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adventuringblind · 1 month

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AUS24 (3k words)

Oscar Piastri x Liam Lawson x Reader x Logan Sargeant

Genre: Angst, fluff, spice, A/B/O AU

Summary: James Vowels takes things a step further when covering his ass in the media. Logan and his mate pay the price but Oscar and Liam are there to help.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, heat/rut cycles, James Vowels is the bad guy in this one, Alex being a king, Thigh riding, other alluded to sexual things but not specific so IDK what else to put

Notes: This one was a lot and I hope I filled the request okay! I struggled... Therefore y'all should feed my praise kink in order to motivate me. Jk...... unless?

Side Note: My ABO dynamics and how I write it is different so be forewarned ig. Also, NSFW under the cut. MINORS AVERT YOUR EYES!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Oscar didn’t think much of it when he jumped out of the car and didn't see Logan. He figured he’d rushed off to make sure Alex was okay after that nasty crash and see if the team was going to be able to fix the beta’s car.

Practice had gone pretty decent. He should probably meet up with Lando to talk about how he’d felt in the car. All things considered, he’s mildly optimistic.

The itch in his neck leaves him wondering which of his three mates could possibly be annoyed. Oscar usually assumes Liam, given the nature of the omega. Oscar had to learn to pick his battles early on. He understands that in entirely alpha or omega families, dynamics have to be flexible. Liam is more alpha coded then he is omega. Unfortunately for the mess of things that is the paddock, people give him shit for it and Oscar has had to haul the kiwi away before he killed somebody.

Oscar, because he’d prefer not to spend his home race weekend bailing Liam out of jail, speeds off towards the RB garage. He doesn’t have to go far since Liam is also sprinting in his direction. “Oscar! Are you alright? I thought maybe something happened when you got out of the car since I feel all prickly.” The blonde smells both annoyed and concerned.

Oscar shakes his head. “I thought you might be trying to take the head off Helmut again…” He shakes his head and continues his walk down to the Williams garage with Liam on his heels. “Have you seen the other two at all?”

“Her and Logan walked down to the William's garage together. That was about twenty minutes ago.”

On their trek to the end of the paddock, They end up running into George. The second British Omega on the grid. He’s pacing outside of the garage and Oscar has to bite back a gag at how distressed he smells. “George?”

“Oscar! They won’t let me in.” He’s raking fingers through his and getting increasingly more distressed the longer they are stuck outside. “He sent me a text saying something happened, but didn’t elaborate. I can feel his anger.”

Oscar, because he has no idea what to do in this scenario, sends Liam with George to find Lewis, or Carlos, or Max, or Lando, or anyone else who might know what to do right now because he has no idea. He just needs to see the other half of his mates or he’s going to lose it.

He tries to flag down anyone in the vicinity, only to be ignored. He’s about ready to come unhinged until he gets the attention of James. The alpha team principal keeps his distance - the invisible boundary line the only thing keeping Oscar from shaking the information out of him. Only, James doesn’t just smell like James. No - he smells like Oscar’s other two omegas. Both of which must be in heat.

He tries to breathe; reign himself in so he doesn’t lose it and end his entire career (though he will if it comes down to it). “Where are they?” If there is a growl laced within the question, he can’t be bothered to care.”

James looks like he might jump into an explanation of some kind, but gets foiled by Alex. The beta looks pissed. The kind of anger that shows in every movement.

“JAMES!” While Oscar flinches at the olders tone, James remains calm. It's aggravating in a way. “Tell Oscar what you did or I will.”

James sighs and motions for the Australian to follow him. Alex can't growl, but the way he's seething tells Oscar that he would if he could. It's ironic to think that between the three of them, Alex is the most angry compared to the two alphas trudging through the garage.

James gestures for him to go inside. The scent leaking through the cracks in the door is terribly seductive and Oscar has to dig his nails into the palm of his hands to ground himself. “Neither of them were supposed to be in heat this early. All four of us are synced and just went through this a month ago.” he stares down the older alpha for an explanation.

He takes an inventory of his own body. His own reaction to his mates in heat is more… intense. Like he can't keep himself off them. Currently he feels more protective than anything.

“since James won't tell you, I will-”

“It's team business!”

“Not when the safety of others is concerned!”

James makes a lunge for Logan but Oscar matches his speed and steps in front of him. He wants to retch at how awful James smells at the moment.

Four pairs of footsteps from the direction they had come from. Liam and George have managed to find them and dragged Carlos and Lando as well. It's terribly comforting to have more people around.

“what's going on?” Lando whines at the door the closer he gets. “Is Logan in heat? But didn't he just have one?”

Alex is much taller than Oscar, but the beta appreciates the gesture given the nature of how betas usually are towards anyone else. “Oscar, why don't you, me, George and James speak about this in his office. Carlos can come too, if you'd like.”

“yeah - yeah okay. I need to know what happened.” He looks around for Liam and pulls him away from James. “Sorry - I don't know what's happening. I didn't mean too-”

Liam attaches himself to the alpha and noses at his neck. “I'll take care of them while you're gone. Lando is going to stay also.”

