#today´s choice james

[ominous-signs]

Found this at a butchers last year

[justhereforthemeta]

Romantic expectations and the story we didn't see: A magic trick hiding in plain sight

Here's a hopeful meta for all my fellow celestial brainrot sufferers out there. Cheers! :)

This idea started as a dead end, trying to track the movements of Crowley’s sideburns/tattoo because I thought time travel shenanigans were afoot. I had to abandon that theory when it was pointed out that David was simultaneously filming as the sideburns-having Fourteenth Doctor, and in-universe Crowley can do whatever he wants with his facial hair whenever he feels like it. But hey - null findings are still findings!

On the bright side, pausing the show to make notations in a spreadsheet forced me to slow down and notice other changes I'd overlooked the first time around: acting choices, costuming choices, references to book lore. And possibly a few surreptitious flicks of the wrist, in places where we’re meant to be focused on the magician’s other hand.

@amuseoffyre and @ineffablefood had a great exchange recently about romance and “the significance of misdirection and three-in-one (magic) tricks” throughout the show. I suspect Neil has done something brilliant with the audience’s long-standing expectations (since the 1990s, really) for the love story between Crowley and Aziraphale to develop. And while it is a wonderful story indeed, playing to this expectation lets Neil distract his audience from the blink-and-you'll-miss-them seeds he's planting for the final chapter.

Continued below the cut...

Let’s start at the beginning of Episode 2. First, context: In the previous installment, Crowley stormed out of the bookshop, was whisked away to Hell by Beelzebub where he learns about the Book of Life threat to Aziraphale’s existence, then returned to the bookshop to dance a little apology dance and hide Gabriel with an unintentionally massive joint miracle. In S2E2, we and Shax catch up with Crowley as he's snoozing in the Bentley.

Shax: “You’re in trouble”

A. J. Crowley, cool as a cucumber: “Obviously. Former demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Interesting! Sarcastic? Yes, absolutely; but that’s also a good 4500 years and an averted apocalypse away from “I’m a demon. I lie,” wouldn’t you say? Someone is sounding a whole lot less depressed and aimless and navel-gazey (do snakes have navels?), and a whole lot more like he’s got a project to focus on, since his "what's the point?" ruminations on the park bench in E1.

And of course we all noticed the costume change right away. Hello, black turtleneck. Feeling cute today, thought I’d cover up my graceful long neck? That sounds unlikely. Let’s put a pin in this one.

There’s also an interesting acting choice going on here. Crowley speaks to Shax in a funny, drawling, too-cool-for-you voice that we haven’t heard in a while. Specifically, not since 1967. If you go back and give the S1E3 scene in the Dirty Donkey a listen, you’ll hear it (and if you know of another instance of it that I've missed, please let me know!). In S2E2, he keeps up this odd voice (if anybody knows what kind of affect this is supposed to be, please do tell!) throughout this dialogue with Shax, except for the brief moment when she first surprises him about the joint miracle having been detected.

1967 was a fun year. Crowley masterminded a heist! And seemed like he was having a ball doing it, right up until his little caper was called off after Aziraphale brought him the thermos of holy water. Crowley spoke to his co-conspirators in that same funny, very 60’s-caper-film voice. He wore a hip 60’s turtleneck. He bought petrol for the only time ever, so he could get those sweet James Bond bullet hole decals for his car (per the book, seen on the Bentley in the show).

Those James Bond bullet hole decals would of course have been part of a promotion for this 1967 release, which you just know our film-enjoying demon went to see in the theater:

Starring this suave, be-turtlenecked guy:

And now - begging your forgiveness - a brief rant.

There are a number of posts out there that refer to Crowley’s S2E2 turtleneck as a flirtatious sartorial choice - actually, ‘slutty’ seems to be the favored accusation. There are even a few posts floating around commenting on how sweet it is that Crowley swaps out his slutty, kinky, throw-me-over-your-desk-and-take-me turtleneck for a more dressy and appropriate collared shirt specifically to attend Aziraphale’s Jane Austen ball. 

Now this is all in good fun, and Crowley does indeed look fantastic here, and I do love a good fangirling sesh as much as the next person. However, fandom’s collective tendency to interpret what we are seeing on the screen through the lens of romantic expectation can, at times, give rise to a kind of blinkered enthusiasm that obscures the original text in a haze that is part Mandela Effect, part unrestrained horniness, and part in-group code talking and identity reinforcement.

Respectfully, Crowley’s black turtleneck does not appear at all in S2E5: The Ball. In fact, it never appears again after the end of S2E2.

For Someone’s sake, let’s collectively pull our heads out of the romantic fog/gutter for a moment and focus on what we are actually seeing in the book and on the screen. For Crowley, this is an uncharacteristic within-period costume change. There is a surreptitious flick of the wrist happening here, out in broad daylight, and we are all missing it.

So here’s a thing. Aziraphale appears to have settled comfortably into life on Earth, his neighborhood, his books, using Crowley as an outlet for sharing his good deeds that he would once have reported to Heaven. Meanwhile, at first glance, Crowley appears stuck in a rut. There he slouches on a park bench with Shax in S2E1: a guy who lives in his car, stagnantly clinging to old familiar habits, mulling over the pointlessness of it all.

Setting aside the bit about living in the Bentley (I’m going to attribute this to well-documented issues between him and Aziraphale, discussed in many other excellent metas, and move on), Crowley has at least two very good, proactive reasons for maintaining his contact with Hell through Shax. First and foremost, it’s a source of information he can use to keep ahead of potential threats to Aziraphale and himself.

But also, I would posit…he kinda likes it.

Recall that book GO was first conceived as a parody, with Aziraphale and Crowley as spy-against-spy (but not really) field operatives in an ages-old cold war between Heaven and Hell. Their entire book dynamic is rooted in the trope of two opposing agents who have been in the field for so long that they now have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices. Their St. James’s Park meetings among other spies and ministers trading secrets are a sendup of what was once a well-known Cold War-era cliché. 

Our contemporary Crowley still likes slick outfits and hellaciously expensive watches and high-performing vintage cars and pens that write underwater while looking like they could break the speed limit. He coaches Shax on how to blend in as a demon on Earth, and he helpfully redirects the wayward contact looking for the Azerbaijani sector chief. He loves improvising and getting away with shenanigans under the institutional radar. And boy golly was he impressed with Jane Austen: master spy, brandy smuggler, and mastermind of the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. 

And if you look at it a certain way, for as long as Crowley has considered himself to be on “[his] own side” - going at least as far back as Job - he could almost think of himself as a sort of double agent. It’s actually a very romantic sort of notion, befitting our hopeless romantic of a (professedly former) demon; but it’s romantic in a very different way than we, the audience, have been primed to watch for.

In other words, in a very “on my own side” kind of way, Crowley really gets a kick out of being a spy. Or at least, dressing up and accessorizing as one, and moonlighting as a good-doing double agent when he can get away with it. And also being a plotting criminal mastermind. Two sides of a coin, really. Just look at Jane Austen.

My point is: No, Crowley did not wait around for Shax to come find him in a turtleneck so that he could go flirt with Aziraphale later. He’ll flirt with Aziraphale no matter what. No, this:

is actually this:

Much like the one he wears to the Dirty Donkey in 1967: 

whilst holy water heist-plotting. Here's a clearer shot with gratuitous Bentley, because I love them:

…and which he'll wear again, with appropriate camouflage, while infiltrating Heaven in S2E6:

That is the 1967 planning a HEIST turtleneck for committing ESPIONAGE and STEALING THINGS in. Because turtlenecks are what modern human master spies wear to get their hands dirty - after all, he saw it in a movie once. 

Crowley dons his tactical turtleneck sometime during the first major break in the action (which doesn't happen until after the joint miracle to hide Gabriel) after he learns about the threat the Book of Life poses to Aziraphale. Loverboy started mentally preparing himself to go after that book immediately upon learning that it was in play as a genuine threat. 

Now let’s pick up at the S2E2 Dirty Donkey scene, reading the story from this angle. Of course, Crowley enables Aziraphale’s delusions about Heaven by hiding information from him, and does not disclose the Book of Life threat when they meet again. They go into the pub, Aziraphale shamelessly paws Crowley’s chest like the seductive Bond Girl he is, and Crowley gets to act all smooth and suave and intimidating as he chases off the interloping Mr. Brown (or Mr. Collins for the Pride & Prejudice fans, take your pick).

Ergo, theory: beginning in S2E2, Crowley is already thinking of himself as a Jane Austen/James Bond action hero (“How will our hero cope?”), psyching himself up to rescue Aziraphale by getting his spy game on and stealing the Book of Life.

Now, watch closely...This is where Aziraphale and Crowley brainstorm their plans to solve the problem they both know about: getting Maggie and Nina to fall in love and thereby get Heaven off their backs. Crowley’s vavoom plan is drawn from yet another movie (“Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes - vavoom, sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film.”). But Crowley also implicitly shares his solution to the problem he hasn’t told Aziraphale about. And true to form, Crowley’s Jane Austen solution isn’t the same as Aziraphale’s Jane Austen solution. 

Two solutions that fail by the end of Season 2, and a secret third one that might still work...and there's our magic trick of three.

‘“I’m lost. Am I doing a rainstorm?” Yes, babe. And a heist, too - just not until season three. Can I get a wahoo!? 

I won’t spend time on A Companion to Owls during this meta, except to note that in all three minisodes, we get to watch stories that involve Crowley acting as a double agent on “his/their own side” - successfully making Hell and Heaven think he’s fulfilling their will while saving Job’s goats and children; failing to fool Hell when he does a good deed in Edinburgh; and of course, collaborating with Aziraphale whilst evading detection as an infernal turncoat during the Blitz.

(Because this is getting long, I'll also skip over Crowley's interrogation of Jim in this episode - I'll probably come back to that in another meta. But interrogating is a rather spy-ish thing to do.)

When we catch up with Crowley again later, he’s already slipped out of the bookshop, having left Aziraphale to his biblical reverie about Job. He saunters snakily down Whickber Street as usual, but with a very pointed and swift glance over his shoulder (see pic above). This demon is up to something - possibly something we didn’t get to see, something that may have happened offscreen while he stepped out. In any case, knowing there’ve been unfriendly angels in the neighborhood that morning, he’s rightly concerned about being spied on.

From this point until the beginning of episode six, there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity for Crowley to make any next moves. He babysits the bookshop, during which time he manages to wring some crucial information out of Jim; he follows his Crowley’s Angel around like a puppy, and downs a bottle of red like a good old fashioned lovesick boy once that’s been pointed out to him. If any plotting or scheming is underway, this occult being is keeping stumm for now.

This has been a long one, so I’ll wrap up with Crowley’s infiltration of Heaven with Muriel. The turtleneck disguise works (Archer fans, be vindicated!) long enough to gather some information that will be crucial not just to the denouement of S2, but also to Crowley’s journey in S3 (previous post on Crowley's Fall, Saraqael, and memory wiping). And Aziraphale gets to enjoy that view exactly zero times. The point isn’t oh, a turtleneck! How flirty! So cunty! So cute! Y’all. Everything matters. The costume change was a deliberate choice. In-universe, Crowley’s decision to wear his special spy turtleneck for spying in is a signal that he is out doing spy things, even as we watch.

In sum: Beginning in S2E2 and continuing through the end of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley are actively living out the scripts of two parallel, concurrent, and completely different Jane Austen stories. But you and I, dear fellow audience member, we came here for a comedy with a hefty jigger of romance, and that’s what Neil gave us to focus on. And right up until the Final 15, that was the only story we saw.

Meanwhile, Special Agent A. J. Crowley doesn’t have time to mope around at the end of S2E6. He’s kicked down, but he’s not out. He's got a Book of Life to steal, a very serious bone to pick with a certain memory-wiping angel, and his Angel and the world to save. 

“‘Heigh ho,’ said [romantic, optimist, former demon, hero, master spy] Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway.”

[whorediaries-09]

I’ve been thinking alotttt about rivals! Remy where him and r have been hooking up but the r starts gaining feelings for rem and distants herself but rem is just like “what the hell?” And then they like admit their feelings when rem corners her one day curious😩

i'm sorry this took so long, but i hope you like this!!

friends;

pairing- remus lupin x reader warning(s)- cigarettes, alludes to sex, hurt/comfort. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- academic rivals to lovers is so precious to me you don't understand.

little train

' girl, I'm not with it, I'm way too far gone i'm not ready, eyes heavy now,'

'i can't believe i've to work with your pathetic ass,' he rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. your eyes wandered over to the burn marks on them, probably from all the joints he smoked. you could hear his friends laughing behind his back. even peter, the quietest and the most tolerable of the lot, was laughing. you scowled, tilting your head to meet his eyes,

'i don't remember you saying that last night. you said i've a perfect ass. maybe you have a problem of short term memory loss?' in an instant, you saw his cheeks reddening and eyes widening comically when he registered your words. his hand slapped upon your mouth, trying to shut you up.

he received a flying paper ball on his head. he turned his head around to find sirius waving his index finger at him

'not in class, moony.' he said, as peter tried not to laugh. he was measuring the ingredients written on the blackboard.

'hello my lovely students!' slughorn's overly cheery voice rang throughout the classroom. the class sang him a dull good morning. it was winter after all, most of the students wanted nothing but to snuggle up in bed within the folds of their cozy blankets drinking hot chocolate. the only energetic person was sirius, and he sang,

'good morning sluggy!' slughorn knitted his eyebrows together at the nickname but didn't say anything.

'good morning, mr. black. i see you've preferred to follow the rules for once and sit on the desk assigned to you.' sirius shrugged his shoulders, batting his eyelashes.

'you and i, we're the best matchmakers, mr. slughorn. we're a team,' what he meant, the saints knew. perhaps that would be taking a step too far, because by the slight smirk on slughorn's face, he knew what sirius meant.

'mr. black, i prefer the student and professor dynamics between us better,' he replied, scratching his eyebrow with his fingernail. sirius groaned mockingly.

'okay class, settle down. we're making amortentia today.' raising your hand, you questioned,

'the love potion?'

'yes, exactly the love potion. of course no magic is as powerful to be able to imitate real love. however, it does create a powerful infatuation, with the person who gave it to the drinker. the scent varies based on what the person likes. it's a very complicated potion to make, but anyone who makes the perf-'

his speech was interrupted by a famished lily evans who was as red as her hair and a grinning james potter. her tie was loose, dangling off her collar and his hair was ruffled. lily's usually nicely ironed uniform was full of wrinkles.

'oh wow! head boy and head girl late to class!' slughorn scowled. by the look on his face, however, he was regretting his choice to let the ever infatuated james potter and the stubborn lily evans sit together.

'just sit down the both of you!' he scolded and they entered the classroom, lily's bag almost spilling parchment and ink bottles. slughorn coughed and continued,

'so as i was saying, who ever makes the perfect love potion gets-' he put his hand into his pocket, pulling out a little bottle full of a clear liquid. '-this. can anyone tell me what this is?'

'felix felicis.' sirius said. further words conversation wasn't recorded by your mind when remus bent down, whispering in your ear,

'do you think they hooked up?' you eyes widened as you looked at him. your eyes unconsciously travelled down to his chapped lips. the taste still remained on your tongue.

'do you like- actually think before speaking? james potter and lily evans hooking up! lily would rather die, he hates the guy.' remus shrugged his shoulder, a small smirk on his lips.

