#james doing the lords work here

[arting-block]

AJMSJSNNDJDJ THIS FIC IS TEWWW GOOD!! WHEN LOGAN GOT OUT THE CLAWS??? HELLO???

— sugar, sugar

wolverine/logan x neighbor!reader

rated e - 6.5k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)

a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

“You gonna introduce me?”

You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.

“You think this will wash out?” 

The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.

“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”

He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.

“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. 

Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.

Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.  

But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”

“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”

“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”

He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”

Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.

“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”

You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter. 

But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.

Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.

But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.  

“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”

Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”

That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”

“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”

“Who do you think got Peter?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.

“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”

Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”

“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”

“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”

The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.

“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”

“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.

You give him a sideways look, then.

“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”

He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.

“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another. 

You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”

Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”

The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”

An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”

It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”

Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.

“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”

“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”

The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.

“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing. 

Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid. 

He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer. 

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.

Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do. 

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.

He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.

Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing. 

Ambiance, his ass.

The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.

Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.

Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.

A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home. 

Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.

Better not to hope, or even think, at all. 

You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close. 

A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide. 

“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”

A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”

Penis cake?

Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open. 

Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”

Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”

Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.

“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”

Jesus Christ. 

Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”

Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.

A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.

“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”

A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.

“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.

Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.

Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own version of a personal hell.

“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing. 

Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours. 

They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head. 

She wants to meet you.

He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him. 

“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”

“Uh, uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses. 

“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.” 

He hates you.

He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.

Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.

That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away. 

“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin. 

“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”

His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.

“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”

His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”

“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts. 

“You first.”

“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing. 

Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger. 

It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back. 

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”

You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.

“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”

Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways. 

Different. Special.

“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”

There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.

“Right. What flavor was it?”

Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”

A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”

The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade. 

“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.

“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”

There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry. 

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”

The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood. 

Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.

“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers. 

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing. 

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”

His hand flexes in your grip.

“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”

Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.

“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”

Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough. 

“No. I don’t think so.”

Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face. 

His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows. 

Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.

His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.

Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.

“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?” 

His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.

Surely he must know? 

“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.

“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”

“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.

All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken. 

Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.

“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”

You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.

Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush. 

“You want to get out of here?”

You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.

His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.

Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.

His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.

It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.

Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it. 

His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.

Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.

A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.

Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.

Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.

Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.

You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down. 

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.

“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring. 

It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.

Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath. 

The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?” 

He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch. 

“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”

You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”

He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”

And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.

“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down. 

His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.

Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him. 

The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.

That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.

Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.

“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.” 

Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again. 

A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache. 

Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone. 

His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate. 

“That’s it sweetheart.”

Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.

You did this to him. 

It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down. 

A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop. 

Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.

A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you. 

“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.

Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.

His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.

“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”

It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.

A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.

The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest. 

“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”

You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.

It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.

That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim. 

A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him.  It’s what you needed - that little bit more.

Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge. 

Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”

He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking. 

His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.

It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.

You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him. 

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.

Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.

You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him. 

A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his. 

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up. 

Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”

Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.

Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.

Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.

“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it. 

“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”

He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.

It’s almost too much. 

You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin. 

It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.

That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat. 

Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.

How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out. 

“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”

He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in. 

Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.

“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”

The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear. 

Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.

He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.

Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap. 

It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him. 

Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”

Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.  

Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught. 

Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.

Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.

There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.

Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.” 

Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.

The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”

You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.

But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.

“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”

Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.

Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.

“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”

“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”

I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)

[dismalflo]

picture perfect

Rugby!James potter x Photographer!reader who meet for the first time while they're both working ✩ 3.2k words

summary: when Lily calls asking you to fill in for the team photographer, you agree. you meet a very nice and slightly flirty team captain - James Potter.

cw: just fluff, James is a sweetheart,

When Lily called you to ask if you could photograph the promo shots for the rugby team's social media, you should’ve said no. But, despite knowing her for years, saying no to Lily Evans is a skill you’ve never quite mastered, and lord knows, you’ve tried.

“I’m sorry, Lily, it’s just not the kind of photography I do,” you’d said, hoping she’d back off.

“I know that, but our team photographer quit out of nowhere to go ‘find himself,’ and it’s just this one time. You’d be my hero if you could help.”

“...Fine.”

So yes, you tried, but to no avail.

Now, as you drive onto the grounds, the nerves start to creep in. Lily’s request meant they were desperate, but that only ramps up the pressure. You have to get the shots right. Perfect. No room for mistakes. Because of this, your car’s boot is packed with a variety of lenses, camera bodies, and a couple of tripods. At least no one could accuse you of being underprepared.

Once you park, you allow yourself a moment to breathe. You’re not sure what you’re walking into, and the unknown is always unnerving. Hands still firmly planted on the steering wheel and eyes staring unseeingly at the dash. This is silly, you haven't felt this panicked once in the lead up to this job, but it seems to have hit you like a brick all at once at the worst possible time.

Just as your mind starts to spiral, a gentle tap on your window pulls you back to reality. You glance up to find one of the biggest men you’ve ever seen, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, dressed in joggers and a jacket with the team’s logo emblazoned on it. His face is calm, his smile warm and relaxed. If sunshine were a person It’d be him. You try to shake off the wave of nerves and return an awkward grin, fumbling to get out of the car.

“You alright?” he asks, his voice steady and easy.

“Yeah, I’m, uh… I’m here to do the promo photos for the team,” you say, your tone hesitant, unsure of your place here.

“Oh, great. Lily mentioned you'd be coming,” he says with a nod. Then, with a casual gesture toward your car, he adds, “Need a hand bringing your stuff in?”

You're taken aback by his immediate kindness. You'd half-expected to be ignored by a bunch of burly men all day, but this tall, curly-haired guy is completely throwing you off. It's a relief, though—one you didn’t even realise you needed.

“That would be great, actually,” you say, voice softer now, but still nervous as you rush to add, “If—if that’s alright.”

As you round the car to pop open the boot, you can't help but feel a little self-conscious. Not only have you just managed to act like a bumbling fool, but there's also this man—who looks like he's been sculpted by the gods—following right behind you.

When the boot clicks open, he lets out a low whistle. “Wow, one of my mates is really into film photography,” he says, his face lighting up as he speaks. “Not sure he’s got a kit as impressive as yours, though. So, what do you need me to carry?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his comment. He’s kind, but rugby players aren’t exactly known for their gentle touch. As charming as this one is, you’re not about to risk it. You point toward the tripod bags. “Those, if you don’t mind,” you say.

He nods with an easy grin, effortlessly lifting one of the heavy tripod bags. “No problem. I’ve got it.” His muscles shift under his jacket as he adjusts the weight, and you try not to let your gaze linger too long on the way his jacket clings to his broad shoulders.

You grab a camera body, a little flustered by the close proximity of this boy, but you make an effort to steady yourself. “Thanks” you mutter, looking up at him, a little rushed.

“No worries,” he says with a chuckle, then adds, “They're all nice lads, you’ll be fine.”

The reassurance is exactly what you needed, even if it doesn’t quite settle the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “I hope so,” you reply with a faint smile, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

As you both start walking toward the stadium, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet morning air, he turns his head slightly, keeping his tone casual. “So, is this your usual kind of job?” he asks, clearly trying to get a conversation going as you both make your way through the car park.

You’re grateful for the distraction, even if the question catches you a little off guard. “I mean, I mostly do portraits and landscapes,” you answer, trying to sound like you have it all together. “I don’t usually do team sports, but Lily called in a favour.”

He gives you a sideways glance, his smile widening just a bit as he lets out a low chuckle. “Well, if it makes you feel better, the team’s not as scary as they look. And, if you need a bit of help with that, I’m more than happy to make sure they stay in line.”

You both reach the entrance of the stadium, and he holds the door open for you, his smile still warm. “After you, photographer,” he says with a playful wink.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to maintain your composure. “Are you always this charming?” you can’t help but ask, a little teasing of your own slipping into your voice.

He grins even wider, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Only when I’m trying to get someone to stop being nervous,” he says easily, then adds with a shrug, “Seems like it’s working, though, doesn’t it?”

You can't help but laugh, the tension easing slightly as you step into the stadium, the vast space unfolding before you. The first thing your eyes catch is the bright red hair of Lily Evans, making her way toward you, a grin spreading across her face.

"Thank you so much for this," she says, pulling you into a quick hug. "I mean it, you're a lifesaver." As she pulls away, you nod enthusiastically, your words failing you. Her gaze flicks over to the man standing behind you.

"I see you've met James," she says, reaching for the Tripod bag from him. "He's the team captain—and apparently not where he’s supposed to be."

James scoffs, indignant. "I was making sure this lovely thing got in here in one piece. Didn't see you rushing to help them." Lily doesn’t respond, merely shoos him away. To his credit, James takes it in stride, backing off with his hands raised in mock surrender.

Just as he turns to leave, you remember yourself and call out, "Thanks for the help!" But James doesn’t seem to hear you, already heading toward the changing rooms.

Lily gives you a soft, amused look and gestures toward a nearby hallway. "Come on, I'll show you where we'll be shooting." Her familiarity with the space is evident, and it's reassuring in a way—this is her turf, a fancy social media manager, and you’re just trying to find your footing.

She leads you down the hallway, her steps confident as she continues to chat. “Alright, so we’ll do individual portraits first. Each player will come up, and you can get the posed shots. Nothing too fancy—just something clean and simple for the social media pages.” She glances over her shoulder at you, offering a quick smile.

You nod, trying to lock that information into place. Individual portraits? You can do that. You’ve done countless shoots for portraits before, even if these players are a bit more... intimidating than your usual subjects.

Lily pauses at the edge of the room and gestures to a clear space by a set of large windows. The natural light coming in looks ideal. “We’ll set up here for the portraits. Nothing too wild. Just enough to show who they are, you know?”

“Got it,” you say, trying to steady your breath. You adjust the strap on your camera, mentally preparing for the first round of shots.

She gives you a thumbs-up before stepping away, her voice carrying back over her shoulder. “After the portraits, we’ll move to the pitch for the action shots. I’m thinking some training photos, maybe a few of them in motion, running drills.”

She turns the corner into the locker room, calling over her shoulder, “Let me know if you need anything. I’m not far!”

As you begin setting up your gear, arranging the tripod and adjusting your lenses, you steal a glance at the team members trickling out of the locker room. Their voices blend in a hum of casual chatter, punctuated by the occasional laugh. A few of them catch sight of you, offering quick nods or polite smiles as they take their positions.

But then your heart skips a beat. James emerges from the locker room, flashing you that cheeky grin of his as he surveys the space. Your hands freeze, nearly losing grip on the camera. He stands there—broad shoulders, relaxed posture—exuding a quiet confidence. His eyes lock with yours, and he winks, that familiar teasing energy lighting up the air between you.

You shake off the brief moment of distraction, focusing back on your task. You work through the shots with precision, photographing each player quickly but methodically. The room feels less overwhelming now as the others drift off, their photos already taken. Just as you finish capturing a man with dark hair and tattoos snaking up his forearms, you look up and realize there's only one player left. James.

He steps up to the backdrop, flashing you that grin again. “You’re impressive, y’know.”

You blink, taken aback. “How do you mean?” you ask, your face flushing at the unexpected compliment.

James shrugs casually, his posture still relaxed but with an edge of warmth in his eyes. “I mean, you’ve got this whole calm, collected photographer thing down. And you’re, like, making it look easy.” His voice holds a playful lilt, like he’s genuinely impressed but also enjoying how much he can throw you off with a few words.

You laugh, trying to shake the sudden flutter of nerves that surge through you again. “Well, I’ve had a bit of practice,” you say, focusing on adjusting your camera settings to avoid his teasing gaze. “And it’s only a little intimidating being surrounded by a team of professional athletes.” You glance up briefly, catching his gaze again. There’s something about him that makes your hands a little shaky, but you try not to let it show.

James doesn’t seem fazed, though. If anything, he looks even more comfortable, his hands resting on his hips as he gives you an easy smile. “I wouldn’t say intimidating. More like... impressive, right? We’re a bunch of big, tough guys who can knock each other out on the field, but off it? Pretty harmless.” He tilts his head, studying you as if trying to gauge how you’re doing with all the attention. “Plus, I’ve been told I’m easy to work with.” He winks again, and the teasing energy returns.

You roll your eyes playfully, setting up the shot. “Oh, I’m sure you are. I’m just worried I might accidentally photograph your ego instead of your face.” You smile as you say it, hoping it comes off as light-hearted, but internally, you’re wondering how you keep managing to get caught up in this back-and-forth with him.

James laughs, the sound easy and rich, like he's genuinely enjoying himself. “That wouldn't be a good look for me but you're the photographer, angel, do what you want.”

You take a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure as you adjust your camera settings again, focusing more on the equipment than the man in front of you. His teasing grin hasn't faltered, and it's making it harder to concentrate. You need to get the shot—simple, clean, just like Lily said. But somehow, with James standing there, the task feels a little more complicated.

“Alright,” you say, trying to steady your hands as you bring the camera to your eye. “Just relax and look natural, okay?”

He nods with exaggerated seriousness, then steps back, looking you dead in the eye as if he's about to pull off some grand dramatic pose. But instead, he just stands tall, hands in his pockets, eyes soft, looking completely unbothered. And somehow, it’s perfect.

After a few shots, you pause, studying the pictures on your camera’s screen. They’re good. No, they’re better than good. The natural light falls perfectly on his face, and there’s something in his eyes—something that isn’t quite the usual mischief, but maybe a little more... real.

“Not bad, huh?” James’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and you look up to find him still standing there, this time a little more relaxed than before.

You nod slowly, doing your best to mask just how much you’re replaying the image of him in that moment. “Yeah, these are great. You’ve got a good... um, 'look.'” You immediately cringe, realizing how awkward that sounded, but he just flashes a smile, unfazed.

“Of course I do,” he says, winking again, and you roll your eyes, trying to shake off the embarrassment.

A brief silence settles between you both as you both focus on the photos. Clearing your throat, you turn to James. “Thank you for–” but you're interrupted when the door swings open, and in walks the man with dark hair and tattoos.

“Prongs, stop flirting with the pretty photographer,” he says with a teasing grin, throwing an apologetic look your way. “We’ve got work to do.”

Suddenly, you feel heat rush to your cheeks, realizing you’ve held James up for longer than you should have. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” you rush out. But when you look at James, his soft gaze is fixed on you, his smile still warm and genuine.

He shakes his head slightly. “It was really nice talking to you.” His voice is calm, steady, and there’s no teasing in sight. Then, with one last glance, he turns to follow his teammate out the door, leaving you to ponder the sincerity behind his words.

The rest of the day is very uneventful. Aside from the fact your gaze kept wandering back to James, the fact that he kept making eye contact with you as if he’d already been looking, and one rogue comment from Lily.

“What have you done to James?” she asks, smirking.

“I– nothing… what?” you reply, confused and a furrow to your brows.

“He’s usually very focused,” she gives you a pointed look before leaning it, “He doesn't seem to be today.” her tone teasing.

You decided at the time not to dwell on those words. But now, as you make your way back to the car with the equipment, they echo in your mind, replaying over and over. What did she mean? You can’t help but wonder if you’ve done something to make James uncomfortable. A small—no, a rather large—part of you hopes he might actually like you.

Fumbling with your keys, your hands full and your mind racing, you hear a voice call from a distance. “Hey!”

You look up to see none other than James, jogging toward you with that effortless smile.

“Let me help,” he says, reaching for the strap of your bag and gently lifting it off your shoulder.

“Oh, thanks, James,” you reply, a shy smile tugging at your lips as your heart skips a beat.

"Anything for the best and prettiest photographer around." The compliment makes you fluster as he loads the bags into the car. "I can't wait to see the final results." His grin is the biggest you've seen all day, and you return it automatically, lost for words.

"Listen…" James straightens up to face you, rocking on the balls of his feet. "I was wondering if I could get your number?"

Your mind races through a million possibilities, but you quickly dismiss the idea that he's interested in you personally. Instead, you settle on the thought that he probably wants it for professional reasons.

"I—uh, I did this as a one-off. I'm not a sports photographer."

He chuckles softly, glancing down at the floor before raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "I know," he says, meeting your eyes. "But I meant it more like... I was hoping to take you on a date." He pauses, then adds, "If you'd like to."