Oscar nods, kisses his head, and drags himself away. He doesn't want to go anywhere but inside that room. Be it biology or his own mind, clearly something is wrong and he would desperately like to be there for the people he loves. Still, Liam is here and that makes things better. They aren't alone.

They settle into chairs in James’ office. Carlos opts to stay by the door watching everything going on outside. “Why are they taking apart Logan's car?”

Oscar blinks at him. They're what?”

“I crashed the car and broke the chassis. James decided to punish Logan for it. But that's not even the worst part!” Alex looks expectantly to his team principal. A silent urge for him to tell his own story. He gestures for Alex to come continue on and the beta rolls his eyes. “Logan and y/n walked here together. James summoned them into the office together. He told Logan he was going to give me his car. Obviously, I said no and…”

George shuffles his way over to Alex. The physical contact between the two seems to lessen Alex's rising emotions. “It was probably my fault, since I kept saying no.” Alex throws a packet of heat inducers on the table. “I was restrained. James didn't show he had a whole package - just dissolved way over the recommended amount into a cup and commanded Logan to drink it. She got to it first so he didn't have to drink it, and downed the entire thing in seconds.”

“That doesn't explain Logan’s-”

“He had more and just repeated it. Then he used that fucking voice to get them to not tell anybody and lock themselves away.” Alex looks like he's on the brink of tears. “I'm sorry, Oscar.”

Oh - the rage that's building beneath his skin. He moves to throw himself at James, but is foiled by Carlos. “You can't help from jail.”

Which, the Spaniard isn't wrong, so Oscar goes limp in his hold. He takes a few ragged breaths to force himself to calm down. “It's not your fault Alex, at all. Sounds to me like it's a move to cover his own ass.”

“Alex is out best chance-”

“Bullshit! I just murdered my car!”

The door to the office is thrown open and Oscar has no time to react to the fact Max and Daniel, his pack alpha and omega - respectively, got word of this.

“Did we need to alert the entire grid, Alex?”

Max openly, and without hesitation, growls at the team principal in question. Daniel hits him upside the head to get him to stop. “Where’s Logan at?”

“My driver doesn’t need anymore assistance, Daniel-”

All of them (aside from Alex) Descend into a fit of threatening noises. “Really? Because heat inducers can fuck up anyone’s body on a normal dose. Trust me James, I’ve been in this scenario with my own team.”

Briefly, Oscar recalls Lando talking about McLaren trying to induce Daniel’s heat without his knowledge. Andrea is a much better team principal and He can vividly recall Lando near sobbing when they were assured that would never happen.

“In Logan’s room.”

“Great! Here’s what we’re going to do then.”

George has to drag Alex away from the Office and back up to his room. The British Omega throws a middle finger at James before he’s out of sight completely. Max is staying with James until things get sorted out. Which - unfortunately since the laws are so unfair - will mean James gets away scot free. Daniel says he’s going to be subjected to a lecture first. The rest of them head back to Logan’s room with the intent on getting out of the building.

“Should I call Andrea and Zak?” Oscar looks desperately at Daniel for instructions. He’s never had to leave so suddenly and has no clue if there is a protocol for these things or not.

“No worries, I took care of it. We just need to get them out of the paddock.” the older Aussie pats his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m assuming the four of you aren’t prepared at all?”

Oscar shakes his head. “We all synched just last month.”

“Anything you need then? I can send George and Alex on errands. Actually, I’m hoping for that seeing as Alex is desperate to help.”

“I hope he sees that this isn’t his fault.”

“He’ll come around, I hope you know it’s not your fault either.”

And here Oscar thought he was hiding it so well. He tries to shake it off, play his own insecurities down. “I’m-”

“Relax mate, Max felt guilty for weeks.”

“But it’s my job to protect them-” The voice crack was unnecessary and completely screwed him over in terms of hiding whatever feeling he had buried.

Daniel turns to face him right outside the door. “You can’t change the past, Oscar. You were never going to be able to stop this from happening. What you can do is help them now because they need you.”

Oscar nods with newfound determination, and opens the door.

She certainly wouldn’t say it was her greatest decision, definitely one of the easier ones in the moment. She’d downed the drink without a hesitation.

They’d attempted a nest. Tried to make the room comfortable. The amount of drugs in their systems was not making it easy. Instead opting to throw everything on the floor and try to sleep before they can’t.

They’d stripped down to undergarments within the last few minutes. The heat steadily building and becoming too much. Still, she lays plastered against Logans body; his scent intoxicating.

“You didn’t have to do that for me.” He noses at her neck, teeth nipping at the three scars lining her collar bone.

“Wanted to help, Lo.” She feels like crying. The odd lack of connection bombarded her after James used his stupid voice. “Wanted you to race.”

