached cautiously, keeping a careful distance between you as he leaned against the parapet. for a long while, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with stars and shared history and things unsaid.

"i miss you," he finally said, the words startlingly honest in the darkness. "every fucking day, i miss you."

you closed your eyes, his voice washing over you like a physical touch. "i'm still angry," you admitted. "i understand why you did it, but i'm still so fucking angry, james."

"you have every right to be," he said. "i wouldn't expect anything else."

you turned to look at him then, really look at him. moonlight sculpted his features, throwing shadows beneath his cheekbones, glinting off his glasses. he looked beautiful and devastated and so familiar it hurt.

"i miss you too," you whispered, the confession torn from somewhere deep inside you. "and i hate that i miss you."

something shifted in his expression—hope warring with restraint. "where does that leave us?"

"i don't know," you said honestly. "i don't trust you anymore. but i can't stop wanting you either."

james inhaled sharply at your words. "y/n—"

"don't," you cut him off. "don't say anything. not yet."

you stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. close enough to see his pupils dilate, to hear his breath catch.

"i'm still so fucking mad at you," you whispered, your voice shaking. "i'm mad at you for lying. i'm mad at you for pushing me away. i'm mad at you for making me love you so much that even after everything, i still can't stop."

james remained perfectly still, as if afraid any movement might shatter this fragile moment between you.

"i need you to understand something," you continued, your voice low and intense. "if—and that's a big if—if we ever try again, it can't be like before. you don't get to decide what i can handle. you don't get to 'protect' me by lying. you talk to me, even when it's hard. especially when it's hard."

"i understand," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"do you?" you challenged, stepping even closer. "because i need to know that you get it, james. i need to know that you understand what you did to us."

"i do," he whispered. "i destroyed the best thing in my life because i was scared and stupid and thought i knew what was best for you."

"and you'll never do that again?" you demanded.

"never," he swore, his eyes never leaving yours. "i swear on my life, on everything i am."

you reached up, your hand hovering near his face without touching. "i want to believe you."

"then believe me," he said simply.

something broke inside you then—the last of your resistance crumbling beneath the weight of need and anger and love that had never truly died. you closed the distance between you, your mouth crashing against his with bruising force.

james froze for a heartbeat, then responded with equal desperation, his hands tangling in your hair as he backed you against the stone wall. the kiss was nothing like the tender exchanges you once shared—this was raw, hungry, almost violent in its intensity.

you bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, tasting copper on your tongue. "i'm still angry," you gasped against his mouth.

"i know," he groaned, lifting you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. "be angry. i deserve it."

your nails dug into his shoulders through his shirt, marking him, claiming him even as you punished him. his hands gripped your thighs with bruising pressure, his body pressed against yours with a need that matched your own.

"this doesn't fix anything," you warned between kisses, your breath coming in harsh pants.

"i know," he repeated, his lips trailing fire down your neck. "nothing fixes it. nothing except time and truth and proving myself to you every day for as long as you'll let me."

you pulled back, forcing him to meet your eyes. "no more lies," you demanded. "ever."

"no more lies," he agreed, his gaze steady on yours. "i'm an open book to you. always."

for a long moment, you searched his face, looking for any hint of deception. finding none, you pulled him back to you, your kiss softer now but no less desperate.

"i still love you," you confessed against his mouth, the words both surrender and challenge. "god help me, i still fucking love you."

james pressed his forehead to yours, his breathing ragged. "i never stopped," he whispered. "not for a single moment."

you disentangled yourself from him, feet finding the floor again. standing face to face, both of you disheveled and breathing hard, reality began to seep back in.

"we can't just pick up where we left off," you said, straightening your clothes with trembling hands. "too much has happened."

"i know," james said, not reaching for you again though his eyes betrayed how much he wanted to. "i don't expect that."

"so what now?" you asked.

james ran a hand through his hair—that achingly familiar gesture that had once made you roll your eyes fondly. "now we take it one day at a time," he said. "we start over. slowly. on your terms."

you nodded, stepping back to create distance between you. your body still hummed with desire, your lips still tingling from his kiss. "i need to think," you said. "i need to be sure this is what i want."

disappointment flickered across his face, but he nodded. "whatever you need."

you moved toward the door, pausing with your hand on the handle. "james?"

"yes?"

"i'm not promising anything," you said. "but i'm not saying no either."

a ghost of a smile touched his lips. "that's more than i deserve."

"probably," you agreed, a reluctant smile of your own emerging. "i'll see you tomorrow."

as you descended the stairs from the astronomy tower, your body still ached with unresolved tension, your mind racing with conflicting emotions. nothing was resolved. nothing was fixed. but something had shifted—hope rising from the ashes of what you'd lost.

you were still angry. you still didn't fully trust him. but beneath it all was the undeniable truth that had never changed, even when you wished it would:

you loved james potter. despite everything, in spite of everything, because of everything—you loved him.

and maybe, just maybe, that was somewhere to start.

[m00neroni]

prompt: patronus. @wolfstarmicrofic word count: 739 september 8th ao3 post

“This is impossible” Sirius huffs and sits back in one of the few scattered chairs around the DADA classroom, clearly defeated. “What’s that shit about happy memories? Fucking idiotic, it’s not even working.”

“Have we finally found a spell that not even the great Sirius Black can perform? Should we call the Prophet? Inform the Ministry?” James jokes from his seat at Remus’ right, and he only receives a glare in return, when any other person would have been hexed into the next year just before they finished the sentence.

Remus considers it a bit hypocritical, seeing as James is also struggling with it, only having managed to conjure a faint silvery mist, the same as Peter. Remus, for his part, hasn’t even tried yet, scared of its possible corporal form.

Still, he knows the drill and can help his friend.

“You’re thinking too much and too loud, Sirius.” He says, kindly, because the other boy’s frustration is too evident and it seems like the best approach. “Which memory are you using?”

“When the Hat sent me to Gryffindor.” Sirius replies, almost in a whisper, genuinely pouting like a baby.

“See? That’s the problem.” Remus says. “That memory isn’t good enough.”

“Why not?” His friend frowns, clearly confused but he doesn’t look hurt or offended. “It’s the happiest memory I can think of.”

“But it’s tainted, Pads.” He presses, not unkindly, and leans forward to touch Sirius’ forearm. “You were stressed and worried and your family were horrible just about twenty minutes later it happened. You need something without negative connotations.”

“Excellent piece of advice, Mr Lupin!” Professor Musgrove’s voice hollers from behind them. “Our chosen memories must be as pure as possible, free of bad feelings. Even if we think happiness is overruling them, sometimes the hurt is too sharp to be defeated. Please, my boy and resident assistant teacher, will you demonstrate the spell to the class?”

“Sir, I don’t–”

“I insist!” The man ignores him. “Your theoretical knowledge should be enough, and you clearly are in control of your feelings.”

Yeah, I wish I was, you twat.

Remus grimaces towards his friends, trying not to notice how Sirius is staring right into his eyes, and stands up. He should have shut up, but Sirius needed his help and he just… Whatever now, too late. 

The werewolf closes his eyes and tries to find a good memory, quickly falling for the morning of the first Full Moon after his three mates knew what happened to him once a month, about the monster. After the moment they accepted him completely, and without asking anything in return. It might go against the idea of it not being tainted by bad sensations (the transformation is horrible on its own, obviously) but the happiness he felt when he woke up and saw Sirius sleeping in that uncomfortable chair right next to his bed. 

The others have joined here and there, but Sirius has always been the constant feature. It is he who Remus thinks about for this.

“Expecto Patronum.”

He would have known it had worked even without the collective gasp of his classmates, just by how the air moves around him and the tip of his fingers tickle. It is a wonderful sensation, so, even if he is scared shitless of facing the reality and whatever comes next, Remus opens his eyes slowly. 

The silvery figure is clearly and evidently canine and massive, but that is where the similarities with Moony end. The snout is different, the ears bigger and the paws less menacing. Even the doggy grin is an exact replica of Padfoot’s.

Remus’ hearts stop for a second there, but he can’t look anywhere else, too entranced and shocked by the implications. 

“Amazing! Look at that–!”

“Expecto Patronum.”

Sirius’ deep voice cuts the air and the teacher’s praising, conjuring a mist that quickly takes form almost as big as the one in front of Remus, a shape that he hasn’t seen in front of him ever in his life but has been described enough to him that Remus could recognise anywhere. The eyes, though, are the exact same ones he sees in the mirror every day, and he has almost a full minute to be shocked before the impressive spirit of Moony joins Padfoot in a tackle game.

“Well, who could have expected this?” James chuckles, and Remus finally looks at Sirius.

Who could have expected this, indeed. 

[oh-phoenixx]

"Ball" - Black Brothers/Jegulus microfic - 937 words

-

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why Remus had all his scars, why he and his friends were busy every full moon. After realising that Remus was a werewolf, Regulus understood quickly what his friends had done to help him. He decided to do some research into becoming an animagus, and at first, it was just to understand how his brother, James, and Peter had done it. He had no desire to become an animagus himself, really. But he grew curious, eager. It was a long process, yes, but he could do it. 

So, on a full moon, he put a mandrake leaf in his mouth, which he would have to keep there until the next month. He collected everything else he would need with the help of Pandora, the only person he had told his plan. 

Regulus stopped Sirius outside the Great Hall after the following full moon. “Sirius, can I talk to you?” Regulus asked, his voice coming out smaller than he had intended.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Sirius replied with a nod, waving his hand for James, Peter, and Remus to go inside. “What’s up?”

“Don’t laugh,” Regulus started nervously, “but I’m…I’m trying to become an animagus. And I know you and your friends already are, and I wanted your help.”

Sirius’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what you mean, we, uh, we aren’t…”

“Sirius,” Regulus sighed. “I know you are, I’m not an idiot. And I know that Remus is a-” Regulus looked around, remembering that they were in public. “Well, I know what he is.”

Sirius gaped at him further, looking worried. He seemed, for a moment, as though he might argue, but instead took a deep breath and gave in. “Fine. I’ll write down the steps.”

“I’ve already done it all. I just,” Regulus’s voice became an embarrassed murmur, “I wanted you to be there when I, um, transformed.”

Sirius’s concerned frown turned into a grin, and he tried to ruffle his brother’s hair. Regulus sidestepped and glared at him, though Sirius wasn’t deterred. 

Regulus regretted asking him for help, though, when he transformed the next day and it turned out his animagus was a tiny black kitten. When he managed to become human again, Sirius was clutching his stomach and laughing like a maniac.

“It’s not that funny!” Regulus grumbled.

Sirius didn’t seem to agree.

-

Quite soon after becoming an animagus, Regulus found that it was much more comfortable for him to be a cat than a human being. Maybe it was because he was always trying to make himself smaller anyway; maybe because, as a cat, he could just hiss at anyone who came too close, which was not ‘socially acceptable’ for a person.

Regulus sat outside the Gryffindor common room one day, and followed after a student as they stepped inside the portrait. He had intended to talk to his brother, but once inside he found Sirius, James, and Marlene all sitting by the fire. He walked over and curled up by Sirius’s legs, not wanting to disturb his brother's evening.

“Aw, look at him!” James nearly shouted, leaning down to stroke Regulus.

“Don’t, James,” Marlene warned, “I tried to pet him the other day and he scratched me. He’s evil.”

“He’s not evil, Marls,” James frowned, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “He’s a little ball of fluff.”

James picked the cat up and set him on his lap, stroking him absent-mindedly as he continued his conversation with Marlene. Sirius, however, glared at the small black cat. If anyone else had tried that, Regulus would have hissed or bitten them. Regulus was sure, as Sirius looked between him and James suspiciously, that he knew.

It became a habit for Regulus, going into the Gryffindor common room and sitting with James. Everyone else was confused as to why the little black cat hated everyone but him, and James took pride in this. 

“What do you think I should call him?” James asked his friends, the cat nuzzling his face. 

“Leo,” Sirius scoffed. 

James didn’t hear the sarcasm in his tone, and held the cat a few inches from his face. “Leo!”

-

“Regulus,” Sirius called.