"Oh." You're stunned into silence, and James immediately takes it as rejection.

"You should say no if you don't want to," he says quickly, looking away. "I can handle it."

"No, I—I'd really like that," you respond, nodding more to yourself than to him, but your smile betrays the nervous excitement bubbling up inside.

James’s face breaks into a grin that nearly lights up the entire car park, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Yeah?” he asks, his voice suddenly softer, as though trying to gauge whether this is really happening.

You nod, suddenly shy, your heart doing a strange flip in your chest. “Yeah,” you repeat, giving him a small, tentative smile.

“Good,” he says with a relaxed chuckle, almost like he didn’t expect this to go as smoothly as it has. “So, uh… I’ll text you, then?”

“Yeah. Definitely,” you say, finally letting yourself exhale, feeling the tension leave your shoulders.

He doesn’t hesitate, pulling out his phone and typing something quickly before showing it to you, waiting for you to type in your number. As you do, you can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t mind it. This doesn’t feel weird or awkward, it feels—well, kind of exciting.

“Alright,” he says, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “I’ll let you get going.” He turns toward the building, but not before looking back over his shoulder with a smirk. “I’ll be in touch, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, watching him walk away with a mix of amusement and disbelief. Once he’s out of sight, you take a deep breath, your hands feeling lighter now, a strange warmth spreading through you.

By the time you get into your car and start driving away, your mind is a whirlwind. You keep replaying the moments—his smile, his words, the way he looked at you.

Once home, your heart is still racing, the adrenaline from the shoot finally starting to settle, replaced by a warm, giddy feeling you didn’t expect.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to find a message from James: “Had a great time today. Can’t wait to see you again. ;)”

You laugh, your fingers hovering over the screen as you try to think of the perfect response. Maybe something casual, something cool... But who are you kidding? You quickly type back: “Same here. Looking forward to it.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

let me know what you think of this! <3

[moonysbookshelves]

The Cadence of Part-Time Poets

The Cadence of Part-Time Poets by @motswolo

Have been working on this 10 volume set for the past few months now, and they are finally complete. My Magnum Opus. I have peaked and probably depleted all of my brain power.

Thank you to @motswolo for writing such a beautiful story. My brain chemistry has been favourably altered. Will forever flinch when I hear Queen, The Beatles or Bob Dylan. Love to you from western Canada (west coast best coast lets gooooo).

I also posted a TikTok Reel of these since posts here are limited and I love the insides as much as the covers, so if you wanna see between the pages, here’s that.

Also thank you @avisbindery for letting me scream and cry in your DMs while I read the fic. May you get some uninterrupted sleep now LOLLL.

Going to write a whole essay below about the ideas and details because uhhh I wanna yap bit!

So for starters, I wanted to make these binds look like magazines because of the epilogue where (spoiler) Tonya sees Remus in a copy of New Musical Express. But of course this fic is long, so I was like, what if I do multiple volumes? This very quickly spiralled into me painstakingly (finding publication-accurate fonts almost sent me to an early grave) recreating 10 different music-focused magazines from the 70s and 80s from scratch (thank you to Photoshop, Affinity, Procreate and Canva). Each volume features a unique cover, along with stylized typesets to match that display the songs for each chapter but in different designs. And then I went a little crazy and made a 45 sleeve and a cassette too, to really set the scene when I took the photos lol

While the covers display the dates pertaining to the contents of that particular volume (Sept 1975 for volume one, for example) I was thinking about what the magazines would say if they were really published when Marauders are traipsing about being spectacular and famous in the future. I sprinkled in details from the fic itself and fanon-ed it a bit, but that was the general inspiration :-) Tried to keep the photos used either faceless/obscured, or to use the fancasts on Mots’ Cadence master post. I also tried to use period-accurate photos but didn’t always succeed, so settled for photos of 4 member bands where I had to :”) But the general intent with the facelessness was that they could be implied to be Marauders. If you squint? lol. Just pretend. Pls.

Volume One: Based upon The Record Song Book. This magazine went on to inspire the typesets, since it publishes lyrics and such. The cover images are of Spacey Jane and David Thewlis.

Volume Two: Based on ZigZag, specifically the issue from July 1978 featuring Siouxie and the Banshees just because I thought it looked sick as fuck. I re-drew the abstract shapes and such in procreate. The cover images are The Clash and a young Gary Oldman. Lord he was foiiine.

Volume Three: Based on Trouser Press, November 1980. The cover images are a young Metallica, and my personal fav fan cast for James, Reiky De Valk. The film negatives are from a Bruce Springsteen tour, 1976.

Volume Four: Based on Gay Times (November 1984), a queer magazine from the UK because this volume contains Wolfstars first kiss hehe. Also hence Somebody To Love plastered all over the covers. The Front cover is Inhaler. The “4A” on this one is of course the boys’ dorm number, but I made the A the lambda symbol as this was a pride symbol in the 70s after Stonewall.

Volume Five: Based on Melody Maker. Front image is Alex Turner. All of the text on this one is pulled directly from the fic. The scene where they all drop acid and James jumps off the roof Almost Famous style had me hootin’ and hollerin’… until Tomny showed up hahaha :”)

Volume Six: Based on IT (International Times, Aug 1971). Front image for this one is Joy Division, and the back features Jane Asher for Lily

Volume Seven: Based on Record Mirror, June 1976. Front image is John Taylor of Duran Duran. Yum.

Volume Eight: Based on Rolling Stone. More vibes than anything for this one, but the quote still makes me laugh.  Front image is of Matt Hitt. Can you tell I photoshopped a cell phone out of this one? IDK. This photo just screamed ‘Remus’ to me so I had to use it. The back image is an old cigarette ad, but the photo is taken in Shepherd’s Bush.

Volume Nine: Based on Fusion magazine. Front image for this one is once again Inhaler. Oops. Back cover is our gals. Images are Jodie Foster as Cherry, Brenda Sykes as Mary, and Goldie Hawn as Lottie.

Volume Ten: Based on New Musical Express. You know why :”) These are all victims of fanon, but this one especially. I wanted it to be NME instead of the re-invented logos I’d been doing for all the rest, as I wanted it to look like the magazine the Sister gives to Tonya. I referred to an issue of NME from October 1979 for this and layered in fic references where it made sense to. The cover image for this one is (I think) Cigarettes After Sex. This issue also contains all of the B-Side chapters, and the Marauders song lyrics too just for fun :)

Slasher Chick: This is just my take on what Sybill’s zine could’ve looked like. Prob way off but I just wanted to have fun with this one since I had no cover to reference lol. The zine contains her little write-up and the interview, lifted straight from the fic :")

ok yap sesh over byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee lmfaooooo

[theogonize]

youngest intern in the history of ppth's oncology. thats you.

"you're still here?" wilson calls out to the void seemingly. your head peaks out from the crowded shelves of the lab to give him a nod.

oh this is bad.

this is not what you need. you dont need you're hot boss to distract you when you're trying to conduct some tests he asked you to. especially not when you haven't slept in 2 days and have had copious amounts of coffee in your system making you jittery. you dont need him to increase your heart rate to the point where your capillaries explode. oh you're gonna fuck up somehow. you're tell him you like him. because lord knows you do. your boss. you have a silly schoolgirl crush on your pathetically gorgeous boss. the kind that makes you nauseous and unwell because he's just so, so pretty. and you'd end up telling him that you'd risk it all if he just gave you the chance.

but you like this job. you need this job. you can't let it go just because you've got a thing for older men with kind eyes whose soft lips spill praises like...

"you there?"

"mhm" you gulp. somehow your mouth is really fucking dry. good god, james wilson. good fucking god. you just want to rub your face on his chest like a cat. you need him to touch you. to pet you. to run his deft fingers refined from years of surgery and paperwork and everything else through your hair or something... what's wrong with you? there's a pit in your abdomen that needs him. you need him to praise you, like he always does. you need him to look at you, take you in, take advantage of you. just dear lord do something. not just stand there and express concern as your employer. just come closer, please, your mind whimpers to him.

"i really think you should rest. we've made considerable progress thanks to your good work and extra hours. you've really proved yourself."

but you don't want this to stop. he thinks you're good. useful. your boss, the intellectual, witty and beautiful man you work for, the best doctor you've met. the one who puts in the hours and effort to better himself in what he does... thinks you did a good job.

wilson does find you admirable. he likes your work ethic, your thirst to prove yourself. he likes your obsession, he compares it to house's sometimes. he likes the way you talk, not much to him for some reason (maybe it's the "boss" thing or...) but everyone else in the oncology department. he likes that you're young and you hold him in high regard. you're always so attentive when he talks, so perceptive, so willing. among those things he commends, the kind of things he can tell his colleagues about, he also likes the tint in your skin when you stand under the dim lighting in the lab. some of it reflecting off your hair, slightly unkempt but beautiful. he likes you without the lab coat. he likes your keen eyes, your smile, your hands, your face, the swoop of your ass, your...

he lets out a deep sigh. wilson likes you. admires you. maybe overstepping his place as your boss, as your mentor, as whatever that is you're making him in your head, the reflection of which he sees in your eyes sometimes. something desperate. aching. calling out his name, as if to say "come heal me". heaven knows he wants to.

and he knows what it is. it's the same look of admiration he gives you. the murky one. the slightly lustful one. he knows what you are. pretty young thing, final year med student, who'd rather flirt with house than chase or foreman. but he'd rather pretend he didnt. rather kid himself into thinking he doesn't care when chase of all people calls you young. that he doesn't feel guilty for wanting you to want him.

but maybe if he played into it long enough, played dumb long enough, made you feel like this is just how he is. just this sweet. if he made you believe that he had a reason to fold his cuffs to reveal his rather slutty forearms, loosen his tie on a late night, take off his coat complaining about the new jersey weather, gaze into your eyes at every occasion he got, all in pure innocence. this isnt flirting. this isn't an old man's desperation and desire permeating his professionalism.

no. this is okay. all he hopes for is that one day you'll give in. confess your love to him like cameron did to house. fight for him. shed a few tears. maybe then he could wipe then off your pretty cheeks and sigh. he could then reject you. just speak those words of "i'm sorry, it's inappropriate and you're much younger than me" into existence. make them real, if only he could use all the rationality in the world to convince himself that he doesn't want you as despicably and carnally as he does.

he shuts his eyes and takes in a sharp breath. no. this isn't right. he'd be taking advantage of you. even if its what you want. even if it could be his little present to you.

"go home, doctor."

he leaves the door of the lab open on his way out.

[occamstfs]

Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home. 

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with  him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew: 

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it. 

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass! 

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.  

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.

[sour-leminies]

My little Fairy

Pairing: Hook x Fairy F!Reader

Summary: Coming to Merlin Acadamy you grew very close to the pirate with a hook. Everyone had declared you Hook's pirate Fairy. Truth be told, most people couldn't believe how loyal and caring you were to the pirate. So, when you finally snap, for the first time in a long time James didn't have you by his side, and all he knew was he wanted you back. Now.

Warnings: None I can think of, but let me know otherwise.

Taglist: @astrynyx @snixx2088 @4ng3l-ch1ld @herondale-lightworm Just ask to be tagged!

Navigation — other works!

I watched as Bridget and her friends all danced around the court yard - singing and dancing. It was sickening, they were so sweet and yet I couldn't help the part of me that yearned for that kind of friendship.

My only friend was Captain Hook, and if given the chance I'm positive he would have ditched me long ago if not for my help with things. Whenever he wasn't prepared for a test, I'd skip my own class to be in my smaller form tucked away in his shirt - telling him the answers. Or whoever he wanted me to spy on one of his victims he terrorized, I'd do so. Or when he wanted pixie dust, etc. The point was, I'd give my soul for Captain James Hook, and I don't even think he sees me as a friend.

Snapping out of my haze I landed on James's shoulder, whispering in his ear - telling him how Bridget was in the courtyard being all happy. A message he hurried to tell Uliana, before he made his way to the spot. I was still on his shoulder as he entered the courtyard with a dramatic flair.

I remained on his shoulder as he sang and danced, until Uliana turned into a flamingo. Something I couldn't help but smile at. Part of me was jealous of Uliana, and her relationship with James. It looked more intimate than his with Maleficent.

I pulled James through a different door, Maleficent following after us - and we cut the girls off. I now rested on Maleficent Horns. I let out a gasp, that came out like a jingle.

The Vk's all retreated once Uliana ran away - screaming and soaking wet. At least she was no longer a flamingo.

Once everyone cooled down, I was now in my human form laying on my bed, dressed in a nice pretty black dress. My makeup and hair had been done and all I had to do was wait for Hook to get here so we could go to that birthday dinner he promised me.

"Still no Hook?" Maleficent - who was also my roommate asked me. "No, you would think he'd show by now. I mean he's twenty minutes late." I praised the lord that my voice didn't come out as jingles when in my human form. Annoyingly so, only other Faires and James could understand me when I was in my smaller size.

"I hate to say this," my roommate spoke as she sat onto my bed with me. "But maybe he forgot."

I quickly shook my head. No way - he promised me. He had promised. He wouldn't forget me.

Slowly the hours ticked by and by the time it struck eight, two hours after the time we agreed on, Maleficent forced me up, and her hand Hades took me to dinner.

I wanted to cry, but how could I? Just because I love him, doesn't mean he loves me. At that very moment I accept that cold hard truth.

So as Maleficent rubbed my arm, and Hades even pat my head - I had decided that I would stop trying with Hook, it'll never happen anyways.

—

Over the next few days you ignored Hook. You hadn't made the first move to talk to him, and it seemed he had nothing he wanted you to do for him.

When the third day of you ignoring him he grew antsy. He didn't know what the sudden change in you was, but for some very odd reason - he didn't like it.

He walked out of detention - Something he had gotten when he was caught breaking in Merlin's office. His very first thought was that you weren't there. Typically, when he'd get detention - if you didn't sit in there with him in his jacket, then you'd always greet him with a hug once he walked out the doors.

"Yo, Mali." He called out to the mistress of evil. "You heading to your room?"

The dark fairy nodded her head silently, and James took that as an invitation to walk her to her room. Even though he would never admit it, the real reason was so he could check on his little fairy. The one he was now growing worried about.

—

You jumped at the sound of the door opening. Looking up from the books you were reading on your bed, you were surprised to see Maleficent, but also James.

"Hook." You spoke, but kept your voice neutral.

The man couldn't help but flinch at the name you used. You never called him that, you always either used Captain or James. Now he knew somethings wrong.

"We need to talk." Came his short reply, but you weren't dumb, you could see the slow anger bubbling up in his eyes.

You slowly got off your bed, and walked out into the hallway with him. "What's the problem?" You were honestly he hadn't already listed things he wanted done, but you were sure he'd start soon.

"The problem? You tell me. You suddenly ignore me, I haven't seen you in three days - but I know good and well Hades has. So you fucking tell me the problem." His voice was slowly growing louder and louder.

"Hey calm down." You tried to keep your guy's voice quiet - but that only set him off more.

"Calm down?! How can I be calm when you vanished. You were gone." Suddenly both of you stopped. You both could hear the hurt, the insecurity, but most importantly the fear laced in his tone. His chest breathed up and down heavily as he realized just how much he bloody missed you.

"Listen, Hook." "James."

He took a step closer to you, slightly pushing you into the wall as he pushed into you, leaning down to breath you in.

Fuck he felt like an addict who needed a hit, and finally scratched that itch under their skin.

"You call me James." His breath fanned over your face, as he slightly leaned up to get a look at your face.

Part of you loved this, as you placed your hands onto his chest, the open part of his shirt so you both could feel the skin to skin contact.

For James it was like your touch awakened something in him. Something that called for your name. Something in him burned for you.

He leaned down, his breath fanning over your lips. Making you close your eyes in anticipation. Hook didn't was a single second. He dropped his hook from his hand, and placed it onto your cheek, while his other hand grabbed a hold of the back of your neck.

You in this moment couldn't deny you loved this - the feel of his lips on yours, the feel of his wanting you. But it was too late.

He had made it clear that you weren't a priority. And even though bread crumbs of his affection felt like a feast - it wasn't enough. You hand to stand up, You deserve better. Something that Captain hook couldn't give you.

You built your strength and pushed him away. "No."

Hook looked at you confused, did you not just feel what happened between the two of you? Because he was more than happy to give a repeat.