The door squeaks open sometime later. After a nap and the first round of what will probably be many. She peaks her head out from around Logan who’s gone defensive from the new intrusion. Only - Liam peaks his head inside and Lando follows before shutting the door again. She whimpers and tries to claw her way to Liam, but is pushed back gently by Lando.

“He’s grabbing a few things.” She can see him trying to smile gently at her.

Liam ends up between them, his own shirt off and one of Oscar’s sweatshirts in hand. She makes herself as small as possible to curl up into his side. “Do you two need anything specific right now.”

“Where’s Osc?” Logan beats her to the question.

“Talking with James, I believe.”

The whines are involuntary. That part of her brain still fighting for its life wants to know why he’s not here right now. The overthinking side is claiming it’s because she’s undesirable now. “Does he still want us?”

Liam coos at her, as does Logan and Lando. “You'll never not be undesirable.”

“But what about James?”

“What do you mean?” She can feel Liams muscles tense underneath her. She shrinks in an attempt to hide from the new angry scent permeating the room.

Thankfully, Logan takes over for her. “He used his voice on us. He wanted to give me inducers…”

She, despite the struggle, rolls herself over Liam and into Logan's lap. “Not your fault.”

“I know-” his desperate whine nearly kills her. And Liam - by the looks of it. He's restraining himself if the way his jaw is tensing is any indicator.

“Lando, would you mind possibly grabbing mine and Oscar's stuff so we don't have to leave here again if possible?” It's not fair really, that Liam can be bossy and she finds it attractive. Oscar is also bossy, but he’s the gentle bossy and Logan isn’t bossy at all. Wow - her stupid hormones have her drooling over this and she doesn’t even know what this is.

Liam makes up a list for Lando and the Brit runs off to collect the items. She wonders how long Oscar is going to be and if the ache in between her legs will let up until they can leave.

It’s the only thing on her mind. It’s also now all over her thighs. An unfortunate circumstance where there are no towels on the ground. At this rate she might die if she can’t do something about these feelings and the longer she waits the more desperate she becomes.

“Do you need something, darling?” Her hazy mind decides that now is a great time to register that she’s grinding into Liam's leg. She doesn’t stop though. If anything - she can’t, because he has a hand on her hip urging her to continue. “Only one of me at the moment, is this okay for now?” She makes a weak sound and makes a mess of herself and Liam’s poor thigh. Not like Logan is doing any better. They both smell good like this.

She has no idea how much time passes, the endless amount of work she’s having to do finally wears her out enough to relax for the time being.

“I guess I should’ve stripped all the way, huh?” She’s too tired to be embarrassed about Liam’s teasing comments. She barely even notices Liam attempting to clean her up. Her mind is too far gone. Enough that her and Logan are both ready to go again after a few measly minutes.

They don't get very far, instead scrambling under whatever is available as the door swings open. Liam is hissing at the intruder, only to see Oscar and Lando poke their heads inside.

“Hey Daniel, I think maybe we’ll stay here for the time being and then when the traffic of the paddock dies down we can try and leave.”

Daniel also slips into their space. She makes a lunge for either of the two Australians. Oscar is quick to react to her movements and get her to stay put underneath the little amount of covering she has.

Lando drops the bags of stuff he was holding and tries to smile at them before he leaves. Unfortunately, his sad scent gives away his true feelings. She wonders if he knows the full story now since Oscar definitely does.

It’s just her, her mates, and Daniel now. The pack Omega is hovering by the door and is clearly ready to leave them to their own devices. “Keep in mind that reactions to heat inducers are unpredictable but fast. You’ll only be in “heat” for about a day. Then you’ll just be sick, but we’ll take it as it comes.”

Daniel reminds Oscar to text him if they need anything and then leaves them alone. Which - she likes Daniel, but being able to jump the bones of her mates sounds all too appealing.

“James?” Logan looks pleadingly at Oscars for some kind of reassurance.

“Is going to get an earful from Max and Daniel. Aside from that, he will probably get a slap on the wrist. Alex is ready to kill him though, if that’s what you wanted.”

The three of them find humor despite the nature of the situation. It’s why she loves them so much. The way she can feel safe and taken care of, but still be herself and laugh and give into her own desires.

Oscar loses his own clothes. The fireproofs he was wearing around his waist come off in record time.

“You're still going to race, right Osc?”

“We’ll see-” Oscar nearly jumps when the three of them whine and pout in unison. “I take it that you want me to race?”

“We’ll make do without you.”

“Hey!-”

“Liam is good for something after all!” Logan wheezes in laughter. Only for Liam to grumble and decide enough is enough. He takes Logan by the hips and slams right into him.

She looks between the two of them and Oscar. She leans up to his ear, fully intent on whispering to him but gets a little distracted by his scent while shifting around.

“Need something?”

Finally, she surrenders herself to the haze knowing she has all her mates with her. “Just you three.”

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80s4life · 11 months

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Henry Hill, Tommy DeVito & Jimmy Conway with a Southern S/O Headcanons

Word Count: 986

Status: Requested!