'i mean, look at us, we hate each other but the other day you wouldn't let me stop eating you out-'

'oh please shut up! just get the fucking ingredients!' he smiled, as you try to hide your face with you hair, suddenly very intrigued by your book.

'okay madam,' he said, mock saluting.

*-

after a lot of banter and distractions you ended up with a potion which only looked seconds away from an explosion. there was certainly no 'mother of pearl' sheen or any rising steam in a characteristic spiral. even pearl dust couldn't save the disaster of a potion.

'oh god why did i have to work with you!' you gripped your hair with your fingers, almost pulling them off as you sat down on the chair, chewing on your lip.

'my grades will go down!' you snapped. he turned around, a wince on his face.

'so will mine. this shit is team work and if your grades go down, so will mine.' he stated. you rolled your eyes as he sat down beside you, his palm on your shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

'i shouldn't be comforting my academic rival but guess if you low, i go lower.' your ears perked up at the term. 'academic rival.' he didn't even consider you a friend. that's all you were to him, an academic rival, a benchmark to cross, a quick fuck when he was tired. you gulped slowly. suddenly, your throat felt very dry. you stared into his eyes, trying to decipher something, but trust god to give remus lupin the most dead eyes known to mankind.

'ohhh! we have a winner!' slughorn's voice pulled you from your thoughts. your head snapped to the source of commotion, expecting to find lily to be the winner- but it was sirius.

'mr. black, this felix felicis is yours,' he threw a charming grin to all the flushed young ladies and lads as his fingers wrapped around the little bottle. most of the girls and boys almost swooned at his antics, and some could be found a few seconds from fainting when he winked.

'get it padfoot!' james cheered. lily disapprovingly hit james' head with her book. james scowled.

'i want everybody to come and tell me what they smell in here. let's start with mr. black,' he smiled, staring at the eager faces of the young ladies and lads who surrounded him as if he was a trophy.

'i smell petrol, rain and my favorite tea. i can also smell..uh cherry flavored shampoo, and my cologne.' it was nothing very interesting. neither of them used cherry shampoo. and it wasn't just a flying rumor that sirius black rode a motorcycle.

'ah, good, good.' slughorn praised, patting his back. his eyes wandered about in the room before they stopped at your direction.

'okay yes, now you,' he said, instructing you to smell the potion. internally you called him an old cow. externally you smiled, a little more than actually required, and too fake to be a real smile. no comments were passed when you walked up to the front of the classroom, smelling the potion.

'ah- so i smell parchment, ink, coffee, vanilla....cigarettes and dark chocolate.' you stumbled upon your words when you found remus looking at you intently. you tried to ignore the burning gaze and how the blood rushed into your cheeks. slughorn coughed slightly,

'okay, now next student!' he clapped his hands together, trying to cut through the sudden tension in the room. you moved away from the smoking cauldron, walking towards your chair. sitting down, you pondered.

cigarettes? damn you, you hated cigarettes! you'd been reluctant to try one for the first time, but trust remus to roll you the perfect blunt and manipulate you to try it in the best way possible. you remembered coughing up the smoke onto his face.

dark chocolate? sure you enjoyed it here and there but it wasn't certainly something you loved. you wanted to rip out your hair.

the realization had been lingering upon your head from the last few weeks, but you didn't want to act upon it. a lot of people mistake lust for love. you were a teenager high on hormones, hooking up with remus lupin, your biggest academic rival- of course you were bound to mistake lust for life.

perhaps the heated kisses within the shadows of dark nights, the way his hands lingered upon your body, making you feel alive as he touched you down to your core, the heat crawling under your skin, dizzying your mind, the way he begged to touch you, to feel you meant more than just lust. perhaps it was closeted love. but it didn't mean good news. having a crush was fine, but falling for remus john lupin was bad news. it meant heartbreak, a new rumor for the nosy students of hogwarts.

so you did the best thing that came in your mind to maintain your feelings and keep your heart in control. it wouldn't be very effective, considering remus was your partner in potions for the year, but you'd try your best. no hooking up, just necessary conversations. all you had to do was ignore him. the less you saw him, the better.

*-

remus looked up to your face, his sweaty strands of hair sticking onto his forehead. his calloused hands gripped your waist as he thrust his hips upwards. you bent down, brushing his lips against yours. you held down his hands, pinning them above his head. he tried to crane his neck to kiss your lips, but you didn't allow him holding his hands tighter.

slowly, torturously slow you started rotating your hips. he arched his back, moaning your name, his fingers trying to grasp the fabric of the head board.

'god, you feel so fucking good,' he moaned. you smirked, your tongue swiping over your teeth.

'i know,'

suddenly, his face started to distort, and he started laughing at you. weird, that is not how you remembered that night. he was jerking you, before everything went hazy and your vision started blackening and you saw a tunnel of light. you tried to grasp onto the light, escaping the booming sound of his laughter.

it was a fucking dream. you rubbed your eyes, pushing your face into the pillow, silencing your scream, so as to not wake up the others. you hated how pathetic it made you feel. how did it happen?

within the spills of ink on parchment paper and a constant comparison, how could have your feelings changed like this. perhaps you thought of him too much. you were supposed to ignore him. in the typical sense you were, but your mind or heart wasn't ready to go.

you were standing on the edge of a fucking knife, wondering if remus lupin even considered you to be a friend. you hated yourself for falling for him. it wasn't supposed to be more than sex, a quick relief from the constant shambles of your lives, yet here you were, in the middle of the night thinking of the one you were supposed to hate.

slipping your feet into the cozy bunny slippers, you grabbed your thickest jumper. you couldn't sleep, so you might as well take a walk. james and lily were on duty, but you were sure they weren't being as responsible as they were supposed to be.

*-

it was cold. the snow that settled on the grounds was thick and milky white. the cold wind bit your skin, prickling it with goosebumps. you felt a lump in your throat thicken, and your eyes burn. you felt your heart drop. you blamed yourself for the situation you were in. it was your fault, utterly. you weren't supposed to fall for him.

even the stars couldn't calm you down with their serene rays. you dropped your head into your palms, letting the tears fall down your cheeks, sobbing silently.

'talking a walk alone at night now are we?' a voice quietly creeped up behind your back. you wiped your cheeks quickly, mentally preparing yourself to being caught by a prefect and getting your house points deducted. when you turned around, however, you were met with the amber eyes of the one you'd been thinking about. your tongue was tied in knots as you watched him drop james' invisibility cloak on the floor and walk towards you. you backed away, until your back hit the wall and there was nowhere to go.

'r-remus-' he raised an eyebrow, capturing you against the wall, his hand pressed against the wall. he leaned down, his finger crawling under your jaw and tilting your head to meet his burning amber like gaze.

'have you been crying?' he asked. you stared at him, tongue twisted in knots. but you knew it was no use lying to him. he could read you like a book.

'yes,' you nodded. he tilted an eyebrow.

'why?'

'why does it fucking matter remus? leave me alone- i'm not even your fucking friend.'

'then what are we? you've been ignoring me for the past few days, and now you're running away when i've finally got you alone.'

'nice try, lupin. you don't give a shit, so just let me go.'

'oh so you're going to decide whether i give a shit about you or not? what if i tell you i do?'

'you won't mean it.'

'i will. i've never lied to you,' he said. there was a bitter sadness in his eyes. you could see the darkness in his gaze, and even if he naturally had dead eyes, you could see a tiny ray of warmth in his gaze.

'please.' he said, letting you go. 'just tell me what's wrong. tell me what i've done. tell me how i can fix it. just...please don't ignore me.' he begged. slowly gulping, you pondered whether it was the correct moment to speak out your heart. perhaps it wasn't, but he could right through the lies. and while you had a lot of explanations hidden in your head, you could only whisper one line,

'i'm in love with you, remus,' he stared at you intently, letting your words hang before he could act upon them. you expected screaming, cussing...laughter. you didn't expect a soft gaze as he smiled at you. he slipped his finger under you jaw, tilting your head.

'i don't think you ignore the one's you're in love with,' you screwed your eyes shut, biting your lip. the blood warmly travelled to your cheeks,

'you don't feel the same, i was scared.'

'and how exactly do you know that?' you opened your eyes, to find him staring at you in utter glee.

'i've been yours before you touched me. all it took was spilled ink on my essay, sweetheart.'

********************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

[crazyyluvr]

Hello! I have a request if that's okay? Could you maybe do a James Potter x male!reader (with the reader being Ravenclaw) where they end up being partnered together in potions and afterwards James is like 'shit. I think I might be gay.'

Basically where the reader is his gay awakening haha

A Revelation in Potions (Not Through Amortentia, That's too Generic)

pairing: james potter x male!ravenclaw!reader

summary: in which James never knew men could be so attractive until he gets paired up with you in a Potions activity.

genre: fluff, gay awakening, crushing

wc: 2.1k

warning/s: cursing, reader is a little taller than james, he/him pronouns, gay panic, james is a lil shy here, potion nonsense that i made up on the spot, reader is good in potions, mention of boobs lmao

note: oooh, interesting request anon. i like it. i hope you enjoy!!

oneshot under the cut :: not edited :: part 1 | part 2

James Potter was dying.

No, not literally. But he did feel like he was literally dying.

This is what a painful death felt like, didn't it? The inability to properly take in air, the painful pounding of his racing heart, the stumble of his tongue as he tried and failed to properly speak.

On the contrary, James Potter was not just dying. He was dying of embarrassment.

Let's rewind a little bit for some context.

Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were stuck in the dungeons of a double Potions class together. As usual, James sat beside his friend Sirius Black, and as usual, they were noisy with sniggers and poorly muted whispers.

"Black, Potter, do you have something that you'd like to share?" Professor Slughorn called to the two boys sitting in the back after a wheeze from Sirius was too loud for the professor to ignore.

"No sir, we're — we're fine," James said, sounding slightly out if breath from containing his laughter at a joke Sirius had made. "Just a little hot in here, isn't it?"

Slughorn sighed. "It's less hot here in the front, Potter, so why don't you switch with Shelby here?"

The girl sitting beside you perked up at the mention of her name, looking back and blushing when she realized that she was going to be sitting beside Sirius Black.

"On the contrary sir, I think I feel slightly colder already," James grinned. "I'm fine with staying at the back."

"I insist, Potter," Slughorn held a strained smile, displaying the fact that James had no choice but to follow.

The boy sighed, giving Sirius an exaggerated mournful look before picking up his things and walking over to the now vacant seat in the front, messing up his hair along the way out of habit.

He set his things down beside his chair and slumped into it, sparing a glance at his new seatmate. "Hello. I guess you're stuck with me for today," James said quietly, not wanting to disrupt Slughorn's lesson again.

You turned to face him, giving him a small smile. "I guess so. Nice to meet you."

James nodded, and you looked away to jot down some notes as Slughorn wrote on the board.

James did a double take, his brain just processing the face he saw.

Woah, he's handsome.

He couldn't stop himself from looking at you again, taking in your features from the side; your focused eyes, your cheeks, your jawline, your lips.

James had to make himself blink twice to snap himself out of his trance. I'm straight. So what if he's handsome? I'm handsome too.

"Now that we're done with our lesson, you will use the rest of the period to brew a simple Sleeping Draught with your seatmate," Slughorn announced. "Go through your books for the procedure, and don't hesitate to ask me any questions you may have."

With a wave of his wand, a cauldron appeared on the side of each pair's table. "The ingredients are in the cupboard behind me," he continued, waving his wand once more to open the cupboard doors. "You may begin."

James went to stand up, but you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He looked at you and saw that you got to your feet. "I'll go get the ingredients. Can you partially fill the cauldron with water and heat it up please?" You asked.

"Uh — sure," James responded, making you smile and pat his shoulder twice before leaving with you Potions book in hand.

James stared after you, shook his head to focus. You gave him a task, and he had the weird goal to not let you down. He muttered “aguamenti” under his breath and water spilled out of the tip of his wand, filling the the cauldron. He flicked his wand upward to stop the flow once the water was halfway.

He ignited a fire under the cauldron and stayed standing over it, watching bubbles appear in the water.

“I’m back,” you greeted, gently putting down the ingredients on the empty part of their table.

James turned his head to look at you, his breath hitching when he noticed that you had a few inches over him, the top of his head reaching a little bit above your eyebrows.

He watched you pull the sleeves of your uniform upwards to your elbows, revealing your forearms. He swallowed with difficulty.

Get your head in the game, Potter, James thought, mentally slapping himself. He’s just a random boy from Ravenclaw whose taller than you and has really nice arms. Big deal.

“I’ll cut the ingredients up, you put them in the cauldron and follow the stirring. Is that okay?” You asked, giving him a glance before you put the ingredients on the cutting board in front of you.

“You’re doing an awful lot of work, huh?” James said, chuckling breathily, making you laugh slightly in response.

“Stirring properly and putting the ingredients in is also important, is it not?” You smiled teasingly, cutting the plant root with as much accuracy as possible.

He watched your fingers glide over the root and how the veins on the back of your palm popped to life when you gripped the knife.

Holy shit, James, control yourself, the messy-haired boy scolded himself. Think boobs. Boobs!

“Are you ready for the Quidditch match tomorrow?” You asked, attempting to break the semi-awkward silence between you two.

“Ah,” James remembered that Gryffindor had a match against Hufflepuff. In truth, he wasn't all that worried about it, since he's seen their Seeker and he isn't much (NO HATE ON HUFFLEPUFF, I LOVE HUFFLEPUFF <33).

"I think I'm ready," James said after a moment of silence. "I don't feel all that worried about it," he grinned, sending the boy a wink. Why he did that when he normally only did it to girls (with the exception of his own friend group) he had no idea why. I guess being with you made him full of even more surprises.

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. "Sure." You handed him the chopping board with your evenly cut plant roots on it. "Time for you to shine, Mister Potter. Pour it and stir it properly."

James took the board with an exaggerated bow. "It's my pleasure, good sir." He tossed the roots in the boiling cauldron almost carelessly, some of the water splashing onto the back of his hand.

You, who was supposed to be grinding some mineral to powder, immediately set down your mortar and pestle to check on the boy who winced in pain as the hot water made contact with his skin.

"Be careful!" You scolded, gently grabbing his hand and examining it. "It's not that bad of a burn, but we're gonna have to rinse it with warm water."

James nodded dumbly, the pain numbing slightly as soon as his hand made contact with yours.

Soft hands, he noted.

You dragged him over to the sink on the other side of the room and let the faucet run for a little while before guiding his hand under the running water, your focus blinding you from James's stare.

I'm straight. I'm straight. Straight as a wand.

"Does it hurt, Potter?"

"James," He answered absentmindedly.

"What?"

"Call me James. Not Potter."

You looked up, his big brown eyes staring at you behind round, silver-rimmed glasses. "Okay, James," he totally did not shiver at the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue, "does it hurt?"

James shook his head. "It feels way better now."

"Are you sure?" You questioned, brows creasing in concern.

"Yeah — yep, I'm fine," he answered, his eyes unblinking as he maintained eye contact with you despite his small stumble over his own words. "We can just continue brewing the potion, yeah?"

Which brings us to the present moment, where he felt like he was dying.

"Okay, as long as you're sure..." You said, not entirely convinced but letting it slide for now.

You pulled down your sleeve on one arm to use it to wipe the extra water that lingered on his hand before letting it go entirely. James was already missing the warmth.

"Let's head back," you said, checking your watch as you turned around to return to your table and to resume your tasks of preparing the ingredients.