"I deserve better than you." You pushed him again, finally letting the tears out. Letting the tears out of a woman who wanted nothing more than the man she was crying over. "I deserve so much more than what you give me." Which was nothing. You pushed him again and this time he grabbed both your hand and pulled you into him, letting you hit him over and over until you were drained - but never letting go of you.

"You done?" You glared up and him through your pretty wet eyelashes. "Good. Now listen. You will have no one other than me. There will be no other man, woman, I don't give a fuck. Your my little fairy." You went to shake you head. No - maybe once you were his but not anymore.

"You don't even make a priority - how can you say that?" Your voice was horse from the mini break down you had while punching him.

"You are my priority." How could you say you weren't? Even when he though nothing of you, from the first moment he met you he had put you as a priority on his list.

"Ask me about how I spent my birthday three days ago." Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

You could see the panic cross his face. The regret and self loathing as well. And maybe once upon a time that would be enough, but not anymore.

You pulled yourself away from him and hurried into your room, locking the door.

He banged a couple time before he spoke through the wood.

"I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry. Sorry can't even explain, let me make it up to you." When he got no response from he, he continued on. "I am sorry about this but we will move past it. Just remember you may think you are free of me, but your are not. I will haunt you, beg for your forgiveness. You want better - I'll be better."

You silently cried while Hook poured everything he had from his heart into his next words.

"I'll be so much fucking better for you, my little fairy. So better."

—

The rest of the entire week, Hook would try his best; he'd bring flowers to you in the morning, he'd always walk you to class - despite how much you told him to leave you alone.

James knew he screwed up, and he hated himself for it. He didn't know what he had and he took it for granted.

He would scowl at Hades and Maleficent when you all were hanging out at the black lagoon.

Just because you and hook were on shaky ground didn't mean you were no less a Vk. Something that the crew grew to respect about you.

Every time you walked past him - not giving him a glance, he felt his chest tighten. He miss how you would cling to him. How you would rest on your shoulder when you felt over stimulated. The way you would accidently spray him with pixie dust, causing him to float.

He missed teaching you sword fighting, and all the basics. He missed you.

"Y/N!" He called out to you, desprate to get your attention. For the first time, since that kiss you didn't glare at him - nor push him away.

Instead it was worse. He felt his stomach grow cold at the neutral and emotionless look in your eyes. At least when you hated him you still cared. Now he didn't know. Your walls were up so high - it's shadow could darken a valley.

"Yes Hook?" He closed his eyes, shaking off the feeling he had.

"First, it's James. Second, will you go to dinner with me." You opened your mouth to disagree but he covered it before you could make a sound.

"Don't say no." He could hear his heart pounding in his head. "Just come. Meet me at Dip and Go dinner tonight at eight."

He dropped his hand from your mouth, and he found his courage to speak his next words.

"If you don't come I'll leave you alone." He would not, but he needed to know that deep down he still had a chance. And if he didn't have one then he would spend the rest of his life fighting for one.

He walked away, nervous for the reality check that he would soon face tonight.

—

The clock on your dorm wall ticked, and ticked. Each second growing closer to eight. The diner was an hour away and if you were to make it in time you should be leaving now.

But you just couldn't. You were too afraid. You weren't a fool, you could tell James was sorry, and regretful, but you didn't know if you could trust him.

He had unknowingly held your heart - and then crushed it. What would he do if he had known how much you cared for him? Would he treat you different?

"You should go." You looked over to the dark fairy, you had thought she was out with Hades.

"I'm scared." You had once thought James was your only friend, but Maleficent and even her boyfriend proved me wrong. "That's what makes it worth it."

She walked over to your bed, sitting down beside me before she carried on. "If you even have a chance for love then it's worth it to fight. And if you decide that he's not worth it, then at the very least you owe it to yourself to find closure." Maybe she was right.

—

Hook glanced at the clock on the wall of the diner, it said eight forty, and he knew that she wasn't going to show. He blew his shot. He wanted to throw the glass Infront of him, the one where he poured rum into it.

He had decided to dress nicely, wore his best clothing, even left his hook at home. He wanted to look his best for you - to show you he could be a good guy for you.

He had already paid for his drink, so he left a twenty bill on the table and walked out. He would wait longer, but he could tell the employees had wanted him out.

He felt like he couldn't breathe as he walked down the path, he wanted to take you on. The trees lit up with beautiful fireflies at night, and it was a view he wanted to share with you.

His vision blurred, and his chest breathed up and down, as his heart ached, pounded. He had no problems with ripping his heart out for you, but fuck, all he needed was you. He felt like a fool - not because you didn't show, but because he was too self-absorbed and if he had opened his eyes from the beginning thing would be different.

He was a villain, and villains don't get happy endings. He knew that he could never have you, simply because you were his happy ending.

He stopped walking, as he tried to calm his heart with his shaking hands. Was he having a panic attack?

"James!" He heard your voice scream out his name, as you started to run to him. Fuck, he didn't care if he was dying as he ran to you with all the speed he could muster.

Once you were at arm's length you jumped into him, and he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could. Loving the smell that invaded his senses with open arms.

You were late, he didn't know why, nor did he care. You were here with him. That single thought caused him to break. He couldn't hold onto his sobs anymore.

He thought he lost you because of himself. He thought he would spend his entire life alone - longing for the feel of you. He thought that truly lost you. Every part of him rejected that. He couldn't live with that.

He felt his knees start to weaken as he fell to the ground, you still in his arms and he clanged to you crying. You felt your heart break once again - and all you wanted was for your pirate to feel better. You kiss the top of his head, rubbing his back as he let all his fears out, all his emotions.

"I... I love you so so so much." He heaved out, his breath making him repeat. "And I'm... I'm sorry." He was and even you knew that. You were tired as well.

You pulled his face away from your neck, and for a moment he fought you - thinking you were once again going to push him away. You rubbed you thumb across his cheek as you looked into his beautiful eyes. His brown eyes were bloodshot red from the crying, and his eyeliner had started to smidge. His eyelashes soaking together, his lips trembling as he tried to get himself together.

"I forgive you." You whispered out, before pushing your lips against his soft, and wet ones. It was a small, and short kiss, but it was full of the love you had for him. The love he felt like he no longer deserved.

"I'm sorry." His voice came out like a while as more tears dropped from his eyes.

"I forgive you." You whispered once again, and this time he initiated the kiss. Soft, craving, and you could feel his sorrow. Despite the fact he was kissing you, you could still feel him begging for forgiveness.

"I love you." You told him, and while that's all he wanted to hear. He no longer felt like that was the case. How could you love him when he hated everything about himself? How could you forgive him, when he's still kicking his own ass.

"I love you two, my little fairy." Fuck his voice broke again as he rested his forehead against yours. You also couldn't help but cry as well.

—

James kept his promise. He did become better for you, and only you. He was still a villain, but he was a gentleman to you. He kissed you every time he saw you, gave you flowers every month when your old ones would die.

He did everything he could to become a good enough person for you, and while daily you'd reassure him how happy you are - he couldn't get your heartbroken face out of his mind.

He'd have nightmares of you leaving him all alone. You loved him, and he didn't feel worthy of it, but he'd be damned of someone else had it. He was still a villain.

The first moment where he finally felt okay to breath was when you told him the future you wanted with him. You had wanted a future with him. Him.

You wanted three kids, three girls, and you would love to watch him become a father as you all lived on his ship.

When you were all banished to the Isle of the lost, he hated himself for getting you stuck there, but you'd remind him you'd rather be with him then in some land without him.

When you first got pregnant, he couldn't help but be so joyous of the boy in your stomach. He never told you he wanted a son, but you knew so you also felt happy.

You had named him Harry, after James repeatedly told you he couldn't think of one. The second born was a girl, and you demanded he named her. So, he stole your idea and named her Harriet. Then on the final and last born, you told him he couldn't name your baby girl after he just stole Harry's name and gave it to his sister.

You, James, Harry, Harriet, and CJ lived on hook's ship. And despite the living conditions, you loved your family no less.

—

A/N: Hiii, if you see this and sent me an Elsa reader x Hook request I promise I am working on that!!

[moonstruckme]

Hii

I have a knee injury right now and it's really annoying cause I'm a dancer and I can barely walk right now let alone dance and I really wanted a fic if that's okay. So reader (like me) is really annoyed about her injury and Sirius or James (I don't mind which one) help her. Could you also include something about them piggybacking her up the stairs (cause I cannot go up stairs right now without dying in pain)

Thanks in advance sweets

Thanks for requesting lovely, hope you're feeling better!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 481 words

James comes into the living room and catches you red-handed with the broom and dustpan. 

He freezes, setting his hands on his hips and releasing a breathless guffaw. “Good lord, you’re tenacious.” 

“I thought,” you wheedle, “that since you’re working so hard mopping the kitchen, I could sweep in here so it’s easier when you’re ready to do this part.” 

“And I thought,” counters James, crossing the space between you in a few long strides, “that we agreed you’d rest and let me handle it.” He makes up for the snark with a quick kiss to the tip of your nose before pushing you down onto the couch by your hips. “Turn over the broom, angel.” 

You sigh, holding it out for him. “Agreed is a bit of a stretch.” 

“Your knee and I seem to be in agreement.” He stamps another conciliatory kiss on your head, firm and ardent. “I can see on your face that it’s hurting you. Just give it a bit, stop pushing yourself so hard.” 

“As if you get to talk,” you snipe after him as he goes back to the kitchen. He’d pulled a muscle in his shoulder a few weeks ago, and he’d still insisted on carrying all your groceries himself and lifting heavy things down from tall shelves like recovery was some sort of competition. 

James pretends not to hear you. 

You sigh, big and loud and dramatic, and you hear his quiet laughter from the kitchen. 

“Sorry,” he calls. “Suck it up. I never do my fair share of the chores anyway.” 

“Will you at least bring me the laundry to fold?” 

A beat, and you hear him swing open the door to where the dryer has just finished. “Sure,” he agrees. 

A minute later, your boyfriend is pouring a basket of warm laundry over you on the couch. You smile contentedly, bathed in warmth and softness, until the warm clothes on your abdomen remind you of another concern.

“Um, James?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

James sets down the laundry basket, dark brows weaving together bemusedly. “What for?” 

“I have to pee.” 

And the toilet is upstairs.

“Oh.” His expression clears. As much as you sort of wish he would treat this part like a chore, he loves doing this for you. “No worries.” 

He turns around and squats down. Doesn’t even give you the opportunity to hop onto his back, only grabs your thighs and straightens back up with a quiet grunt. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, adjusting so you’re wrapped more securely around him. 

As James starts up the stairs, he squeezes one of your thighs teasingly in his big hand. “Hope you weren’t holding it on my account. You know you don’t need to apologize for asking for a lift, I don’t mind.” 

“No, I know,” you admit. “I think you may like it a bit too much, actually.” 

Your boyfriend only hums. “Mayhaps.” 

[aethon-recs]

30 Tomarrymort Recs for 2024 — One-Shot Edition (Part 2)

2024 recs continued! Here's a round-up of some of the most compelling one-shots that I came across in 2024 that I hope showcases the diversity of talent in our ship across a broad range of tropes and themes and ratings 🤍

Criteria for this list: one-shot, complete, published in 2024. Can be read in 1 sitting. Overall for 2024, I've split up the year-end recs into 3 parts: (1) Completed Multi-Chapter Fics, (2) One-Shots, (3) WIPs. Here’s the link back to Part 1: Completed Multi-Chapter Fics. 

The 3rd and last part of this list (WIPs/Longfics updated in 2024) will be posted soon. Happy reading!

*

A Moment of Curiosity (or Weakness) by koel7 (E, 6k, complete)

“I’m having these dreams,” Harry says. “You’re in every one of them. I think you’ve been in them for a long time, I just didn’t know it was you.” Tom inclines his head, and Harry sees the red eyes. He sees deathly, pale skin, and a flash of green light. “Do you remember?”

a pale horse by @ictyn (E, 7k, complete)

Harry, a penniless orphan, struggles to survive under the superstitious judgement of his isolated puritan community. One day, a vile omen is left before the church, an omen which portends only doom. The elders choose to cast Harry out, sending him as a sacrifice to a crumbling castle. The Dark Lord waits within, ravenous for the taste of his blood and the sweetness of his soul.

A Prank Unlike Any Other by A_Single_Cactus (E, 2k, complete)

It was April Fools’ Day. Harry decides to prank Riddle by acting differently. He decides to act nice. It doesn’t go as planned.

Adhesion by @telelli-writes (T, 5k, complete)

Overachieving sixth-year prefect Tom Riddle is on the fast track to be Head Boy next year, a Department Head by thirty, and Minister for Magic by forty. Harry Potter, Quidditch star and the most popular boy in school, doesn't factor anywhere into those plans or Tom's life. Until Professor Slughorn pairs the two of them together on a Potions project.

bad guy by @circleofplanets (M, 5k, complete)

Considered the power couple of Hogwarts, Tom Marvolo Riddle and Harry James Potter have been the topic of interest ever since they got together. A series of interviews getting close and personal with their friends and their outsider perspective on the famed couple.

Blood of the Covenant by @solelyseeking (E, 10k, complete)

Perhaps more than Parseltongue ran through Tom's veins. The Gaunts carried a hunger in their blood- not just for power, as is their right- but for each other. Tom thinks of the way their legacy had dripped from Harry's tongue, later that night, as his wrist works beneath the covers. He feels no shame for his urges. Tradition is sacred, after all. And Tom had always wanted a family.

Consume by @known-concepts (E, 4k, complete)

Something goes awry during Voldemort's resurrection, the balances of life and death are upset, and there is only one way to fix it.

cult classic by @aitafrog (G, 3k, complete)

For his whole life, Harry’s been looking forward to leaving behind the Dursleys and making his own fresh start. He’d envisioned endless opportunities ahead of him, with countless ways of reinventing himself. But for all of his daydreams and plans, he never quite imagined his fresh start involving the infamous cult leader Tom Riddle.

Customer Service by lilacscented (T, 6k, complete)

Furious at Borgin & Burkes’ blatant false advertising and shoddy customer service, Harry spends his Christmas Eve on a quest for Justice. Tom, meanwhile, is just punching the clock for some holiday pay. Both of them end up getting more than they bargained for.

deadbolt by @duplicitywrites (E, 8k, complete)

Tom is stunning at sixteen. He has always been an exception in a sea of mediocrity, a chameleon of sorts, conducting himself with the arrogance of genius astride the pity of orphanhood. Each facet of Tom Riddle is a domino on the path of Voldemort; it is up to you to divert them. Or: Harry goes back in time again, and again, and again.

don't blame the stork by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts (T, 10k, complete)

Harry feels a little adrift after the war, so Magic decides he needs a baby, Magical Britain decides he needs to be Minister, and Voldemort decides he needs some company.

Eternal Hunt by @metalomagnetic (E, 3k, complete)

Harry wants to be good. Tom wants Harry.

Fearsome Thing by @0p4l3sc3nc3 (NR, 13k, complete)

It was him. The angel. "P-pleased to meet you," Tom murmured, and then cursed his tongue for the stutter, and his throat for the raspy tone of his voice, and his heart for being a traitor. And the angel—Harry, he had to remember that name now, it was of utmost importance—smiled at him. "The pleasure is mine.”

Heartbeats by @cyandenial (T, 10k, complete)

Harry Potter, a medical student, volunteered to help in St Mungo's hospital for the summer, to gain extra credits and some practical experience. He was assigned to look over one old man, a task no one wanted, because Tom Riddle wasn’t making it easy for anyone. His horrible attitude brought about every nurse to tears, and Harry was determined not be among those who cried. To everyone's surprise, he managed somehow… Until he didn't.

his love life and death by @noctelier (T, 5k, complete)

Tom Riddle doesn’t get sick. His immune system, just like the rest of him, is extraordinary. Incomparable. No one would dare suggest otherwise. Which is why everyone goes silent when he starts to cough. Or: Tom contracts Hanahaki Disease, knows what he must do about it, and decides he’s better than all that (until he doesn’t).

Ho, Ho, Ho by @moontearpensfic (E, 3k, complete)

Tom's parents take him shopping at the mall, where he scopes out snake paraphernalia and a Santa Claus with pretty green eyes.

if the moon should ever doubt by @fericide (M, 6k, complete)

They meet in the Astronomy Tower.