Regulus tried to walk away, pretending not to have heard him, but Sirius caught his arm before he could. He dragged him to an empty corner of the hallway, trying to catch Regulus’s eye. 

“You’re in love with him,” Sirius stated. Regulus’s mouth opened and closed, searching for a defense. He couldn’t find any. “It’s okay, you know,” Sirius said, softer now. “But I wish you would have told me.”

“Thought you’d laugh,” Regulus mumbled. “It’s stupid.”

“Nah, it’s not. I mean, I probably would have laughed, yeah, but it’s not stupid.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, and he would never admit that knowing Sirius wasn’t annoyed felt like a weight being lifted off his shoulders. Steeling himself, Regulus clenched his jaw and fixed Sirius with a glare.

“If you tell him, Sirius, I swear I will pull your fucking teeth out,” Regulus threatened. 

“Yeah, whatever you say, loverboy,” Sirius grinned, walking away. 

-

It was months before Regulus built up the courage to confess. He was looking everywhere but James’s eyes as he wondered how to phrase this. 

“I know what you’re going to say,” James smiled down at him.

“You do?” Regulus asked, taking a deep, shaky breath.

“You’re Leo,” James declared, seeming proud of his discovery.

Regulus tried to form words, though was momentarily stunned. “That’s not- I was going to tell you I was in love with you, but how did you know about-”

“You’re in love with me?!”

[moonysweetheart]

Something happens and I'm head over heels

summary: James suddenly realised he likes Yn, but will his clumsiness allow him to confess?

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

word count: 1,073 | ☆⋆ MASTERLIST ☆⋆

warnings: none :)

“Padfoot! Moony! Wormtail! Reunion! Emergency reunion!!!” James bellowed as he stormed into the Great Hall, grabbing Peter and Sirius by the backs of their collars and dragging them along.

A few students glanced their way, mildly curious, but most quickly lost interest. It wasn’t exactly unusual for James to burst in yelling, nor was it the first time he’d called an “emergency reunion” in front of everyone. The last time it happened, Remus had teased him mercilessly—with Marlene and Lily enthusiastically joining in—for summoning them to help him choose a decent pair of swim trunks because Yn was joining his family on holiday.

“And what’s so urgent now, James?” asked Remus, his voice calm but tinged with sarcasm.

“I can’t talk here, Moony,” James said in a hushed but intense tone. “Someone might hear, and then they’ll tell her before I do!”

“Could you please let go, James? You’re suffocating me,” Peter wheezed, coughing for dramatic effect. James muttered a quick “Sorry,” releasing both Peter and Sirius, though the latter shot him an exasperated glare.

“You need to get a grip, Prongs,” Sirius said, smoothing out his shirt. “You look like a madman half the time.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s just get to the dormitory,” James insisted, his eyes wide and urgent. “I’ve discovered something. Something really, really important. And I need your help.”

The three boys exchanged glances, a silent but mutual question passing between them: What now?

They follow James anyway. They always did.

As the dormitory door closed, Sirius voiced.

“Okay, spill it, Prongs. What’s all this about?” Sirius asked, folding his arms.

The group exchanged glances. James was running his hands through his hair like a madman, sporting a desperate yet ridiculously happy grin. He glanced around the room conspiratorially before leaning in to whisper.

“I think—no, wait—I know,” he grinned wider. “I love Yn.”

His smile practically split his face.

“Didn’t you skip a few steps there?” Peter asked, amused. “Like, you like her, you start dating, and then you fall in love. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”

“Apparently not,” Remus cut in, smirking. “James is trying to be the new Romeo. Who knows? Maybe the new Werther—completely desperate and lovesick.”

“Who’s Romeo?” the other three asked in unison.

“And what the hell is a Veader, Moony?” Sirius added, looking both puzzled and offended.

“Forget it,” Remus sighed. “I keep forgetting you lot barely read magical books, let alone Muggle ones. Anyway, carry on, James.”

“I already told you!” James exclaimed.

“What do you need us for?” Sirius asked, raising a brow.

“Yeah, mate,” Peter chimed in. “You’re the one who has to tell her how you feel. We can’t do that for you.”

“I know that,” James said, exasperated. “But I need you guys to handle the girls. Distract them so I can get some alone time with Yn. My mum says women like sentimental men. I want to plan something special…”

Thud, thud, thud.

A knock on the door made them all freeze.

“James, are you in there?”

The boys exchanged wide-eyed looks. Remus clamped a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh at James’s utterly panicked expression.

“It’s Yn,” James whispered. The boys all nodded, smirking at his antics.

“Yeah, James, it’s me,” Yn called from the other side of the door. “Can you open up? I need to talk to you—you mixed up our Potions assignments today!”

James looked helplessly at his friends, who gestured for him to get on with it.

“Hi, Yn,” James said, his usual confidence wavering. The words I love you, please date me teetered on the edge of his tongue, but he bit down, tasting a faint hint of iron.

“Hi, James,” she replied with a warm smile, stepping into the room. “Hi, boys!”

“Hi, Yn!” they chorused, suddenly very interested in the ceiling, walls, and floor. Yn grinned at their obvious attempt to avoid eye contact.

James frantically gestured for them to leave, but his “subtlety” was anything but. Before they could escape entirely, Yn stopped them.

“Come on, guys, there’s no point. You can stay.” She shot James an amused look, then turned back to the group.

“Your friend here,” she began, her tone teasing, “mixed up our Potions assignments. We’re supposed to analyze and annotate our Amortentia samples by tomorrow.”

Everyone except Yn looked utterly baffled.

“You know what James did?” she continued. “After class, he grabbed my cauldron instead of his. I ended up with his potion.” She walked over to James’s desk, opened his cauldron, and lifted the lid.

“Now, James,” she said, her voice almost playful, “tell me—what do you smell?”

Remus caught on first, his grin spreading as realization hit him.

“I… I…” James stammered, his brain stalling.

“It’s your scent,” Yn said, her voice softening. “Mixed with new books, cinnamon rolls, and lavender.”

The words hit him like a Bludger. The air seemed to stop.

“And your Amortentia?” she continued, her smile growing. “It smells like the beach, mint, apple pie… and my scent.”

She leaned in slightly, her grin now unmistakably smug.

“I like you too, James. A lot.”

For a moment, he was frozen, his brain struggling to catch up. The boys stared, equally stunned. Then, a grin began to spread across James’s face.

“Speak, Prongs!” Sirius shouted.

“Oh my gosh, Yn, I fucking adore you!” James exclaimed, scooping her up and spinning her around. When he set her down, his hands cupped her cheeks.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Of course I will,” she said, laughing.

“I love you!” He kissed her cheek. “I love you, I love you!” He kissed her temple, her nose, peppering her face with kisses.

“Merlin, Yn, why did it take me so long to figure this out?”

“I think we were both afraid of ruining our friendship,” she said nuzzling on his neck and smiling warmly. “And maybe a bit stubborn.”

“Good thing I’ve got a smart girl to guide me. My girlfriend.”

“My boyfriend,” she replied, her grin matching his.

From downstairs, Peter’s voice rang out. “You guys want anything from the kitchen?”

“No!” James shouted back, then leaned in to whisper, “I’m spending the afternoon with my girl. Just us.”

“You’re so cheesy,” Yn giggled.

“You’ll get used to it,” he replied, his smile softening before he kissed her again.

Hi! Here’s a quick story that popped into my head today. Hope you lot have enjoyed.

If you want to be on my taglist, please let me know!

Bye!!

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

[ms-snape]

Matchmaker (Young!remus lupin xHufflepuff!reader)

Request: not a request, requests are opened btw

Summary: Remus finally find the courage to confess to y/n, with a little help from Sirius.

Warning: insecurity, jealous Remus, Sirius being his flirty self, fluff, happy ending,marauders era

Word Count: 1413

Masterlist

---

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting golden hues across the Hogwarts grounds. As students flocked to the Great Hall for dinner, Remus Lupin lingered near the edge of the lake, a book clutched in his hand but neglected. His gaze was fixed on a figure shimmering in the last rays of sunlight—Y/N, a Hufflepuff with laughter that danced through the air like fireflies on a warm summer night.The other marauders were sprawled near him, their antics echoing while James was animatedly recounting another tale of his latest Quidditch exploits, his hands flailing dramatically.

“—and the Bludger nearly took my head off! Can you believe it?” he exclaimed, eyes sparkling.

Sirius leaned back, a smirk plastered on his face. “You mean it nearly took your ego off. You’re practically invincible, Potter.”

“Hey!” James shot back, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “You’d be singing a different tune if it had hit me!”

“Oi, Moony!” James' voice broke through his reverie, punctuated by the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel. Remus turned, forcing a smile "Are you listening to us or-"

“Yes, prongs,” he replied, though his eyes flicked back to Y/N.

“Still staring at her like a lovesick pup?” Sirius Black grinned as he joined them, a teasing glint in his eye. “You know, if you keep this up, you might just scare her away.”

“Shut it, Pads,” Remus muttered, a blush creeping up his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure, it’s not,” Peter Pettigrew chimed in, adjusting his hair as he caught up with the group. “You’ve only been watching her for weeks. Just confess already!”

Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple. She’s… different. Perfect, really. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Or you’re just scared,” Sirius said, a smirk playing on his lips. “How about this? I'll maybe go talk to her i mean she's pretty good looking. Get a rise out of you. Then you’ll have no choice but to confess.”

Remus shot him a glare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me,” Sirius said, his smile widening as he strode toward Y/N, who was laughing with her friends near a patch of wildflowers.

“Pads, don’t!” Remus called after him, but it was too late. Sirius was already leaning against a tree, his posture casual but his eyes sharp with mischief.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sirius called, his voice smooth like honey.

Y/N turned, her eyes lighting up with recognition. “Sirius! What’s up?”

“Just enjoying the view,” he replied, winking dramatically. “But I think it just got a whole lot better now that you’re here.”

“Ugh, Black,” she laughed, rolling her eyes, but a flush crept into her cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist?” he shot back, that trademark grin of his flashing.

Remus clenched his fists, a knot of jealousy tightening in his chest. He glanced at James, who was watching with an amused expression.

“See? This is what happens when you don’t act, Moony,” James said, nudging him with his elbow. “You have to let her know.”

“I can’t just—” Remus started, but the sight of Y/N laughing at something Sirius said made the words stick in his throat.

“Come on, go talk to her,” Peter encouraged, his eyes bright with excitement. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“What’s the worst?” Remus echoed, heart racing. “She could say no.”

“Or she could say yes,” James countered. “And then you won’t be the sad, lovesick werewolf anymore.”

“Those are some high stakes,” Remus muttered under his breath.

“High stakes are what make it fun,” James answere,while sirius was still flirting with Y/N. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to be swooned over by a Black?”

“Just… give me a minute,” Remus said, feeling the weight of the moment. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart.

As he watched, Sirius leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know what? I bet a girl like you would love a midnight stroll around the lake. Just the two of us.”

Y/N giggled, her smile wide but hesitant. “I don’t know, Sirius. What if I get lost? You might just lead me into the Forbidden Forest.”

“Or I could protect you from all the monsters,” he declared, puffing out his chest dramatically. “I’m practically a knight in shining armor.”

Remus felt a surge of frustration. It was now or never. He pushed off the tree he’d been leaning against and strode toward them, each step heavy with determination.

“Y/N!” he called, his voice cutting through the air.

Sirius turned, surprise flickering across his face. Y/N’s eyes widened, and for a moment, Remus thought he saw a flash of delight there.

“Remus!” she exclaimed, her smile growing. “What’s up?”

“Um, I—” he stammered, suddenly aware of the attention of his friends and the curious gazes of nearby students. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure!” Y/N glanced at Sirius, who was feigning innocence, and then back at Remus, her expression warm and inviting.

Remus motioned for her to follow him a short distance away, his heart pounding loudly in his chest, drowning out everything else. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the chaos inside him.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, a playful smile resting on her lips.

“Uh, well, it’s about… Sirius,” he said, feeling the heat rush to his face as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “I know he can be a bit over the top sometimes.”

Y/N laughed, a melodic sound that made Remus’s heart flutter. “He definitely can be. But he’s harmless.”