Your work commenced in silence. Your potion was a little messed up from the lack of stirring and addition of the other ingredients, but it wasn't unsalvageable. You just added some bark and leaves to balance it out a little.

You hesitantly handed the ingredients to James, worried that he was going to hurt himself again, but this time he was gentle, smiling at you victoriously as if not getting burned again was an accomplishment — which it was, you guess.

"You're stirring too quickly, James," you said, laughing slightly at his somewhat aggressive stirring.

"It didn't say that speed mattered," he replied cheekily, continuing his ministrations.

You sighed, shaking your head slightly with a smile on your face as you took a step towards him and grabbed his stirring hand, the one that wasn't burned. James eyes widened a fraction at the contact, but said nothing.

"Slow down," you murmured, guiding his hand to a much slower pace compared to the one he had set moments before. "No need to rush."

James didn't reply, too busy trying to tame the redness of his cheeks. In order to guide him, you had to stand close behind him, your chest grazing his back and your breath fanning his ear and part of his neck. Goosebumps trailed over the skin that your hot breath caressed.

"'Stir clockwise until potion turns a light shade of blue,'" you read from the instructions in your book. "What do you think, James? Is our potion ready yet?" You hummed the question almost directly in his ear.

This damn man. No way is he not doing this on purpose.

"It — No, not yet," He said, mentally whacking himself in the back of his head for his stammering.

"Alright, we keep stirring then."

You could have let go of his hand already and let him stir on his own, but you didn't. You kept your hand over his, clutching it in a gentle grip, until your potion turned from purple into a light blue.

You smiled. James, for some reason, could feel that smile despite not seeing it. It tingled in the back of his brain.

"Okay, we're done."

You let go of his hand, moving to the side to grab a dropper and a vial. James pulled the stirrer out of the cauldron and set it aside, watching you collect some of your potion and putting it in the vial.

"The Sleeping Draught can be deadly in large amounts," you said, collecting more of the potion as a bit of your Ravenclaw brain slipped out. "If you take too much of it, your calming sleep will also turn into an endless one."

You put down the dropped and took a stopper to seal the vial. You looked up at James with a smile that James could only interpret as mischievous. "Everything can kill you if you have too much of it, don't you agree?"

You don't wait for him to reply before going to the front and placing your vial in the empty rack on Slughorn's table, holding a small conversation with Slughorn before returning to get your things.

"We can leave early," you informed James, grinning. You shouldered your bag and adjusted your blue tie to not choke you as much, the hot atmosphere of the Potions room getting to you a little. "See you around, James."

You left him staring at your back, mouth slightly open and eyes wide.

Sirius passed him to get some ingredients his partner forgot to retrieve earlier and noticed his dumbfounded expression. "You good, Prongs? What happened to your hand?" He asked, looking at James's hand as he raised it to ruffle his own hair.

"Pads," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "Pads, I think I'm in love."

"Huh?" He followed his best mate's gaze, catching a glimpse of your uniform before you disappeared completely. Sirius looked back at the bespectacled boy with a cheeky grin on his face.

"Nah mate, I think you just got your gay awakening. Welcome to the club, Prongs."

"Yeah..." James's eyes were still fixed on the doorway where you once were, before his eyes snapped to Sirius's when his words fully processed in his brain. "Wait, you're gay??"

Sirius shrugged. "I'd be disappointed in myself if I wasn't," he joked, clapping James on the back. "You got good taste for your first boy crush," Sirius said before leaving James to his unpacked things and his own thoughts.

Can't argue with Padfoot about that: I definitely got good taste in men for my first guy crush...

[thinkwosolife23]

She needs you, Alessia Russo

Today was one of the biggest games, if not the biggest game of the season.

As an Arsenal player, playing Chelsea has to be the most fustrating game to play. More importantly as a defender, you have the task of keeping Sam Kerr quiet. Even with Leah by your side, it can be extremely difficult. Despite being your rival, you have the upmost respect for the Chelsea team and all of there players, they are a talented side but that means they bring out the best in you. But it's got to the point where everyone almost expects Arsenal to lose, like we don't even put up a fight against them.

You've played Chelsea many times over the 3 years you have been at Arsenal, your win ratio isn't exactly ideal. You can count on one hand how many times you've actually beat them.

However, Arsenal have made some big changes and improvements this season. With the new signings and players returning from injury, you were hopefull, really hopefull that you could win,

One of the new signings just happened to be your fiance. You and Alessia had known each other since you were about 13 through the England youth teams.

When you were 18, you had made the venture to move to America to go to University and play for North Carolina Tar Heels. Alessia had also made the move, meaning the two of you became a lot closer. Eventually that lead to a relationship when your were both 19.

In 2020, you signed for Arsenal and Alessia had signed for Manchester United. The distance was difficult for the both of you, it definatly challenged your strength as a couple. But it mad you cherish the time you did have together even more.

You had proposed to Alessia in the iddle of Wembley stadium when you had just won the Euros, you couldn'y have thought of a better time to do it. Thankfully, she said yes.

You were over the moon when your soon to be wife decided to join Arsenal. Obviously, you knew that the choice was difficult for Alessia and you knew how much she loved her United. But you couldn't be happier knowing that for both club and country, you get to play alongside the love of your life. You had the hope that Alessia was exactly what Arsenal needed to beat Chelsea.

Anyways, the Arsenal coach had just arrived at Emirates Stadium.

Before your warm up, you had chance to go onto the field to do the pitch check, to speak with some of the Chelsea players and have time with your own teammates.

After talking to Millie and Lauren, two of your fellow Lionesses, you and Alessia began walking around the pitch looking for your families in the quickly filling stadium.

"How you feeling, love?" You asked Alessia as she began tracing patterns on your hand whilst you were walking along, somethin she usually did when she was nervous.

"I'm good." She told you, her voice not at all convincing.

"C'mon Less, you know you don't have to lie to me."

"I'm just a bit nervous, that's all. It's a big game, there's so much pressure."

"Forget about the nerves, the pressures. I have no doubt that you'll be amazing because you always are. My stargirl."

By now, the two of you had stopped walking around. You had pulled Alessia into a hug, lightly kissing her temple, her head resting in your neck.

"I love you"

"I love you too"

Before long, you were stood in the tunnel waiting for both teams to walk out. You always were last in the line, it became an almost ritual for you now. You and Katie were messing around as usual, laughing at something one of the mascots had said.

Arsenal Starting 11:

GK - M. Zinsberger LB - K. McCabe CB - L. Williamson CB - Y/N. Y/LN RB - S. Catley CDM - L. Walti CM - K. Little (C) LW - C. Foord CF - V. Meidama RW - B. Mead ST - A. Russo

Chelsea Starting 11:

GK - Z. Musovic LB - A. Lawrence CB - M. Bright (C) CB - J. Carter RB - N. Charles CDM - S. Ingle CDM - E. Cuthbert CAM - F. Kirby LW - G. Reiten ST - S. Kerr RW - L. James

The game was fairly even at both ends. You and Leah had an amzing partnership at the back which the Chelsea frontline were currently struggling to get by.

At the other end of the pitch, our fowards were doing a really good job of testing Musovic in goal but nothing had managed to get past her.

Until…

45+2' Alessia Russo Goal (A: Y/N Y/LN)

You had sent a long ball from the halfway line, which managed to go ever the Chelsea back line and reach Alessia who kicked it into the back of the net.

She ran over too you and jumped, wrapping her arms around your neck and her legs around your waist.

In the second half, Chelsea brought a tougher energy. The players were acting way harsher towards the Arsenal players, way harsher than they were in the first half. Their tackles were higher, the shoulder barges were stronger and the shirt pulls were far more occurent.

However, even by the 80th minute, you still were in the lead. You and Leah had made no mistakes at the back, the Chelsea frontline couldn't even get a proper shot off without one of you making the crucial tackle or block.

Leading to this moment. Chelsea had a corner in the 83rd minute due to you blocking a Sam Kerr shot.

At Chelsea, you knew that they either aimed for Sam's head or Millie's. They would always aim for one of them two.

You were currently in the main mix of people in the box. You were glued to Millie's side, doing your upmost to mean that the ball didn't go in the back of the Arsenal net.

Guro's delivery was impeccable, the ball heading straight fo the mix of blue and red in the box.

You jumped up to try and deter the ball when you felt something a lot harder than the ball in the side of your head.

Everyone in the stadium watched as Sam Kerr's Boot connected with the side of your head, sending you limp on the floor.

The Arsenal players in shock when you didn't get back up like you usually did. Play was immediatly stopped when you were face down on the ground, not moving.

Your teamates headed in multiple different directions. Some members of both teams gathered round your unmoving state to give you privacy whilst waiting for the medics. Alessia and Katie headed stright for Sam's direction in an angrily manor, whereas Leah and Steph wher among some wsho where straight by your side.

Leah, slowly and carefully began to roll you over so you were on your back. Players faces screwed up in horror as your face was covered in blood, which was now all over your shirt.

"C'mon Y/N, I need you to wake up now." Leah said, whilst scanning your face to see if there was any sort of response.

Alessia's fustration towards Sam had took her attention, her mind thinking you would be up by now. In the midst of it all, she hadn't noticed how you were still on the ground.

Your eyes slowly flickered open, shocked at the amount of light you were faced with. The pain in the side of your head was unlike anything you had ever felt with.

"Less?" Your voice barely scraped a whisper as all you needed was your lover by your side.

"Give us a minute, love. She's on her way."

Leah darted her eyes to Alessia's direction, to see her still going at Sam, emphisizing her fustrations and anger.

Katie had now noticed your state, realising it was way more serious than anyone had anticipated. And was now trying to help Beth steer Alessia away from Sam. Alessia wasn't ever the type to get in shouting matches but everyone knew that you were each others weak spot.

"Less, stop! You've had your say, now leave it!" Beth's unexpectedly firm voice slightly startled Alessia. Meaning her and Katie could pull her away.

"Alessia, she needs you." Katie's words made her turn around to realise that you were still on the floor, blood dripping from your head, with Leah and the medics by your side.

Alessia made little time in rushing over to your side, guilt swarming her as she let her anger overwhelm her.

"Baby, i'm sorry. I'm here now." Alessia said, taking your hand in hers. Watching on as you drifted in and out of conciousness.

The medics were quick to get you on the stretcher and off the pitch to get you properly treated.

The players and stadium erupted in claps as you were took off the pitch and down into the tunnel, towards the medical room.

There was a significant amount of extra time in the match due to your injury, but the players concentration wasn't on the match anymore. It was on whether or not you were okay.

Alessia couldn't even think straight, let alone play a match. As soon as the final whistle went, Alessia disregarded all the usual expectations of post-match and ran down the tunnel to find where you were.

The confusion flooded Alessia as she approached the medical room. Your laugh could be heard from the outside of the room.

Alessia quickly swung the door open to be met with sight of you on the medical bed with pading and bandages covering the side of your head.

"Oh my, Babe your awake." Alessia said as she saw you, her body instantly relaxed a bit.

"Babe?" Your face crumpled up in confusion and so did Alessia's as your reaction to her wasn't what she expected.

She quickly directed her look to the staff on the room who were fast to reassure her that you were quite dosed up on medication.

"I have a wife, you know." You told her factually, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Ohh do you now?" Alessia had to hold in her laugh, but her eyes also softened at what you had just said.

"Yeah, she's so beautiful. The most beautifulest girl ever."

Alessia did now actually laugh at the word you had just created.

"Can you tell me what your name is? Just so I can go and get your wife, I'm sure she would want to know that your okay." Alessia tried to go along with your words, hoping you'd eventually realise that your fiance was stood in front of you.

"Y/N Russo." You told Alessia confidently.

Alessia eyes watered at your confession but she soon thought that the best thing was to just turn around and show you the back of her shirt.

"So you stole her shirt and now your trying to steal her wife."

"Right, love, listen. I am Alessia. Your my fiance, we're not married yet."

"Ohhhhh." You said, the realisation of your confusion finally hitting you.

Alessia came and sat on the bed next to you. You moved over so she could lay down meaning you could rest your head on her chest. Your hands wrapping tightly around her waist as hers lightly rubbed your back.

"I quite like the sound of Y/N Russo, though."

[navybrat817]

A Little Push

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't think he deserves to be with you, but gets a little push to speak up when he sees your ex. Word Count: Over 5.1k Warnings: E.S.C, unprotected (v)aginal (s)ex (wrap it before you tap it), shower (s)ex, jealousy, (f)lirting, insecurities, slight feels (it's me), idiotic Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?) and an ex. A/N: For @drabblewithfrannybarnes and the gym prompt. I hope you like it! ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass (and thank you!), and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wondered some days if he made the right choice by working for S.H.I.E.L.D.. While he didn’t consider himself to be completely standoffish as he recovered, no matter how much Sam tried to joke about that, he still had a difficult time getting along with some of the agents. It wasn’t for lack of trying. He attempted to strike up conversations with a few, but that only led to forced interactions and awkward silences.

He didn’t try much after that.

Maybe they didn’t trust him because of his past, even with the work he had done with the Avengers, even though he had no choice in his past actions. He wouldn’t hold that against them. He was even ready to accept that his circle of friends would remain small, which he didn’t mind.

But he hadn’t expected you to come along.

“You can sit with me if you’d like.”

At first, he thought you were talking to someone else until he realized your gaze was on him. He didn’t recognize you, but he remembered Steve saying that they were getting a transfer from another division. He hoped he wasn’t glaring or giving you an awkward stare, but your beautiful smile threw him for a loop. Unless he was with Steve and the others, no one asked him to sit with them.

But you did.

It took another moment for him to respond, but he took you up on your offer and joined you. He also picked up on the stares right away from the other agents, like they were jealous that he managed to get your attention. He didn’t blame them for wanting it.

Especially since the next smile you gave him made him fall in love a little more.

Maybe love at first sight does exist.

“Do you go by Bucky or James? I can call you Sarge if you want, Sergeant.”

You explained over breakfast that you transferred because you needed a change and were excited to take on some new tasks. He didn’t pick up on any bad intentions as you spoke with him. He found it easy to talk to you. You even got a couple of smiles out of him.

“Thanks for sitting with me. Do you want to have breakfast with me again tomorrow?”

Bucky accepted.

As the two of you grew closer, it became routine to grab breakfast together in the breakroom and chat quietly between reps when you worked out. He even shifted his schedule around so the two of you could exercise together. He looked forward to it.

And naturally on his path to continue making amends, he had to punish himself by thinking he wasn’t good enough for you. Because why would he be? You became an agent to help others and how many had he destroyed? Not by choice, never his choice, but he was still waging that war in his mind and heart.

“Will today finally be the day, Barnes?” Natasha asked as she finished her stretches.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky grumbled, his eyes flickering to the clock on the wall as he waited for you to enter the onsite gym.

“Yes, you do and let it be today, please. I can’t have Rogers winning the pool.”

“You’re taking bets, Romanoff?” he asked with a cold stare, as if the Black Widow would cower under his gaze. “Un-fucking-believable.”

He told Steve in confidence that he liked being around you. So, naturally, Sam and Natasha found out not long after that. Steve said more than once that Bucky wouldn’t be breaking any bylaws by dating you. Natasha added in passing that mixing business with pleasure didn’t seem to bother you as you had dated another agent sometime back before your transfer. An amicable breakup from what Sam heard.

For living in a world of spies and soldiers, no one could seem to keep their mouths shut.