Ask: Hi!! Idk if you still write for Goodfellas, but can I have some Hc’s for Jimmy, Tommy, and Henry with an s/o who’s southern and is kinda embarrassed about it. Like whenever they’re with friends they won’t talk much because of their accent (I hope this makes sense😭😭)

@: an adorable Nonny

A/N: Nonny! How did you know I live in South Carolina?!

Fandom: Goodfellas 1990

Relationship(s): Henry Hill x Reader, Tommy DeVito x Reader, James “Jimmy” Conway x Reader

Summary: Headcanons that star a shy Southern Reader and how Henry Hill, Tommy DeVito, and Jimmy Conway react to them.

Warnings: fluffy, some violence (it’s Goodfellas), strong language (again, it’s Goodfellas)

{Gifs are not mine, credits go to @a-scribes-words, @versatilealienlady and @fangirl-imagines}

{My babies}

Henry Hill:

Henry idolizes your voice.

This was one of the first things that had caught Henry’s attention when he met you

He had seen you from across the bar of the most richest mobsters, your friend’s arm slung around your shoulders and stringing you along, trying to catch them a gangster

He heard your voice above the normal Brooklyn chatter, very smooth and reminded him of whiskey, horses, and warm sunshine

He smirked at you, watching as you mostly kept your gaze to the floor and only spoke when directly spoken to. He could tell there was something behind the silence and he wanted to know more.

So, he did as any guy his age would do with an inflated ego, and he called both you and your friend to the table

Once you guys were together, he always kept you tucked at his side, arm slung around you to calm and ease your nerves

He always chided anyone who made a comment on your accent and always poked and prodded you to make your opinion known at the table

Many times, more than you could count, he would smirk brightly as he watched you and Tommy go back and forth with your banter, your caution to the wind as you partied in the moment just as he had wanted you to

He’s very comforting and aware of your embarrassment, but convinces you that there is nothing to be embarrassed about

Your voice is music to his ease and a calming difference compared to the loud, noisy, and ignorant New Yorkers

He loves your mannerisms and the way you take extra care

You can read a room and lighten one if need be, but your always a calming force that can part the waves of the men around you, even if you either don’t take notice or realize

He thinks your voice is power (especially when he brings you into the business).

You’re his Apple or Apple of His Eye or call you variations of apples

Tommy DeVito:

Tommy adores your voice.

His mother loves you - let’s start there

Tommy is hectic and crazy, but your voice is that calming reminder to take things slower and take a step back, not everything has to be fought for

He met you at a cafe, talking to one of your colleagues over breakfast. He was coming in after a hangover and dead night, having not struck a match with any women or bringing them home as he’d hoped.

When you two got to talking, he was not-so-smooth and blunt about his immediate fondness for you and your voice in particular

He didn’t waste time after he met you, always calling, always inviting you places, and wanting to buy you the world

Your voice was one of the greater things he enjoyed and adored about you

He loved the way you would yell at people as he got you to be more open, a stark contrast from New Yorkers

He loved the way you differentiated words. With New Yorkers, their accent is more pronounced and accentuate every syllable, with your Southern accent tended to leave some letters or vowels out

Your relationship is not easy, which is why you always tend to go to his mother for some support

When you fight, and you will, most arguments tend to end in laughter as he would get confused as to what you said or how you said it, a deep look of confusion passing over his face with loud silence before breaking into hysterical laughter

Your voice is a calming wind that settles a long, hot summer night, and he never forgets to apologise and make everything right

You are his one and only, and he makes sure to never forget that

You’re his Junebug, and he loves you more than anyone or anything

James “Jimmy” Conway:

Jimmy is entranced by your voice.

Jimmy is old-fashioned, and with his usual chivalry, it fit right in with your customs

He met you at the library. He was getting the novel, “Iron War,” to settle his nerves and to take some notes on how to overcome the problems arising in the gang, you were looking at “Pride and Prejudice” to read for fun

He not-so-subtly inched closer to you in chairs before you were right across from each other at a table, and hit it off from there

One thing you both enjoyed was the comfortable silence you guys could have while not having any ill-intentions, anger, or hatred for each other. You could sit across the house facing each other, doing your own things and you would both be content

He takes you dancing a lot, just to listen to jazz and combine as one, and he loved to hear your voice sing the soft melodies

You were intoxicating

You guys molded perfectly together from the start and it only maid sense that he’d find himself a southerner

Your voice is like silk to him, and he just couldn’t stop until he had you

he adores your voice and the way you go about things (thanks to the southern lifestyle)

You’re both respectful and blunt, except yours is more like an indirect insult and his is just salt-on-a-wound-blunt

He tells you time and time again to not be afraid and embarrassed with your voice because it is just as powerful and unique as the next person

He makes you feel comfortable and encourages you to speak your mind, bring you out of your shell

Your voice is a turn-on, especially in arguments

Your a drug to him. Just hearing your voice makes him seek you out from across the room and have him running just to be up close and hear you

Whether your voice is more high-pitched or deep, it’s gorgeous. Just like you, his Sunflower