“Right, harmless,” Remus echoed, feeling a wave of frustration with himself. “But I—”

“Remus, what is it?” she asked, her tone shifting to something more serious.

He swallowed hard, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him like a leaden cloak. “I don’t want you to think he’s serious about all that. He’s just… well, he’s trying to make me jealous.”

“Jealous?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Why would he do that?”

“Because I—” Remus hesitated, the confession teetering on the edge of his lips. “Because I like you, Y/N. A lot.”

Silence stretched between them, the sounds of the bustling students fading into the background. Y/N’s eyes widened, and for a heartbeat, he thought he might have misread everything.

“You like me?” she whispered, a soft smile breaking across her face.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve liked you for a while now. But I didn’t know how to say it.”

Her smile grew brighter, and suddenly, all the tension in his shoulders melted away. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” he said, his heart racing. “And I was scared. Scared you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

“Remus,” she said, stepping closer, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “I like you too.”

He blinked, a rush of disbelief flooding through him. “You have?”

“Of course! You’re kind, smart, and you don’t take yourself too seriously.” She laughed lightly, her voice ringing with sincerity. “And you’re really cute when you’re flustered.”

“Cute?” Remus echoed, his heart soaring.

“Definitely,” she said, her gaze softening. “So, what do you say we make this official?”

“Are you asking me out?” he asked, his voice rising slightly in surprise.

“Maybe I am,” she teased, tilting her head to one side.

Remus grinned, the weight of his insecurities lifting. “Well, in that case, I’d love to go out with you.”

“Perfect!” Y/N exclaimed, her cheer infectious. “How about a walk around the lake tomorrow night?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Remus replied, feeling a warmth spread through him. It was a feeling he hadn’t realized he’d been missing—a sense of hope and excitement.

“Tomorrow night, then?” Y/N asked, her voice soft

“Tomorrow night,” Remus echoed, his heart soaring as he smiled at her, the words feeling like a vow.

Meanwhile, Sirius, having watched the exchange from a distance, turned back to James and Peter with a satisfied smirk. “Well, that went better than I expected. Looks like I’m not needed anymore here after all.”

James chuckled, nudging Sirius playfully. “You’re a right matchmaker, you know that?”

“Just doing my part,” Sirius said, feigning modesty, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

Peter grinned, shaking his head. “You didn’t even have to try that hard.”

“Maybe I’ll charge them for my services,” Sirius mused, crossing his arms with a smug expression.

[ticifics]

Night Flight

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: "I… I don't know how you can be so confident about this," you murmured, still feeling the warmth of his touch on your skin. "Because it's the truth," James replied without hesitation, his voice steady and full of sincerity. "When you love someone, you know. There are no doubts, no room for uncertainty. It's like… well, like knowing the sky is blue or that you look ridiculously beautiful with windblown hair."

Warnings: just fluffy - a James breaking some rules to spend time with you

The castle was submerged in silence, illuminated only by the soft light of the moon that filtered through the tall windows. The corridors, usually full of voices and hurried footsteps, were now empty, and the only company was the shadows dancing on the walls. You weren’t quite sure how James had convinced you, but there you were, walking beside him, hidden under the invisibility cloak.

He held your hand under the enchanted fabric, his fingers warm and firm around yours. The mischievous smile he wore as he confidently walked through the castle made you roll your eyes, but deep down, you couldn’t help the small smile that played at your lips. James had that effect on you — he was pure energy, carefree and full of life, a complete contrast to your more reserved personality. Yet, there was something about him that made you feel lighter, as if the world around you simply disappeared.

"We're almost there," he whispered, leaning slightly toward you. The warmth of his body beside yours was comforting, and the way he made everything sound like a grand adventure made your heart race a little faster.

"Aren’t you going to tell me what we’re doing?" you asked, keeping your voice low. Despite the cloak, you could feel the adrenaline of being out of the dorm after curfew.

"It’ll ruin the surprise," he replied, a playful gleam in his voice. You could see him raise his index finger theatrically, even under the cloak. "But I can guarantee it’ll be worth it. Trust me."

"I don’t know if I should," you teased, trying to sound firm, but the light tone in your voice gave away that, in reality, you trusted him more than anyone.

James chuckled softly, and you felt the gentle pressure of his hand on yours, as if he were reaffirming that silent connection between you. Finally, you reached the door of the Astronomy Tower. He carefully took off the cloak, revealing the satisfied smile you knew so well, and his blue eyes, vibrant, were shining like the starry sky outside.

"You really love breaking the rules, don’t you?" you asked, crossing your arms, but you couldn’t quite hide the laugh that escaped.

"It’s not just about the rules," he replied, stepping closer to you. His hair, always rebellious, was even more disheveled from the rush, and you had to fight the impulse to fix it. "It’s for you. I want to take you somewhere where you can feel... free. Without all that stuff in your head that makes you doubt yourself."

Your smile faded a little, and you looked away, already feeling the familiar wave of insecurity start to rise. James noticed, of course, he always noticed.

"Hey," he called softly, leaning in until your eyes met his again. "I don’t want you to think about any of that right now. I just want you to be with me, here, now. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his hands sliding down to your arms, and he smiled, this time more gently. "Great, because I brought my broom." He stepped aside, revealing the object that had been leaning against the wall.

"You’re kidding," you said, your voice a mix of laughter and disbelief.

"No way." He picked up the broom and lovingly ran his fingers over the polished wood, as if it were a trophy. "Come on, it’s just a little ride. I promise you’ll love it."

"James..." you started, but he was already mounting the broom and reaching out for your hand. His smile was a blend of excitement and tenderness, and there was something in his eyes that made you forget any reluctance.

With a sigh, you took his hand and let him help you onto the broom. The warmth of his body against your back was immediate, and he adjusted his arms around you to grip the broomstick firmly.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice low near your ear. You simply murmured a "yes," feeling your cheeks burn.

"Great," he said, and before you could process, he gave a push, and you were flying.

The night air was cold but not uncomfortable, and the sense of freedom that came with flying left you speechless. The castle soon disappeared behind you, and all that was left was the open sky and the stars shining above. You instinctively held onto James's arms, and he chuckled softly.

"You don’t have to be scared," he said, his voice full of tenderness. "I’d never let anything happen to you."

"I'm not scared," you replied, even though your grip on his arms betrayed the opposite.

"Oh, of course not," he teased, leaning slightly to the left, just enough to make you cling even tighter. "See? You're completely at ease."

"James!" you exclaimed, half laughing, half annoyed, and he just laughed along, returning to his usual balance.

After a few minutes of flying, he stopped over a moonlit clearing. You hovered there in silence, while the world seemed so small beneath you. He rested his chin on your shoulder for a moment, and you felt the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"I can't imagine anyone I'd rather have here with me than you," he murmured, his voice low and full of emotion.

You turned your face slightly, meeting his eyes, and the smile he gave you was so sincere it made your heart melt. He leaned in slowly, and his lips met yours in a soft kiss, as gentle as the wind around you.

When he pulled away, still close enough for you to feel his breath, he smiled again. "You mean everything to me, you know that, right?"

You stayed silent for a moment, trying to organize your thoughts and process what he had just said. It was as if his words were made to pierce your heart directly, dissolving any doubt that might still linger in your mind. His blue eyes shone brightly, full of something deeper than usual affection—an unwavering devotion that made your chest tighten with emotion.

"I… I don't know how you can be so confident about this," you murmured, still feeling the warmth of his touch on your skin.

"Because it's the truth," James replied without hesitation, his voice steady and full of sincerity. "When you love someone, you know. There are no doubts, no room for uncertainty. It's like… well, like knowing the sky is blue or that you look ridiculously beautiful with windblown hair."

The last part was said with a playful grin, his eyes scanning your face with adoration. He tilted his head slightly, as if waiting for a response, but you just shook your head, feeling your cheeks begin to warm.

"You never get tired of making me blush, do you?" you murmured, avoiding his gaze for a moment, but James, ever attentive, raised a hand to gently hold your chin, guiding your gaze back to his.

"Not at all," he said, the playful tone softening. "I love seeing you blush. It's like watching the most beautiful sunset in the world. And it's my fault, which just makes it even better."

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, and he took the opportunity to plant a kiss on the tip of your nose, followed by another on the corner of your lips, before whispering against your skin, "By the way, you look even more beautiful when you laugh."

"Do you have any idea how impossible you are?" you asked, but your voice was already far from any irritation. It was soft, with a touch of affection that James didn't miss.

"Impossible?" He feigned offense, his eyes sparkling with mock disbelief. "I'm a Potter. Impossible is my middle name, but no one's ever complained before."

You let out a full laugh this time, shaking your head in surrender. But then, with a sudden courage you didn't know where it came from, you leaned in slightly and whispered, "But you know what I think is most beautiful about you?"

James blinked, surprised by your change in tone. "What?" he asked, genuinely curious, his blue eyes fixed on yours.

"When you turn red," you replied, smiling as your fingers traced lightly along his jawline. "It's like, for a moment, you're a little vulnerable too."

The flush that rose to his cheeks was instant, and you found yourself amazed by how adorable he looked in that moment. His eyes blinked a few times, and he tried to hide it, but the shy smile that appeared on his lips gave it all away.

"Oh, so that's it," he murmured, his voice a little lower, but still with that playful tone. "You like seeing me like that, huh? Who would’ve thought my girl knows how to fight back?"

"Maybe," you said, leaning in closer. "But it's nice to know I can make you blush too."

James laughed, but this time it was a softer laugh, filled with something deeper. He rested his forehead against yours, his unruly hair brushing lightly against your skin. "You have no idea how much I'm yours, do you?"

Before you could answer, he kissed you again, this time with more firmness, but still with the same sweetness as before. It was a kiss that spoke everything he might not have found words for yet—a reminder that, to him, you were more than enough.

When he pulled away just enough to look at you again, the smile that lit up his face was pure and genuine. "Now, how about we take one more round? I want to see if I can make you laugh a little more before we go back to the castle."

You smiled, feeling all your insecurities melt away under the intensity of James' affection. And as he adjusted his arms around you again, ready to send the broom back into the starry sky, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you were starting to believe that with him, you would always be enough.

[bluemantics]

JULANCE DAY 1: GARRISON

“Oh, Lance, you look so tired! And pale. Are you getting time outside, or do they hide you in metal rooms away from the light? You need sun, and rest!”

“Ma—“

“We have paid for you to go to a fancy pilot school! They should be treating you better. I’ll talk to the teachers.”

“I got scholarship—“

“They better not be feeding you slop!”

“Mama, stop!”

A pause settled over the small dorm room, finally giving Lance space to breathe. He sighed, letting his back slope and blinking back the exhaustion that threatened to consume his whole body. Overhead, LED lighting washed out his skin, the effect only enhanced by the shitty camera on his tablet. He leaned back in his desk chair after a moment, embarrassed to have snapped.

“I’m sorry,” he began, apologetically looking away from Maria McClain’s expectant face hovering onscreen. I’m having a great time, Mama.”

The words tasted like a lie.

“Good. I just worry because I love you,” she reminded him, her smile lines tugging into a slight frown. God, Lance hated to see that expression on her face. He mustered up his best plastered-on smile for her benefit.

“Seriously! I’m eating great food. Lots of friends, but it’s only week one, so who knows what’ll happen? And I’m learning loads. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Okay,” his mom relented, voice quieter. “I miss you. Please call again soon, we all would like it.”

“Even Rachel?” Lance teased.

“Especially Rachel,” she laughed. “Te quiero mucho, hijo.”

“Te quiero,” Lance replied, leaping to end the call. Finally met with a blank, dark screen, he threw his head back and groaned.

A face appeared over his, blinking down at him curiously.

“Gah!” Lance reeled forward in shock, which was a mistake, as it led to him banging his forehead against the other boy’s.