“I’ll split the winnings with you,” she offered unapologetically. “You can use it to take her on a date. You do have something nice to wear that isn’t a Henley, right?”

The smartass remark he had on the tip of his tongue died when you walked through the door. Clad in your normal black tank top and leggings with your bag on your shoulder, he found himself staring the way he always did as you glided along the floor with confidence and a smile. A few heads turned to get a glimpse as you walked by.

But you directed your gaze at him.

“Hey, handsome,” you smiled, setting your bag and water down. You didn’t call anyone handsome or any other sort of nickname, except for him.

“Hi?”

Why did that come out as a question?

“Hopeless,” Natasha muttered softly enough for him to hear. “Hey.”

“Hey, Nat. How’s it going?”

His cheeks warmed as you began your stretches and chatted with the redhead, wanting nothing more than to put his hands on your hips and guide your body. He wanted to believe that you liked him enough for him to make a move. Why else would you keep getting breakfast with him?

And why else were you bending over right in front of him in a pair of leggings that looked like a second skin?

Fuck.

“Oh, I have your book in my bag,” you said, looking at him from between your legs. “Thanks for lending it to me.”

Thank fuck I’m upside down from your angle so you don’t see me staring at your ass.

Guilt crept in as he blinked. You were nothing but kind and accepting and here he was oogling over you. Why couldn’t he get it through his head that he was your friend and nothing more?

On the other hand, why couldn’t he get it through his head that he had the right to be happy?

“Don’t mention it,” he said.

“Do you mind spotting me?” you asked once you finished warming up. “Unless you plan to help Nat. I can wait.”

“Oh, no. I’m just here for entertainment,” she joked.

“Thanks,” you smiled, heading to the first machine with Bucky in tow. “Any plans this weekend?” you asked, checking the weight on the bar before you took a seat.

“No plans,” he said, taking his spot at the end of the bench so he could spot you. “Kind of a boring old man.”

“You’re not boring,” you said, winking as you laid back. “But I’ll give you old.”

“Rude,” he smiled as you giggled. “What about you?”

“Nope. No plans,” you answered, giving him a glance as you set your hands on the bar. “No plans at all.”

Are you giving me an opening?

“That’s too bad,” is what he said.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you said with quiet disappointment.

Sorry, Nat. Not winning the pool today because I’m a fucking idiot.

Bucky kept stealing glances at you as the two of you went through your normal workout routine, unable to figure out how you managed to look beautiful while lifting weights. The fact of the matter is you looked beautiful to him no matter what you did. He fluctuated between his heart stopping and losing his breath whenever he saw you. Especially when you smiled at him.

And he wouldn’t take that leap.

“You know what sounds really nice? A massage,” you said, setting the weight down to grab your water. He focused on your mouth as you brought the bottle to your lips, his fingers flexing as you swallowed once. Twice.

Are you giving me another opening?

Before Bucky could think of a suave reply, the door opened. A tall, dark haired agent he didn’t recognize walked in and did a slow sweep of the gym. From the quick assessment, he gathered that the guy was in shape. He didn’t necessarily walk through like he owned the place, but it bordered on cockiness.

I don’t even know him, so why do I want to punch his face in?

“Wait. Is that Nate?” you asked, your gaze following the man as Natasha silently walked over to join you. “What’s he doing here?”

Nate?

“You know him?” Bucky asked as the guy, Nate apparently, stopped to chat with someone by the mirrors.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, setting your water down and wiping your hands on your thighs as you avoided his gaze. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Ex-boyfriend?

“You two worked in the same division, didn’t you? Before you transferred?” Natasha asked. You nodded in reply. “It didn’t work out with you two, huh?”

“No, but it wasn’t a dramatic breakup or anything. No hard feelings,” you explained.

Bucky remembered Sam saying it was amicable, but he still felt the need to shield you away from your ex. Even if he hadn’t spotted you yet. Maybe he was ignoring you. That couldn’t be it. No one could ignore you.

Did you want him to notice you?

“That’s a shame,” Natasha said, swinging her gaze toward Bucky. “He’s cute.”

Traitor. Thought you were my friend.

“Yeah, he is,” you agreed.

Bucky grabbed the nearest barbell to get his head back into why he was in the gym in the first place, gritting his teeth so hard he was shocked they didn’t crack.

“And there’s this thing he used to do with his tongue that just…” you trailed off with a sigh.

The metal hand gripped the barbell tighter. Nate was an ex, not a current boyfriend. It didn’t work out for a reason.

“You need a moment?” the redhead asked.

“No, I just need to get laid,” you said, glancing at Bucky out of the corner of your eye.

If you need to get laid, I can help you with that. Not Nate or some other prick. They’re not worthy of touching you. Neither am I, but that’s not the fucking point. I can do things with my tongue that’ll make you see stars.

“Bucky?” you asked gently. “Are you okay?”

Far fucking from it.

“Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

You pointed to the barbell in his hands. “Because you just bent that in half.”

Glancing down at his hands, he saw that the stainless steel was indeed bent in half and ignored Natasha’s snort as he tried to fix it. “I was just testing the durability. It’s terrible. A health and safety hazard, really.”

“I didn’t realize your job involved quality assurance,” you teased as he set the piece of equipment down.

“It’s kind of a new hobby,” he said, a weird look crossing his face.

A new hobby? Really?

“Okay, Sarge,” you giggled.

Your laughter seemed to catch Nate’s attention since he immediately looked behind him. A look of realization crossed his features before he smiled. The look on his face made Bucky’s heart drop as he excused himself from the agent he was speaking to and made a beeline toward you. The man may not be your boyfriend anymore, but he still felt something for you.

Either that or the look of longing was easily faked.

“Hey!" Nate smiled as he stopped in front of you, opening his arms as he leaned in. "Good to see you."

“You, too. And you don’t want to do that,” you said, gesturing to yourself. “I’m all sweaty.”

“Never bothered me before,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. He met Bucky’s gaze over your shoulder with the smallest of smirks. “Smell just as good as I remember.”

“Don’t,” Natasha whispered to Bucky when the hug lingered for a few more seconds.

Bucky wasn’t planning on doing anything. Not right now, at least. Committing murder wasn’t on his “to do” list when he woke up today, but he was seconds away from snapping. Would you forgive him if he broke one of Nate’s bones?

“You must be Bucky,” Nate said once he released you.

He had to stop himself from shoving you behind his back. “You must be the ex,” he said, not bothering with any attempt to be friendly. “Why are you here?”

Nate either didn’t intimidate easily or he didn’t care. “You talked about me?” he teased, nudging you with his elbow.

“No, not really,” you smiled a little, raising an eyebrow at Bucky.

He tried to keep a straight face because he wasn’t jealous. He had no reason to be jealous. That certainly wasn’t the reason why his fingers began to twitch. Wasn’t the reason he wanted to knock Nate’s teeth in.

Not at all.

“To anwer your question, I accepted a transfer and was getting a look around the place. I was also here to exercise, but now I think I want to catch up,” he smiled, turning his attention back to you.

“You transferred here?” you asked in disbelief.

You don’t sound thrilled, which is a good sign, right?

“Yeah, I got promoted,” he explained, angling his body to put distance between you and Bucky. “You doing anything after this?”

“Me,” Bucky said before his brain caught up with his mouth.

Maybe you didn't hear me.

Your eyebrows shot up as you leaned around Nate to stare at Bucky. "I'm doing you?" you asked.

Fuck, you heard me.

"Yeah, Barnes. Is she doing you?" Natasha asked without a hint of humor in her tone as Nate glared over his shoulder.

"I mean," he cleared his throat as he tried to think of an excuse, which wasn't easy with three pairs of eyes on him. "She's hanging out with me. Movie night."

"It's not even nighttime," Nate said skeptically.

"It's an early movie night," he grumbled.

"Yeah, an early movie night," you agreed slowly. Bucky almost sighed in relief before you looked at Nate. "But we can catch up later, okay? Think my workout is over for now."

Bucky's mouth fell open when you went to grab your things. "But-"

"Movie night. I know. Thanks for your help," you smiled, but it seemed forced. "I'll see you later, Nat. And Nate."

"Later," Nate said, his gaze lingering as you headed toward the locker room. "She really is something, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she is," Bucky agreed, staring after you, too. He couldn't argue with that.

"It's really nice that you two are friends," Nate smiled, clapping Bucky on the shoulder as his blood boiled. "Enjoy your movie night."

Natasha stepped in front of Bucky before he could go after the prick. "Do not," she said as Nate headed toward another machine.

"I have to do something," Bucky said because he was close to losing it.

"You really want to do something?" she asked, tilting her head toward the locker room. "Go talk to her. Please."

"Fine. I will," Bucky said, stepping around Natasha as he made up his mind.

"I meant when she was done!" she called after him.

Bucky stalked toward the locker room and pushed the double doors open. He took a breath as he walked through the first row of lockers and spotted you sitting on the bench. Was he making a big mistake?

"You lost?" you asked, removing one of your shoes.

He crossed his arms and shook his head as you took off the other shoe. "You didn't do a cool down."

You met his eyes and smiled. "That's why you came in here?"

"Did you know Nate would be here?" he blurted out.

Smooth.

You blinked slowly at him before you removed your socks. "Nope. And why would it matter if I did? He still works for this organization. Besides, we broke up and moved on."

"If he moved on, why was he smiling at you like that?" he accused.

You stood up with a shrug. "Because we get along? He's a friendly guy. That's just how he is."

"I know how guys smile at girls they like," he said. He knew because he smiled at you that way. "He's still into you."

The frown you gave him made him want to kiss it away before you giggled. "He is not into me anymore."

"Are you two going to date again?" he asked, taking two steps forward. You were still out of his reach. "I know I don't have the right to ask, but I have to know."

Because you're not my girl.

“No, you don't," you confirmed, your gaze softening as you shook your head. "But no, I’m not going to date him again. He's my ex for a reason and that's that."

Bucky inhaled and exhaled slowly, able to breathe a little easier.

"Why? Would it bother you if I did? Because if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous. Bending the bar? Your not-so-subtle excuse for me not to hang out with him? Following me in here?"

The words got stuck in his throat as you waited for an answer, an expectant look on your face. Why was it so hard to say that it would bother him? It shouldn't because if that made you happy, he'd respect that.

Was it wrong that he wanted you to be happy with him and not some other guy?

You hung your head for a split second before you turned back to your locker. "Look, are you done grilling me or are you sticking around?" you asked, pulling your top over your head. "Because I have to shower."

"You think I won't follow you and finish this conversation?"

Your bra came off next. He knew that because you tossed the garment at his face and he was too stunned to catch it. It took him a moment to realize that you were facing him again, your breasts on display as you placed your hands on your hips.

A gentleman would have looked away. A good man would have left. But he was something else entirely and he couldn't stop staring at the vision of perfection in front of him.

"You're free to do whatever you want," you said casually as you spun around and shimmied out of your leggings. His eyes followed the curves as your underwear came off next and it took everything in him not to throw you across the bench and fuck you until you screamed his name. "But I told you. I have to shower."

Bucky didn't speak as you grabbed your towel and shower bag. You didn't bother covering up as you sauntered away from him, like being naked around him was a perfectly normal thing. He wanted it to be a normal thing.

Was that an invitation? Should he take it? Or was it a test?

"Fuck it," he mumbled as he kicked off his shoes and stripped, leaving his clothes next to yours as he searched for you again. If you ended up screaming or punching him, he'd accept that punishment and beg your forgiveness later. He let this go on long enough.

He froze when he saw you under the spray of the water, his cock twitching with interest as he watched the droplets slide from your chest to the vee between your legs. You had your eyes closed and he wasn't sure if he should call out to get your attention. He didn't want to frighten you and make you fall.

You gasped when you opened your eyes, but didn't make a move to cover yourself. He imagined this is what some men saw when a siren lured them out to sea. Beauty that they weren't worthy of looking upon, but too far gone to care as the tide swept them away.

"I guess you really want to finish that conversation?" you asked, your gaze dropping from his face to his chest and a bit lower.

Under your gaze, he wasn't afraid of you looking upon his scars. "I was jealous. I am jealous. I hated seeing him touch you," he admitted.

He wanted to replace Nate's touch with his own.

"There's nothing to be jealous of," you said, swallowing as he moved forward.

"Can't help it," he said, not blinking as he moved closer. "You also said I could do whatever I wanted."

"I did," you nodded.

His wide shoulders blocked some of the spray as he stepped into the shower and backed you against the wall. "What if I said I wanted to do you?"

Very fucking eloquent.

"I'd say it's about fucking time since I've been trying to get your attention and it better not be a joke," you said, placing your hands on his shoulders as your gaze went to his chest again.

You actually want me. Fuck.

He grasped your chin and lifted your head. The corner of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile and his heart raced as his lips ghosted over yours. "You like me? And you want me to fuck you?"

He needed to hear you say it.

"I was hinting for you to ask me out this weekend. I thought it was obvious?" you asked, a small, vulnerable crack in your voice. "I like you, okay? I'm crazy about you. I have been since you sat down and had breakfast with me that first day and I-"

"I'm a fucking idiot," he whispered before his lips met yours.

His head spun as he kissed you unashamedly, unleashing the want he kept pent up for too long and showing no mercy as he swallowed down the moan you let out. His hands slid down to grip your ass, capturing another small sound in his mouth as he slipped his thigh between your legs. Now that it was out in the open, that you wanted him, he couldn't stop himself.

Unless you told him to.

"So, you like me, too?" you breathed out as he pressed kisses along your neck, your nails digging into his shoulders as he thrust his knee against your wetness.

Gonna lose my fucking mind when I'm inside you.

"So much that I wanted to break Nate's fingers. Or his face," he told you, nipping over your pulse, but careful not to leave a mark. "Want you to forget all about that thing he does with his fucking tongue."

"You up for the challenge?" you teased before he growled.

"Up for it?" he asked as he slid a hand up to your chest, his thumb brushing over your nipple as you whimpered for him. "I'm gonna ruin you. That's a fucking promise."

"Do it. Please," you begged, bringing a hand down to brush your fingers along his thick cock. "Ruin me."

You already looked overwhelmed with pleasure, your eyes half lidded and mouth parted as Bucky moved his knee away and brought one of your legs around his hip. He wanted to fall to his knees and get a taste, but he'd claim you later with his tongue. "Not letting you go if I have you," he warned you, helping you stroke him.

"You better not," you said.

Bucky could've put his fingers under the water, but he brought them to his mouth to wet them before he slipped it between your legs. "You'll be mine," he said as he teased your hole.

"I'm already yours," you gasped as he carefully pushed a finger in and thrust slowly.

"Are you?" he asked, brushing his lips against your jaw as he slid a second finger in. "Fuck, you're tight. You may kill me."

"Yes, I'm yours. And I won't kill you, but I'll make you sorry if you don't fuck me," you huffed impatiently.

He chuckled as he removed his fingers, missing the heat of your body. He understood not wanting to wait any longer. He fucked his own hand enough nights as he thought of you to know that it wasn't enough.

"What if someone walks in?" he questioned, sucking his fingers clean with an obscene groan.

I can convince you to take a day off just to eat you out, right?

"I don't care!" you cried, your voice echoing in the stall as he moved the tip of his cock along your folds. You canted your hips as you tried to take him in and, fuck, if that didn't feed his ego. "If you don't fuck me, I swear I'll- AHH!"

He groaned as he slid home in one thrust, his eyes fluttering shut as your velvety walls gripped him like your life depended on it. He took a deep breath so he didn't lose it on the second thrust. Your perfect pussy was his new home. He never wanted to leave.