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

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𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞. 𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝’𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞

remus lupin x animagus!reader

𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 : 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚢, 𝚒 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠

summary: you've kissed, you've confessed your love... still, nobody is quite sure what your relationship is with remus. regardless, the slytherins seem to have already made up their minds.

notes: slut shaming, swearing, i'm a bit rusty pls forgive and hey one more chapter left! special thanks to my lovely mutuals @emmaev @sw34terw34ther and to @mooncleaver for the sweet comments

w/c: 6.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

now this is an open-shut case i guess i should've known from the look on your face every bait and switch was a work of art

“c’mon, i think it makes me look badass,” sirius grinned, holding up his robes in the middle of the dining hall to admire the long, faded scar that crawled on the left side of his body from his thigh to his knee.

“face it, padfoot. you’ll never look badass, not when you have a five step haircare routine,” james spoke through a mouthful of waffle.

“you’re just jealous.” sirius pointed his fork at james. “you mess up your hair on purpose so that people think your bird’s nest is cool and intentional and not because you’ve never used conditioner in your life.”

james turned his head to the side and met your eye. “back me up here, thumper. my hair looks good, right?”

you held your free hand up to your mouth as you finished chewing. “do you want the nice answer or the real answer?” you teased. remus, sitting on your other side, plucked the toast from your grasp while you were distracted. he took a bite, simply raising his eyebrows at the glare you tossed him.

“you wound me!” james shook his head, curls flying. “i s’pose it’s my bad. you’re mean to everyone except moony.” james looked at you meaningfully and the amusement slipped from your face. remus froze mid-chew.

“you’re right, actually,” peter said, quirking his head as he took in the slow blush creeping across remus’ cheeks. “the two of them have been awfully sweet on each other lately.”

from under the table, you stepped on remus’ foot indicatively. there was a mutual understanding.

ever since that morning at the hospital wing, where remus had finally admitted to you (and himself) about how he felt, there’d been an almost imperceptible shift in the marauders’ dynamic. neither of you told the other marauders what had occurred. you two hadn’t officially talked about it either. of course, there’d always been an obvious electricity between you and remus—that was evident to more than just the marauders—but this new development was subtle enough to fly over your friends’ heads. even peter, the most perceptive of all five of you, hadn’t been able to put a finger on it.

sirius pressed his palms to the table and pushed himself off his seat, leaning over his breakfast platee. he made a show of getting in remus’ face to examine his expression. “is there a reason you’re blushing, moony, my boy?”

“i’m not blushing,” remus said, blushing.

“sure,” james said, stretching out his vowels sarcastically. “and you haven’t been playing footsie with thumper either, right?”

“yep. i mean, nope. wait-” you stammered, “-i mean, no, we have definitely not been ‘playing footsie’ or whatever. why are you guys so obsessed with what we’re doing anyway?” you stared at james pointedly. “i think you should mind your own business. maybe then you would’ve noticed the syrup on your shirt.”

james looked down. there was a growing spot of sticky maple syrup on the collar of his white button down, which he’d layered under a sweater. “damn it,” james muttered, rubbing at the stain and making it worse.

“just take off your shirt, james,” you chided, settling into your seat as you watched him struggle to neaten up.

“woah there, thumper. at least take me on a date first before you try and take my clothes off.”

you pursed your lips in an unsuccessful attempt to keep a straight face. james stuck his hands under his sweater and began fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. you felt a pair of arms drape over your shoulders and clasp together at your front. remus’ sighed in content, his breath tickling your ear.

your heart jumped and began to sputter to life with a little more enthusiasm than seemed dignified. you hoped remus couldn’t feel it.

“what are you doing?” you whispered, keeping your eyes fixed in front of you. you were scared that if you turned your head, remus’ face would be too close and you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself back from kissing him right then and there.

“can’t i hug you?” remus said, feigning confusion. “what, are friends not allowed to hug each other?”

“what are you doing?” sirius butted in loudly. “you’re being real touchy-feely with thumper…” sirius looked at peter knowingly.

peter huffed, all disgruntled. sirius was, to put it gently, not the most graceful matchmaker.

“what, are friends not allowed to hug each other?” you repeated remus’ earlier words, and the boy behind you tightened his arms around you approvingly.

“fine, then why don’t you let me hug you like that?” james had his stained shirt tucked under his arm as he stood above you and remus, unconvinced.

“i mean, your arms are kind of busy at the moment,” you pointed out, referencing james’ shirt.. “don’t play coy,” james tutted. you were saved from answering by a shift in conversation. “anyway, i have to bring my shirt back to the common room. anyone wanna come?”

you and remus made no effort to move or offer your company.

“fine, i’ll come,” sirius said, standing from his seat like spending time with james was draining his life force. “i can’t believe you’re tearing me away from my best girl…” sirius grumbled. from the corner of his eye, he checked for any of remus’ tells. nothing. if anything, remus looked a bit smug.