“Ow!” They both shouted in unison. Scrunching his face, Lance rubbed at his forehead and glared at the offender. “Hunk, what are you doing?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Hunk blurted, his lip trembling as he gingerly poked at what would likely become a bruise. “I was just listening— well, that sounds creepy, I’m not a stalker! I promise! It’s hard to believe me ‘cause we’ve only known each other a week, I bet. Just, y’know, I could hear from my bed and I get how it is when moms worry— I have two of them, they worry lots. And I was just wondering why, if you don’t mind—“

“Spit it out, man!” Lance huffed, crossing his arms. Honestly, he hadn’t talked to his roommate, Hunk Garrett, much since they’d started at the Garrison. He hadn’t talked to anyone, really.

It had only been a single week since classes began and Lance had moved into the dorms. In that time, he’d tried his best to make a few connections. Even though they all started at the same time, Lance felt like everyone already had a clique. No one was outright rude to him, save James Griffin (who had actually turned around when Lance introduced himself). Still, he’d been unable to get past a simple “where are you from?”

Anxiety held Lance tight in its clutches without a person to lean on. He hadn’t even had the chance to get to know Hunk because of their alternate orientation schedules, separated by engineer and pilot classes. After the first three days of constantly being kept busy, it just became too awkward for Lance to feel like reintroducing himself. He wasn’t new to sharing a space, but it definitely seemed like Hunk was nervous about it, with the way he ran to the bathrooms to change.

Lance decided he wouldn’t judge Hunk, despite the odd behavior. The Garrison was nothing like the comforts of home, and everything felt strange. Maybe he was an only child.

Now, though, after a week of quietly shuffling around each other, this interruption was very, very strange.

“Why did you lie to your mom?”

Lance blinked at his roommate. He wasn’t expecting that question. “I didn’t lie.”

“You did, though,” Hunk pressed, shifting his weight and looking away from Lance. He twisted his hands. “You said you have a lot of friends.”

“Okay, wow, that’s rude.” Lance blinked, taken off guard.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Hunk quickly changed course. “I’m in the same boat! I… just saw you sitting alone at lunch today. I didn’t realize we have the same lunch, and, um, I’m really, really sick of eating alone.”

A pang struck through Lance’s chest. He connected deeply to that sentiment, even if he was ashamed to be caught in his lies. “Oh, uh, okay.”

“Look, my moms are freaked out about this school. I had to twist arms to get here. I really, really don’t want them to get even more upset if they figure out I’m eating alone,” he rambled, now looking at Lance directly. “We could eat together? Maybe? You could also tell your mom.”

“Yeah! Yeah, okay,” Lance tried to cover up his eagerness, crossing his arms and attempting a nonplussed facade. “Sounds… cool.”

“Cool!” Hunk beamed, sticking out his hand. “Shake on it?”

“You’re funny, Hunk,” Lance decided, shaking his hand with a small, lopsided smile. “It’s a deal.”

Hunk’s hand fit warmly around Lance’s, and something clicked.

“So.” Hunk beamed while he fidgeted with the hem of his uniform. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Garlic knots.”

“Oh, man! We’re totally gonna be friends.”

“Because of garlic knots?”

“Absolutely because of garlic knots.”

The next night, when they had garlic and oil smeared across their hands under the harsh lights in the restricted kitchens, Lance discovered that Hunk was right, and maybe always would be.

[riamaple]

Life on Your Line (Ch. 12)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Word Count: 2.6k

CHAPTER 12: August 27, 2024

PART 2: BREATH IN YOUR MARGIN

How does someone tell a story if they don’t know how it started?

You still didn’t know the answer to that question.

And you certainly did not know what to do when those frost-blue eyes met your gaze.

You stared at the man who caught you while his eyes widened, his mind catching up to the sight before him, while his heart was already screaming. His eyes darted around, unable to pinpoint where exactly to focus on you as his memories—every moment he’d spent with you—flooded back into his head. Then, when his gaze landed back on your face, his lips went ajar.

He recognized you.

“You…”

He knew you. Shit—

“Hey!” Mandy waved widely at you from across the room, catching both of your attention. “Are you okay?”

You blinked at her, noticing the performance she was suddenly acting in—pretending she didn’t know the history between you and the man before you. So you gave her a laugh, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. “Y-Yeah! The ladder gave up on me just now.”

“I know, I saw!” She then pointed at the man, winking at him with a thumbs-up. “Great catch! You’re saving lives left and right, Sergeant Barnes!”

Bucky slightly flinched from Mandy’s loud enthusiasm before turning back to you. He opened his mouth, ready to greet you and—

“Oh! That’s where I know you from,” you said with soft excitement. “Sergeant Barnes. Of course, it’s you.”

He widened his eyes, clearly taken aback by your words and thinking he’d misheard you. “I— What?”

You quietly chuckled. “I thought I recognized you somewhere. I saw you fight those Flag Smashers on TV a month ago.”

It was an understatement to say Bucky looked shocked.

He was absolutely appalled by your words, looking like you had punched the wind out of him. His lips went ajar again, but not a single sound left them, even though he wanted to say something. His foot slid forward slightly, his body wanting to move closer to you, but stopped by the tremors in his legs.

When his eyebrows furrowed in confusion mixed with pain, your chest tightened, knowing it was your words that shook him—that you had called him something other than James after nearly eighty years of doing so. And when he focused back on your face, your heart ripped itself apart because, for the first time, there was something else behind those frost-blue eyes—a feeling that you wished you had never given him.

Not recognition. Not remembrance. Not longing.

It was betrayal because he knew you were lying.

But before he could reply—before he could call you out on your lies—you quickly turned your attention to the ladder to shield yourself from his face. 

You exhaled at the jagged wood pieces. “Well, that’s gonna be annoying to fix,” you said, pretending like Bucky hadn’t just looked at you with such pain.

The super-soldier didn’t even have time to say a word before Mandy approached you two, jogging with a worried smile. “Avery, how bad is it— Oh.” She paused, rubbing the back of her head. “Yikes… Uh, we’re gonna need to call an expert for that one.”

“Or just replace the whole thing.” You examined the ladder. “Might be easier to do that.”

“Rose?”

The breath in your throat got caught as you and Mandy looked back at him, taking in the disbelief in his face. “Rose… What…” He struggled to continue his words.

You blinked while Mandy watched your face, seeing false puzzlement seep into your expression. “...I’m sorry?”

Bucky lightly shook his head, searching your face again as his voice became firmer. “What are you doing?”

You only tilted your head, acting like you were trying to figure out what he was saying when you already knew. “Uh… I’m sorry, I’m a bit confused right now.” You nervously laughed. “I’m not so sure what you’re asking.”

He grimaced again, but not just from your comment. The way you delivered your line felt fragile, like you hadn’t rehearsed for this play you were suddenly thrown into. You found it insane—you had been alive for decades, lying effortlessly to strangers. And yet, there you were, failing to hide yourself from Bucky. But you kept on the act, hoping that the play would end soon.

Bucky took a small step forward. “No, that’s not… I… Why are you lying?”

“Lying?” You gave him another tight laugh, exchanging glances with Mandy. Although she had an excellent poker face, you could see the shock in her eyes from your reaction to Bucky. “I’m really sorry, but I’m not sure what we’re talking about here.”

“Rose, you know me. You—” He bit his lips, and you swore you could see his shoulders shake. “You know me. Why are you pretending you don’t?”

“Uh… I think…” you took a soft breath, “you've mistaken me for someone else.”

Suddenly, you were back in 1943.

Back at Riverside Bookshop, when a young man in a uniform caught your attention and you watched his expression quickly lose its content when he looked at you. The horror he had in his eyes was joined by a longing for you, but when you denied that he had mistaken you for someone else, he bit his tongue. He then just smiled at you, pretending like he didn’t just see a ghost he had wished to thank so many years prior.

Now, it felt too much like a coincidence—to see the same ghost in a little bookshop on the Brooklyn streets. You felt foolish to think you could trick him, but you had to try.

Bucky couldn’t bite his tongue this time, but the horror was still the same. And there it was again—the betrayal in his eyes, flickering as it stabbed your heart into multiple places. The pain within yourself grew, but that didn’t stop you from performing because you knew if you did, you’d crumble to the floor, just like that night when you watched him defend Manhattan from the Flag Smashers. 

It looked like he wanted to crumble as well, but before he could speak again, Mandy threw her arm around your shoulders with a laugh, ready to play along. “Jeez, again?” She turned to Bucky with a bright smile. “She gets that a lot more than you think. Have customers left and right asking if they went to school with her or something.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you smiled at Bucky with guilt. “Yeah, I guess I just have one of those faces. I’m sorry, but we’ve never met before. If we did, I would’ve definitely remembered meeting Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky stood frozen, his eyes still locked onto you as if his stare could break down your lies. But you kept it together, gazing back at him and pretending to look more uncomfortable as the silence dragged on.

“Uh…” Mandy cleared her throat and stood up straight. “Sergeant Barnes, are you okay?”

“I…” Bucky’s lips trembled as he suddenly looked away, and your chest tightened when you saw his hands curl into fists that shook by his sides. Then he tilted his head up, facing you once again with his mouth open to say something—anything—but nothing came out.

Then, finally, after a moment, his shoulders dropped as his eyes softened. He glanced at Mandy—this stranger who couldn’t possibly know about his history with you—and sighed as he gestured to your leg. “You’re bleeding.”

You blinked before looking down, wincing at the cut on your ankle that was caused by one of the jagged edges of the broken ladder when you had fallen. It wasn’t a severe wound, but Mandy jumped at the sight. 

“Oh, shit. Are you okay?” she asked, bending over slightly to get a closer look.

“Yeah. I didn’t even notice…” because it wasn’t the worst injury you’ve ever sustained. “It’s not deep. I just need to get it cleaned.”

“Right.” Mandy grabbed your hand and smiled at Bucky. “Uh, thanks for catching my boss here. Seriously, you saved her a lot of trouble.”

Bucky then turned to you, the confusion in his face stabbing your heart as you spoke. “Yeah, thank you. I would’ve gotten a lot more hurt if you hadn’t. I…” you forced a smile, “I’m sorry that I’m not who you’re looking for.”

If you had been given a knife to stab him with, Bucky would’ve told you it had hurt less than hearing your apology.

A stab wound, at least, was a kind of pain he was familiar with—a wound he had sustained numerous times throughout his life and tended to without fail. 

But your empty apology? It unraveled something deep inside him slowly without mercy, tearing him apart from the inside, as he could do nothing but stand there. His breath was gone, ripped out of his throat as if your words had used it up to exist. Bucky didn’t have the words to try to say—only able to watch you slip through his fingers despite standing in front of him right then and there.

He knew you. He knew it was you who was in front of him. Since he became a free man, he had looked for you—longed for you—and fought for his life to make his way to you. He had grasped onto the idea of finding you to survive through every obstacle, escape every possible death, and return from hell itself in hopes that one day, he could hold you again.

But instead, his body stiffened—not from anger, but in a way that kept himself together. His hands clenched and uncleaned at his sides while he bit his lip, hearing your lies echo in the space he had left for you in his heart.

He looked at you like an angel, but you stopped believing you were something so wonderful more than a century ago. He tried to find the truth in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let him have it.

So, finally, he took a soft breath and nodded. “It’s fine. Sorry to bother you.”

Then, without another beat, he turned around and walked out of the store as quickly as he had appeared.

The silence persisted even after Bucky left, but not for too long, as Mandy had begun to slowly turn her head, gazing at you with wide eyes. “Okay…so…”

A torn gasp escaped your throat, your shoulders trembling as the emotions all finally came rushing at you. Before Mandy could process your sudden shift in posture, you dropped to your knees, eyes wide but staring at nothing.

“Holy fuck—” Mandy dropped to the floor beside you, clutching your hand. “Avery? Avery, are you okay?”

You couldn’t respond at that moment. Instead, you bit your lip to force the panic to settle before squeezing her hand. You then shut your eyes and began to carefully take a couple of slow breaths, although the air tasted sharp and unforgiving, almost like it was punishing you for lying to Bucky. But you continued to breathe slowly, feeling your heart beat rapidly against your tightened chest.

Eventually, you slipped your hand out of Mandy’s and opened your eyes, the weight of the atmosphere still pressing down on your chest. But your face was unreadable as you quietly got to your feet, moving as if you hadn’t just fallen.

Blinking, Mandy stood up with you and carefully watched your face. “Avery… Why didn’t you—”

“Stop,” you immediately said, walking away to the backroom.