"Fuck, baby, you're so needy. I think you want everyone to see that you're mine now," he groaned as he caressed your thigh and drove in deep. Your cunt welcomed each slide as he kept your hips still with his other hand. "Gonna fuck you so hard you won't walk for a week. The way I should've from the start."

"Don't hold back," you moaned, clenching lightly around him. "I can take it."

Bucky couldn't remember ever fucking someone so possessively. "Pussy's even better than I imagined. Made for me. Made for me to wreck."

"Fuck, yes," you cried in response. "Touched myself thinking of you fucking me."

"You fucked your perfect pussy thinking of me?" he asked, imagining your fingers deep inside you. "Moaned my name?"

"Yes," you replied, biting your lip. "Fingers aren't as big as you."

Fuck. There's only so much a man can take.

"Look so beautiful taking my cock. Gonna be so good to you," he grunted, his wet hair falling in front of his eyes. If he had to guess, he probably looked unhinged. Feral. Out of control. "Not letting you go."

Instead of looking afraid, you reached up and lightly threaded your fingers through his hair as your leg shook against his hip. "I won't let you."

He kissed you, almost delirious as the rush of pleasure began to take over. You took his hard, fast thrusts, the symphony of your cries and his moans adding to the sound of wet, slapping skin. Later, he'd make love to you, kiss over every square inch of your beautiful body. He'd tell how crazy he is about you. How you made him happy again.

For now, he needed you to scream his name for the whole gym to hear.

"I'm close, Bucky," you panted into his mouth. "Please."

He doubled his efforts, thrusting so hard he lost his breath with each snap of his hips. "If you're really mine, come. Come for me."

You nearly sobbed his name as you quivered around him, a wave of wetness coating his cock as he kept up his pace and fucked you through your orgasm. "Good girl," he praised as you went limp in his hold.

It was a beautiful sight. Your dazed expression, your cunt clenching with a fresh wave of wetness as you whined. A fucking vision.

"I'm gonna…" he warned, his muscles tensing up as he got closer to the edge.

"Come in me," you begged, tightening around him again. "Please, I need it."

Fuck.

Bucky spilled hot and thick inside you with a guttural moan as he let the ecstasy within him explode, relieved that you didn't make him leave the haven of your body. He was careful not to crush you against the wall as he tried to catch his breath and process that what just happened was real. It wasn't a dream or fantasy. He had you in his arms under the warm water.

Could've had this ages ago if I spoke up.

His lips found yours, his kiss softer than the previous ones. He wasn't sure how long he held you like that, but it was everything he dreamt of and everything he denied himself. He wouldn't do that again.

"You okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No," you smiled, your breathing still a bit tagged. "And I think I can still walk."

He growled playfully as he rolled his hips, thankful that he had the strength to keep holding you up. His stamina was good for some things. "Come to movie night and I'll make sure you don't walk. You did say you needed to get laid."

"I did say that," you smiled, nipping his bottom lip. "I'll do a movie night if you take me out on a real date."

"This weekend since neither of us have plans. I'd be a bad boyfriend if I didn't take care of you, right?" he asked, kissing the corner of your mouth to avoid your surprised gaze.

Pushed my luck this far. I can go a bit further.

"It's a date," you smiled.

Bucky smiled back as he reached over to shut the water off, wishing he could blame the warmth for the blush in his cheeks. "Sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass."

"I forgive you," you said, your nose nudging his.

"I just wanted you to have better," he whispered.

You deserve the best.

You blinked away the leftover pleasure that lingered in your eyes. "What? You're already the best guy I know, handsome. No one is better than you," you said, the sincerity in your eyes making his heart twist. "I know you'll be the best boyfriend for me."

Thank you.

"Well, as the best boyfriend, I think I owe you one more orgasm before we go," he smirked, his hands roaming your body. "If you're up for it."

"I'll take whatever you give me," you said before you smirked back. "But maybe I should thank Nate since he's the one who got your head out of your ass."

"Don't you fucking dare," he said, kissing you breathless before you could say his name again.

Bucky was your boyfriend now and the only name he wanted to tumble from your beautiful lips was his own. He'd do whatever he could to make that happen. And be the man you deserve.

Natasha watched from the corner of the gym as you and Bucky emerged from the locker room minutes later. You had stars in your eyes and Bucky looked over the moon. Your legs wobbled slightly and the soldier easily slid an arm around your waist to steady you and walk you out. He even threw Nate a smirk and a wink when he got a glimpse of the two of you.

The redhead messaged the group chat for the bet once the two of you were out of sight. "Locker room. I won."

"What? I was so close!" Steve messaged back.

"Cheater!" Sam sent. "I know you got her ex transferred here. Don't deny it."

"I did not get him transferred. I just knew and didn't tell them he'd be here today. I expect my payment at dinner tonight."

The redhead put her phone away as she tried not to smile. Bucky just needed a push and she wasn't afraid to play a little dirty. But she'd keep her word and split the winnings.

The two of you deserved a nice date, after all.

Oh, Bucky. Whatever will we do with you? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[theemporium]

could you write something where the marauders are tired of seeing you and Remus pinning each other down with long stares and small smiles and decide to arrange a blind date? Love your writing 💓

thank you!! and thank you for requesting!🖤

.

“C’mon, it will be fun!”

You sighed. “Lily, I don’t know—”

“When have I ever let you astray?”

And she had a point, but that didn’t make her suggestion anymore appealing. You had assumed today would be one of your usual catch ups, cups of coffee in your hands as you sat underneath a tree near the lake. It had been a tradition every Saturday that started back in your third year of school, and you had yet to break it.

You should have known something was different when Lily asked to meet an hour earlier, a glint in her eyes that should have been your first warning.

Now, sat across from the redhead, you realised what she had up her sleeve. Since the moment she took her place across from you, she had been all but begging for you to accept a blind date planned by her. You were sceptical. Hell, you didn’t want to do it all. And there was one reason why.

“Lily, you know—” But she interrupted you before you could continue.

“Yeah, yeah, you have fancied him for this many years and blah, blah, blah,” she rolled her eyes before shooting you a look. “Are you ever going to tell him?”

You blinked. “Well, no.”

“Then what’s the harm in one date!” Lily countered, grinning like a devil. “I’ll give you the choice: either tell Remus how you feel or go on this one date.”

You glared at her. “You’re evil.”

“So I’ve been told,” she shrugged shamelessly. “So, which one is it?”

“Fine,” you sighed as she cheered. “When is the date?”

“Tonight!”

Around two hours later after Lily had dragged you back to the castle to change into something more appropriate, you found yourself making your way towards Hogsmeade for this blind date.

You were nervous. Not even nervous, you were ready to spill your guts and bolt the first chance you got. You don’t do blind dates. You barely do dates themselves. And here you were, about to walk into the Three Broomsticks to meet a date who you didn’t know anything about, except Lily telling you that ‘you’ll know when you see him’.

So, imagine your surprise when you walked in and the other person remotely around your age was none other than Remus Lupin himself.

You stood in the doorway, blinking at the sight of Remus sitting in one of the booths, his fingers nervously tapping along the table as he muttered away to himself. He glanced down at his watch, before he lifted his head to look towards the door—and then he saw you.

Remus saying your name snapped you out of your daze.

Your body moved on its own accord, taking each step closer and closer to the booth he was sitting in before you paused right in front of him. You looked at him, really looked at him, and it all clicked.

“You’re here for a blind date,” you stated as a fact, not even questioning him.

“I—” he paused, his brows furrowed together. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. How did you know?”

Lily, you little meddling minx.

You gave him a strained smile. “I’m your date.”

Remus’ lips parted to make an ‘o’ shape.

Your stomach twisted when he fell silent and you quickly took a step away from the booth. “I’ll just go,” you said quickly, your nails digging into your palm as you did. “This was a mistake—”

Remus’ eyes widened and he quickly scrambled up from his seat, his knees hitting the table as he did. “No!”

You paused. “No?”

“No,” he breathed out, his cheeks flushing pink as he flashed you a shy smile. “I…I’m glad it’s you.”

Your eyes softened. “You are?”

“To be honest, I thought James and Sirius were setting me up,” he confessed. “I thought this was just some ploy to get over you.”

“Get over me?” you questioned.

“Yeah,” he blushed. “I, uh, kinda fancy you.”

“I kinda fancy you too,” you admitted, something in your chest tightening as you watched his face break out into a wide smile.

“Do you think that means I can tempt you to stay for a drink?” he asked, a little more confident.

But you just grinned back. “Yeah, I think it does.”

.

[roxxie-wolf]

𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒪𝓇𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒

Pairing: Human!Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your parents want you to marry someone of their choice, but you already have eyes on someone else. Will you follow what your parents think is best for you or will you go with what your heart desires.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: human!alastor x fem!reader, slow burn, this story may contain mature sexual content. Your in your late 20's, Alastor is in his early 30's, you still live with your parents idk. If I forgot anything else please let me know.

Note: Sorry for not posting last week. I have been very busy lately but I’ll try my best to keep up. Next Chapter and Previous Chapter will now be at the bottom of each chapter. Hope y’all enjoy this one^^

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟫

The early morning light filtered through your curtains, casting a soft glow across the room as you stood there, emotions swirled within you like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. A week had passed since your last encounter with Alastor. The absence of his presence was a silent echo in your heart. *He knew where you lived; why hadn’t he come by?* The memory of his smile, the warmth of his touch—it all felt like a fragile dream now. But today was different. Today, you were preparing to visit Cindy’s house, a task that brought a familiar sense of frustration.

Meeting yet another suitor, James, was not something you looked forward to. The very thought of it made you feel like you were being paraded in a market, your feelings and desires secondary to the transaction at hand. You couldn't help but wonder if your mother only saw you as a piece to be moved in the grand chessboard of societal expectations.

As she adjusted the fabric of your dress, her hands were gentle, but her presence was a reminder of the expectations placed upon you. Your reflection in the mirror showed a figure of elegance and grace, yet your mind was miles away, lost in the memory of Alastor's kiss.

"Alright, you look beautiful, sweetheart," your mother's voice brought you back to the present, her tone filled with pride and affection.

"Thanks, mom," managing a smile as you met your own gaze in the mirror. You took in the sight of yourself, dressed up for someone else, while your heart ached for Alastor. The longing was a silent whisper, a contrast to the outward image of readiness.

Today, you would meet James, but your soul was already entwined with another. As you followed your mother downstairs, each step felt like a small betrayal to the love that had begun to bloom within you. Yet, you knew that no matter the outcome of today's meeting, Alastor had already claimed a piece of your heart that no one else could touch.

"First, we need to head to town; I gotta stop by Samantha's shop," your mother's words floated through the air, a prelude to the day's errands. You nodded in response, a gesture that belied the flutter of excitement at the thought of possibly encountering Alastor.

With each step towards the heart of town, the anticipation grew. The familiar streets held a new promise, and the mundane journey transformed into a path of potential encounters.

As you entered Samantha's shop, the bell above the door chimed, announcing your arrival. The scent of fresh flowers and the subtle fragrance of incense filled the air, a sensory embrace that was both welcoming and calming.

"Hello and welcome!" Samantha's voice, bright and cheerful, cut through the quiet hum of the shop. She emerged from behind a display of colorful trinkets, her arms open wide as she enveloped your mother in a warm hug.

Then, turning towards you, her smile was a beam of sunlight on a cloudy day. "It's so good to see you," her greeting carrying the weight of genuine affection.

You returned the smile, feeling a sense of belonging in this small corner of the world. Yet, beneath the pleasantries, your heart raced with the hope that today might just be the day you'd see Alastor again, even if just for a fleeting moment.

The murmur of conversation between your mother and Samantha became a distant hum as you stepped outside, the door closing softly behind you. The outside world greeted you with a gentle breeze and the soft bustle of the town's daily life. Your eyes scanned the surroundings, a silent wish in your heart to catch a glimpse of Alastor.

And then, as if summoned by your silent pleas, you spotted him. Alastor was there, just across the street, engaged in conversation with a woman whose laughter seemed to echo in your chest. A pang of jealousy struck you, sharp and unexpected. *Who is she?* The question gnawed at you, but the answer was clear: you were nothing to him, and yet, he was everything to you.

You couldn't help but watch Alastor from afar, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. The woman with him was laughing too, touching his arm in a familiar way that made your heart sink.

Time seemed to stretch and warp as you watched them, the laughter and conversation a silent movie to which you knew all the words yet couldn't bear to hear. Jealousy, a green-eyed monster, whispered in your ear, urging you to cross the street, to confront, to claim what you felt was yours.

But then, a voice, clear and concerned, cut through the fog of your emotions. "Y/N, where are you going?" It was your mother, her intuition like a lighthouse guiding you back from the rocky shores of rash decisions.

You cast a final glance at Alastor, now disappearing into the crowd with the woman, and a heavy sigh escaped your lips. Your heart, once buoyant with the memory of a kiss, now felt like an anchor dragging you down. The questions raced through your mind, a carousel of doubts: *Did the kiss mean nothing to him? Was it all just a game?*

As you turned to face your mother, the mask of composure settled upon your features. The day ahead with James awaited, a script written by expectation and duty. Yet, within the chambers of your heart, a single hope flickered, refusing to be extinguished—that perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to Alastor's story than what your eyes had seen.

——————————————

The knock on Cindy's door echoed the pounding of your heart, each beat a reminder of the turmoil within. You stood there, your gaze fixed on the ground, as if it held the answers to the questions swirling in your mind about Alastor and the mysterious woman.

The feelings of betrayal, the anger at the possibility of being played—it all churned inside you like a storm. Yet, doubt lingered, a voice whispering that perhaps there was more to the story than you knew.

"Coming," a voice called from within, the sound of approaching footsteps breaking through your reverie. The door swung open, revealing Cindy, her blonde hair and blue eyes a stark contrast to the chaos of your emotions.

"Hello, Cindy," your mother greeted her with an excitement that felt foreign to you at that moment. "I'm here with my daughter, Y/N."

As you lifted your eyes to meet Cindy's, you forced a smile, the mask of politeness firmly in place. But behind that smile, your thoughts were still with Alastor, wondering about the truth of his affections and the identity of the woman.

Cindy invited you inside calling James in the process. The sight of James, emerging with a tentative smile, was a reminder of the day's purpose. His shy demeanor was endearing, yet it paled in comparison to the vivid memory of Alastor's confident gaze.

The meeting unfolded like a well-rehearsed play, each line delivered with polite interest, each smile a courteous gesture. But beneath the surface, your heart remained untouched, unswayed by James's gentle charm. He was kind, yes, but he was not Alastor.

With the meeting behind you, the image of James lingered in your mind—not because of a burgeoning affection, but because of his stark contrast to Alastor. The encounter had been pleasant, yet it lacked the spark that Alastor had ignited within you.

The journey home was quiet, a reflective space where thoughts swirled like leaves in the wind. The decision to return to town was not made lightly; it was driven by a need for closure, for answers, for something that would either soothe the ache in your heart or confirm your worst fears.

The decision was made before you fully realized it; you needed to see Alastor, to seek the truth that would either calm the storm within you or unleash it.

"Mom, I gotta go to town. I need to visit Samantha; I got something to ask her," your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside.

Your mother's smile was one of encouragement, her thoughts on a different track, believing you sought advice from Samantha about Anthony. "Sure sweetheart, go right ahead," her words a gentle push towards what she perceived as a budding romance.