“you’ll be fine for ten minutes,” james rolled his eyes, hitting the back of sirius’ head. james lowered his voice so only sirius could hear. “moony, on the other hand, looks like he’d shrivel up and die without her.”

“is it just me,” sirius murmured, “or are they more disgusting than usual?”

“nope, not just you,” james agreed. “at first i thought i’d caught a bug, but then i realized it was just a physical nauseated reaction to the two of their mutual pining bullshit.”

“godric, i’m just waiting for one of them to grow a pair and confess; put me out of my damn misery.”

for two of the brightest students in your year, it was laughable how inept your communication was. something had shifted between you and remus; that much was obvious. the facts were laid out, plain and simple, like playing cards facing upward. you loved remus. remus loved you. you would do anything for remus. remus would do anything for you.

so why was it so hard to pick up the damn cards?

your lives had quickly become intertwined and there was an unspoken agreement that the two of you belonged to each other, whatever that meant. this is to say, quite literally, as neither of you had clarified what that hospital room night actually meant for your relationship. your friends continued as they had before, dropping sly comments and encouraging either one of you in private, but if anything, with more vigor. you were hesitant to tell the girls about what happened at the hospital wing. nothing had really transpired, but it felt so intimate, like the sheen of a bubble that could be popped by the slightest shift in surface tension. remus made you feel comfortable and safe, but he kept you on edge too. there was nothing you feared more than losing him, and the unpredictability of his condition, rising tensions in the wizarding world, and volatility of a budding situationship did the opposite of give you the confidence to broach the conversation of “what are we?”

it should’ve been easy. it should’ve been obvious.

remus had become ambidextrous, writing with his left hand so he could hold yours with his right. you carried a little comb with you and would work out his bedhead at breakfast every morning. if remus got to breakfast earlier, he’d make your coffee exactly the way you liked it. if you beat him, you’d steep his tea with water at the correct temperature to pull all subtle flavors from the leaves. you may or may not have stayed after divination class to ask professor trelawney for tea brewing tips.

tonight, like countless others, remus was by your side like a shadow, whispering affections into your ear throughout the day and offering his warmth during quiet evenings in the common room. remus could listen to your voice, low and steady and hushed, spinning visual films with your words. it would’ve been so easy for him to fall asleep, grounded by your weight on his lap and the popping of logs and soft flipping of pages, but remus always fought sleep. he treasured these peaceful moments with you too much to lose a single minute to unconsciousness.

remus couldn’t recall a more beautiful sight than you backlit by the dying flames of the common room fireplace. he nuzzled his head further into the crook of your neck and chuckled quietly when he felt you shiver.

“rem?” you closed your book. you wrapped one of your hands around remus’ side and let the other find its way into his hair, where you dug your fingers into his roots with a loose fist.

remus hummed in acknowledgement.

“oh, are you sleepy?”

“no, no, i’m awake,” remus insisted, speaking into your neck. his lips, warm and familiar, brushed against your skin with the tenderness of a lover’s caress.

“if you say so…” you sighed, more than happy to fall asleep with him cuddled up to you. “i believe you. i totally do.”

“thanks…” remus whispered, more so to himself than to you. “i love you.” his confession was breathless, muddled by the thick exhaustion in his voice, but you could understand well enough. there was a distance between you and him, a restraint from remus yet to dissolve, but in these intimate moments his barrier fell and he allowed himself to love you fully. you didn’t need the constant reassurance to know how remus felt. his hand on the small of your back, the massaging of your wrists after they’d cramped from writing an essay, and the seeking of your body in a sea of students during passing periods was enough.

it should’ve been easy, right? it should’ve been obvious. in a very un-gryffindor-like fashion, it seemed neither of you wanted to take the leap into labels… into commitment.

there would be a right time, you promised yourself. and you’d wait for it patiently, because you’d waited for remus for years now, and you’d wait forever if it meant having him in your arms like you had him now.

it seemed you were alone in your patience, because when morning came and lily screeched, overjoyed at the prospect of her friends together, at last.

“oh merlin!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “i bloody knew it! i saw it coming—didn’t i see it coming, dorcas?”

“yes, yes you did,” dorcas rasped, still recovering from her interrupted slumber. “to be fair, we all saw it coming. even james saw it coming.”

“right, but i guessed most accurately, didn’t i? you and mary better cough up,” lily said while wiggling her shoulders triumphantly. her boasting was not lost on you.

“lily, did you bet on us?”

“um- well, yes.”

“dear godric.” you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. “what time is it? actually, it doesn’t matter. all i know is that it’s too early for this.”

“wait-” mary scampered out the dorm room. “you said ‘us.’ so you admit it? there’s an ‘us’ now?”

“yeah, an ‘us’ that fell asleep on the couch together! for the second time,” dorcas pursed her lips judgingly.