Mistletoe Managed by @tommarvoloriddlesdiary (T, 3k, complete)

“What’s so bad about magical mistletoe?” Harry asks. Hermione sighs, “Well, magical mistletoe won’t let a person go until they share a heartfelt kiss... So he'll be there a while.”

O Come, All Ye Faithful by @shyinsunlight (E, 3k, complete)

The sanctity of midnight mass requires dignity, composure, and absolutely not dropping the thurible when Harry fucking Potter walks in fifteen minutes late. Harry, who hasn’t darkened the church door since last Easter, and who’s apparently decided Christmas Eve is the perfect time to make his triumphant return to worship.

paint your eyes with sunsets by @boyneptunee (T, 5k, complete)

Tom moves to a new apartment building where he more or less gets himself a boyfriend and a family. Oh, and there's also a cat.

Resonating Souls by @endlessburningdarkness (E, 4k, complete)

Minister Riddle has an unusually dream filled night.

Roughly 19 Years Later by @dividawrites (E, 2k, complete)

Platform 9¾ is a nice place for reunions.

seven by lilacscented (T, 7k, complete)

Harry meets Tom Riddle on the first day of school. He has just turned seven. “So you’re like me,” he says, a statement, not a question. “Meet me in the woods later this afternoon.”

Soil by @ratzeebatz (T, 11k, complete)

The thing about Tom, and many people were aware of this, is that he had a combination of traits that made him both dangerous and infinitely appealing to anyone that spoke to him.  Or: Tom Riddle is a murderous herbologist, and Harry smells better than anything he's smelled before.

stumbling into wonderful by @satflesk22 (E, 5k, complete)

The Ministry sees fit to meddle at Hogwarts in an attempt at curtailing rising pureblood sentiments, to try and lure prospective recruits away from the Dark Lord Nott. Unsurprisingly, the Heir of Slytherin is stuck together in a room with the Chosen One. The worst part is that it bloody works.

The Betrayal (and Boon) of One's Own Biology by @riverxsong-ao3 (E, 7k, complete)

Tom Riddle had always known he was destined for greatness. As a young wizard, he was certain he would present one day as an Alpha - strong, powerful, in charge. When he did not, he came to accept that he must, in fact, be a Beta. Then, one day, everything changed.

The Descent by @chaos-bear (E, 5k, complete)

Secrets, grief and blood magic collide in the depths of the Austrian Alps.

The Good Knight by @mosiva (E, 9k, complete)

Harry and Tom drifted apart at Hogwarts, and Harry hasn’t seen Tom in years as she’s off travelling the world. But Harry doesn’t have time to be sad about it. She’s got problems closer to home – like helping the Order of the Phoenix to combat the recent rise of one Lord Voldemort.

the thing lay dead by @duplicitywrites (E, 7k, complete)

In the end, there was one body that all refused to touch. It unnerved people to see even the corpse. Harry tended to him, this man made mortal. Smooth, alabaster skin and thin, brittle bones. Peaceful in death as he had never been in life. No longer a monster. Now a body, just like everyone else.

this is my persona, secret lover (he's my collar) by souliloquium (M, 3k, complete)

Some things are the same, some things are different. Harry is not the Boy Who Lived. He still finds the locket. And Tom finds him.

We Bow to Each Other, Harry by @liquidluckandstuff (T, 4k, complete)

Harry falls asleep with the Horcrux around his neck and has a very strange dream.

When the Weight is Gone by @marrythemonstersao3 (M, 7k, complete)

In the quiet after the war is over, Harry feels the empty space in his soul like a missing limb. Eventually, his grief and longing come to a head when Death offers him a choice: to move on for good, or go back and do it over again.

*

[solsticehymns]

green light: drabble

james potter x f!reader / ANGST / post-breakup / muggle + modern au

But honey, I'll be seeing you 'ever I go / But honey, I'll be seeing you down every road / I'm waiting for it, that green light, I want it

summary: Breakups are messy. James is handling his the usual way—too many drinks, meaningless flirting, pretending he’s fine. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t outrun the ghost of you.

a/n: WHEWWWW this hurt to write!!! i love making myself cry it's so fun!!! i rly rly love this song too 10/10 no notes breakup song. perfectly captures the emotion, that was the driving factor for me writing this story and. yeah i think i did that. lol i hope you like it! sunny ☀️🌻

wc: 881

“Look at him. He’s completely full of it.”

“Mm,” Remus hums, swirling his drink, watching James over the rim of his glass. “Acting like he’s moved on, but let’s be honest—he’s barely holding it together.”

“You do realize I can hear you, yeah?” James cuts in, raising a brow.

“Oh, we know.” Sirius smirks. “But are you really listening?”

James exhales sharply, tipping his drink back in one go. “Honestly, I’m doing great,” He gestures around with a too-easy grin. “Night out with the lads, no worries, no heartbreak, just good, old-fashioned fun.”

“Right,” Remus deadpans. “That’s why you’re on your fourth drink and eyeing the exit.”

James places a hand over his chest, mock-wounded. “Moony, you cut me deep. I am simply embracing life, taking full advantage of my single era—”

“Spiraling,” Sirius corrects, taking a lazy sip of his drink.

“Thriving,” James counters, flashing a grin before spinning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd.

They watch him go, exchanging a glance that says they’ve seen this before.

James throws himself into the night, into everything. The flirtations, the drinks, the movement, the easy, messy, meaningless fun. He catches a girl wearing a too-short red dress on the dance floor when she stumbles into him, laughing like he’s got nothing but time and charm to waste.

At the bar, he leans in, voice a deliberate murmur: "You look way too good to be standing here without a drink in your hand—what are we having?"

This girl isn’t the first tonight, and she won’t be the last. He’s lost track of the faces, the fleeting conversations, the way he keeps chasing something easy, something temporary, something that doesn’t necessitate anything real.

She barely humors him. Rolls her eyes, mutters something about trying harder than that, and turns away before he even has the chance to smirk.

James just grins, tossing back the rest of his drink. It’s fine. It’s all a game anyway. It’s easy. It’s working.

Until it isn’t.

A tap on his shoulder.

For a moment—a single, breathless moment—he doesn’t prepare for disappointment. He lets himself believe. Lets himself imagine that if he turns, it will be you. That you will be standing there, looking at him like you used to, as if nothing ever broke, as if he is still yours and you are still his.

He turns.

It isn’t you.

The illusion shatters, and the weight of it crushes him in an instant. The music swells, too loud, pressing against his skull, and suddenly, you are everywhere.

Someone’s perfume lingers in the air, close enough to yours that his breath catches, but wrong enough to leave his chest hollow. The way a girl tosses her hair reminds him of you at a café, head tilted, laughing at something he said, light catching in your eyes. A song hums through the speakers in the pub—he doesn’t know the name, but he remembers you humming it, curled up on his couch, absentminded, effortless. His glass is slick with condensation, and somehow, it takes him back to you pressing a bottle of water into his palm on a sweltering afternoon, your fingers brushing his like it was nothing, like you had all the time in the world.

But time ran out. And now, everywhere he looks, you’re there, except you aren’t.

Instead, there is only this girl with bright eyes and an overeager smile, beguiled by him in a way that should be flattering.

But she is wrong. The way she looks at him is wrong. The way she says, “Hey,” is wrong.

James blinks, swallowing hard. Her words blur beneath the realization—this is what moving on is supposed to look like.

This is the part where he’s meant to forget you, replace you, smile and flirt and give someone new the pieces of himself that you’d left behind.

But nothing about this fits. The music is too loud. The air is too thick. His drink is suddenly too warm in his hand, the ice already melted.

“James,” he says, an automated response, but it doesn’t sound like his own name.

She asks him something—where he’s from, what he does, an inconsequential question—but he barely hears her, far too caught up in the realization that it will never be you again. That he will turn and find her instead of you every time. And there is no getting used to that.

His jaw tightens. He exhales, forced and uneven. “Sorry—I should get back to my friends.”

He doesn’t wait for her response. He’s afraid to turn again, terrified of seeing another phantom you standing there.

At the bar, Remus and Sirius watch his return, the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands shove into his pockets as if he’s holding himself together by force.

“Not interested?” Remus asks, though they already know the answer.

James snorts, grabbing another drink. “Nah,” he mutters.

He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to.

He stares down at his drink, turning the glass between his fingers, and considers it—just for a second. Pulling out his phone, typing something short, something he might regret in the morning. Something like, I miss you. Come get your things. Tell me this isn’t really over.

But it’s no use. He can already see the future.

Hope, turn, break.

☀️🌻 masterlist

[sagewritings]

Grace and Arrogance - James Beaufort x Fem!Reader

pairing: james beaufort x fem!reader

synopsis: amidst playful bickering, the dynamic between you and james transforms from turmoil to bliss when james sheds his facade of arrogance to reveal hidden admiration.

word count: 2.1k

warnings/tags: mentions of a car accident, fluff with james beaufort

a/n: hello everyone! it's been a while since my last post because i haven't really had any inspiration and time over the past months but after watching maxton hall last week, i just couldn't help but write! ! i wrote this in like an hour on my notes app so it may seem a bit rushed but that's okay :>

if you’d like to check out my other works, you can check the pinned post in my blog :>

i hope you’ll like this fic! happy reading!

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Being a regular visitor at the Beaufort estate has familiarized you with every corner of the house. Now, you have memorized every room and decoration, immediately spotting whatever is newly added. The Beauforts didn’t mind your presence, with your family being close friends of theirs.

But it was not the Beauforts' son who you were particularly fond of.

You were extremely close with Lydia, your best friend since childhood. Despite both of you coming from wealthy backgrounds, your upbringing was notably different. Your parents owned a chain of hotels and restaurants across Europe, but they insisted on raising you humbly, teaching you the value of hard work and modesty. This upbringing made you see through the arrogance often displayed by James, Lydia's brother.

James, with his confident smirk and air of superiority, was someone you couldn't stand. Your encounters often led to playful bickering, a routine everyone at Maxton Hall was familiar with. But behind your teasing, there was an underlying respect for each other, one neither of you would openly acknowledge.

One sunny afternoon, you found yourself in the Beauforts' expansive garden, your favorite place to unwind with Lydia. She was lounging on a chaise, flipping through a magazine, while you were engrossed in a novel. The peace was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

"Well, well, what do we have here? The ladies of leisure," James's voice drawled, cutting through the tranquility.

You looked up, ready to retort. "And here comes the lord of arrogance. What do you want, James?"

James smirked, leaning against a nearby pillar. "Just enjoying the sunshine. Is that a crime?"

"Only if you're planning to cast a shadow over our peace," you shot back, not missing a beat.

Lydia chuckled from her seat. "You two are impossible. Can't you ever have a conversation without turning it into a fight?"

"It's not my fault your brother is insufferable," you said, closing your book and standing up to face James.

"Insufferable? That's a new one. What else do you think about me, Y/N?" James asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Do you really want to know?" you challenged, stepping closer.

"Absolutely," he replied, his gaze locking onto yours.

Before you could respond, Lydia interjected. "Okay, enough, both of you. Can't we just have one afternoon without the bickering?"

You glanced at Lydia, then back at James. "Fine. But only because Lydia asked."

James shrugged, a smug smile on his face. "Whatever you say, Y/N."

Despite your frequent clashes, there were moments when you couldn't deny James's charm. Like the time he helped you with a school project, his intelligence and wit shining through in a way that caught you off guard.

You were in the library, struggling with a particularly difficult economics assignment. The sound of approaching footsteps made you groan inwardly. Of course, it had to be him.

"Need help, Y/N?" James asked, looking over your shoulder.

"I can manage, thank you," you replied curtly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of admitting you were stuck.

He pulled up a chair next to you anyway. "Let me see."

You sighed, sliding the paper towards him. "Fine. But no gloating."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said with a wink, scanning the problem. "Ah, I see the issue. You're overthinking it. Here, let me show you."

For the next hour, James patiently explained the concepts, his usual arrogance replaced with genuine enthusiasm for the subject. By the end of it, you had to admit he was a good teacher.

"Thanks, James," you said, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

"Anytime, Y/N," he replied, his expression softening.

Despite these moments of truce, your dynamic remained largely unchanged. That is, until the day you stopped going to your classes in Maxton Hall without warning. Lydia knew the reason but couldn't divulge it due to your parents' wish for privacy. This secrecy, however, only fueled James's concern and curiosity. Despite your clashes, he had always admired your kindness and humility.

Days turned into weeks, and your absence left a noticeable void. James found himself more worried than he cared to admit. His irritation grew, not just because you were gone, but because Lydia refused to tell him why.

James sat in the library, his usual spot, staring at the empty chair across from him. It felt wrong not having you there to challenge him, to banter with him. The silence was suffocating.

"Where is she, Lydia?" James demanded, cornering his sister in the hallway.

"I can't tell you, James. It's not my place," Lydia replied, her expression firm yet sympathetic.

"You know something, and you're keeping it from me," he accused, frustration evident in his tone.

"Trust me, if I could, I would tell you. But I can't," Lydia insisted, turning away.

James ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. "You don't understand, Lydia. I need to know she's okay."

"She is. That's all I can say," Lydia replied softly before walking away, leaving James standing there, his mind racing with worry.

He spent sleepless nights thinking about you, imagining the worst scenarios. Had something happened to you? Were you in trouble? Each passing day without any news felt like an eternity, and the worry gnawed at him incessantly.

The mystery was finally revealed during a dinner at the Beaufort estate. As you and Lydia's parents chatted, the conversation inadvertently turned to your family. James listened intently as they discussed the car accident that had left your father seriously injured. You had been absent to take over the family business in his stead, juggling the responsibilities of an heir with the pressures of high school.

"It was such a terrible accident," your mother said, her voice tinged with worry. "He was lucky to survive, but the recovery process has been grueling."

James's heart sank as he listened. The image of you, strong and resilient, dealing with such a massive burden alone, tugged at his heartstrings.

"Y/N has been amazing," your father added, his voice filled with pride and concern. "She's stepped up in ways we never imagined, taking on the business and keeping things running smoothly."

Lydia's parents nodded sympathetically. "She truly is remarkable. We can't imagine the pressure she's under."

James felt a pang of guilt and a surge of determination. He admired you even more for handling such immense pressure with grace. The next day, he decided to visit you.

You were in the midst of preparing for a business meeting when James arrived at your house. The sight of him surprised you, and your initial reaction was to push him away.

"James, I don't have time for this," you said, frustration evident in your voice as you shuffled through papers.

"I'm not here to argue," he replied, stepping closer. "I'm here to help."

You looked up, skepticism in your eyes. "Help? How?"

"I know how to run a business. Let me support you," he offered, sincerity in his voice.

You hesitated, the weight of your responsibilities making you wary. But the genuine concern in his eyes made you relent.

"Fine. But don't think this means I like you," you muttered, turning back to your work.

James chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He stepped forward, his presence steadying you as you felt the weight of everything crashing down. You fought back tears of exhaustion, the stress overwhelming you.

"Y/N, let me take some of this off your shoulders," James said gently, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

"I… I don't know if I can trust you," you admitted, your voice trembling. "You've always been so… unserious."

James's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding. "I get it. I've been a jerk, but I care about you. More than I let on."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. "Why now, James?"

"Because I admire you. Your strength, your kindness. You're handling all of this with such grace, and I want to help you. Please, let me," he pleaded.

Your defenses crumbled, the exhaustion and stress finally taking their toll. "Okay," you whispered, the word carrying the weight of your vulnerability.

James stepped closer, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to lean on someone else, to share the burden.

Over the next few days, James proved to be an invaluable ally. His expertise in business management eased your burden, allowing you to balance school and work more effectively. The more you worked together, the more you saw a different side of him—one that was caring and dependable.

James took on tasks with a surprising efficiency, his usual arrogance replaced with a dedication that impressed you. He handled meetings, reviewed contracts, and even helped streamline operations, all while providing a steady source of support and encouragement.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you both found yourselves sitting in the garden, the stars twinkling above.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" James asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

You laughed softly. "How could I forget? You spilled juice all over my dress."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I was so nervous. I wanted to make a good impression, and I ended up making a mess."

"I thought you were a spoiled brat," you admitted, smiling at the memory.