"Be careful, sweetie," her voice followed you as you walked away, a reminder of the safety net that was always there, no matter where your heart led you.

With a wave and a deep breath, you set off, the image of Alastor and the unknown woman replaying in your mind. The need for answers propelled you forward, a mix of dread and determination fueling your steps. Today, you would confront the man who had stirred such profound feelings within you, seeking clarity amidst the confusion of a kiss that felt like both a beginning and an end.

———————————

The town, once a tapestry of familiar faces and places, had transformed into a labyrinth in your quest to find Alastor. Each glance, each turn of your head was fueled by the hope of spotting him, the man who had unwittingly become the compass of your heart.

Standing in front of Samantha's shop, you paused, scanning the crowd for any sign of him. The sight of Samantha inside the shop was a reminder of the pretense you had given your mother, but the urgency of your mission left no room for distractions.

As the day bled into evening, the golden hues of sunset casting long shadows on the cobblestones, a creeping sense of despair began to take hold. The possibility of not finding Alastor loomed over you, a cloud threatening to burst.

But then, a voice that called out to you was unmistakable, a sound you'd come to associate with a myriad of emotions. "Hello darling, looking for something?" Alastor's voice was as smooth and gentle as you remembered, a stark contrast to the frantic beating of your heart.

You turned to face him, and there he was, the man who had been the cause of both elation and distress. His smile was disarming, and as he lowered himself to your level, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. His hands were casually placed behind his back, and his glasses slid just slightly down the bridge of his nose, giving him an air of casual elegance.

For a moment, you were speechless, caught in the whirlwind of emotions his presence evoked. The questions, the doubts, the jealousy—all of it was pushed aside by the sheer force of his charm. You were reminded once again of just how handsome he was, and how easily he could stir your soul.

"Everything alright, dear?" His voice brought you back to the present, to the reality of the situation.

"Yes, I... I was looking for you," you managed to say.

“For me?” a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yes for you”you affirmed, the words barely a whisper but laden with meaning.

He stepped back fixing his glasses, his eyes never leaving yours, and in them, you found yourself lost, unable to voice the doubts and fears that had led you here. "Well here I am, what is it that you need, ma cherie?" Alastor's voice was gentle, his French endearment a soft touch amidst the tension.

"I just wanted to see you, I haven't seen you in days," choosing to keep the storm of your emotions at bay. His response was casual, as if the charged moment shared between you had been nothing but a fleeting instance. "Yes indeed, how are things?" he inquired, his demeanor nonchalant.

The frustration within you grew, a silent scream against his apparent indifference. "Everything's fine," the facade of composure intact. Yet, beneath that surface, a whirlwind of confusion and hurt raged, leaving you to wonder if the connection you felt was merely a figment of your desires. Alastor stood there, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil he'd caused.

“Would you like to come with me, dear”

The invitation hung in the air, Alastor's calm and gentle voice offering a reprieve from the storm of emotions within you. Despite the tension that clenched your fists, you found yourself unable to resist. His presence was magnetic, pulling you in with an invisible force that your heart couldn't deny.

He extended his arm, a silent gesture of companionship, and with a nod that carried the weight of your unspoken feelings, you accepted. Your arms wrapped around his, a physical manifestation of the connection that seemed to defy explanation.

"Where are we going?" The question was a whisper of curiosity, a desire to know more than just the destination.

"A jazz club, I promise you will enjoy it, darling," he assured you, his smile a constant, comforting presence.

The jazz club greeted you with an embrace of shadows and melodies. The dim lighting set the stage for an evening of intimacy. Alastor led you to a secluded table, a private world within the public domain, where the ambiance wrapped around you like a velvet cloak.

Your heart danced to the beat of the music. The jazz club, with its cocoon of melodies and whispers, became a haven where the outside world faded away, leaving only the two of you, and the music.

The waiter's question was a brief interruption to the enchanting atmosphere of the jazz club. "Would you like something to drink?" his voice almost blending into the background music.

Alastor's choice of whiskey was made with an air of certainty, a testament to his assured nature. You, seeking to add your own touch to the evening, opted for a martini.

When the waiter returned, the clink of the glasses as he set them down was a prelude to a new experience. The martini, with its clear elegance, stood as a symbol of the night's sophistication. You lifted the glass, the cool surface against your fingers a contrast to the warmth of the club.

With a sip, the crispness of the martini washed over you, a perfect blend of strength and subtlety. It was a dance of flavors on your tongue, a companion to the night's unfolding narrative. And there, in the secluded corner of the jazz club, with Alastor by your side, the evening continued to weave its magic around you.

The evening had unfolded like a melody, each moment with Alastor a note that resonated within you. The dance, the conversation, the shared laughter—all of it had woven a tapestry of connection that was hard to step away from. But as the night drew to a close, reality beckoned.

"I have to go now, Alastor," you whispered, leaning in close enough to be enveloped by the scent of his cologne. It was a fragrance that spoke of warmth and mystery, a fitting accompaniment to the man himself.

Alastor's concern was evident as he offered to walk you home. "Would you like me to walk you home? It's pretty late; I wouldn't want anything happening to you." His words were a gentle reminder of the care that had begun to blossom between you.

After a brief hesitation, where the desire to stay clashed with the need to leave, you accepted his offer. "Yes, that would be greatly appreciated." His arm extended towards you, a bridge over the threshold of the evening's end.

As you wrapped your arms in his, the simple act felt significant. Together, you stepped out of the jazz club, leaving behind the cocoon of music and dim lights, stepping into the cool embrace of the night.

“You know, you’re a great dancer,” your voice barely above a whisper. The words slipped out, fueled by the heady mix of martini and Alastor’s intoxicating presence.

He chuckled, the sound like velvet. “Thank you darling, you’re not bad yourself”

The walk home with Alastor was a continuation of the evening's enchantment, each step accompanied by laughter and the easy flow of conversation. But as the familiar silhouette of your house appeared, a sense of reality set in. You chose to part ways with Alastor, not wanting to risk the chance of your parents seeing him.

"I'll go alone from here, thank you again, Alastor, it was fun," offering him a smile that carried the warmth of the night's memories. His response was gracious, a reflection of the care he had shown throughout the evening. "It was my pleasure, darling. Now I'll wait here until you enter your home safely."

With a final smile and a fleeting kiss you turned towards your home. Alastor's figure remained, a silent guardian watching over your safe return. Once inside, you made your way to the window, the gesture of waving back to him a silent conversation across the distance. He acknowledged your signal, a nod and a wave that sealed the night's experience.

As he disappeared into the embrace of the night, you were left with a heart full of questions and a hope that the story between you and Alastor was far from over.

🌸𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈🌸 🌸𝒩𝑒𝓍𝓉🌸

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so you be updated every time. I do try to proofread but if I missed something please let me know.

Also I sometimes tend to make minor changes to the chapters.

Thank you! For reading I hope you enjoyed it.💖

TAGLIST: @magictoebean @little-slyvixen @bitchywitchygardener @diffidentphantom @catticora @cloverresin20 @phoenix666stuff @minamilinaqueen

[wrenswreath]

can you elaborate on your post about choices? i haven't read it but ive seen a lot of discourse so I was curious as to what your views were on it!

Just a warning but this is going to be loooonnnggg.

---

I think that Choices was very well written, specifically when it comes to the characterisation of its characters. I know it gets a lot of criticism for making James morally grey, making Lily a flawed (read: human) character, and the attitudes towards Mary's trauma, so I'll talk a bit more about those.

James' character:

In Choices, James isn't the embodiment of kindness, like the fandom tends to characterise him. He excuses a lot of bad things that Regulus did, cheats on Lily, and then tried to 'play the victim,' so to speak, when Lily found out, often prioritising trying to get her to understand as opposed to thinking about her feelings. And a lot of people don't like this - I think it's because they struggle with the fact that a likeable character, one that is often showed with little to no flaws, does something that they simply cannot morally agree with. It's hard to justify having James as a favourite character when he's suddenly not 'good enough' to still be a fav.

But in Choices, it's not about having a good, likeable character; it's about showing the (often unexplored) flawed versions of these people - challenging the concepts of a 'good' person, and a 'bad' one, because no one in this fic is strictly one of the other. And realistically, you cannot have canon-compliant Jegulus and have a righteous James, because Regulus does do bad things, and James has to excuse that for their relationship to work.

Lily's character:

When one would think 'canon-compliant Jegulus,' the Jily tends to get ignored often - it's just something that 'has to happen', but no one really wants it. But this fic doesn't ignore the Jily - it's very there, very present, and it's something that people don’t like. They barely tolerate James and Lily together, but when Lily is also her own independent character outside of James, and calls James out for his bullshit, instead of being the quiet, complacent, and 'understanding' wife people would rather she be, people get annoyed with her really easily. 

She, like every other character, is shown to be flawed and imperfect, and people aren't used to seeing that with the women characters in the marauders era. This leads to people calling it 'poor characterisation' because she is catering to her own needs, instead of making 'poor James' feel better. She's given depth, taken down from the pedestal the fandom puts women on, and people do not like the unfamiliar, so they do not like a version of Lily that they aren't used to seeing. 

Mary's trauma:

In Choices, Mary gets sexually assaulted. This isn't addressed well by the characters in the story - it's more of an 'oh no I'm sorry this happened to you. Anyway.' People often mistake this as a reflection of the writer - criticising MesserMoon for poorly handling Mary's SA, saying that Mary's trauma was overlooked, etc. And I have two things to say to that:

One being that this fic isn't told through Mary's perspective. This fic is mainly Regulus and James focused - Regulus, being part of the cover up of the SA obviously does not care about her, only his own reputation. James is a bit better, but he’s too focused on Regulus to care much about Mary. This is what we call an unreliable narrator. Because it is told from these perspectives, Mary's trauma isn't often thought about, brought up, etc., which can be upsetting, but it’s a reflection of the main characters' priorities (NOT THE AUTHOR'S!!!).

Second being this is a realistic portrayal of a black, muggleborn woman getting raped in the 70's. She does not get the justice that she deserves, but this is used as a way to highlight the problems people like Mary faced - people still face these issues today. On the flip side, the rapists were upper-class, pureblood, etc. To say that consequences should have been given is to completely deny the social structures that do exist and advantages anyone who is a man, who is white - all those positions of privilege.

Choices manages to handle issues of sexism and racism without actually being sexist and racist, but people constantly misinterpret it. Just because something is present in this fic, it does not mean it was aimed to be viewed positively by its readers.

Overall, I think Choices manages to handle issues and the complexity of people really well, acknowledging that there is no such thing as 'good' people and 'bad people.' However, a lot of its readers cannot successfully analyse the themes in the fic, often viewing it one-dimensionally as opposed to recognising the many layers and skewed perspectives it contains. The lack of media literacy in people is often what causes the discourse surrounding it, because this fic is not 'mischaracterisation' nor 'misogynistic'. It is simply complex.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Bad One (Angel!Steve, angel!bucky)

Summary: Steve finally tracks down the rouge angel and confronts him.

Warnings: angst, bucky's a rogue angel, murder

WC: 448

Read on ao3!

--

Grinning maliciously as he perches himself on the tree branch, he focuses on the object of his mission: James Barnes. The poor man who stood beneath him had no idea that today would be his last day. And it was Steve’s duty to see that the deed be done quickly and without any onlookers. Luckily, today was full of storm clouds; it was perfect for a murder in James Barnes’s way of thinking, Steve observed.

He watches with hungry intent as James stealthily pulls out a switchblade from the inner pocket of the jacket he donned and walks up to an innocent woman shielding herself from the rain with an umbrella. He looked pleading and asked her if she had any spare change. Seemingly giving in to Bucky’s pleas, the woman looked into her purse for a few bills. As she had become distracted, Bucky lunged at her. He covered her mouth quickly as he pulled her into the nearest alleyway.

Steve watched intently, quietly gliding down to street level, shielding his ashy wings with a wave of his fingers. Steve waited an extra moment as the female's voice faded into silence. Bucky heard a gleeful yelp, and Steve rushed to his side. Hungrily, Steve licked his lips, breathing in the scent of the dead flesh mere metres in front of him. His mouth salivated for a few seconds before he remembered his assignment.

He turned on his heel and cocked his head at the dark-haired man, who was wide-eyed and shaking in fear at the sight of Steve. “Well, well, well.” Steve taunted, licking his lips as the aroma of fear and anguish filled his nostrils. “Finally, I’ve caught you, James Barnes. The hunter has finally become the hunted.”

“She was worthless.” James spat, making a show of kicking his heel into the poor broad’s arm. 

“She was an angel of the Lord above, James.”

“She deserved her fate,” James argued in malice. 

“You’ve gone rogue for too long, Barnes. It’s time to come home and receive your fair punishment.”

“Blasphemy.” Bucky spat. Steve grabbed his bicep as the man tried to run for it. “I won’t go with you, brother.”

“Then I have no choice but to force you, Barnes.” Steve stroked his cheek with his free hand and let a small pout purse his plump lips. “ ‘S shame, really. You were a damn fine recruit. Where did I go wrong?”

“You’re a pity.” Bucky snarled at him. “You’ve grown soft.”

“No,” a headshake. “You’ve lost your way. You’ve grown bloodthirsty. You’re going to be punished.” Without waiting for an answer, Steve created a portal in the ground before descending into the depths of fiery heat.

[euripidestrousers]

The Bridget Jones Wolfstar AU that No One Asked For

Dear Diary, 

Even writing those words makes me physically ill so I’d like to start this off by disclosing that getting a diary was not my idea. 

You see, my best friend, James - excellent, wonderful best friend who has recently become a family man by choice, and has therefore become one of the most insufferable people on earth - gave me this diary and said it’s either this or he’s buying me therapy because one more rubbish one-week relationship of mine is going to kill him.

And I don’t need a fucking therapist, so here you are, and here I am. I feel better already.

(haha)

Dear Diary, 

James might be onto something. Today I found myself smoking my third morning cigarette while drinking my coffee and muttering that the drive to work is going to be hell because of the rain. 

I’ve become my father. 

Of course, I asked James if he ever looks in the mirror and sees Monty staring back and if it makes him want to buy a motorbike and he replied, ‘Uh, I’m literally his son, we look alike. Are you okay?’

My thirty third birthday is coming up. 

Please don’t let this be a mid-life crisis. I’m not in a relationship because I don’t want one, and haven’t had one in over ten years because the men in London either want to meet you in the park or meet your parents. It’s the last hour of the buffet and all that’s left is the salad. And I don’t need a relationship either. James and Lily are a match made in heaven since the first time he told her ugly friend he was ugly (rightfully so, the man is still hideous and a complete prick), and she told him to watch his fucking mouth. Made for each other.

But the last time I met a guy that made me laugh and was any sort of attractive and not a complete knob about being attractive, was over three years ago. 

Ie, it’s not for me. End of story.

I bought a motorbike

Dear Diary, 

I’m going to do away with the whole ‘dear diary’ thing, it makes me feel like a schoolgirl and if James ever finds you when we’re drunk he’s going to read out at least one embarrassing entry at me. They’re all embarrassing. 

I went on a blind date today.

“Long black for… Sirish?”

What? Oh. That vague jumble of mush must have been his name. Sirius grabs the takeaway cup and makes for the door briskly. He has the Binkley case to catch up on and write a piece on by the end of the week and he’s still not clear who the man is. A football star perhaps? He’s still being sidelined into the sports area of the paper because he did football for a year. Nevermind that he has an interest in politics and would very much like to report on where the country will be in ten years if it keeps going-

J: You busy after work?