“i swear, i am going to rip whoever is being this loud into tiny little pieces-” sirius complained, stretching his arms and stumbling groggily out of the boys’ room to investigate. he immediately sobered at the sight of the three scheming girls and the two curled up figures dominating the common room. “holy shit,” sirius breathed. “prongs! wormy! get out here!” sirius turned and hurried back into his room, socks sliding, to wake up the other marauders.

you knew this from the last time you and remus had been caught sleeping on the couch, but remus was not a morning person. he groaned, turning his head so his face was flat on your chest, hiding from the unforgiving sunlight and your friends’ voyeuristic gawking.

“we’ve already done this,” you snipped, “can we collectively move on and start the day, please?”

“but it’s so fun to make you uncomfortable!” james smirked, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow on the banister. “other than quidditch, it’s my favorite pastime.”

you had half the mind to slip out from underneath remus’ body and hex james’ mouth shut, but how could you, when remus was resting so soundly and holding you so snugly? you could count each freckle on his face if you tried. you could feel his eyelashes tickle your skin. if you focused, you could hear the rhythmatic beating of his heart, slow like molasses and indicative of how much he trusted you; how comfortable he was.

gone was the anxiety of trying to be perfect around him. remus felt like the only person you could trust with your whole being, and knew you would do anything for him, unconditionally and always.

on the rare occasion remus was not the one walking you to class, lily would have her arm linked through yours as she pulled you through the crowd, an expert navigator commanding the respect of the sea.

“it feels like forever since we’ve spent time together, just the two of us,” you said, voice raised to be audible over the bustling students. “that’s probably my fault too; i’ve been- uh, spending a lot of time with rem.”

“rem…” lily mimicked. “yeah, you definitely have. don’t stress about it, though. i’m happy—and i truly, truly mean this—that you and him have finally figured out your feelings for each other. you make the best couple.”

“oh, well we’re not officially dating or anything-”

“are you kidding?” lily scoffed. “i swear, the man could propose to you and you would still think he’d meant it platonically. you’ve kissed, haven’t you? is that not enough?”

“i mean, i don’t want to push it. he’s still figuring things out, i think, and i-”

you never finished your thought, nor did lily finish scolding you, because your conversation was overshadowed by the snide voices of lucius malfoy and his lackeys.

“have you heard?” barty crouch sneered. “lupin’s started fooling around with the mudblood girl, that filthy blood traitor.”

“he’s a half blood to begin with,” lucius said. “hardly pure enough to ‘betray.’”

“it doesn’t matter to me,” evan rosier spat. “he’s still sleeping with the school slut. he’s a mudblood by association, that scum.”

your brows furrowed and you craned your neck to catch the conversation. lily was pale and her eyes flickered between you, the slytherins, and the crowd of students headed toward their next classes. lily tugged at your arm, silently asking you to leave it be.

you bit your lip hard enough to leave indents. it didn’t matter what the slytherins said about you; they were horrible blood supremacists who’d find a way to spread rumors no matter what. you knew remus wouldn’t take them to heart.

“and the evans girl? she’s sloppy seconds, isn’t she?” barty cackled. “y’know, she’s not bad for a mudblood. if she weren’t such a stuck-up bitch, i might go for it.”

“that’s disgusting, crouch,” malfoy jeered. “have you really become so desperate? you’d seek comfort from a mudblood?”

rosier elbowed barty. “she’s a fuckin’ prude anyway. even if she weren’t, why’d she ever go for your ugly face?”

“hey!” crouch protested. “look at yourself, why don’t’cha?”

“boys, calm down,” lucius said coolly. “you’re making fools of yourselves.” there was an evident distinction in the way the three of them spoke. lucius was articulate and his voice, sleek. evan rosier and barty crouch were crass and loose-tongued.

something about hearing lily’s name come out of the three slytherins’ slimy mouths made your blood boil; potions be damned, you were stewing in fury. you could deal with dirt on your name, but lily had been dragged into the center of gossip by association and you wouldn’t stand for slander on your innocent friend.

“i swear to fucking m-” you seethed, cracking your knuckles. you jumped when lily placed a placating hand on your forearm.

“it’s okay. let’s just go,” lily said nervously. lily was never one to shy away from confrontation, especially not when it came to putting blood supremacists in their place, so her cautiousness spoke volumes.

you shook lily off you, perhaps with an undeserved amount of aggression, and let your bag drop to the ground with a heavy thud. you stalked in the slytherins’ direction, not sure what you were going to say but at least sure you were going to walk away with the three of them in quivering, pathetic shambles.

“oi, crouch!” you called as you approached, clutching your wand a little tighter in your hand. “you been talking about me?”

“ah, it’s lupin’s girl!” rosier snickered, lightly elbowing lucius.

“ah, the marauder’s mudblood pet,” lucius said, lip curling in distaste. his eyes bore into yours and you shivered—not in the way remus made you shiver, but a trickling stream of dread down your spine. “what can we do for you?”