“No, hold on.” She followed you with pinched eyebrows. “You lied to him. I know I helped you just now, but how could you—”

You sighed, “Mandy, I don’t—”

“I know we talked about this, but come on, Avery, you still love—”

“Mandy!” You spun around to face her, tears shimmering in your eyes. “I said stop it!” 

She flinched, her body recoiling instantly with her mouth still open from the question she couldn’t finish. Your chest heaved as your yell still burned in your throat, but when you saw the worry and fear on Mandy’s face, the anger left your system while guilt replaced it.

“Shit, I…” You sighed, your shoulder slumping. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

Mandy didn’t reply. Instead, she continued to watch you with concern. You found it truly amazing that despite the way you acted, she still had the heart to care about you.

And that only stung you more.

You shook your head, holding your hands together as you whispered. “I….I just don’t want to talk about it. At least…not right now, okay?”

It wasn’t the first time Mandy had seen you move like you were made of broken glass, but it didn’t hurt any less. Your tone was weak, unable to hide the anguish spilling from the deepest parts of you. Within you, there was a hollowness that could only be healed by the man you loved, but you refused to accept him as your only savior now.

Despite everything you had told Mandy—how it was always Bucky you were meant to find throughout the decades of both of your survivals—you just couldn’t let him be anything special to you anymore.

Although she was reluctant to let go of this conversation, Mandy nodded. “Okay… Let’s…let’s just take a look at your cut, yeah?”

<><><>

Boots scraped harshly against the concrete, each step trying to grind down the ground with the weight of Bucky’s frustration. The sound pierced into his ears, but he couldn’t give a shit about the way he walked at the moment. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, fists curled so tightly into the leather that his knuckles began to ache, while his breaths came sharp through his nose as his jaw was clenched shut.

Every muscle in Bucky’s body felt like it was bracing for another attack, for it felt like it had gone through the fastest war ever in that bookstore. And worst of all, he felt like he had lost—lost in his reunion with his angel, and that made him want to scream. He wanted to scream so loudly that the windows around him would shatter, but he just bit his lip harder and harder and—

He hissed, tasting blood in his mouth when his teeth dug a little too deep into his skin. He halted in his steps, his breaths now coming through aggressively, the cold air stinging the cut on his lip further. Cursing at himself, Bucky carefully wiped the blood off his chin, the red now settling on his gloves as he tried to collect himself.

Desperately, he reached into his shirt and tugged on some chains, pulling out his dog tags and…

Peace.

Bucky felt peace.

The silver locket was warm in his hand, bringing him a sense of comfort that he always needed whenever chaos was thrown at him. He gazed at it for a while, his breath slowly evening out while some of the tension in his shoulders faded. His eyes, full of heart and sorrow, stayed on the locket, and without any force, he softly smiled.

Most of the time, he didn’t even know he’d be smiling just from looking at the locket.

But as quickly as it came, his smile disappeared before he turned around, eyes fixed on the sidewalk that stretched toward the bookstore.

Maybe he hadn’t found the truth within your eyes, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying again.

After all, the love of his life worked at a bookstore too, didn’t she?

NEXT CHAPTER >

AN: WELCOME BACK!! Here we go with Part 2!!

General Taglist! @a-century-of-sass @clemicious @fallenxjas @paryl @frog-fans-unite @sebastians-love @buckvoidsyy @recorddust @nj01 @avengersgirllorianna @western-nightss @chonkybonky @weasleyswheezeys @balatroaddict @herejustforbuckybarnes @redtaytan

Thanks for reading :)

[they-call-me-whiskey]

All the Grand Gestures

pairing: Sirius Black x fem!reader

summary: every grand gesture feels like a lie.

warnings: angst; reader is Muggle-born and has hair; English is not my first language.

author’s note: Valentine’s Day, and here I am writing angst. great job Whiskey. here’s the link to the next chapter.

“Sirius!”

you weave through the crowded corridor, dodging students as you chase after him. he’s quick, always managing to slip away just before you catch up—but this time, he must hear you calling, because he stops, turning around with an easy grin. his friends halt beside him, watching with amused expressions as you finally reach him, slightly breathless.

“well, hello, darling,” Sirius drawls, his stormy grey eyes lighting up the moment they meet yours.

before you can reply, he steps closer, sliding his hands onto your waist and pulling you in for a kiss—completely ignoring the fact that you’re still catching your breath. his lips are warm, teasing, and for a second, the noise of the corridor fades into nothing.

then—

“oooohhh!”

James and Peter’s exaggerated reactions echo around you, while Remus just sighs like he’s had to witness this far too many times. you feel Sirius smirk against your lips before he pulls away, though he doesn’t let go of you just yet.

“honestly, mate,” James teases, nudging Sirius’s shoulder, “do you have to snog her in the middle of the corridor? some of us are still single, you know.”

“tragic, really,” Sirius replies smoothly, shooting him a mocking look before turning his attention back to you. “what brings you running through the halls for me, love? not that I’m complaining.”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics but smile anyway. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“miss me that much?” he teases, but before you can shove him playfully, Peter grins and chimes in, “so, big day tomorrow, huh?”

it takes you a second to realise what he means.

Valentine’s Day.

Sirius makes a thoughtful hum, as if just remembering. then, his grin sharpens. “oh, yes, I’m very excited.”

your heart flutters at the confirmation. you’d been planning everything for weeks now—choosing the perfect spots, thinking of little surprises—because for once, you wanted to be the one who set up something special. Sirius had a habit of sweeping you away on unexpected adventures, and while you loved it, you wanted to give him that feeling this time.

he already knew, of course. you had mentioned it at least a dozen times, and while he pretended to be mysterious about what he expected, you could tell he was genuinely curious.

“oh, you should be,” you say, grinning up at him. “I’ve got something really special planned.”

“do I get a hint?”

“nope,” you reply smugly.

Sirius pouts dramatically, but there’s undeniable excitement in his eyes.

James groans. “Merlin, you two are disgustingly adorable.”

“jealous, Potter?” Sirius quips, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “come, love, let’s leave the lonely ones to sulk.”

with a wink to his friends, he steers you down the corridor, and a warmth spreads through you. tomorrow was going to be perfect.

the morning of Valentine’s Day starts just as you imagined.

you wake up feeling a mix of excitement and nerves, barely able to sit still as you get ready. you take your time, choosing an outfit you know Sirius will love, fixing your hair just right. he was always the one planning these things—whisking you off on wild, spontaneous dates, making every moment feel like an adventure. but today was different. today was yours to plan, and you wanted it to be special.

you glance at the clock. 11:15 a.m. still plenty of time before you meet Sirius at noon.

you’re just about to put on your shoes when the conversation reaches your ears.

it’s coming from the other side of the dormitory door—muffled voices of a few students chatting in the corridor. you don’t think much of it at first, until you hear his name.

“honestly, it’s just so Sirius,” one girl says with a laugh.

“I know, right?” another chimes in. “imagine dating someone just to piss off your family. classic rebellion move.”

your hands freeze mid-motion.

“I still can’t believe he actually went through with it,” the first voice continues. “dating a Muggle-born just to make a statement—like, that poor girl probably thinks he’s serious about her.”

the laugh that follows makes your stomach twist.

they’re not talking about you. they can’t be.

right?

your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you force yourself to move, stepping towards the door and slowly pulling it open. the corridor is already clearing, but you catch sight of two girls disappearing around the corner, still talking.

you don’t chase after them. you don’t even know what you’d say.

because suddenly, memories start rushing back.

Sirius was always so public about your relationship. the way he’d sling an arm around you in the Great Hall, kiss you in the middle of the corridor without a care, loudly declare how much he adored you in front of anyone who’d listen. It never seemed strange before—it was just him. bold. reckless. Infatuated.

but what if it was something else?

what if, in the beginning, you were never anything more than a way to get under his family's skin?

the thought makes your stomach churn.

you want to believe that it’s not true, that you’re overthinking, but the seed of doubt has already been planted. because now, every grand gesture, every public display of affection feels like something you have to question.

is he still using you?

you don’t know what to do.

all you know is that in forty-five minutes, you’re supposed to meet Sirius for what was supposed to be the perfect date.

and you have no idea how you’re going to get through it.

Sirius is already waiting for you when you reach the meeting spot near the castle gates.

the moment he sees you, his face lights up. “there’s my gorgeous girl,” he says smoothly, pulling you into his arms before you can react. he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your lips, murmuring, “happy Valentine’s Day, darling.”

you force a smile, hoping he doesn’t feel how stiff you are. “happy Valentine’s Day.”

his brows furrow slightly, like he notices something’s off, but then he grins again. “come on, I can’t wait to see what you’ve planned.”

you nod, trying to shake the uneasy feeling.

the first part of the date goes mostly as planned. you walk through Hogsmeade, stopping by Honeydukes for sweets, sharing a Butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks. Sirius makes jokes, teases you, does all the little things that normally make you melt. and you try—you really try—to enjoy it.

but your mind won’t stop replaying the conversation from earlier.

at some point, Sirius notices.

“alright, what’s going on?” he asks suddenly as you walk down the street.

your stomach clenches. “what do you mean?”

he gives you a look. “you’re quiet. you keep spacing out. and, frankly, love, you look like you’re trying very hard to pretend everything’s fine.”

you should have known you couldn’t fool him.

you take a breath, suddenly feeling like your heart is in your throat. “Sirius, can I ask you something?”

his expression turns more serious. “of course.”

you hesitate, and he notices—his hand squeezing yours gently in reassurance.

that only makes it worse.

you take the plunge. “did you… did you ask me out just to piss off your family?”

the second the words leave your mouth, you feel him stiffen beside you.

he doesn’t answer straight away.

and that silence alone tells you everything.

your stomach twists. “so it’s true.”

Sirius’s grip on your hand tightens. “no—well, technically—” he stops himself, dragging a hand through his hair, clearly struggling for words. “love, listen—yeah, maybe in the very beginning it was like that, but—”

you close your eyes. “I knew it.”

“wait, no—you don’t understand. that’s not what this is anymore—”

you pull your hand from his. “how am I supposed to believe that?”

Sirius looks frustrated—desperate, even. “because it’s the truth!”

but you’re tired. tired of wondering if the love he showers you with is just another form of rebellion.

you take a shaky breath. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Sirius goes still. “what?”

your throat burns, but you step back. “I just… I can’t do this, Sirius.”

then you turn, walking away before he can say anything else.

you hear him call your name, but you don’t stop.

you don’t look back.

[starksweasley]

Under the Night Sky // James Potter

Summary: In which James is the perfect match for your stubbornness (fluff)

Word Count: 5278

The tension between James Potter and you had been palpable all day. It was a silly fight, really, born of stress from the looming uncertainty of war, but it left both of you raw and on edge. After a particularly biting exchange in the Gryffindor common room, James stormed out, and you followed suit, each too stubborn to be the first to reconcile.

The Great Lake called to you, a place where you could release your frustration. Its calm waters reflected the starlit sky, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions within you. You sank to the grass near the shore, your knees pulled to your chest as you tried to steady your breath, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the cool blades of grass.

A crunch of footsteps on the gravel path behind you made you glance over your shoulder. James was there, his silhouette lit softly by the moonlight. He hesitated, his hands shoved into his pockets, taking in your figure with a soft sigh before walking closer. His usual confident stride was slower, as if he feared pushing you further away.

"Hey," he said softly, careful not to startle you. His voice held none of the heat from earlier, only a tentative gentleness. He lowered himself to sit beside you. You didn’t turn to look at him but kept your gaze on the water. The silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. Finally, he broke it.

"I’m sorry. About earlier," he murmured, nudging your shoulder lightly. His gaze stayed on the rippling water, waiting for your reaction. The slight tension in his jaw betrayed his nervousness, though he tried to hide it.

You glanced at him briefly, your expression unreadable, before looking away again. The cool breeze brushed past, carrying the faint scent of the lake water.

"What? You’re still mad at me?" he teased, though his tone lacked its usual bravado. He shifted slightly, leaning a little closer.