Sirius grins, flopping his jacket over one arm to type back to James Potter, best friend and inarguably lesser half of Lily Potter. 

S: drinks?

J: I have a one year old

S: too early for him to start?

S: kidding. Don’t tell Lily. She’s already started making him take his helmet every time I take him for a day. 

J: It’s not for drinks. Lily has a friend who’s just come to town. I thought maybe you could show him around.

S: Worst lie ever. 

J: I haven’t had coffee yet.

J: It’s actually true though. He just came to town and doesn’t know anyone other than Lily, and Harry has a cold so we’re both staying home.

J: He’s quite attractive I’m told. Lily told me to say ‘tall Martin Freeman’, and that you’d know what it means

S: Potter, if I was so desperate that I would open to a blind date, I definitely wouldn’t start with any of Lily’s friends, they’re all college professors and about 50 years old. 

J: He’s 37

S: He has elbow patches. Guaranteed. Bet he says ‘but the Torries are actually not as conservative as they’re made out to be.’

S: Bet he has a mahogany desk and wanks to Aristotle

J: Jesus christ

J: Photo sent

Sirius glances down uninterestedly and sees a photo of a man. But instead of the expected stuffy looking balding man with a sour face, as most of Lily’s fellow professors are to be fair, instead he’s looking at a tall, brown haired man with flecks of grey at the temples and smiling softly at the camera, and he’s well, he’s not not handsome. Tall Martin Freeman is actually quite right. Hello.

He brings the phone closer to examine the photo as he blindly barges into the office building with the large Get Up, Britain sign gaudy and bright above him. 

The man is younger on second glance, although he is wearing a suit jacket with elbow patches (told you, Jamie), and standing a little awkwardly, like he’s not used to photos being taken of him, and it’s entirely likely that he’s more accustomed to being nose deep in a book ninety percent of the time. 

He’s shagged worse. 

S: I was right about the elbow patches

J: I really tried to find one without them too

J: But he sounds nice. Funny. Lily likes him, she talks about him all the time. They were prefects together in school and used to bunk off and smoke behind the bins

One the one hand: prefect. Disgusting. Hall monitors. Pigs-to-be, snooty, law-abiding to the most irritating degree (Lily being the exception, of course). On the other hand: smoking behind the bins is more his style. Speaking of, he’d love one right now-

J: I really think you’d like him. Even just friends. Moving cities is lonely and he sounds alright. He likes Manchester U?

S: Fine, I’m free after 6

S: Don’t yell at me if I shag him, work has been shit.

So that’s how Sirius finds himself, half past six, swearing up a storm and running with his tote bag over his head in the pouring rain, late for his blind date (or something).

He slams into the restaurant door, shaking himself off like a wet dog, his casual Friday jeans and black t-shirt soaking wet, his shoulder length, black hair is dripping around his face, hoping his laptop has survived, and shivering like a chihuahua at a children’s party. 

“Uh, I’m here for uh-” he consults his phone again and reads the name to the maitre d, “Reh-mus?”

“It’s Remus, actually”, comes a soft voice from his left. 

Sirius turns quickly and immediately drenches the man standing at his elbow in droplets of water from his hair and coat. Tall Martin Freeman indeed - he has one of those faces that’s even better in person, where the way he stoops his shoulders and holds himself makes him look soft and welcoming, and the warm lighting gives him that attractive, cozy professor look, rather than an uptight old man.

“Oh”, Sirius grins quickly, hoping his dazzling smile will make up for their flimsy introduction, “Right, Sirius. Are you still waiting for a table-?”

“I er, well, I was about to leave actually”, Remus says, glancing at the maitre d awkwardly, “You’re quite late.”

Sirius’ smile freezes. Well, then. 

“Got caught up at work”, he replies stiffly, brushing his hair back and letting his eyes go cold, “If you’d prefer we don’t-”

“No, no, of course not”, Remus appears to snap back, as if remembering his manners and seeming oddly distracted, “Please, let’s sit. You look like you could use a drink.”

Sirius runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he follows Remus to the table and wonders if that was a slight about him looking like a drowned rat. He notices the man has worn an absolutely hideous brown jumper that wouldn’t be out of place in an aged care home, so he doesn’t really have the right to judge Sirius’ appearance. 

“Wine?” The waiter offers politely. It’s a nice place - James said Lily had picked it because she thought Remus would like it. It is a little stuffy, honestly. Something his parents might have stopped by and deemed adequate, which is to say, the beer is fucking overpriced, Jesus-

“I’ll have the Stout again, please”, Remus answers briskly, nodding at Sirius to order his.

“Uh, yeah, Stout. Cheers”, Sirius adds, dumping his bag beneath the table and trying to surreptitiously dry his hair in the napkin. Remus looks away as if embarrassed by him. Swot.

“So, you know Lily through school?” Sirius starts, unable to keep the boredom completely out of his voice. 

“Yes. I take it you know James through yours”, Remus answers, very politely but also sounding just as bored. 

“Yeah, grew up together”, Sirius nods. 

Remus doesn’t say anything to that, just hums and sips some water. 

It’s fucking awkward. Normally, Sirius would give him an ultimatum - ‘look, do you want to liven it up a bit and turn this into a fun one-night thing? Because otherwise, I’m not feeling it and I’ve got work to do.’

But Lily knows this guy, they have mutual friends, and if this isn’t what makes blind dates the most excruciating, hellish thing on earth, worse than job interviews, worse than-

“I don’t really do blind dates”, Remus says suddenly, and then blinks as if he hadn’t meant to say anything at all.

“Right”, Sirius says, bewildered. 

“I, er, the dating scene. Not really my thing”, he says quietly, still not looking Sirius in the eye, “But I just moved here from Wales and I don’t know anyone, so this doesn’t have to be… anything. Just-”

“Oh- oh yeah. Fine with me”, Sirius finds himself swallowing down a touch of regret, offended really, because he’s not used to someone not immediately being ready to come home with him. “I’m not really looking for anything and blind dates are, well - eugh, you know? Like, thanks, my friends think I can’t get laid on my own or something so they set me up with whoever they think isn’t a serial killer, like any gay dude will do-”

“Yes, well”, Remus says tightly, taking another sip, “I rather thought Lily knew me better than that.”

His tone is rather pointed and Sirius realises he’s let his mouth run. Well… to be fair, the guy is kind of a snob. What was Lily thinking anyway?

“Yeah”, he agrees through his teeth, crossing his arms and legs and sitting back in his chair to wait for his beer. Maybe he can make an excuse after one drink. He can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t have a sense of humour and if this bloke doesn’t want to be a one-night stand, then he’d much rather be home. Alone.

“Is there anything around here you’d recommend?” Remus tries, voice clipped and still sounding slightly offended, “Restaurants? More importantly, ones you don’t recommend?”

“There’s a place that does turkey curry. It’s awful.”

“What? What curry?” The tightness in Remus’ face slips momentarily and he looks genuinely bewildered. He’s actually not a bad looker when he’s not frowning. 

“Turkey. It’s as bad as it sounds. Actually it’s worse, like eating a lamb burrito, it’s just not right. Shittest fucking curry and it’s as bad going in as it is bad going ou-”

“Two Stouts.”

The waiter delivers their beers and they fade off into silence as they drink. 

Remus sips delicately, in a way that’s completely inappropriate for a beer, and says awkwardly, “Yes well, thank you for the tip. I’ll rest easy never knowing what turkey curry tastes like.”

“Yeah, I mean, if you can avoid it then I guess this date wasn’t a waste after all.”

Remus blinks, expression dropping. 

Oh. Oh fuck. Double fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom”, Remus says abruptly and stands. He stalks away quickly and leaves Sirius gnawing at his lip and furious at both himself and this infuriating man who seems to loathe him, minutes after meeting him and who Lily apparently thinks is nice. 

He’s got other shit to be getting on with, he decides. And this bloke probably shags like a limp fish anyway, an Oxford type that thinks poetry is foreplay and once a month sex is scandalously frequent.

He drains his beer and half of Remus’ for good measure, and heads to the bathroom so he can catch Remus on his way out, only to hear his own name hissed furiously. He sees Remus standing out the front of the restaurant, shoulders raised against the cold and holding the phone to his ear. He steps closer and half opens the door to tell him he’s going to head off when he hears the conversation.

“... how did you think someone like Sirius would be good for me? After the hell I’ve had in the last year? Going on a date with someone like him? He showed up thirty minutes late, dressed like he’s going to a bar playing exclusively Metallica, and insulted me immediately. I told you, I don’t mind being alone for a while, especially after the divorce. I certainly don’t want to be shown around London by a rude, arrogant berk who dresses like a teenager and doesn’t seem to have a filter between his brain and his mouth. He probably thinks the bar scene is-oh”

Remus catches sight of him out of the corner of his eye and he spins. They stare at each other for a few excruciation moments, Remus still holding the phone to his ear. 

Sirius breaks the tension with a forced laugh, “Right. I’m definitely going home.”

“Wait, shit, I’ll call you back”, Remus mutters into the phone and hangs up, stepping forward but Sirius pushes past him, temper steadily rising into a roaring bonfire within his chest.

“Sirius, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“You’re absolutely right, I wouldn’t know the first thing about showing a bloke like you around London”, he turns and says loudly so it carries over the sounds of the cars driving by on the busy street, “You’d be more comfortable in a fucking graveyard, honestly. There’s one ten minutes that way-” he turns his back and points over to the left, calling back over his shoulder, “You’ll find someone much more your speed there, Remus.”

Blind date disastrous as expected. 

Remus fucking Lupin, a professor extraordinaire who wouldn’t be able to find his funny bone if it conked him on the fucking head, is not an exception to the blind date rule, even though he’s easy on the eyes at first glance. At second glance, he is a miserable, dried up academic whose own self-importance has completely consumed him despite dressing like his grandfather for Halloween. 

If this is what my friends think of me, I need to sort my fucking shit out. 

I should have asked him to shag before he opened his stupid fucking mouth. 

[aanoia]

Yes (pt. 2 to "No")

James Potter x reader

Summary: James finally gets a yes and makes sure you don't regret it

Warnings; none, js super fluffy and sweet

Ft. My trip to nursery today ⚘️

Lowkey LOVE this, I hate how short it came out but that's okayy

Thanks to an acc I cannot find to tag and @herejustforjj for helping me out! You will have your angsty fluff ending probably the next part!!!

I might make an optional pt. 3, optional bc I want it to be angsty, like, sad ending, but idkkk

I might actually make a pt. 3 where there's some angst and then fluff and THEN an optional pt. 4. I rly dk

Pt. 1 here!

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Fine.” 

James' eyes lit up, looking like a little kid on Christmas, “Really?” He asked tentatively, his voice quiet. Y/n smiled at him softly and nodded.

“Really.” She whispered to him and laughed as he flew up, arms in the air as he whooped and jumped around excitedly. 

He paused, his face flushed and glasses crooked on his face, “It will be the best date you have ever been on. You have my word.” He promised, holding his pinky out.

Y/n linked hers with his, “I’ll hold you to that.”

He clutched tightly onto the girl's finger, lifting her up so I was standing and pulling her into a bone crushing hug. Y/n could feel the ecstatic energy radiating from his skin. He gave one last squeeze before letting go, winking and running off, probably to plan their date. 

Y.n sat back down with a shake of her head, a permanent smile imprinted on her face. This should be fun.

James held tightly onto Y/n’s pinky which was linked with his as the pair walked down the busy streets of Hogsmeade.

“So, what’s your plan here, James?” Y/n asked, moving a strand of hair out of her eyes.

He smiled, “I love it when you call me James.”

She snorted, “That’s your name, is it not?”

“It is, but it sounds so much better when you say it. And you used to call me Potter, but it’s just James.” He smiled proudly.

“Okay, just James, where are we going?” Y/n asked and he grinned.

“It's a surprise, of course.” He teased, swinging their hands back and forth before he stopped in front of a bookstore. James stepped in front of Y/n and opened the door, unlinking their pinkies. He bowed slightly and held his hand out to help her up the step, “After you, m’lady.”

Y/n laughed and took his hand, “Why thank you, kind sir.” 

The cold air of the bookstore was a nice contrast to the hot sun outside, and Y/n took a deep breath, happiness filling her body as soft jazz music filled the store. Y/n smiled and waved softly to the owner of the bookstore who had her nose buried in a book as she sipped from her coffee mug, her gray hair pulled back into a bun. She smiled back, glancing at James who stumbled over his feet as he came through the door and then winking at her. Y/n shook her head with a silent laugh, grabbing onto his hand and bringing him to her favorite section in the bookstore as he followed blindly.

“Wait.” He said quietly, not wanting to ruin the calm atmosphere of the store. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, alright?”

Y/n giggled softly, taking a step closer so she had to look up to look into his eyes, “What’s gonna happen?” She whispered with a smile.

“You’re gonna grab as many books as your heart desires, okay? And then you’re gonna tell me which one you’re most excited to read, and I’m going to take it and read it and leave you cute little notes, so when you read it you’re thinking of me the entire time.” He told the girl softly and she nodded, happiness blooming in her chest. Maybe this boy, as persistent and arrogant he is, isn’t that bad. 

After half an hour of the two looking over new books and Y/n explaining the ones she had already read to James, who watched her lovingly and listened attentively, Y/n had chosen four books, of which James insisted he carry. They walked to the front desk and James gently placed them down, flashing the owner a smile before Y/n began rummaging in her bag for money as she looked over the choices. Y/n thanked her quietly as she told me the price, still trying to find her wallet.

“Here you go, ma’am.” James said and Y/n looked up to see him handing the owner some coins.

“Wait, no, James, I’ll pay.” She insisted but he shook his head.

“No can do.” He smiled and grabbed the bag from the owner before waving her goodbye and grabbing Y/n’s hand, leading her out of the shop, the bag softly thumping against his toned thighs. Oh, those quidditch thighs.

“Thank you, James.” Y/n said as they once again walked through the streets.

“Don’t thank me just yet, sweetheart.” He said and pulled her along hurriedly. “Food time.” He said with a smile as they neared a circle of trees, he went behind the girl. “This, my love, is when you go blind.” Y/n smiled as his warm, calloused hands went over her eyes and he carefully led her through the trees, the bag of books hanging from the inside of his elbow. “Careful, there's a fallen branch right there.” James whispered softly in Y/n’s ear, causing warmth to flood her body.

“Thank you.” She said back, equally as quiet as the birds happily chirped around them.

“Okay, you can stop walking now.” He said and she did as told. “Three, two, one.” he removed her hands and she gasped, her hand going to cover her mouth as she looked at the sight before her eyes. Candles floated in the air like they did in the Great Hall and there was an elegant red and white picnic blanket covered in an array of food. James gently led her to the picnic blanket and laid down on his side as Y/n sat with her legs outstretched.

James propped himself up with his elbow, “So?” he asked.

“James, it’s- it’s beautiful.” Y/n admitted, feeling very grateful she finally said yes to his consistent asking.

“Not as beautiful as you.” He said and winked, before quickly grabbing a chocolate covered strawberry. “Cringy, I know, but eat it. They’re good.” He encouraged, reaching up and bringing it to her lips, trying to push past them. Y/n laughed through her nose as she tried to keep her lips shut before giving in and taking a bite.