"And now?" he asked, his gaze locking onto yours.

"Now, I see someone who cares deeply about his family and friends. Someone who hides his true self behind a facade of arrogance," you said softly.

James's expression turned serious. "And I see someone who is incredibly strong, even when faced with immense challenges. Someone who inspires me to be better."

The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was gentle, tentative at first, but quickly deepened as you both poured all your unspoken feelings into it.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you met his gaze and saw the same vulnerability mirrored in his eyes.

"I've liked you for a long time, Y/N," James admitted. "I just didn't know how to tell you."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I guess I like you too, James. Even if you are insufferable sometimes."

He laughed, pulling you into another kiss. The garden seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment.

The days turned into weeks, and with James's help, you managed to stabilize your family's business. His presence became a constant source of support and comfort, and your feelings for him began to shift.

Returning to Maxton Hall, you and James surprised everyone with your newfound camaraderie. The playful bickering was replaced by a growing closeness that neither of you could ignore.

The fundraiser ball at Maxton Hall was an annual event where everyone dressed in Victorian-era attire. This year, you and James were assigned to fix the lights, a task that allowed for a rare moment of privacy.

"Careful with that, Y/N," James warned as you reached for a particularly tricky bulb.

"I've got it," you insisted, balancing precariously on a ladder.

James steadied the ladder, his hands brushing against yours as he helped you with the light. The proximity made your heart race, a tension building between you that neither could ignore.

As the last bulb clicked into place, you turned to thank him, only to find him closer than expected. His eyes locked onto yours, the air thick with unspoken feelings.

"James…" you began, but he silenced you with a gentle touch to your cheek.

"I admire you, Y/N. More than you'll ever know," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could respond, he closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you met his gaze and saw the same vulnerability mirrored in his eyes.

"Can we try this?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

James smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I'd like that very much."

As the evening wore on, the lights you and James had fixed illuminated the grand hall, casting a warm glow over the attendees. You stood together, hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

[cherryslyce]

Familial Impasses | Regulus Black

Synopsis: Pressure arises as a familiar face becomes embroiled in political trouble and moral ambivalence. Alternatively: As James Potter’s younger sibling, you fight for Regulus.

Pairing: Regulus Black x (Adopted) Potter!Reader

Notes + WC: 5.4k , James and Sirius are so chaotic.

The Potter household has long been a foundational pillar of love and ease for you. Plumes of cotton clouds were perpetually suspended above the sumptuous manor, and you distinctly remember the day you arrived in front of the regal front yard, donning new robes and the Potter surname. 

Even amidst the gloomiest of days, Potter Manor remained unblemished by the sheen of greys and drops of heavy rain. Your parents were tenderhearted folk, often unable to properly reign in the boisterous force that was your brother. James was the apple of your eye when you first arrived in the lived-in home at the ripe age of eight. 

Under the near-yellow lights of the entryway, he took you under his wing the second his eyes befell on yours. 

Yet, your reminiscing did little to quell the fiery frustration that singed at your patience. After so many years of tumultuous adventures and shared laughter, you felt everything drown away as the forefront of your mind became consumed by the imperious demands he was layering onto you. 

“James. You are being absolutely ridiculous right now, do you know that?” You huff out, arms crossed as you stare hotly ahead. 

Sirius is settled beside your brother, eyebrows drawn together as an uncharacteristically firm frown decorates his face. James clicks his tongue and pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to catch your eyes, “Y/N, we’re being serious here. Siri and I are graduating soon and we won’t be able to look out for you when we’re gone.” 

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” You mused stubbornly, fixating your gaze on the sprigs of tulips peeking at you from the polished coffee table. “Besides, what the hell are you even protecting me from? Regulus? He would never harm me.” 

“You don’t know that.” Sirius interjects, hands rubbing together as James shoots you an admonishing look. 

Astonished by the field of conversation, you shake your head as you finally face the two boys, “Sirius, this is your brother we’re talking about! Merlin, if anyone said anything like this about me, you’d both have their head, would you not?” Your narrowed eyes dart towards Sirius as he sighs, placing his hand up to placate you. 

“It’s different, Y/N. Regulus is going to take up my father’s mantle soon, and there’s no doubt that he’s already been brainwashed into following the Dark Lord.” Sirius mumbles, face now looking weary as he gazes out of the window behind you. 

You bite the inside of your cheek at the mention of the Dark Lord, aware that Regulus had been researching the man for a few months now. Internally, you found solid reason to believe in what your brother was advocating, but your longstanding friendship with Regulus turned you away from the decision to abandon him. 

“I’m not going to stop being friends with him.” You announce, eyebrow slanting up as Sirius made an effort to protest your proclamation. “But, if it eases your worries, we’ll strictly talk about school work.” 

James and Sirius share a long look of consideration before your brother turns to you and sighs, “Fine, but we won’t like it.” His acquiesce fills you with tepid relief, but you could count it as a temporary victory. 

In the stirring waves of your mind, you were completely aware that you’d make little effort to actually change your dynamic with the younger Black brother, knowing that the boy was much more capable of independent thinking than given credit for. 

The remainder of your Yule Break is spent buried in swaths of parchments and tomes with the occasional migraine from James’ antics. A cavernous pit materialized in your chest as you seemed to gradually wither away from stress, mind carouseling around the plethora of O.W.L. exams you needed to study for. 

On the penultimate day before you, James, and Sirius were due to return to Hogwarts, a familiar black-banded owl came fluttering to your bedroom window. Clambering around the strewn leaflets of paper and open textbooks on your floor, you gaily greet the owl with a wide grin, gently grasping at the letter between its beak. 

“It’s always nice to see you, Belenus.” You coo at the perceptive bird. 

Cracking your window open further, you muffle an amused huff as the owl teeters through, resting straightly on your windowsill as it examines the disarray of your room.

“Er, it’s been a long day.” You wave in elaboration, not perturbed by the near judgemental look that flashes across the bird’s eyes. “Did Reggie ask you to wait for my reply? The lack of patience in that boy, I swear.” 

Sitting down at your dimly-lit desk, you carefully unfurl the letter with trembling hands, heart skipping at the sight of the boy’s penmanship.  

Dear Y/N, 

I hope that everything is well for you. It is a shame that we are not able to convene before the end of break, however, I will give you your gift when we get back to the castle. I hope that Sirius is not giving you too much trouble, mother and father were never able to control his rambunctious behavior. However, he strangely settles after a cup of peppermint tea (his favorite brand is Lady Bramble’s).  

I know you are brimming with anxiety from our last conversation, and for that, I deeply apologize. You will be pleased to know that I have given it much thought as per my promise to you, and I think we should talk more about it when we get back. I have not yet made any permanent decisions. 

I have much to tell you after break. I miss you dearly.  

R.A.B

You suppress a smile at the last few words, head feeling light with unadulterated joy. Threading together inklings of composure, you sit up straight and begin to draft your response, fingers unsteady with shreds of nervousness. 

Reggie, 

The week has been long and difficult without you, I must admit. I hope you are faring better than me with your homework (I fear that I may not make it). James and Sirius pulled me aside a few days ago to advise me against remaining friends with you. It is growing dire, Reg. I don’t want to sour this exchange by rehashing our last conversation, but I want you to know that even though my love and loyalty for you runs deep, I am unwavering in my stance against You-Know-Who. 

If you are giving me my gift in person, I suppose I will do the same. As for the tea, thank you for the idea. Perhaps, I can test it on James to see if their uncanny likeness extends to calming agents as well. 

Delighted to hear from you, I miss you so much. 

Y/N

Once you reread the passage with attentive eyes, you nod once to yourself and prepare your wax seal. Weaving around the flush of work on your rug, you carefully give Belenus your letter. 

“Give him my regards, will you?” You whisper, running your index finger along the owl’s head. The creature tilts its head before shuffling through your window again, taking flight in the blink of an eye. 

Just as you begin to fall into a peaceful lull, elbows propped against your windowsill, a thunderous knock against your door has you nearly falling into the pane of glass. 

“Y/N! Come outside with us!” Sirius’ shouts bleed through the thick wood as if it were made of thin air, and you roll your eyes sky high, grateful that your mother was out shopping and not napping. 

“Hold your horses!” You yell back, scurrying over to fling your door open, heart still stuttering in its beats at the clamorous interruption. 

As you crack open your door with an unimpressed look, you’re met with Sirius’ shit-eating grin and a highly entertained James holding a pile of plastic-wrapped goodies. Your brother juggles the crinkling jumble before he balances one in his hand, flashing it around as he practically vibrates on the spot. 

“What’s that saying again, patience is virtue?” You mumble sarcastically. 

Sirius shakes his head and waves you off, “Being virtuous is boring.” 

“Right. Where did you get all of these from anyway?” You question breathlessly, reaching forward to snag one of the items from James’ arms.

Plecky’s Triple Ruby Ice Cream. The bulky square is icy to the touch, the packaging’s lurid colors buzzing against your eyes as Sirius begins to impatiently tug you down the hallway. 

“No time to explain, we have to eat all of these before mum and dad get home.” James offhandedly hums, marching behind you and Sirius as you pace down the stairs. 

“I hate you both, do you guys not have to study for your N.E.W.T exams?” You huff, batting at Sirius when he squeezes your shoulders. 

James lets out a hearty chuckle at your words and Sirius clicks his tongue goodheartedly before whispering to you, “Nope! Moony and Lils are going to help us after break.” 

You sigh into the air, hands limply flying up as you mutter lightly, “I don’t understand how they put up with you both, honestly.” 

James bounds forwards past you both, flinging himself through the open door and into the pool of sunlight as he calls back, “We’re both extremely loveable. Now, I bet I can eat more of these than you!” 

The next time you feel any semblance of peace is the day you return to Hogwarts, school work long forgotten about when you hurry to meet with Regulus in the astronomy tower. You had practically inhaled your dinner, leg bouncing with uninhibited anticipation the moment you locked eyes with your devastatingly pretty friend. 

Once you’re situated atop the staircase, you quickly survey the open room for the boy, eyes dancing across the atrium when you find that you’re alone. The stars begin to peek through the canvas of the sky, thinning streams of clouds drifting away as the mottles of luminous spheres grow in number. 

The wind whistles sharply as it bats against the aged stones of the castle walls, providing a steady white noise as you wait patiently against one of the many iron railings. Only a few moments after you grow comfortable in your spot, you hear the faint padding of footsteps ascending towards you. 

Regulus’ eyes widen imperceptibly when they land on your lax figure, his body jolting to hurriedly close in on yours, “You got here early. Are you not cold?” 

The boy reaches for your hand, humming when he finds your fingertips cold to the touch. Shaking your head, you deftly wrap your arms around him as you mumble into his ear, “It’s so good to see you, Reggie.” 

Regulus’ arms find themselves around your waist as he reciprocates your hug, nuzzling against your neck as he lets out a low hum. Your relationship was not clearly defined by any title, nor was it barred by any conventional lines, and for the most part, you wouldn’t exactly say it was platonic in nature. 

However, affection was limited to hugs and handholding, the situation between your families and the state of the political sphere too convoluted for anything beyond that. 

“How was your break, love?” He asks with a soft voice, fingers ghosting against your hips as his arms loosen so he can crane back to look at you. 

You smile and drop your head onto his shoulder, “It was good. Though, Sirius got a bit ill yesterday.”

“Oh?” Regulus’ voice edges on concern, but he can decipher the amused hint in your tone to know it isn’t worthy of unease. 

“We ate a load of ice cream the day before, and Sirius is weak to bets.” You answer, not missing the light chuckle that Regulus releases. 

A few beats of peaceful silence ensues before Regulus detangles himself from you, eyes searching your face as conflict flickers through his eyes. A heavy burden seems to weigh against his shoulders as he huffs out a sigh too considerable for someone so young. 

“What’s on your mind, Reg?” You mumble, hands dancing up to rest upon his taut shoulders. 

Regulus frowns minutely before he throws his head to the side and indulges, “I won’t last much longer.” 

“Pardon? Helga, are you alright?” Your eyes are blown wide as you try to catch the boy’s eyes. “Regulus, don’t dance around this, tell me what the hell you’re saying.” 

Regulus’ shoulders give a shake as he swallows a dry laugh, facing you again with serious eyes, “Sirius had the right idea from the start, and I was too blind to see that I should have packed and ran for the hills, too.” 

Shock blisters across your mind as you reel back to process the information, mouth drawn into a small gape as you assess the boy’s expression. “What’s with the sudden change? I mean not that I hate it, frankly, I quite like this, but you were still uncertain just days ago.” 

Regulus mulls over your question for a few moments, hands moving to encircle your arms as he muses, “I’ve been corresponding with my Uncle Alphie since the start of break, and he was able to give me a rather impartial crash course of everything. From then, I just had to pick up the pieces stripped away and build on the bare bones…” His words taper off as his mouth furls into a small frown. 

“Love, you’re going to give me a hernia from all this roundabout talking.” You jokingly reprimand, eyebrows raising as Regulus nervously cracks his neck. 

“My parents are not good people, and I’ve seen those that Bellatrix surrounds herself with–” the word death eaters was notably eschewed, “and, well, it all seems like drivel now. Besides, I don’t want to fight on any side of any battle if I have to lose you. Your letter was a pretty jarring wake up call.” He finishes, his hands now unconsciously moving you closer to him. 

“Well, fuck.” You whisper into the air, mouth curling into a content smile as Regulus relaxes. “I didn’t want to lose you either, and I’m glad that I don’t have to. We’ll figure something out, but I won’t ever let you step foot back in that house ever again.” You promise with a firm voice. 

Regulus nods and his eyes shine with conviction, the promise quelling the storms of doubt in his bones, and erasing the wedge between you both. 

“Can I do something?” Regulus whispers, eyes capturing yours with an entrancing glimmer. 

“As long as it's not throwing me over this railing, then yes.” You whisper back coyly. 

Regulus chuckles, face now inches away from yours as he shakes his head, “Never.” 

As the little promise escapes into the air, Regulus tugs you into him, lips finding your own as he pours every inkling of passion and love coursing through his veins into his ministrations. Your hand tangles in his curls as he continues to heatedly kiss you, the silent push-and-pull between you both now long forgotten. 

Humming against his lips, you give a small tug to his hair before you pull back with a shaky breath, “There’s no going back, Reg.” 

“Good.” His words are hushed as he places his forehead on yours, “You’re my only constant. Not a bloody thing in this world I’d rather do than be with you.” 

“Is this the gift you were talking about?” You mumble, suppressing the tsunami of heat threatening to dissolve your self-restraint as you peer at the breathless boy.

“No, but forget about it for now.” He hums, “I hope you don’t have anywhere to be, I intend on keeping you here until curfew, love.” 

You laugh lightly and run your thumb across his cheek, “Bloody troublesome, you are. I can see the resemblance between you and Sirius now.” 

“Please don’t bring my brother up while I’m trying to love you.” Regulus huffs, swallowing your next retort with his lips as he dives back in to claim your undivided attention again. 

Luckily, you both made it back to your dorms before curfew came to nip at your tangled figures in a slew of detention slips and reprimands. The shift in your relationship was noticeable, but it did little to hinder your day-to-day routine, the both of you still trembling under the weight of your studies. 

It was the Friday of your first week back when James and Sirius bounded towards your hunched figure, your hands littered with inky streaks and eyes squinting painfully at your textbooks. The library upheld a faint degree of chatter, and you were itching to track down Regulus (the boy was likely off at Quidditch practice). 

“Heya, kiddo!” Sirius beams, slinking his way over with a respectable amount of carelessness as a few students side-eye him. James is beside him, hands in pocket, sporting a pitiful frown. 

“What’s up? And what’s with the frown?” You muse, stretching your back as they both pull out the chairs across from you. 

Sirius snickers and leans over to obnoxiously whisper to you, “Lily gave him a good scolding earlier.” 

“Sorry to miss it. What’d you do? We all know it was your fault.” You perk an eyebrow up at your brother, refusing to back down even as he throws his hands up with a flabbergasted look. 

“Well–er…” Sirius trails off, mouth agape as you could practically see his brain stuttering in its hollow glory. 

James sends a resounding kick to the boy, and shakes his head as he turns to you, “Nothing, just a disagreement about a certain Slytherin.” 