"Obviously," you replied, your tone clipped. You could feel his gaze on you, searching for any sign of forgiveness.

He leaned closer still, his warmth brushing against your arm. "How long are you going to hold this grudge?"

You stayed silent, and he sighed dramatically, running a hand through his unruly dark curls before poking your side. A small smile played on his lips as he tried to coax one from you.

"You’re being stubborn," he groaned, tilting his head to look at you with exaggerated exasperation. "You know, this is terribly unfair."

You bit your lip and looked back at the lake, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. His gaze softened as he caught the movement, his smirk growing wider, a hint of giddiness returning to his expression.

"Stop that," he said, his voice dropping slightly. "It’s distracting."

"Good," you shot back, still refusing to look at him.

James let out a low chuckle. "You’re trying to be bratty, aren’t you?" He poked your side again, his grin widening when you rolled your eyes.

With a huff, you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way to the water’s edge, ignoring the way his eyes followed you. The cool grass gave way to damp stones, and you waded in barefoot, letting the icy water sting your skin. The chill was sharp but oddly grounding, helping you shed the lingering tension from earlier.

James’s smile softened as he watched you, his chin resting on his hands. The sight of you in the moonlit water made something stir in his chest, something he’d been too afraid to admit aloud.

"Do you always get this grumpy when we fight?" he called out, his teasing tone returning. 

You ignored him, dunking yourself fully into the lake with an unceremonious splash. When you resurfaced, laughter bubbled from your lips, carried by the cool night air. The water clung to your clothes, darkening the fabric and making it stick to your frame, while droplets glistened like tiny diamonds against your skin.

James’s grin faltered as his breath hitched. His gaze lingered for a moment too long on the way the droplets rolled down your skin, catching the moonlight. Realizing where his thoughts had gone, he shook his head and looked away, his cheeks heating despite the cool breeze. He tugged at the collar of his jumper, as if the air had suddenly grown warmer.

You spread your arms wide and tilted your head back, looking at the sky as laughter continued to spill from you. The tension from earlier seemed to melt away with every ripple of water around you. James couldn’t help but smile at the sight, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

"You’re beautiful," he thought but didn’t dare say aloud. The words lingered on the tip of his tongue, heavy with meaning.

When you turned to look at him, his eyes were already on you. Caught staring, he quickly averted his gaze, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. His nervous fidgeting only added to his charm, and you found it harder to stay annoyed with him.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smile curling at the edges of your lips as you splashed deeper into the water, your mood visibly brighter now. James watched you with a tenderness he hoped you wouldn’t notice, his heart hammering as he tried to work up the courage to say what he’d been holding back for so long. There was something so magnetic about you. James felt almost ensnared in you, like he was willingly wrapped in a web of your making. His eyes trailed after you, filled with a mix of awe and frustration.

"What?" he asked lightly, raising an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

"Don’t look at me like that if you’re not going to come join me, Potter," you shot back, your tone light but challenging, your arms spread as the water rippled around you.

James paused, his eyes trailing over your figure in the moonlit lake. He swallowed hard as fleeting thoughts he probably shouldn’t entertain crossed his mind. Clearing his throat, he responded, "Yeah? And why’s that?"

You spun back around, giving him a pointed look. "I’m not giving out any free shows."

A low chuckle escaped him as he took in your playful defiance. The view of your back, with the thin fabric of your shirt clinging to your skin, left little to the imagination, and James had to shake himself out of his thoughts. Standing up, he rolled the cuffs of his trousers to his knees and began walking toward the water.

"Free show, huh? Is that what you think I’m after?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement as the cool water lapped at his feet.

You hummed softly in response, splashing water over your face and letting it drip down, the sound light and carefree. James moved closer, his heart hammering as if your laugh alone had a direct line to it.

Without warning, his hands found your hips, his presence behind you both startling and relieving. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "What if I’m not after a free show?" he murmured, his voice low and intimate as he gently tugged you back, your body pressing against his.

You jumped, the sudden proximity catching you off guard, but his hands held you steady. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he felt you stiffen slightly in his arms.

"Relax," he said softly, one arm wrapping securely around your waist. "Not gonna bite you."

You weren’t so assured, your body still tense against his. James chuckled lightly, his breath brushing your ear. "You’re making me feel like a monster," he teased. 

In a flash of mischief, you turned your face and bit playfully into his bicep. A surprised sound escaped him, and he drew back slightly, his laughter breaking the quiet night. "Didn’t realize I was dealing with such a savage!" he exclaimed, his hands squeezing your waist lightly. "Careful, wouldn’t want to bite off more than you can chew."

"You started it. I’m still mad at you," you retorted, though your smile betrayed your words.

"Oh, please." He scoffed, but his hands remained on your hips, tracing light circles over the damp fabric of your shirt. His touch was both comforting and electrifying, and he leaned closer. "You’re the one who was dancing in the water, knowing full well what effect it would have on me," he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck.

"I just wanted to be in the lake," you replied, your voice quieter now. "You’ve yet to say sorry."

James sighed softly, his hands trailing upwards, the pads of his fingers grazing your stomach. "Why should I apologize?" he mumbled, placing a gentle nip on your neck, leaving a faint mark that warmed your skin.

"You called me shrill and volatile. That was mean."

"And I apologized for that," he muttered against your neck, his lips finding a sweet spot as he left another light mark. "But you can’t deny you were acting a bit volatile," he drawled, his lips curling into a smirk against your skin. "And you are a bit shrill."

"I am not! And you didn’t apologize!" With a burst of indignation, you shoved him off of you, the water splashing as you broke free.

"Oi!" James stumbled back, his arms flailing before he landed gracelessly on his backside in the shallows, the water soaking his trousers and shirt. His hair flopped wetly into his eyes as he looked up at you, mock indignation painted across his face.

Your laughter rang out, pure and uninhibited, as you watched him struggle. The magic around you seemed to hum with your amusement, the water swirling playfully at your feet. "You so deserved that," you said between giggles, the moonlight catching the sparkle in your eyes. 

James grinned despite himself, his heart pounding at the sight of your joy. The lake water danced around you as if it were alive, responding to your touch. Shaking his head, he pushed himself to his feet, brushing the sand off his damp clothes.

"No? Then what would you call it?" he countered, his tone light as he stumbled toward you, water squelching in his shoes. "Because both those words seem to describe you pretty well right now."

Your frown deepened, and he couldn’t help but laugh at your expression. "That frown just helps prove my case," he added cheekily, reaching out to touch your arm.

You pushed his hand away, your stubbornness flaring up again. "What, you’re still going to be petty about this?" he whined. "C’mon. I’ve already said sorry for calling you shrill."

Huffing, you crossed your arms and stepped around him, your feet splashing as you made your way back toward the shore. James stood there, watching you stomp away, his lips quirking into an amused smile. He couldn’t help but be amused by your pouty behavior, even as his chest clenched with affection.

Giving a sigh, James starts to follow after you, wading through the shallows and onto the sand. His steps are slow, his gaze flicking between the ground and your retreating figure.

Suddenly, you yelp, stumbling as you step on something sharp hidden beneath the sand.

James’s head snaps up, and in an instant, he’s at your side, his arms wrapping around your waist to steady you.

"You okay?" he asks, his hazel eyes scanning you quickly, his grip firm yet gentle.

"Damn glass!" you exclaim, your face scrunched up. "I’m bleeding from a gash on my foot."

James swears under his breath as his eyes drop to your foot. The sight of blood makes his jaw tighten. "Oh crap," he mutters, scooping you into his arms without hesitation.

"Ouch! James!" you squeal, squirming in his hold, but he ignores your protests.

"Hush, darling," he mumbles, adjusting you carefully in his arms. "Hold still, or I’ll drop you."

You continue to squirm, but his grip doesn’t falter as he carries you toward a dry patch of sand. He sets you down gently, crouching beside you as his gaze returns to your injured foot.

"Damn," he murmurs, his brows furrowing as he examines the cut. "It’s pretty deep."

You wince as his fingers gently prod at the wound, and he quickly pulls his hand back. "Just stay still," he says, his tone soft but firm. "Let me grab something."

His eyes scan the area, and he spots a towel someone had left behind. Reaching out, he grabs it and folds it up before returning to you. Your face is scrunched up in pain, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The sight makes his chest ache.

"It’s okay," he whispers as he gently lifts your leg onto his lap. His movements are slow and deliberate, trying not to cause you more discomfort. You watch as he starts wrapping the towel around your foot, his fingers deft. "You don’t have to do all that," you mumble, your voice wavering. "I know you hate me right now."

James freezes for a moment, his soft eyes flicking up to meet yours. "I don’t hate you," he says, his voice steady but surprisingly tender.

He finishes tying the towel securely around your foot and lowers your leg gently back down. "You’re just annoying," he adds with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

You sigh, tears slipping down your cheeks—whether from the pain or his words, even you’re not sure. James notices immediately, his smirk fading as guilt flashes across his face.

"Hey," he says softly, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes away a stray tear, the gesture tender and unexpected. "I don’t hate you. I could never hate you."

"You’re sure?" you ask, your voice small as you search his face for any hint of insincerity.

"Of course I’m sure," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want you to think that. I could never hate you."

He’s suddenly very aware of how close your faces are, his hand still cradling your cheek. The warmth of your skin against his palm sends a jolt through him, but he doesn’t pull away.

"I know I’ve been annoying," you finally admit, your voice trembling. "I’m sorry. I’ve just been so stressed. I swear I’ll tone it down."

James chuckles softly, his thumb lightly brushing your cheek. "You’re alright. It’s okay," he reassures you. "You’re not annoying. You’re just… you."

His words hang in the air, his hand still resting on your cheek as though he’s reluctant to let go.

"Just me?" you ask, tilting your head slightly. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

He smiles, his thumb gently poking your cheek. "It’s a good thing. No one else is quite as difficult to deal with as you," he teases, grinning as you pout in response.

"Sorry," you mumble. "I’m sorry. I know I’m a pain."

"No," James says, his voice softer now as his hand moves to tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear. "You’re not a pain. You’re like a ball of fire and sunshine."

A grin breaks across your face, and he can’t help but smile back. There’s a strange, almost overwhelming happiness that wells up in his chest every time he sees you smile. His hand remains gently cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles across your skin. The touch is both electrifying, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You know, you look cute when you’re not scowling at me,"

"Oh yeah?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

James’s smirk only grows as he leans in slightly. "Yeah. But definitely not as cute as you are when you’re getting mad at me."

The grin on his face widens as he pictures you pouting, your face flushed red with annoyance. His expression is so smug, it’s almost unbearable.

"Don’t make me mad again," you warn, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Why not?" he asks, his chuckle low. His hand stays on your cheek, and he leans in just a fraction more. "But it’s so much fun seeing you all riled up…"

Your glare sharpens, and without warning, you pinch his thigh.

James lets out an uncharacteristically high-pitched squeak, his grip on your cheek tightening slightly as he jolts from the unexpected pain. "Ow!" he exclaims, his free hand instinctively shielding his leg. "What was that for?!"

You flash him a sly grin. "I like seeing you riled up too."

James’s eyes widen, his face a mixture of shock and amusement. "Riled up?!" he repeats incredulously, his voice pitching higher. "I wasn’t riled—ow!" Another yelp escapes him as you pinch his other thigh, the smugness evaporating from his expression.

You laugh loudly and your eyes quickly dart to his lips.

James notices immediately. His heart stutters, a warmth spreading through him that has nothing to do with the cool night air. Your gaze flicks back up to meet his, and his throat feels dry as he swallows. His chest brushes against yours, the proximity making every nerve in his body burn. His hand stays on your cheek, unmoving.

"So, are you gonna make a move, or are you gonna make me do it?" you rasp, your voice low.

James’s eyes crinkle as he grins and cocks his head. 

"Don’t make me ask again," you add impatiently.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His eyes lock with yours again for a fleeting moment before he closes the gap, his movements almost desperate. His lips press against yours with a hunger that surprises even him.

You smile into the kiss, your hands fisting the fabric of his wet shirt as you yank him closer. The sound he makes—a mix of a hum and a gasp—sends a thrill through you.