She groaned as she relished the flavor, “Strawberries are so good.” James nodded in agreement.

“You should read to me.” James said, grabbing the book bag and passing it to her, before readjusting himself and laying his head in Y/n’s lap. She smiled and grabbed one of the books, opening it with her right hand and letting her left gently play with a strand of James’ hair.

After a few moments of reading quietly to James, Y/n spared a glance at the forest in front of her and gasped quietly, urging James to look over. Standing just in view were a doe and stag, lovingly rubbing their heads together. Y/n, not knowing anything about the importance of a stag in James’ life, thought it was just a cute coincidence. James, however, knew it had to be a sign.

“One last stop.” James said, once again, for what seemed like the thousandth time, led Y/n by hand through the less busy streets of Hogsmeade.

“You really went all out, didn’t you?” Y/n asked and James nodded.

“Of course I did, the most magnificent girl on Earth said yes to date, I had to make sure she knew how special she was.” He answered, looking ahead. Something Y/n was thankful for as she was sure her face turned tomato red.

After just a moment they neared a large open area with many greenhouses.

“A nursery?” Y/n questioned, not knowing Hogsmeade even had one.

James smiled proudly, looking back at her, “Mhm! A little birdy, who goes by the name of Sirius, told me how much you loved flowers, so I figured you’d like to come here.” He said as he dragged her past the entrance and into the endless aisles of flowers. 

“James, the flamingo flies!” Y/n said excitedly as she pointed at the metal flamingo whose body was swaying slightly in the wind, giving it the impression of flying.

“I wish I could fly.” James said. “That would be so cool.”

Y/n snorted, “James, you can fly.”

James stood in confusion for a moment before his eyes lit up as he remembered his broomstick, “Oh, yeah!”

“So, which is your favorite?” James asked and Y/n smiled as she spotted them and led him to them.

“Forget me nots.” She informed him, looking at the flower with a happy glint in her eyes.

“Ah, well, fear not, fair maiden. Forget you, I will not.” James said with a funny face and Y/n laughed at his ridiculousness. 

The two walked around, gazing at the flowers and admiring their beauty. James watched Y/n with a soft smile as her fingers grazed the petals with the utmost gentleness, barely even bending the fragile beauty. In a moment of love, he grabbed her hand and spun her in a circle, careful not to let her fall into the flowers. She laughed giddily as her hands went to James’ shoulders to steady her. The two made eye contact, their hearts beating in sync as their faces neared each other. Y/n could feel James’ breath fan against her face and the warmth radiating from his lips as they got closer. In a quick moment, their lips touched as fireworks went off around them. 

However, everything was silenced and the two pulled away quickly as a grouchy old lady cleared her throat, annoyed at the two lovesick teens for blocking the aisle. James cleared his throat as well before bowing his head at the woman with a tightlipped smile, obviously trying to hold in his laughter.

“We’re sorry, ma’am. We’ll be on our way.” He said before grabbing Y/n’s hand and rushing past the old woman. After they were a good enough distance from her they burst out laughing, finding the situation absolutely hilarious. 

James groaned with an open mouth smile, running a hand over his face, messing up his glasses. Y/n took a step closer to the boy and gently fixed his glasses, a proud smile on her face when they were perfectly straight. 

“You want to buy some flowers, flower?” James asked softly and Y/n nodded with a smile. “Forget me nots it is, so you never forget me.”

Y/n smiled, “You’re right. I’ll always remember you.”

[thetorturedpoetsfest]

Welcome to Day 15 of The Tortured Poets Fest!

Click the links listed below to check out all of the content our lovely Tortured Poets have created for all of us today! (and go to our bio to access the rest of the AO3 Collection)

✍️ Running With My Dress Unbuttoned by the_casual_author

Ship(s): Andromeda Black Tonks/Ted Tonks

Rating: Gen

Summary:

Three days.

“You either marry Yaxely or there will be consequences. You know what they will be for your supposed lover.” Her father’s words were stern, and Andromeda feels sick as she recalls them.

She doesn’t have a choice.

Or: Andromeda is to be married. She'd rather do anything else.

🕯 Not If, But Which One by Lostinwond3rland @lost-in-wond3rland

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, James Potter/Regulus Black

Rating: E

Summary:

Dearest Readers,

Welcome back to the London social season. And what a special season it is turning out to be! It has come to this authors attention that the ever-elusive Black brothers will finally be returning from Paris to enter the fray of eligible young lords and ladies, looking to procure nothing but the most exceptional of matches. Will the now Duke of Grimmauld and Lord Black procure suitable matches? Will our two stars find counterparts as bright as they are? Or will they burn out, cutting their London stay short? This author is unsure as of yet, but is surely determined to find out.

Yours Truly, Lady Whistledown

** Grosvenor Square, 1813

The Black Brothers return to the London social season after quite some time away. Will our two shinning stars secure love matches while avoiding scandal? Or will they fall to the seduction of gossip mongers, uncouth desires, and unreasonable expectations?

Aka: Ye Ol' Gossip Girl with dead gay wizards 🗝 the manuscript by ghstboys @ghst-boys

Ship(s): Pansy Parkinson/Gilderoy Lockhart, Pansy Parkinson/Neville Longbottom

Rating: M

Summary:

When Draco leaves Pansy right before their wedding, she's heartbroken. Back in her hometown, she meets Gilderoy Lockhart, a handsome professor. But is it possible that he's not everything he seems?

📜 Home to You by @toofadedtofight

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Rating: M

Summary:

Sirius commits a crime and Remus has to deal with the consequences.

“If I wrote to you, would you read my letters?” Sirius asked weakly, clearly unsure of where they stood on now. 

“Always, Sirius.”

🖌 Old habits by as_ter @astridblavk Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks

Rating: T

Summary:

A short-story inspired by Taylor Swift's song "The Black Dog"!!

Worried, Sirius immediately ran to him and crouched down in front of him. “What happened?” he asked, but the sandy-haired man seemed not to hear him. 

Or even if he did, he was very effectively ignoring him. 

“Remus!”

**************

Be sure to check our page for Day 16’s reveals! Until then, Tortured Poets <3

🩶 Your mods,@wolfpadx @multiimoments @heartsoncover @lemonlans @mercurial-witch @steveahoi damagecontrol & shewritesmaybe

[new-tella-us]

Seduce Me Situations!

Cause I'm bored.

Yall for the drama? For the angst? I am! On today's SMS we ask how would the boys react Mika attempting to sacrifice herself to the Demon Lord to save them?

Lets set the scene. The war is being lost, you're probably on the bad route or -if the DL is dead on that boy's route- a different bad route where the DL is too strong. But for whatever reason the DL is willing to make a deal with the S/O; maybe it's to make the son of choice suffer, maybe the S/O got something the DL wants, if we're going with my Mika lore, it's probably her angelic origins and him wanting a piece of that power. Regardless, this deal might spare the boy of choice and give the rebellion more time but it puts the S/O in immediate danger from the one guy that all five of these men have beef with.

The canon answer (as in Michaela has been asked this question and gave an answer) is that the boys are fighting tooth and nail to get the S/O back. There is no way in HELL they're leaving her in the hands of their maniac father. But let's expand on this. If the S/O accepts the deal, gets captured and the boys are basically back at square one with one less S/O, what are they going to do?

Have you ever wanted to see James go from calculated to fucking FERAL? Cause that's what will happen. Like no plan, just rage. Hot, unrestrained rage and fear. He knows he has days at MOST to save his S/O before something horrible happens to them and that's not enough time to plan. He's damn near ready to storm that castle again and rip his father's head off. For once, the other brothers have to talk sense into James.

By contrast, Erik would be all plan. And when I say all plan, I mean all levity in his personality is gone and he is crazy efficient. He's got every move and alternative action planned in his head, unlocking his inner Kalipo with being three steps ahead of everyone. No cocky smile, no quick jabs, just a man with a goal that he will achieve and he will mercilessly cut down anyone that dares stand in his way. He'll get his S/O back alive and well.

Oh the rage Sam would feel if his S/O was in the grasps of his father. But also the terror, panic and a bit of shame. Sam is a very protective man in my eyes, being unable to protect his loved ones would send him spiraling. It is going to be a bloodbath as he storms back to the castle to get the S/O back, no one and nothing can restrain the dragon released from his soul.

Matthew panics of course. Especially if this was adjacent to his bad end so the deal was partially to free him from his father's mind control. Imagine snapping out of being puppetted only to realize that the only reason you could is because your partner sacrificed themself. Nah that would make him run back desperate to fix his mistake and save his lover. I can actually see him accidentally hurting something in himself that can't be fixed just from him using too much of his powers for far too long. That is how desperate he is.

Damien, simply put, is not losing for long. He'd probably rather die. He isn't falling back, nor can he be dragged out of from the mansion. His father has taken everything from him, he's not allowing another loved one to suffer under the Demon Lord's hand like his mother did. So no matter how many times the S/O says to save himself or how many times Damien gets attacked or pushed back, he gets right back up. He's getting up until he gets his lover back and kills the Demon Lord, or until he physically can't get up anymore.

[kemetic-dreams]

Go-go is a subgenre of funk music with an emphasis on specific rhythmic patterns, and live audience call and response.

Go-go was originated by African-American musicians in Washington, D.C., during the mid-60s to late-70s. Go-go has limited popularity in other areas, but maintains a devoted audience in the Washington metropolitan area as a uniquely regional music style and was named the official music of Washington, D.C., in February 2020.

Performers associated with the development of the style include Rare Essence, EU, Trouble Funk, and singer-guitarist Chuck Brown. Modern artists like Charles "Shorty Corleone" Garris continue the go-go tradition in D.C.

Origins

Although Chuck Brown is known as "the Godfather of Go-Go", go-go is a musical movement that cannot be traced back to one single person, as there were so many bands that flourished during the beginning of this era that they collectively created the sound that is recognized as go-go of today. Artists such as Marvin Gaye, Van McCoy, Billy Stewart, Peaches & Herb, Black Heat,Experience Unlimited (E.U.), Vernon Burch, Sir Joe Quarterman & the Free Soul, the Moments, Ray, Goodman & Brown, True Reflection, the Unifics, Terry Huff & Special Delivery, Act 1, the Dynamic Superiors, Skip Mahoney & the Casuals, the Choice Four, and the Fuzz that played soul music during pre-go-go era.

The term "gogo" (as it applies to a music venue) originated in France in the early 1960s, at the Whiskyagogo nightclub, named after the French title for the British comedy "Whisky Galore!".The club also featured go-go dancers. In January 1964, capitalizing on the emerging popularity of "go-go dancers", the name was licensed to a Los Angeles club, the Whisky a Go Go, and from there the term "go-go" spread nationwideThe Cafe Au Go Go in NYC was also in business during that time, gaining notoriety when Lenny Bruce was arrested there in April 1964. By 1965, "go-go" was a recognized word for a music club, as evidenced by the TV show Hollywood A Go-Go (march 1965-1966), or the song title of that year's hit Going to a Go-Go by Smokey Robinson & the Miracles (released November 1965). At a go-go club, dancers could expect to hear the latest top 40 hits, performed by local bands and DJ's. (The French Whiskyagogo had been one of the first venues in the world to replace live music with records selected by a disc jockey.)

In Washington D.C., minor group Wornell Jones and the Young Senators were formed in 1965, beginning a fierce competition with Chuck Brown and Black Heat on the local club circuit. The Young Senators later became known for their song "Jungle" released in 1970 by Innovation Records. Guitarist and bandleader Chuck Brown is widely regarded as "the Godfather of Go-Go".

Chuck Brown was a fixture on Washington and Maryland music scene with his band Los Lotinos as far back as 1966. By the mid-1970s, he had changed the group's name to The Soul Searchers, and developed a laid-back, rhythm-heavy style of funk performed with one song blending into the next (in order to keep people on the dance floor). The beat was based on Grover Washington Jr.'s song "Mr. Magic," though Brown has said in interviews that both he and Washington had adapted the beat from a gospel music beat found in African churches.

Washington, D.C., funk's early national chart action came when Black Heat (the first D.C. go-go band to be signed by a major record label) released their Billboard top 100 hit "No Time To Burn" from their second album on Atlantic Records in 1974. They then toured with such national acts as Earth Wind & Fire, Parliament Funkadelic, Ohio Players, The Commodores, and others. In 1976, James Funk, a young DJ who spun at clubs in between Soul Searchers sets, was inspired (and encouraged by Brown himself) to start a band—called Rare Essence (originally the Young Dynamos)—that played the same kind of music.

[twomanyfandomshelp]

I’m rewatching Heartstopper because I literally cannot wait until October 3rd and I need more of this show pumped directly into my veins. It comes out two days after my seventeenth birthday, which is kinda exciting. But I digress.

I literally watched the whole first season today, which is quite impressive considering I actually did a lot of other things and didn’t start watching it until about two in the afternoon. And I finished it at like 10 pm, so it’s not like I stayed up super late to finish it either.

Rewatching this show I was giggling and kicking my feet and also yelling at the screen because sometimes the characters make kinda dumb choices and even though I already know how everything ends I still get way too invested. I just love this show so much, it’s such a comfort show for me.

My friend got me into the graphic novels right after season one released on Netflix, and after reading the whole series in two days (at the time there were four books, and soon after I found the WEBTOON and sped through that as well), I binged the entire show that day.

Heartstopper is such a pure show, and it just shows that representation is so important. I’ve heard so many stories of people realizing their sexuality (ME!) or finding the courage to come out to their parents or their friends or at school, and I think there’s just something so magical about this show.

Minor spoiler here, but Issac’s arc in season two was one of the things that kinda helped me realize that I was aroace because when I was watching the show and watching how he interacted with James and romance it made me think “huh, that’s kinda how I feel” and then I did some research (mostly comprised of scrolling the aromantic and asexual tags on tumblr, but a bit of googling as well) and realized that I’m aroace. So this show, that I already absolutely adored, suddenly became the catalyst for realizing my sexuality, and it just has such a special place in my heart. Whenever I’m sad I always rewatch the show or reread parts of the WEBTOON because it never fails to make me smile. To give me hope that there are others out there who are like me, even though all of my friends are straight and cis. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, I love my friends, and they were all very supportive when I came out to them, but they just don’t understand sometimes. They don’t really understand what it’s like to be a part of the LGBTQIA+ community. To be different. It’s not like I’m out publicly, only a few of my close friends know, but it’s still hard sometimes not having anyone to talk to about all this (besides all my wonderful aspec moots of course). My irl friends just don’t understand that sometimes I feel broken, or like there’s something wrong with me. Because, even though I’m very comfortable with my sexuality, I’m in high school, and romance and sex are such a big thing, and it can sometimes be a little overwhelming or isolating when you don’t feel those forms of attraction. Especially when two of your best friends have boyfriends. And I’m very happy for them, but sometimes it stings a little knowing that I can never have that. Obviously queer platonic relationships exist, and that’s definitely something that I want for myself in the future, but it’s just different.

My mom watched the first season with me after I wouldn’t shut up about it, and then again when season two came out we watched it together (it was like my third watch through both times lol). Once season three comes out, and we see more of Issac’s arc of self discovery and figuring out his sexuality, I might end up using it as a bit of a starting point to come out to her, but I don’t know. I know that she and my dad are very supportive of the LGBTQIA+ community, but it’s just so different and scary. Any advice?

P. S. I did not mean to write this much, if you read this whole post, thank you. Thanks for taking the time out of your day to read about my ramblings.