“Severus?” You inquire, lips tugging into a frown at the thought of your (reluctant) Potions tutor. 

Sirius huffs at the mention of the boy and clicks his tongue, “No, not Sniv–” 

“Finish that remark and I will maim you, dear boy.” You narrow your eyes, quill pointed threateningly in his direction. 

Sirius throws his hands up in surrender and opts to shuffle one of your open books over to him, eyes running along the words with vague interest. James’ eyebrows furrow and he seems to be debating on saying something when you continue your prodding, “So not Severus. Don’t tell me… Were you both arguing about Reggie?” 

“What? No!” James refutes, head shaking furiously as irritation stews in your gut. 

“Don’t lie to me, you don’t care about any Slytherins other than Reggie and Severus. But why the hell were you talking about my social life, again?” You huff, arms crossing as you see Sirius tensely peek up from his reading. 

James sputters for a moment before he breathes in deeply, a stern expression overtaking his face as he straightens his posture, “Lily agrees that I should be more… open minded about your friendship with him–”

You perk up and throw your hands into the air, “See!” 

James puts a hand up and shoots you a small look, “However, I am your brother, and it’s in your best interest to distance yourself from him.” 

“My best interest, or yours?” You ask with narrowed eyes, beginning to pack up your supplies. “James, we can’t keep having this conversation. Why don’t you try sitting the both of us down and having a completely reasonable, civil conversation with us for once?” 

“Well–” He begins, a frown pressing down on his features. 

You shake your head and huff, “No more excuses. Either you put on your big boy pants and try to understand where I’m coming from, or you can continue to mope, but if you choose the latter, don’t even think about approaching me until graduation.”

Without another word, you sling your bag over your shoulder and march away, ignoring Sirius’ calls after you, your textbook still in his hands. As you storm through the winding corridors, evading the swaths of students milling around, you set your sights on the Quidditch Pitch. 

The sun escapes into the stacks of pillowy clouds as you round the field, giving you an opportunity to peer up into the skies and track down Regulus, a pleased hum escaping your throat as you see the team begin to descend from the air. 

Shifting your weight from leg-to-leg, you wait patiently as Regulus hurries to break away from the circle of Slytherin players, nodding distractedly at Rosier. A few moments later, Regulus strides over to you with a flickering grin, eyes alight with lingering endorphins and excitement. 

“Love, what are you doing here?” He breathes out, dropping a small kiss to your cheek as he maneuvers his broom to his left hand, leaving his right hand to brush his curls away from his face. 

Beaming at the boy, you hum, “Just wanted to see you. And perhaps talk to you about something.” 

Regulus tilts his head and nods agreeably, “What’s on your mind?” 

“I’m thinking about telling my parents about us, and maybe you can ask your Uncle Alphard about y’know… leaving your house?” You mutter, fingers twitching with nervousness as a look of consideration passes through Regulus’ eyes. 

“Well, I don’t mind your parents knowing, but I also don’t mind them not knowing. I don’t want you to get into any trouble,” He confesses, rolling his arm back to stretch his sore shoulders. “As for my situation, I think my uncle would be willing to help me get emancipated. I don’t want to intrude in his home though, my mother would probably blow it up if I stayed there.” 

“So don’t.” You hurriedly say. 

He rubs your arm as he hums, “Don’t?” 

“Don’t go to your Uncle’s. Stay with us.” You mumble, eyes pleading with him. 

“Love–” He starts, eyebrows drawn together. 

A resounding voice echoes from across the pitch before he can finish, diverting both of your attention away from one another, “Hey, Black! Don’t dawdle! Avery said he wants you here for strategy!” 

“Go ahead.” You whisper, patting Regulus’ arm with a reassuring smile as you begin to back away. 

“Hey,” He whispers back, stepping forward to grab your hand with a fatigued frown, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, we’ll talk later, yeah?” You muse, lips furling upward as you squeeze his hand in farewell. 

You linger ankle-deep in the damp grass for a few more moments, watching as Regulus disappears into the distance with one last glance over his shoulder. 

Almost like a robot being rewound, you spin on your heel and march back to the castle, mind racing with threads of words to send to your parents. 

Once in your dorm, you immediately launch yourself on your bed, head craning down for indistinguishable reels of minutes, occasionally stopping mid-sentence to ponder on your next thoughts. When you lift your quill up from the parchment with finality, your eyes dart from the paper to your window, squinting with a light bristle as painful clouds of blue mull in your vision, the lighting in the room now too dim for comfortable writing and reading. 

As the sky grows gloomier, the wisps of lingering clouds withdraw into invisibility and you’re left to race against time as you fold up the finished letter to your parents. 

Dear Mum & Dad, 

I hope that you are both well! Please be sure to get lots of rest! Also, may we stock up on Lady Bramble’s peppermint tea? 

Rest assured, I am studying well. James and Sirius are as well (surprisingly). 

I was wondering if I could ask for a very large favor that would require the utmost discretion… 

To be direct, Regulus and I are together, and he needs to find sanctuary away from his parents. His uncle is willing to aid him with the legal processes of the matter, but he has nowhere to turn to for the summer breaks. 

I know this is a lot to ask, and I also know it isn’t ideal (for a multitude of reasons), but I will be forever grateful for even the slightest bit of deliberation. Please get back to me as soon as you can. Also, please don’t tell James. 

Your favorite child, 

Y/N 

The spiral of waiting threatened to tip you over the verge of complete impulsivity, one that would lead to you exposing your relationship prematurely and the subsequent Regulus-hunting that would ensue on your brother’s part. 

It had only been a couple of days since you sent off the letter to your parents, and at first you had been suspicious that your brother had somehow found out. After your disagreement with him in the library, he had been strangely distant, only occasionally giving you long, indistinguishable looks. 

Your sudden withdrawal from your brother and his circle spurred deep concern from your friends, and especially from Regulus, who managed to subtly bring up the development during every conversation you had with him. 

“Are you nervous?” You ask with a small frown, watching Regulus fiddle with his pot of ink. 

The boy shakes his head and flicks the ebony glass, “Not really. Rosier has been keeping an eye out on their new strategies and formations.” Regulus finally looks up and leans across the table toward you, “You’re coming to watch, right?” 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you hum lightly, “When have I ever missed one of your games?” 

“Right… and you’ll cheer for us?” His eyes run along your face as you furrow your eyebrows. 

“Yes… like I always do. Are we playing twenty questions now, love?” You huff out with a breathy laugh, intrigue only swelling higher when Regulus says nothing and gives you a small, uneasy grin. “Okay, what’s up? You’re looking at me the way I look at Severus when I accidentally mince my cowbane instead of chopping it.” 

“Poor Severus.” Regulus hums, eyes retracting into a sheen glaze as he reminisces on your ineptitude in Potions. “Anyway, it’s just… we’re playing Gryffindor.” He continues, mouth parting slightly when you squint at him. 

“Yes, Regulus, I know. Are you alright, dear?” You enunciate with blatant concern, head tilting to survey the boy’s uncharacteristic apprehension.

He clears his throat softly and shrugs, “I’m alright, I just don’t want you to be put in a weird place because your brother is also playing.” 

“Merlin, Regulus. So this is what you’re getting at.” You click your tongue with a small smile, reaching over to pat his hand, “Don’t stress yourself out, I always cheer for you.” 

“Uh? Ouch.” A familiar voice echoes from your right, tearing through the little bubble of comfort you’ve established with Regulus.

Swiveling your head over to the interruption, you narrow your eyes at the perpetrator and huff a small Hello, James. 

“Yeah, hi.” He blinks emphatically, “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

Regulus flips his hand over and threads his fingers with yours as you direct your full attention to James, “About cheering for Regulus? Well, I’m not.” 

James holds up a hand and sighs, “Okay, that’s a whole different discussion to be had. But I’m not here to argue. Sirius and I,” James leans to the side and gestures, but when he meets nothing but dusty air, he chokes on his spit and fully turns around, “Sirius?” 

You and Regulus exchange a concerned glance as James continues to talk to one of the bookshelves, “Sirius, what are you doing?” 

A fragile silence collects in the air as the three of you seem to share a collective perplexion, all waiting with bated breath. Regulus runs a hand through his hair as he frowns at James, likely questioning the boy’s sanity. 

Finally, Sirius’ broad figure emerges from behind a bookshelf, eyes wide with sheepishness as he makes eye contact with you and Regulus. “Hey, guys.” 

“Sirius.” Regulus greets with a stiff nod, fingers tightening against yours. 

“Why were you behind a bookshelf?” You hum, wrestling down an amused smile as James presses Sirius with a similar questioning look. 

Sirius chuckles dryly and walks over to your table, sitting on the edge as he slides a book toward you, “I was waiting. I honestly thought you’d hex Prongs to next Yule.” 

“Smart. What’s this?” You pick up the tome, exhaling loudly once you see it’s the book that you left in Sirius’ possession after you stormed away days prior. 

Sirius taps his fingers against the table and gives an exaggerated nod to James, throwing his arm towards an empty chair as your brother shuffles awkwardly on the sidelines. 

“Right.” James muses, hurrying to take a seat as Sirius slides over to make room. “We’re here because we wanted to talk to you.” He chews on his bottom lip and glances at Regulus, “The both of you.” 

Regulus nods and looks to you for confirmation before sitting up, “We’re listening.” 

“Well, it’s just that… you can’t be that bad.” James says, rubbing his shoulder as he nods at Regulus. 

Regulus rubs his thumb along your hand as he coughs out a laugh, “Uh, thanks. You too?” 

“And if it’s true that you’re… changing, then Sirius and I are very happy at the end of the day.” James finishes, now more confident as Sirius reaffirms his statement with his own light hum. Sirius rubs a hand down his mouth as he seems to debate on what to say to his brother, eyes flickering between Regulus and the far wall. 

“Well, I’m glad then.” Regulus adds, shooting you a relieved smile. 

Sirius clears his throat and paces towards Regulus, clapping his hand on the boy’s shoulder as his voice thickens with emotion, “I’m really relieved, Reggie.” 

“Yeah, me too. It will be different now.” Regulus promises with a whisper, smiling up at his brother with resolution. 

As Regulus and Sirius have their little moment, James knocks his shoe against yours to grab your attention. “Here. This came with my mail today. Don’t worry, I didn’t peek or anything.”

Quirking an eyebrow up, you slowly reach forward as James extends an envelope to you, eyes brimming with curiosity as he surveys you. “From Mum and Dad?” You murmur rhetorically, getting an affirming grunt from James in return. 

Ripping open the thick paper, you deftly extract the folded letter with coiled anxiety, head beginning to feel heavy as you anticipate the letter’s contents. Unfurling the crisp pages, your eyes run over the passage of ink, sinking into concentration as everything fades into the backdrop of your mind. 

Y/N, 

You should finish the rest of your other teas first, however, I bought a few tins of the peppermint tea as they were on sale.  

I cannot say I am surprised by the development of your relationship with Regulus, you and James were always attached to the Black brothers since youth. We are not able to house the boy comfortably for the sake of safety, it is entirely too unpredictable to have both runaway heirs under one roof. However, your father and I discussed the matter and we have decided that Regulus may be safe at Godric’s Hollow for the summer. The plot is untraceable and not widely known about outside of our family. We will send along a portkey for him to take near the end of the school year. 

Your father is expecting an explanation when we see you next. 

Please look out for your brother. 

Your father and I love you lots, dear. 

With love, 

Mum

A cold pin of disbelief rocks through you for a few moments before blind elation envelopes it and has you sighing into the air. Dropping the letter down, you smile widely and practically fly over the table, grabbing at Regulus’ tie. The boy darts his eyes to you in alarm before his eyes light up at the joy written across your expression, “Love?” 

“You’re going away for the summer.” You whisper enigmatically, a grin stretching at your lips when Regulus’ eyes widen further. 

“I am?” 

Nodding, you lean forward and press your lips against his, “My parents gave the okay.” 

Regulus laughs brightly and pushes up from his seat, cupping your face as he reciprocates your kiss. You both continue to exchange affection as Sirius and James drift off to the side, disgruntled and looking anywhere but at you both. 

Amidst running your hands into Regulus’ curls, you vaguely hear James muttering under his breath. 

“Sirius, you better go wrench your brother away before I make you an only child.” 

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[hauntedwitch04]

Fallen angel

Priest!Remus Lupin x reader

Words: about 1.8k words

Warnings: smut, corruption kink, swearing, kinda voyeurism, not proofreaded

Author’s note: Hi loves! New day new kink, hope you like it, your witch Becky

Requests are open I Ask

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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 14: Innocence

Remus knows it is wrong, but sinning has never been sweeter.

You came for Mass as you did every Sunday, together with your family. Remus always took a few minutes to look at you as you sat in the front row, in your usual cream and powder-pink dress, your little white shoes and the pink headband in your hair. If he hadn't known better, the young priest would certainly have thought you were an angel.

Throughout the mass he tried never to look at you, knowing that he would then have to hide a very obvious erection that would be very difficult to explain.

You are his forbidden dream and his most terrible perversion.You, with your air so graceful and your soul so good, were the one who would make even a saint sin, and Remus is convinced of this. There is no mortal soul according to him who would not think of your lips, your breasts, your legs in a sinful way.

Once the sacred service was over and the faithful were greeted, Remus headed for the confessional, knowing that a couple of people would be coming in seeking absolution. Usually he was not the one to hear confessions, but Father James, who, however, due to commitments could not do so today, so he had asked Remus to do so. At that thought he could not help but smile, thinking how he could ever grant absolution, when at night she often dreamed of you, as he fucked you, as you lay naked on top of the church altar.

Remus has been sitting in the confessional for a while, listening to people's sins and assuring them that God would forgive them if they showed a willingness to absolve themselves, when he decides to leave since there are other things to do and it has been several minutes since anyone came in after the last one who had come in, a man who had cheated on his wife with his sister.

The moment he is about to leave that cramped space, however, he hears your voice caressing the air.

"Father James, I should confess." You say in a voice slightly louder than a whisper.

Remus knows it is wrong the shiver that runs down his spine as he feels the sensation of desire growing inside him. He sits back as he wonders whether to tell the truth or to lie and pretend to be his friend, knowing that this would only be the beginning of the series of sins he would be thinking and doing, moments from now, imagining you kneeling beside him.

"Go ahead my child." Whispers the young priest as he imitates his colleague's voice.

"Father, I have sinned. The devil has taken me by the hand and led me down an evil road." You comment as you wring your hands.

"What have you ever done that is so terrible? You are an angel on earth, you cannot disappoint the Lord." Remus comments, as he feels his pants getting tighter and tighter, in imagining your lips inches away from his lap, separated only by a thin perforated wooden panel.

"I've been thinking about so many wrong things." You pause for a moment and then ask a question. "Father, if I tell you, you will never tell anyone right?"

"Of course angel, no one but me, you and Our Lord will ever know what you are going to tell me." Remus says, trying to reassure you; you nod and go on.

"Father, the other night I had a dream-a sex dream. I was-I was with this boy and he was touching my whole body, then his hands stopped...right there." You say, and Remus immediately closes his eyes, throwing his head back, praying himself not to come at that same moment in his pants.

"It was probably all because of that movie my friend showed me where there's a sex scene, since I've never been intimately with any man, but here's that's not the worst part."

"Oh no?" Remus asks, instinctively, as he feels his self-control slipping through his fingers as he puts his hand on the button that fastens his pants.

"No, because then when I woke up...here I didn't really know what I was doing, but I felt that I was very wet in my underwear and I didn't understand why."

"God child, what have you done?" Remus comments under his breath, not thinking you could hear him as he pulls his cock out of his pants and begins to massage it, since by now the erection was becoming too painful.

"Yes father, I know I sinned a lot, I know because then I did something I'm very ashamed of. I touched myself down there, and-and I think I gave myself pleasure." You confess, your voice almost on the verge of tears. Remus tightens his hand around your cock as he takes a deep breath and stops his movements, knowing that if he continued he would come in seconds.

"What exactly did you do my dear? How did you touch yourself?" Remus asks in a rough voice as he hears you fidgeting on the other side of the grate.

"But Father, I would sin one more time if I repeated it out loud." You comment frightened, as you feel your white panties getting wet again, under the pink skirt you wear.

"No my child. God, and I, need to know what exactly you have done, to absolve your sins, of course." You try to explain Remus convincingly. A few seconds of stalemate pass before you respond.