His free hand finds its way to your waist, his fingers curling against your skin roughly as he pulls you against him. The water from your damp hair drips onto his face, but he doesn’t seem to care, too consumed by the feel of you. You pull at him, wanting to feel impossibly closer, your lips moving against his with fervor. He tastes like spring rain and lemon, and you can’t get enough. James responds in kind, his kiss deepening as his tongue slides over your lips, seeking more of you.

When your lips part slightly, inviting him in, a low sound rumbles in his throat. His tongue slips into your mouth, exploring, tasting, savoring every second. His hand moves from your cheek to the side of your neck, holding you tightly as his kisses grow more hungry. Your nails dig sharply into his back. 

Finally, you pull away, both of you panting for breath. Your foreheads rest together, and James’s eyes are heavy-lidded, his mind swimming from the intensity of the kiss. He looks at you, dazed, unable to focus on anything but the way your body had fit so perfectly against his.

James’s breath is still uneven as he stares at you, his lips slightly parted, the intensity of the moment lingering between you. Your words break through the haze, pulling his focus back.

"I’m still mad at you," you say, your tone half-teasing, half-serious.

"Mad?" he echoes, his voice more of a pant than anything else. "You’re mad… after I just kissed you like that?"

You smile slyly. "Hey, I kissed you like that."

A small grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Oh yeah?"

"You still owe me an apology," you counter, raising an eyebrow.

He rolls his eyes, but his hand stays at your neck, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your damp skin.

"Fine, fine," he mutters. "I’m sorry I called you shrill and volatile… happy?"

"I’m not kissing you again unless you say it like you mean it," you warn, crossing your arms.

James sighs dramatically, feigning frustration, but the smile on his face remains. His hand tightens slightly on your neck as he looks into your eyes. "I’m sorry I called you shrill and volatile," he repeats, his tone quieter, tinged with sincerity. "For the record, I did mean it when I said you were cute, though."

You smile at last. "Okay, I forgive you."

"Oh, thank Merlin," he laughs, relief flooding his features. His grin widens as he leans back slightly. 

You lift your arms with a pout. "Can you carry me back? My foot hurts."

James’s laughter bubbles out as he sees your exaggerated expression. "Seriously?" he jokes. "You don’t want to walk?"

"The cut on my foot hurts," you whine, your pout deepening.

He sighs heavily, though the smile never leaves his face. "God, you’re lazy," he mutters under his breath before stepping forward, his arms circling your waist as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs straddling his hips.

"I’m not! I’m injured," you protest, frowning at him.

"Oh yeah, right. Your little cut," he teases as he adjusts you into a more comfortable position in his arms.

"Fine, put me down if you’re gonna have a tone," you snap, though your voice lacks any real heat.

"Now you’re just being difficult," he says, continuing to walk, his strides steady despite your added weight.

"Put me down, jackass!" you screech, thumping lightly on his back.

"Oh, that’s just rude, you banshee" he cries out, feigning offense. "Here I am, carrying you back even though you’re perfectly capable of hobbling yourself, and you call me a jackass."

Despite his words, James makes no move to set you down, his grip on you firm and secure as he carries you toward the castle. His eyes flicker over your figure, admiring the way your eyes glint even though the sky is dark. He thinks your face is utterly mesmerizing, even when your chin is turned up in that bull-headed way you like to do it.

"You’re so mean," you accuse, pouting as you glance at him from the corner of your eye.

"Me? Mean?" he echoes, his voice mock-indignant, though his lips betray him by twitching upwards.

You give him a single nod and James snickers, unable to hold back his laughter as he watches your overstated expressions. 

"I’m not mean," he teases. "You’re just a little crybaby."

"I am not!"

"Yeah, you are! That pout hasn’t left your face for the last hour.”

"Well, that’s it. I’m not kissing you anymore," you declare, your tone defiant.

"Oh really? I don’t think you can resist me that easily," James says, pulling you closer against his body.

"Watch me," you shoot back.

"Oh, I’m watching, alright," he teases, his gaze flicking over your face. "You’re lucky you’re so cute when you’re mad."

You kick his arm but immediately stiffen as the movement triggers a sting in your foot. James’s laughter falters as clocks the change in your demeanor.

"You okay?" he asks, his tone more serious.

"I’m fine," you mutter, though the pain in your voice is clear.

James doesn’t look convinced. "You sure?"

You shake your head, wincing as a sharp sting burns your foot.

His eyes narrow, and he gently sets you down on a nearby tree stump. The bark bites into your wet skin but you don't give it any notice. Instead, your attention is on the boy on his knees in front of you. He holds out a hand. "Show me your leg," 

Reluctantly, you lift your foot slightly, placing it in James' awaiting hand.  He notices the tremble in your movements and the way blood has seeped through the thin towel wrapping the cut. 

"Looks like it hurts," he mutters, guilt flashing across his features and furrowing his brows. 

Your lip wobbles as another jolt of pain seems to light your nerves on fire, and James immediately notices. The sight of your watery eyes makes his chest ache, a pang of regret settling deep. He reaches forward, gently pulling up your pant leg to inspect the injury more closely. His touch is light, but you still grunt, your leg jerking slightly.

James’s eyes scan over the red, swollen skin near your ankle, his frown deepening. "How bad does it hurt?"

"A little," you reply, though the tremor in your voice betrays you.

He huffs softly, his expression a mix of exasperation and concern. "Your foot’s clearly swollen. It doesn’t look ‘a little’ painful."

He gently presses his fingers against the inflamed skin, testing its sensitivity. You flinch away immediately, and his face tightens as he pulls his hand back.

"Sorry," he murmurs. "Does it just hurt to touch, or does it hurt to walk?"

"I’m fine," you reply quickly, though your face betrays you.

He sighs heavily, "For the love of Merlin, just admit you’re hurt! There’s no need to be so bloody stubborn all the time. It’s clearly hurt, so just admit you’re in pain."

You sigh, relenting. "Okay, well… it does really hurt."

His jaw locks for a moment as he thinks. He reaches down, his hand cradling your injured foot gently. Leaning in, he presses a soft, almost reverent kiss to the top of your foot. The tenderness of the gesture makes your stomach flutter, your breath catching in surprise.

"Alright, I’m going to carry you back the rest of the way to the castle. Don’t even try to argue, or I’ll just tease you."

"No, it’s fine," you reply stubbornly, turning away to limp off.

James groans loudly in play frustration as you start hobbling forward. "Ugh, just stop for a second," he mutters under his breath. In one swift motion, he walks up behind you, scoops you into his arms, and starts carrying you toward the castle.

"Hey!" you giggle.

"I told you not to try to argue," he laughs. His arms tighten around you to hold you securely. 

You sigh and finally rest your head against his chest, your body relaxing against him.

His smile softens as he feels you melt into his hold. "Finally giving up?" he teases.

"No."

"Uh huh. That’s why you’re leaning against my chest and resting your head on me," he says, his grin widening. "Face it, you like being carried."

"Oh, shove off," you retort, your voice muffled against his shirt.

James laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest. "You can be a real pain in the arse sometimes, you know that?"

"So can you," you shoot back.

"Oh, I know I can. I’m fully aware I’m obnoxious," he admits, his tone full of playful arrogance.

He walks a few more paces, then glances down at you with a thoughtful look. "Why are you always so stubborn anyway?"

"I am not," you reply defensively.

"Yeah, you are," he counters. "It’s like, anytime I try to help or do something for you, you just resist and go against me."

After a long moment of thought, you finally whisper, "I don’t want to need anyone.”

"Why not?" he asks, frowning as he looks down at you. "You don’t have to do everything by yourself, you know."

"It just feels like I do.”

"But you don’t," he says firmly. "You have your friends, your family, and you have me. We’re all here to help you. You don’t have to do everything on your own."

"I have you?" you ask, looking up at him with wide eyes.

James sighs dramatically, his gaze softening. "Of course you have me, you daft idiot. We’re dating, aren’t we?"

"We… we are?" you stammer, blinking at him in surprise.

He freezes for a moment, staring at you with incredulity. "Are you messing with me? You’re seriously asking if we’re dating?"

"You never asked me out officially," you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat.

James stares at you for another moment, then lets out a loud scoff of disbelief. "Are you joking?" he asks, his voice a mix of shock and amusement. "After everything that’s happened between us, you thought I had to officially ask you out?!"

"Um… yes?" you reply meekly.

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh escaping his lips as he resumes walking. "Unbelievable," he mutters under his breath, though the fond smile on his face gives him away.

James stares down at you, his arms still cradling you securely. "We’ve been sleeping in the same bed together every night. We’ve kissed, gone on dates, I’ve called you mine… and yet you thought I hadn’t actually asked you out?"

He throws his head back, laughing loudly, the sound echoing in the still night. When he looks back at you, there’s disbelief written all over his face. "I can’t believe how oblivious you are, love" he says, still chuckling. " I thought it was pretty goddamn obvious."

"Oh," you mutter, blushing furiously as realization dawns on you.

James grins widely, his amusement shifting into something softer as he sees your cheeks flush. "I can’t believe I actually have to say it… but just to make it fully clear," he continues, his tone growing more serious, his eyes full of affection. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend," you reply, a shy smile playing on your lips.

"You’re damn right you’re my girlfriend," he says arrogantly, his grin returning. "You’re mine, darling."

"And you’re mine," you reply, your voice steady. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his collarbone, and he grins, letting out a quiet, contented sigh. His arms pull you closer instinctively, his embrace full of warmth and possession.

As you rest your head back against his chest, James resumes walking, his steps steady as he carries you toward the castle. He looks down at you with a fond smile, his voice soft as he says, "You know I love you, right?"

"You do?" you ask, breathless.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "It’s actually quite pathetic how much I love you."

His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips as he swallows hard. Slowly, he leans down, closing the gap until your lips meet. The kiss devours you, his free hand moving to cup your jaw and hold you in place. He sighs against your lips, deepening the kiss with a fervor that makes your head spin.

Your breath catches. "I love you too," you mutter against his mouth. "So much it’s almost sickening."

His chest heaves as he processes your words, and then a grin spreads across his face—a grin so wide it’s almost blinding. "You really do?" he asks, incredulous and elated all at once.

"I really do," you confirm as you laugh.

He lets out a breathless sound, shaking his head in amazement. "Tell me again," he demands, his voice rough with emotion. "Say it again.”

"I love you," you say, smiling up at him.

He chuckles, his joy spilling out. "Again," he says, a mix of plea and command. 

You kiss him once, then along his face, each kiss punctuated with a soft, "I love you. I love you. I love you."

James groans quietly, his grip on you bruising as he feels your lips against his skin. He’s completely drowning in your affection, his heart swelling with every word.

"Gods, I love you so much," he whispers between kisses.

"Say it again," you repeat his own words back to him.

"I love you," he says, his grin growing. "I love you.” A kiss on your nose. “I love you.” A kiss on your cheek. “I love you.” A kiss on your other cheek.

And as he carries you into the castle, your laughter mingling with his, you both know there’s no place either of you would rather be.

[sincerelyyycece]

hey, are u still there?...good.

Y/N inevitably finds themselves settling into James's backburner.

note: modern au, inspired by niki's song, "backburner.", lily evans is briefly mentioned, here's what i promised you guys mwa mwa!

sincerelyyycece © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

Y/N had always been the "backburner," the second choice, especially James’s second choice. She was the one he turned to when his first plans fell through—the one who was always there but never the priority. She was used to it and had grown comfortable in the role.

Right now, she's sent at least 15 messages to him.

Hey?

Can we meet up? I have some great news to tell you.

Hellooo.

You're probably busy. Text me when you can.

James?  Did something happen?

Nevermind, I'm probably overthinking it.

I'll just tell you here.

I got the internship :)

Delivered. Gazing at her screen, she sighed with a sense of familiarity. This repetitive pattern felt more like a routine or a game to her. The 'How long till he talks to me again?' Game, as she calls it. Setting her phone aside, she sought distraction from the mundane task of doing laundry.

A moment later, her phone chimed, drawing her attention. With a swift motion, she turned towards it. Hastily, she wiped her damp hands and cleared her throat before uttering, "Hello?" On the other end, she could hear faint shuffling before a familiar voice greeted her, "Hey, Angel." The affectionate nickname warmed her heart. "Just got your text. Congratulations!" he exclaimed. A soft "thank you" escaped her lips in response. His greeting sent a wave of warmth through her. "Apologies for not replying sooner. I was with..." He paused, clearing his throat. Her mood dimmed at the mention of another name. "With someone. I was with someone.”

Lily, always the first choice, James's top priority, the standard against which she measures herself. "Yeah, sure," she responded, lacking enthusiasm. "Mm-hmm," he trailed off. "So, do you want to celebrate? We could go out to eat or stay in and watch a movie," he suggested. "I'm not really feeling up to it right now. I'm pretty tired." There was a rustling sound on the phone once more. "Look, if this is about earlier, I apologize, alright?" he said. "Lily had some things going on and wanted to meet up, so we did." There it was again. Everything revolves around Lily.

"Um, yeah, I understand," she stuttered, trying to articulate her thoughts. "It's not that, James. I'm just exhausted from chores," she explained, glancing subtly at her unfinished laundry pile. "Y/N, come on. Let me make it up to you," he pleaded earnestly. "Pretty please," he persisted. She shook her head, amused, and relented, saying, "Okay, okay." Through the phone, she could hear his small yet enthusiastic 'yes.' "Order some takeout. We'll have a cosy night in with a movie," she suggested. "Yes, ma'am. I'm on my way," he joked lightly. "Take care." With that, she hung up and returned immediately to her laundry task.

Following that day, they continued hanging out. She pondered over the abrupt shift in their dynamic. It was uncharacteristic for her, yet she relished every moment spent with him. He delighted her by taking her to places she longed to visit and presenting her with gifts tailored to her preferences. He seemed to be doing everything right. However, as she prepared for a movie night tonight, a disheartening text message appeared on her phone. Hey, something came up. I have to reschedule. Sorry. She sighed, feeling a tinge of disappointment. Perhaps she should have anticipated this turn of events.

Sure, we can reschedule. she replied, her eyes brimming with tears. As they cascaded down her cheeks that night, she found herself immersed in a sea of sorrow. The following morning, she anticipated a message from him, but none arrived. Disheartened once more, she resolved not to reach out again. Days turned into weeks, with silence echoing his absence. It seemed as though he had vanished from her world. Or so she believed. Suddenly, her phone interrupted her reading, and without lifting her gaze from the book, she answered, "Hello?”

"Hey, are you still there?” echoed the familiar voice in her ears. Pausing, she glanced at the caller's ID. 'James :)' flashed on the screen. With a soft hum, she replied. His sigh reached her ears before he responded, "Good." Once more, she felt relegated to the sidelines in his priorities or had she truly ever moved from that place? Despite the familiar sting of disappointment, Y/N responded, "Yeah, I'm still here, James." His sigh of relief was almost audible across the line, and for a fleeting moment, she felt herself soften.

"I'm sorry, Angel," he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of regret and something else she couldn't quite place. "I've been...busy." Busy, always busy. But she knew what that meant. Lily. Yet, she found herself replying, "It's okay, James. I understand." She knew she was settling for less, allowing herself to be on the backburner once again. But the truth was, she couldn't help it. She was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, willingly choosing to dance on the edges of his life, even if it meant getting burned time and time again.

So, she swallowed back the hurt and disappointment, offering him a smile he couldn't see. "We can catch up soon, okay?" She suggested, her voice steady. There was a brief silence before he answered, "Yeah, that sounds good. I'll see you soon, Angel." With that, the call ended, leaving her with the familiar echoes of his promises. She sat alone in the silence of her room, her heart heavy yet hopeful. As she closed her eyes, she knew, deep down, that she was still James's second choice, his backburner. But for now, for better or worse, that was a role she was willing to play.

[moonstruckme]

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

hm what about remus lupin + sunshine x grumpy !! in which he is the grumpy ofc 🙌

Thanks for requesting angel!! Luv u <3

cw: mention of alcohol

Remus Lupin x sunshine!reader ♡ 653 words

Remus is reading his book more out of spite than interest. You’ve gone to get drinks with Sirius, removing yourself from his lap, which has put him in a worse mood than anything else all night, even the loud neighbors Sirius has invited over or the relentless congeniality that makes you incapable of not chatting up anyone who comes too close. 

When you come back you’ve brought James with you, and Remus relaxes as you situate yourself back on his lap, passing him a drink and letting him settle his free hand on your hip. He’s not sure how it happened, but Remus has found that he feels significantly better when he always has a hand on you. 

“Moony,” James greets him with a full-wattage smile, “you’re looking positively surly this evening.” 

“Her fault,” he replies, making you laugh and peck him on the cheek with your booze-sticky lips. 

“Right, of course.” James takes a sip of his own drink, sharing a look with Sirius. “Your bird’s a real menace, it’s just like her to bring down a mood.” 

“He’s just grouchy because I made him come tonight.” Your tone is teasing but there’s not a lick of real acrimony in it, and you grin when Remus squeezes your hip warningly. “But Rem, listen, it was totally worth it!” You seem to forget James and Sirius, your attention focussing solely on him. You have this way of making Remus feel like he’s standing in a pool of sunlight when you do this, looking at him all warm and bright and extra special. “You remember how I said Frank and Alice were going to get together in the next two weeks?” 

He hums in affirmation. 

“Well, guess who Sirius and I just saw making out in the kitchen?” 

Intrigue sparks in his chest, and Remus feels his brows lift. “Really?”

“Yes!” You’re thrumming with excitement, eyes gone all heart-shaped. “They’re so perfect for each other, I knew it would happen!” 

He rubs your hip tranquilizingly before you can wind yourself up to go congratulate the happy couple or spread the news or anything else that would take you away from him. “You called it, dove.” A pause. “Does this mean we can go now?” 

Your eyes crinkle, and Remus sighs as you kiss the bridge of his nose, dropping his head onto your shoulder. “We’ve only been here an hour,” you say into his hair, “but we’ll go soon, I promise. I’ll make that nighttime tea you like, and we’ll have a nice, long cuddle before bed.” 

You’re so good to him it’s impossible to truly deny you anything, but Remus turns his head to nip at the skin of your neck anyway. No one can see his smile when you squeal and clutch at his shoulders, giggling. 

“I’m offended you want to leave so badly, Moony,” says Sirius. “What’s so awful about my party?” 

Remus sits up, prepared to give him an extensive list, but you peck your boyfriend sweetly on the lips, pacifying him. 

“Nothing,” you tell Sirius, directing your smile his way. An irrational sort of jealousy rears its head in Remus’ chest. “It’s a great party! Your new neighbors are awesome, by the way.” Remus knows you really mean it, despite how those neighbors came in, drank half the liquor, and have yet to lower their voices since it entered their systems. You’re infinitely kinder than he is. “They’re so funny! I’m sure it’ll be a riot living next to them.” 

“Thank you, gorgeous,” Sirius says with a pointed look to Remus. “I really like them too, I’ll probably invite them to everything from now on.” 

Remus groans and hides his face in your chest, your body rumbling underneath him as you laugh. He feels your lips press to his hair. “Sorry, handsome,” you whisper. “I’ll make sure you never have to talk to them, yeah? I’m an excellent buffer.”

[alwaysmoncheri]

hiii would u be open to writing remus lupin x reader with the prompt *x put head on y’s shoulder* “just don’t leave…” with either remus saying it or the reader? no worries if not <3 🦌🦌

hi, my love!! thank you for requesting! i hope this is what you’re looking for! i was in a little bit of a writer block last night so this may not be my best work, i apologize for that, honey </3

cw: fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of remus being a werewolf, remus feels insecure, the marauders not being very helpful, established relationship, crying, 0.9k

<3

Remus isn’t one to hide who he is, you know he’s a werewolf, he’s been vulnerable with you before, so when he starts to become a little distant from you, you know exactly why. The past few days have been rough for him, you know. Leading up to a full moon is almost always worse than the aftermath. But this time, Remus seems particularly bothered. He still holds your hand to classes and reads to you at night, but something about the way he always is distracted, like loosely holing your hand without knowing and constantly losing his place while reading makes you feel like his mind is truly elsewhere.

The Marauders aren’t helping the situation either. Sure, they’re supportive of their friend and you know they’re always there for him, but the pitying glances don’t go unnoticed by both you and Remus and you don’t presume he is very fond of those looks. You don’t blame him.

At dinner, the night before the full moon, James, Sirius, and Peter keep repeating the same set of motions. Their eyes dart from each other, their food, to Remus, and back to each other. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at their obvious display of concern because Remus doesn’t really need that right now and they should know that after all this time. After tolerating the silent glances for the majority of dinner, Remus shifts uncomfortably, his eyes not leaving his food. You gently slide your hand into his, hoping offer some comfort, and when he accepts you take it a step furthur and draw small circles with your thumb on the back of his hand. This doesn’t last long. When the other three boys offer sympathetic smiles, Remus notices and stands from his seat, dropping your hand and walking out of The Great Hall with quick strides.

“Would you guys quit it?” you hiss at the boys across the table who’s eyes widen at the abrupt snap of your head in their direction.

“What?” They reply in unison and share a few nervous glances before returning to your harsh gaze.

“Remus clearly isn’t doing well,” you say, pointing out the obvious, “the least you can do is not look at him like he’s dying.” you add gesturing in the direction of the door, where Remus had walked out of.

“We’re not—”

“Save it,” you cut James off, who makes an attempt to defend the three of them. You roll your eyes, standing from your seat, “I’m going to check on him.” you state before following the previous path of your boyfriend, out the door and to your dorms.

When you arrive in the common room and head towards the boys’ dorm you hear quiet sobs echoing through the door. Your throat tightens and you hesitate to move towards the sound, but you do anyway because you know Remus needs somebody and you’re always willing to be that somebody.

“Remus?” you call out before pushing the door open and are met with a sniffling Remus, eyes red and puffy. Your heart almost breaks in two, the sight enough to make you feel the clenching in your chest and for a moment, you unknowingly hold your breath.

“Hey, lovely.” Remus greets and his voice cracks with the attempt to cover a sob that might’ve escaped his lips.

“Oh, honey.” you whisper and Remus bows his head, with shame or just to wipe the tears off his face, you don’t know. You walk towards the bed before sitting next to him, hand rubbing his shoulder, slowly sliding down to hold his hand, once more, “Do you want to talk about it?” you offer, bringing Remus to lift his head up and meet your gaze, a lump grows in your throat at his broken expression and you try to keep it together for him.

“I’m just so tired—” Remus starts, before a sob escapes his lips. He reaches out for you and you don’t hesitate to bring him into your arms, his head rests on your shoulder, your hands cupping the back of his neck, while his hands wrap around you waist, “ —I don’t want to be like this anymore.” Remus admits, his voice breaking and you feel your shirt dampen with tears.

“Hey, I’m here.” you say, gently running your hands through Remus’s hair and up and down the length of his back, “James, Sirius and Peter are here.” You add and you feel Remus’s sobs turn to sniffles against your shoulder. “Even if they get on your nerves, they mean well.”

“I know…” Remus says, the sound muffled against your shoulder. He lifts his head, your eyes meeting his puffy ones, “Is it okay if we just stay like this?” Remus asks hesitantly, as if you would ever say no to him.

“It’s more than okay.” You whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. You start to shift your body further onto the bed before Remus’s tight grip around your waist prevents you from doing so. Your eyebrows furrow with confusion before hearing Remus’s desperate voice.

“Don’t leave me, please…” Remus begs, clinging onto you.

I’m never going to leave you,” you reply and Remus nods continuously against your shoulder, his hair falling into his face and brushing yours, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Remus says, his voice shaky but calmer than before, “I don’t know what I would do without you.” He admits and your heart warms with his words.

You smile, pulling the both of you back onto his bed in a more comfortable position with his head still tucked into your shoulder, “And you’ll never have to know,” you whisper before you close your eyes and allow yourself to rest.

<3

masterlist . remus lupin masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @googie-jeon, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @jordie-gvf, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker, @moonsupremacy01, @enamoredwithbella

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.