"You are right Father, I am so foolish. I'll tell you what I did then." You say, in a tone of conviction, before being interrupted again by the young priest.

"I think though if you just told it you might forget some things, and we definitely don't want something like that to happen right?"

"No Father, absolutely not. What do you recommend I do then?" You ask eager to please the priest.

"Why don't you try to do again what you did that night, too. Try touching yourself the same way you gave yourself pleasure as you tell me about it, try thinking about who you were thinking about that night as you came on your fingers." Remus says, and you feel a shiver run down your spine as hesitantly a hand immediately goes to the hem of your skirt. You spend a few seconds assessing the situation and then decide to do as Father advises, so you bring your right hand inside your white panties, and with one finger you brush your pussy, feeling how wet it is. This slight gesture of yours makes you moan, and Remus can't help but imagine you under him as you make all those lovely sounds.

"That's right, keep touching yourself while you tell me how you sinned bimbo." Remus says, taking his erection back in his right hand as some pre-cum slides from the tip to the base. The sensitive tip of his cock feels the drafts of air coming in through the small door in front of him, and he can't help but think those are the correspondence of your labored breathing.

"I put my hand in my panties, and with my middle finger I began to caress my..."

"Say it my child, don't be ashamed, it's more than natural."

"About my pussy. Slowly I started to move my finger around, to see if it really feels as much pleasure as it said in the movie, and that's how I found out that it does, but it takes time. Then after a few minutes of touching her, I tried to stick a finger inside."

"Did you like it?"

"Not so much at first, then after a few times I was going back and forth, like he did in the movie, I started to like him a lot, however I couldn't get to the pleasure." You continue, while touching yourself in the same way you are telling it, however the pleasure this time comes much faster than the first time, as you already feel on the verge of orgasm.

"And how did you get to orgasm baby?" Remus asks, as he knows he too is getting closer and closer to reaching the pinnacle of pleasure.

"I imagined it was someone else doing those things on me." You confess shyly between moans. Your hand is completely wet, and your fingers are also cramping, but you don't care.

"And who were you thinking of?"

"To Father Remus. "You whisper in a low voice as a wave of embarrassment washes over you. "Father James please absolve me, please remove this stain from my soul, I cannot live knowing I will end up in the clutches of Mephistopheles." You pray as your fingers quicken.

"Cum. And I will absolve you my child, come now my little fallen angel." Remus says, before coming himself with powerful spurts, in his own hand, as he imagines you convulsing after your orgasm, your plump lips wide open as you moan and your sinful chest poking out of your dress.

At the same time you come around your fingers, moaning and rolling your eyes in pleasure as you feel every muscle in your body contract and relax without you having control over anything.

"Father am I absolved?" You ask with bated breath, as you adjust your skirt, and try to make yourself presentable again. Remus struggles to catch his breath too, especially as he thinks back to the final confession you made: you think of him when you have to give yourself pleasure.

Part of him would like to console you by saying that he is not just thinking about the other person to get to orgasm, but knowing that this is not the case, he decides to adopt another technique.

"Of course my dear, no sin stains your candid soul anymore, just a piece of advice. Just the next one I advise you to go and report these kinds of sins and problems directly to Father Remus, he is a very open-minded man who specializes in the kind of problem you have child."

"What is my problem, Father?" You ask fearfully.

"I think it's really a sex demon, angel." At Remus's words you wince, but he immediately heartens you. "Don't worry baby, he's very good and will know how to help you, but it's important that you don't tell anyone about your condition, okay?"

"Of course Father James, thank you for the advice, I will go right away and talk to Father Remus tomorrow."

"Good, very good my sweet fallen angel." He says, before saying goodbye and hearing you leave.

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[delicatebarness]

winters widow | chapter ii

Summary: A small gesture of concern from Lord James suggests a possible change in the dynamic.

Warning: Arranged Marriage. Emotional Distress.

Word Count: 1390

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A/N: I was going to post this earlier but everyone asked for Cry Baby so you're getting both. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Winter’s Widow: @lanabuckybarnes | @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

The following days were as cold and unforgiving as the walls of Winter’s Reach. Every morning, you’d wake early, hoping to catch a slight glimpse of Bucky and perhaps try to engage in conversation. He remained elusive, seen only from a distance. His stern demeanor and closed-off nature seemed impenetrable as he trained in the yard or discussed with his men. 

Soughting ways to familiarize yourself with your new home, you were determined not to be deterred. The Reach staff had initially been distant, yet they gradually warmed to your kind and gentle nature. Taking it upon yourself to learn the names of the servants, you wanted to understand the daily workings of the House. And, bring a touch of warmth to the cold stone. 

Wandering through the dimly lit corridors, one evening, you found yourself drawn to the library. Towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls in the vast room, a fire crackled in the hearth which cast warm glows over the worn furniture. You marveled at the wealth of knowledge contained within these walls as your fingers ran along the spines of the books.

Lost in thought, you didn’t hear the heavy door open behind you. It wasn’t until a shadow fell across the floor, startling you, that you turned. Bucky stood in the doorway, his expression was hard, annoyance etched in his features. 

“My Lord–” 

“What are you doing in here?” his sharp tone cut you off as he demanded.

You took a step back, his hostility wasn’t surprising. “I was admiring the collection. It’s a beautiful room.” 

His gaze trailed down to your hands as a particular old book lays in them. “This isn’t a tour you're on,” he snapped. “You don’t belong here, meddling with things you don’t understand.” 

“I’m sorry,” your voice was soft as you tried to keep it steady. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought–”

“You thought wrong,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “This place is filled with history you know nothing about. It is not your place.” 

You swallowed hard, trying not to look up at his looming figure. “I’m just trying to understand, connect with you in some way.” 

Bucky scoffed, tension evident in his posture. “This isn’t some fairy tale, Lady Romanoff. You’re here because of duty, nothing more, no happily ever after.” 

His words cut deep, a dagger twisting in the pit of your stomach. Yet, you refused to back down. “Fairy tales are all I know, Lord James. I know this isn’t one of them. Yet, we’re both here, and we have to make the best of it. I am willing to try, even if you are not.” 

For a moment, you could have sworn his expression softened as you finally met his gaze. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. But his walls built back up just as quickly. “Do what you want,” he said curtly. “But don’t expect any warmth from me.”

The chill that settled in your bones as he turned and left, leaving you standing alone in the library, made the fire suddenly feel insufficient. Sighing, you gently placed the book back on the shelf. 

You resolved to continue your efforts to make Winter’s Reach feel like home. Focus on exploring the grounds once more, familiarizing yourself with lands that now surround you, covered in frost and snow. 

Walking through the courtyard, you saw Bucky training with his men. His movements, precise and powerful, halted you. They reflected his years of discipline and experience. You admired him, and his skill. 

Granting him space, you turned your attention to the stables, where your horse was being kept along with the Reach’s. 

The stable master greeted you warmly. “Lady Romanoff, it’s a pleasure to see you here,” he said with a genuine smile weathering his face. 

“Thank you,” you replied, returning his smile. “I thought I might get to see Honeybreeze, it could do her good to ride around the Reach.” 

The man nodded, gesturing toward your beautiful, chestnut mere. “Here she is, gentle and sure-footed, perfect for riding.” 

As you patted Honeybreeze’s neck, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. Another unreadable expression greeted you as you turned, coming face to face with Bucky. He paused when he saw your smaller frame, irritation etched his face in an instant. 

“Taking up riding now, are we?” he asked, his tone clipped. 

You met his gaze, refusing to let his hostility deter you. “I’ve always rode, my lord. I thought it would be a good way for us both,” you gestured toward your horse, stroking your hand down her mane. “To familiarize ourselves with Winter’s Reach.” 

His eyes narrowed, however, they weren’t aimed at you. His gaze moved toward the stable master. “Make sure the lady is properly equipped for her ride,” he ordered the man before turning back to you. “The terrain can be treacherous, especially for outsiders. Be careful.” 

“I will,” you replied softly, you tried to keep your voice steady, not to show the pain his words caused. “Thank you for your concern.” 

“It’s not concern,” he scoffed, once more. The sound filled the air between you with bitterness. “Just practicality. We don’t need any unnecessary accidents.”

With that, he left you again. The stable master gave you a sympathetic look as he handed you the reins. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said quietly. “But, my lord wasn’t always like this. The war changed him.” 

You nodded, “I understand, thank you.” 

Mounting Honeybreeze, you guided her out of the stables, making your way toward the open fields surrounding Winter’s Reach. The air was crisp, and the expansive landscapes offered a sense of freedom. A brief moment of peace, away from the tension within Reach’s walls. 

Thoughts of your future husband returned to your mind as you rode. Despite his harsh exterior, you couldn’t help but wonder who the man was beneath the black and gold armor. 

Hours passed as you explored, and the cold air bit at your cheeks. Finally returning to the stables, dusk had almost settled over Winter’s Reach. Dismounting the horse, you handed her reins back to the waiting stable master. Thanking him, he nodded appreciatively and led your horse away, leaving you standing alone. 

Your mind reflected on the day's events as you made your way back toward the Reach. The hostility and bitterness from Bucky had been palpable, but you couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. It was clear the way had left its mark on him, you wondered what had happened to transform him into the hardened man you were to marry. 

As you approached the entrance, you were surprised by Bucky standing there, waiting. His usual stern expression across his face. However, there was a hint of something softer in his eyes. 

“Did you enjoy your ride?” his voice gruff. 

You nodded, taken aback by his question. “I did, my lord. The land around your home is beautiful.” 

Looking away, his jaw tightened. “The Reach has its own kind of beauty,” he admitted.

“I would love to understand more of it,” you spoke softly. “And, to understand my future husband.” 

Bucky’s expression hardened again, his gaze meeting yours as a flicker of something else– perhaps vulnerability passed over his eyes. “There’s not much to understand. I’m a soldier, nothing more.” 

“I don’t believe that,” you replied gently, offering a small smile. “I think there’s more to you, more than you want to show.” 

For a second, he looked as though he might argue. Then, he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Maybe… if so, it’s buried deep.” 

You took a small step closer, daring to place your hand gently on his arm. “I’m willing to find it if you’ll let me.” 

He glanced down at your hand on his arm, another unreadable look passed through his eyes. Then, he stepped back, offering you a small nod. “Just… be careful,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I will, my lord,” you promised, watching him walk away. For the first time, you felt like you had hope as you saw a glimpse of the man beneath the armor. 

Taking a deep breath, you continued on your way through The Reach, feeling a renewed sense of determination. You silently vowed to break through his defenses and uncover a heart worth loving and understanding. 

---

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[my-castles-crumbling]

hormones - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 312 - TW: needles (hormone injections)

It’s been years of doing this, these painful pricks in his skin. And yet, he still can’t help but feel a range of emotions as he prepares the necessary medical equipment. It feels almost ritualistic, now, the way he sanitizes and double-checks his work, such a part of him that it’s no longer foreign or scary.

It is, however, private. Something he doesn’t share with anyone. Only Sirius has been allowed to stay. How can he allow people this, when he might then have to explain the way it both hurts and helps, to inject the hormones into his body? When he might have to verbalize the overwhelming emotion that overcomes him in this moment- euphoria, that this is possible; anger, that this is necessary. 

So it is a step, a giant step -the biggest step he’s ever taken in his life, he thinks- that he has invited James to stay this time. 

It’s taken ages for him to even think about it, months for him to bring it up, and thank the lord James hasn’t pushed at all, or he might have had to start the whole ‘thinking about it’ process over again. But James is patient. He never pries. He only asks questions that are so heart-meltingly validating, how can Regulus want anything but to have James here, in this moment?

But he still is rethinking his decision, as he prepares. Wondering what he has gotten himself into, to allow James such intimacy. Until James moves.

He maneuvers himself behind Regulus, so one leg is on his either side, Regulus’s back pressed into his chest. And when Regulus finally, wordlessly, completes the injection, James only wraps his arms loosely around his waist. Whispers in his ear, “You’re perfect, you know.”

His chest warms and he feels so, so, loved. And he’s never not regretted letting someone into his life more.

[cuddl3s4shur1]

•𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄•

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐘/𝐍 𝐗 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒, (𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐)

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎: The first time you meet Armando and his Attidue.

𝐀/𝐍:HE IS SO FINEEE LORD HAVE MERCY, also

𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄: 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Horrible Spanish (Google translate and apple) , Maybe Bad Grammer. Semi Spoiler

Inspired by: that scene in Bad Boys Ride or die

music: Permission By Ro James

You would here a sudden knock on the door, you turn the news off see your Godfather his friend and soon be on the run for whatever.

You would get low on the ground grab your phone and gun from your safe, check your ring camera to see if it’s your God Father Marcus and Mike and the last one was know where to be found which didn’t effect you. Kelly and Dorn Was behind them.

“Man Y/n open the damn door” You get up and still have your gun in your hand as you open your door.

“Don’t rush me, had to make sure They weren’t tryna get me since you always bring crime around me” You say to him, you open the door all the way so they can walk in. They walk in, And you close the door behind you.

“First off what the fuck do yall got on, overhearing looking like rednecks that say the hard r” You laugh at him.

“Look we had to put on some clothes and they were the only ones, to be honest,” Mike said to you, you nodded your head and did a semi-smile. your body language was positive

“So what do you need me to do” You ask him as your arms cross, looking at them knowing they want something from you.

“You can shoot a gun, you can fight back and you're a nurse, you would be able to help us during this battle,” Marcus says to you, Your eye rolled even though he wasn’t wrong

“you understand right now, i had to work night shift i just got home im tired and this is what you guys want me to do” You question them, your door would be bust open, you feel your body react fast getting your gun out of your side.

“Armando I told you to wait in the car,” Mike says, you stare at the guys putting the gun back to your side as you realize they know him.

He looked at Mike and gave him a mug look ignoring his request, as he would stare at you listening to the conversation from afar as he stood in the kitchen. His eyes would look you up and down which you felt his gaze.

Ignoring him and his attitude you walked to your door closing it and locking it so no more people would come in your house. “But Yeah I know I can do all that, but how many days am I going to have to take off” you ask them, you only got 2 weeks of them off, and they are better when saved instead of used.

“Well we don’t know how deep this goes but I’ll say three days because we know you need one for rest,” Marcus says, you side-eye at him and chuckle. Armando’s eyes would flutter at you.

“Of all people Marcus you can’t say anything about rest days when you still need to be on bed rest and You Mike, need to go the doctor for your panic attacks,” You say addressing them, they tilt their heads at you, side eying you for saying it out loud.

“I’m perfectly fine-“ Marcus says before Mike cuts, him off “And I didn’t have a panic attack” you scuff and their comments as they obviously knew you were right.

“Know, I’ll figure some shit out but when are we leaving-“ you say as you take a breath seeing Armando drinking a glass of your Jack Daniel’s

“Why are you drinking my Jack” you ask him, everyone’s eyes look towards him; his shoulders shrug, “Why does your house smell like Dior Sauvage” He asks you instead of answering your question, His head tilts, as his lips would make a smirk. their eyes would now dart to you.

Marcus and Mike would look at each other before sniffing around trying to smell the Cologne, Kelly, and Dorn would side-eye each other and sit on the couch trying to not be nosey.

“Know what, why are you drinking Jack Daniel’s whiskey and infant why does it smell like Dior and why is it a diamond stud on the ground” Mike and Marcus would ask you. You look around at everyone before ignoring the question. Armando would chuckle seeing this as he poured Another cup full of the whiskey.

“I have a roommate, he wears diamond studs and likes Dior, but I actually do Like Jack Daniel’s,” You admit to them, Growing up around your family they would drink 5 things, Pepsi, Water, Beer, Hennessy, and Jack.

Armando’s teeth would grid, as you mentioned the roommate, it’s not like he was jealous or anything, but a part of him felt mad that it wasn’t him, even though he had just met you.

“Like when you say roommate, you mean roommate or roooomateeeee” Marcus asks you, you chuckled at his question

“Roommate, if you wanted to Know your god daughter isn’t going to give you any grandkids” You tell him upfront, his eyes would smile and so did Armando’s.

“Let’s go” He smiles at you being happy about not having grand kids, giving you the biggest hug, your eyes would face Armando’s.

You guys would look eye contact as he would mouth something to you.

“Come here” you you would close your eyes acting like you didn’t see his request. You would retreat from the hug.

“Look what the fuck am I getting myself into, also please hurry this process up, i still need to get some sleep, i had to drink 3 red bulls to stay up my full shift, the more I stay up the more I will be angry in the morning” you tell everyone of them, Armando would adjust the way he would sit into a man spread. His eyes would stare into yours , never coming off of you.

“They tryna frame, Captin We all know they are, he had a big break on a case on some mole working for the cartel, and now we need to put a stop before they try to disrespect captain. “ Mike says to you, you nod your head

“Ok that makes sense but why is he in my house, you point at him, confused and wanting to know answers.

“Puedes bajar el dedo (You can lower your finger) “he says at you, you had some patients that only spoke spanish so you took time to learn it for them. You would put down your finger done pointing still wanting to her and answer from them wondering what did they need.

Armandos face would slightly change as his eyes would lift seeing you knew some spanish, He smirked like he made a mental note about it .

“He knows who’s after captain and us” You nod your head, You start weighing your options , last time you helped them you got shot in your leg, so than you trained harder so that wouldn’t happen again.

“I’ll go and I’ll let yall crash at my crib and what not, yall can figure out what y’all wanna do or sleep, i have a guest room, don’t go in DJS room i have 2 bathrooms.

You would look around for your phone as you needed, And pat your back pockets as that where you thought it was last time. You look over to see Armando at your kitchen island with your phone in his hand smiling as he had lowered them at you.

Walking over to the bar stools at the island where he was, he would get up and get close to you. You kept a distance towards him but wasn’t that close “Can i get my phone” you popped your neck at him, you left your hand out and tilted your head as at him.

“¿Y con quién estás hablando, princesa? (And who are you talking to, princess?)”He questions you, as he walked up to you. His voice stern and husky. You scuff at his comment And you walk up to him as well,

“Obviamente, tú eres el único que sigue haciendo cosas. ( Obviously you're the only one who keeps doing things. “) “ You said to him, angry at him everyone else was toned out as You looked up at him with aggression

“Seamos honestos con nosotros mismos, ¿vale? (Let's be honest with ourselves, okay? ) He admits to you as he adjusts your chin to really look at him, his hand would sit on your waist. You couldn’t like and say this man didn’t affect you, because he did in a flirtatious way and an asshole way.

He places phone in your hand and pats your right shoulder as he walks away from you. You get your phone and place it in your back pocket, you get blankets and pillows and give them to everyone with a mug on your face

“What the hell was that” Mike said to fix the awkward silence that was once taking over the living room.

“A positive chat,” you say with the biggest sarcasm in your voice, your fake grin as well as you give the blanket and pillow to Armando.

You would hear under your breath kelly ask you a question “are you good” she would say.

“She’s fine,” He says you bat your eyes at him eye-rolling at him once again, and when done with the blankets and pillows you go to your bedroom to make some calls.

“Listen, Armando, I know that’s not my blood daughter but stop flirting right, or you gon deal with Some real problems” he says to him, his shoulders would shrug as he showed he didn’t give a fuck about that.

After a few minutes, you would come out of your room, “I’ll be going I confirmed it with my boss, Although at first, I said y’all can sleep wherever I changed my mind, Mike And Marcus can sleep on the sectional couch, Kelly and Dorn y’all can sleep in the guest bedroom and Armando for you I have no idea, the trust we will figure it out, hopefully” You tell them, they start to shift around.

People would start taking showers including you, you were the first to take on the get the shift off plus it had now became a minute everything shower. Everything would get shaved and then smoothed with a scrub. After a good 30 minutes you would get out your bathroom, to see armando on the other side of your bed, “What are you doing in here” You asked, now fixing your towel so it wouldn’t drop.

“I think this is where I could sleep tonight,” he says, looking at you, he was dead serious with you. Which made you kinda nervous, you didn’t know where he was going to sleep for tonight and he might have to sleep in the bed with you tonight.

“You sure, there wasn’t anywhere else you thought of” you ask him, He looks at you and disagrees with a friendly nod. “Nope it wasn’t meant to be for us,” he says to you, you swallow some air trying to stay calm.

You would give up on the argument and would settle, you guys had been disagreeing with each other since y'all had met. You would grab your lotions and other vanilla products for you to smell good.

It would take an extra 15 minutes for your night time routine, to be done, after brushing your teeth and more. Armando had gone and took a shower during this time as well. You would tie your hair up so it could look good for the next day. He would come back into the room with just a towel on. You couldn’t even say he didn't workout because it was obvious that he did.

“do you have some clothes I could wear?” He asks you, you try to keep a straight face so you would only nod since you’re trying to prevent yourself from saying something wrong. You only could think of the clothes your ex-boyfriend had given you but forgot to get rid of and they were most likely still there.

They should at least be the same size so he might be able to fit them. You give him the pjs but he starts to look you up and down, you had on some fluffy Spiderman pjs and a white tank top with a red bra underneath. He heads to your bedroom to change into the PJs. Heading to the kitchen to clean the dishes he had made, you place the jack in the freezer and grab the glass he had. Washing it, Heavy footsteps would approach you, Marcus and Mike were knocked watching some old cartoons most likely from their childhood. And you couldn’t hear Kelly or Dorn so they were most likely asleep as well.

“You didn't want to enjoy a glass with me” He would ask you. “Nah we got important stuff to do and I work better when I'm not intoxicated,” you tell him. He’d nod. You guys would go back to your bedroom to call it nights out.

[romanarose]

"If I'm Being Honest" Lie #1: "I don't like you."

An Omegaverse/romcom enemies to lovers idiots in love slowburn found family type shit. graphic design is my passion themed header is a little more intional this time but lord knows i can't edit XD

Alpha!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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Summary: If Logan is being honest, he didn't like you. If you were being honest, you didn't either. But, if you were both being honest, you were exactly what you needed.

Warnings: Currently nothing? Will update as I go, but everyone's canon trauma is liable to be discussed.

A/n: I have built a reputation on here for series that are very serious, that deal with themes of severe depression, sexual assault, abuse, etc. I wanted to try my hand at something new, something lighthearted. the Omegaverse stuff won't have a HUGE part in it, it's just another aspect I wanted to add. As i wrote it, I realized it has a romcom vibe, so that's what I'm leaning into. I want to have fun with this! i write so much heavy stuff, a little change is nice. thank you so much to @xdaddysprincessxx for encouraging me to venture out, ily.

1.7k words

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Multiple alternating POVs

***

If Logan was being honest, in the moment he just wanted to fuck you. Years later, to other more romantic types like Remy or Kurt, he would say it was love at first sight. He wouldn't say you were being a bit of a cunt, and the comment on his hair was unnecessary.

If you were being honest, wanted him to leave you alone, and were thankful he did. Later, to Remy and Kurt, you would say that you secretly wished he’d try again, although Logan wasn’t the type to linger where he wasn’t wanted. You say it was love at first sight, although if you were being honest, you thought his leather jacket was too wanna be James Dean, and his hair looked stupid. 

When Logan saw you in that bar, the bit-too crowded one that was the only spot he could go to where they didn’t recognize him from the mutant school 50 miles away, he thought, Well, she’ll do.

Jean had chosen Scott, and Logan wasn’t going to just sit around the mansion moping all day. Even if he still harboured feelings, he wanted her to be happy, and frankly, he wanted Scott to be too. He wasn’t a bad guy, he was just married to the woman Logan loved. And was rather annoying. But again, not bad. 

Logan just needed a nice, wet hole to sink into, and you were more than attractive enough for his tastes. Stunning, even, and just a little bit terrifying. You were a beta; he could smell the lack of alpha or omega pheromones, and you were devoid of either. All the better, omegas were so… clingy.

You, on the other hand, cursed yourself when you accidentally caught his eyes. Great. You think to yourself. Now he probably thinks you’re staring.

You weren’t! Not at that moment, anyway. If you were being honest, after he took the hint and went on his way, you did take a few glances for the ole spank bank. No harm no foul.

“Hey.” The man said as he leaned against the bar counter, and you snort through your nose.

“Really? That's the best you got?” You make a twirling motion with your finger. “Turn around, try again.”

He makes a funny face, but turns around anyway. When he faces you again, he doesn’t lean on the counter but rather takes a seat. “Uh. Hello?”

You facepalm, laughing. “This isn’t gonna work.”

The man takes the laughter in stride. “Yeah, not my best work. Can I at least buy you a drink?”

Another weak move. “You can, but I’m not gonna sleep with you.”

Not deterred, he buys the next round. “Name’s James.” He gave you his hands and waited expectantly, but even though you shook it you dodged the name question hanging in the air. 

“Sorry, buddy, I swore off Jimmy’s about 2 Jimmy’s ago.”

A slight frown, but nothing that seemed to indicate trouble. “Luckily, I’m not a Jimmy, I’m a James.”

“Okay.” You spoke almost patronizingly. “Never met a James that wore kitty ears, but okay.”

James looked like he was stewing on something, opened his mouth to retort an insult, but thought better of it. He attempted to smooth back the curls, but it didn’t work. He mumbled something about a cowlick before looking back at you as you laughed.

“You’re not playfully teasing me, are you?” it wasn’t a question.

“Nah, honey. I’m making fun of you.”

“Welp.” He slaps his hands on the bar counter, sitting up. It wasn’t an aggressive move, he meant it playful himself, but it still made you startle. “I can see where I’m not wanted. Keep the drink, sweetheart.” He winked, and left you alone.

Fuck, his pants were tight.

Logan moved on to talking up some girl that actually seemed interested, but if he were being honest, and he’d never admit this, but he kept looking back to you. As much as he wanted to get his dick wet and this new girl was pretty, he couldn’t get his mind off you. Logan was not rejected often. It wasn’t that his ego was bruised, okay maybe a little, but you were just so interesting. His senses were telling him he needed to notice something about you, but not trouble. He didn’t know what that meant, but the next time he looked over he saw a man making his move on you.

Good luck, bub. He thought to himself, then looked back at the cute girl. She seemed flexible. An omega, which meant he’d probably have to make an escape while she was sleeping, but she’d be eager to please. Oh yeah, this was gonna be a good-

*CRASH!*

Annnnnnd there it was. Can’t have nothing nice. He stepped in front of the blonde, what was her name again?, and looked to scout out the situation just in time to see you clock a man in the jaw hard enough to send him back. Good job there, girlie. Logan didn’t want trouble, and you seemed to be handling it so he didn’t step in just yet… but out of nowhere came the guy's friend with a barstool and clocked it over your head.

“Hey!” Logan shouted, distracting the man enough as he was about to kick you a third time in the face. Just as he dove and took him down, Logan heard the crowd gasp. After knocking the buddy out, Logan looked up to see if the first man wanted a piece of him next, only to see him staring in shock.

You were blue. Your skin, your hair, and the sliver of your eyes he could see, all blue. 

“MUTANT!” The fucking hillbilly shouts, and Logan isn’t an idiot. There’s trouble coming.

Without thinking, he scoops up your limp body and dashes you outside as men gather like an old timey mod.

He places you on the front of his bike, one strong arm holds you up and kicks the stand of the bike. Back to the mansion.

Another goddamn stray. Can’t keep them off me.

The gates opened as his bike rode up the twisted roads over half an hour later. Good thing the bike was registered to Scott, because if he got clocked speeding, it was bordering on reckless driving. 

Despite being in a hurry, Logan made sure to kick the stand up after riding the bike right up to the steps. He didn’t want the engine flooded. Then whose bike would he steal?

Bursting into the entrance, he finds Scott in a blue and yellow button down PJ set, sleep mask on and arms crossed. “You have GOT to stop-” Then Scott see’s you, passed out, bloody faced, and blue bodied, and senses the urgency.

He grabs Logan, shoving him to get to the medbay ASAP. Logan could run much fastert than Scott, even with your weight, but Scott was behind him. “JEEAANNN!”. The yelling was more to get it out in his mind, no doubt communicating with her in there to get to the bed medbay, which was near their bedroom.

By the time Logan got there, Jean was already setting up. She was in a robe, forest green and silky, something Scott probably got for her, the thoughtful fuck. Annoyingly, it was long, covering up those legs. That was also probably intensional on Scott’s part. Jean was in boxers. Probably Scotts, and she liked to sleep in skimpy cami’s. On second thought, the gift was probably more Scott keeping her wrapped up considering how many times Jean gets called to the med bay in the middle of the night.

“Tell me everything you know.”

Logan half panicked. He didn’t actually know anything. “I don’t really know. I talked to her briefly at the bar but that’s it.”

Green eyes flashed up at him, then back down. Jean knew what he was doing. “Did you sleep with her yet?”

He didn’t really know why THAT was relevant. 

“No, she rejected me too.” Well, that was a bit bitter. Logan corrected himself. Not the time. “Uh, fuck, she’s a mutant.”

Jean stopped, then dropped her shoulders as she deadpanned. “I couldn’t tell.” She could get a little snarky when under stress, so Logan let that roll off his back and she hooked you up to some monitors.

“She got into a bar fight, one guy hit her over the head with a stool, that's when she blacked out. Another kicked her face before I got there. One to the nose, one to the forehead.”

Jean nodded, this was the information she needed. 

“Steal toed books by the looks of it, got her pretty good. Anything else?”

“She turned blue a little after passing out, and she’s a beta.”

She placed her hands over the woman's body. “She probably can hide her mutation if she’s conscious about it. Knocking her out took away that defense.”

Just then, Scott entered the room, finally catching up. You’d think with those long legs he’d be faster, but running isn't his strong suit. “How is she?”

“Stable, but I need one of you to put the gauze on her head, she’s still bleeding.” Scott found the materials needed and applied gentle pressure. “Heart rate is good, but she’s unconscious still. Logan how long has it been?”

“45 minutes maybe?”

She swears under her breath. “Well, that’s not great. Let me get into her head.” After a few minutes, she relaxes a little bit. “Okay. Not traumatic brain injury. It’s a moderate concussion. She’ll need some rest but she’ll be okay, it seems.”

“Any sign of a healing factor?” Scott asks, but Jean shakes her head.

“If it is, it’s nothing like yours,” She nods to Logan. “or even Remy. Or like Remy, she needs to be conscious about it.” Jean put down her hands. “There’s not much I can do right now. It’s best to let her wake up naturally, unless this goes longer than a day. I’ll keep monitering-”

Your eyes flashed open, blue and glowing lightly, gasping a little for breath. When you saw Logan and Scott of one side of the bed, the confusion grew to panic. “Shit!” You try to roll off the bed, away from them, but are either too out of it still or too tied up in monitors to make it far. You fall, and Jean catches you. Logan moved to go to you, but Scott held him back. Logan didn’t know why

“Hey, hey it’s alright, you’re safe here.” You calm more after seeing her, letting Jean sit you down.

When you look up at Scott and Logan again, you lock eyes with the older man. To their surprise, you roll your eyes, “Oh great. This fucking guy again.”

If Logan was being honest, he didn’t like you very much.

**********

thank you so so much for giving this a chance!!!I had a lot of fun writig this, which isn't something ive said a lot lately.

I originally was on my drive back from my parents like "i wanna write omegaverse" it was originally gonna be a lot more serious, but as i was planning and thinking it just ended up having a sillier vibe.

It will still have more serious themes here and there, but nothing like what i usually do. Im very nervous. The most lighthearted series ive ever done was the DBF joel series but that was more a series of one shots. And awakening was goofy and silly sometimes but was also pretty heavily about the beauty of coming out later in life, finding yourself, exploring sexuality, and deep trust.

This fic is playing on the rom com vibes. Idiots in love. Enemies to lovers. I hope you guys like it. Prinny says she think it'll be good for me to have something lighter, considering how much dark fics and dark themes i do.

I know I was talking about the series with my OC sadie summers and logan and thats still in the works, but there were some kinks i needed to work out that I havn't yet before i can go foreward. Fen and I are almost done with IYWBW, and when that done ill start on the benny miller x oc series for the final installment of Leather and lace universe!!!

and eventually, EVENTUALLY i will get that final chapter of ROF done. its just HARD (like my dick)

peace and love girlies (gn)

if you want to be added to my general logan content, check out the taglist linked above, but if you want to be added to this series, comment below!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @miraclesabound