“don’t play dumb, malfoy,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “i mean, you could at least pretend to be capable of forming coherent thought. stupid isn’t a good look on you.”

there was a flicker of fire in lucius’ usually cold, expressionless eyes. you knew it was a bad idea—a reckless, thoughtless, potentially dangerous idea—to provoke someone like lucius, who had the family name to ruin your life, probably. still, you couldn’t help but stand a little taller as you watched lucius’ jaw twitch, smug at the prospect of having gotten under the pompous bastard’s skin.

“watch yourself, little girl,” crouch hissed, defensive on his leader’s behalf. “you should know your place by now. and if you don’t, we can show you.” rosier pushed out from behind lucius and crouch, tilting his head to look you up and down crudely.

crouch was taller than you, not by much, but it was still a bit of a power imbalance to be looking up at him. “i could say the same for you,” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “keep my name out of your fucking mouth. keep evans’ name out of your dirty, foul mouth.”

“we’re not the only people talking, sweetheart,” rosier smiled viciously. his tongue ran over his top teeth like he was sizing you up for his next meal. “the whole school’s curious; who’d you fuck first? potter? black?” he spat out sirius’ name bitterly. “those fucking blood traitors… and now you’re going for remus lupin, the half-breed?”

“watch it,” you snarled. “you better fucking watch yourself.”

lucius, who’d been acting like he was above all this, cracked an amused smile. “the real question is, where does pettigrew stand?”

barty crouch laughed like lucius’ comment was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. crouch’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips. his eyes roamed your body greedily and it took everything in you not to cover yourself and run. “i’d love to know… what’s lupin like in bed? lupin’s a bit of an animal, isn’t he? tell me, is he rough with you?”

crouch’s mouth was still moving. he was going on about remus’ scars, his clothes; worst of all, using too many words that made it seem like crouch knew more than he should. you weren’t sure. you couldn’t hear it. blood was rushing to your face and your cheeks burned; if you pressed your hands to your face you thought you might hear a sizzle. your heart was halfway up your throat, threatening to beat a hole straight through your chest. the world had gone muddy. your vision was clouded by your fury, and all you could hear was a shrill alarm in your head, screaming at you to punch someone, slap someone, knee someone in the groin…

“shut up!” you shrieked, holding your wand out in front of your body defensively. your voice cracked. your eyes were burning, and the three slytherins could tell how much their taunts had affected you. you felt like you’d lost, just by showing emotion.

“shut up!” crouch mimicked in a squeaky, sing-song voice. “shut up, shut up, shut up-”

“why do you care?” you felt like a child throwing a temper tantrum. but your question remained—why you? why lily? why remus?

“because you disgust me,” lucius spoke through bared teeth, venom dripping from each syllable. “you and your little blood traitor troupe are a black mark on this school. you-” lucius pointed at you, “-have whored your way into the purest wizarding families, and-”

you slapped lucius across the face with a resounding crack. it was delightful.

crouch rushed to lucius’ side immediately, fretting over his role model like an overbearing mother. lucius’ face was scarlet, from both the humiliation and the blood you’d raised to the surface of his cheek with the impact of your palm. his pale skin made the handprint all the more obvious.

“bitch!” lucius cupped the side of his face tenderly. “do you know who my family is? you pathetic, stupid girl. my father will hear about this!”

“you’re a bloody asshole, malfoy! and the two of you-” you gestured broadly to crouch and rosier, “-can go fuck yourselves. you leave us alone, or i swear i’ll hex you straight into the hospital wing next time.”

you forced yourself to hold their gazes, clenching your jaw to stop your bottom lip from trembling—because damn it, you were nervous—and swallowed down any creeping regrets. it was necessary, you thought. maybe now they’d finally leave you alone. there’d been too many close calls of late, and if this was what it took to get the slytherins off remus’ back, then so be it. you’d take a million horrible names; that was nothing compared to the destruction if remus’ secret was revealed.

you turned around, closing your eyes and releasing a breath so deep that it felt like you’d just compressed your lungs, before dragging yourself over to where lily stood in the corridor, clutching your bag with white knuckles.

you smiled at her weakly. lily did not return your smile. instead, her mouth dropped open in a panicked exclamation, and before you could ask what was wrong, she was flinging a spell at you.

no, not at you. behind you.

“expelliarmus!” lily shouted, voice strong and clear. she set your bag on the floor and flung hers off her shoulder before rushing to your side. you swung your head in both directions, eyes wide as you caught up with the sudden action. lily held crouch’s wand in her hand, eyes flaming as furiously as her cheeks. strands of lily’s hair stuck to the chapstick on her lips, and even as she awkwardly wiped them from her face, she looked absolutely terrifying.

“dear merlin,” you gaped, watching your friend storm toward the three boys, all hesitancy evaporated. in fact, it seemed like she was steaming clouds of fury out her ears.

“you!” lily seethed. “you pathetic, gargoyle-faced bastards! yeah, i’m talking to you!” she threw crouch’s wand at the ground and you imagined she was currently resisting the urge to stomp it in half. (lily had always displayed more self-restraint than you.)

lily’s outrage drew the attention of students who’d begun trickling out of their last classes of the day. “only cowards attack while someone’s back is turned,” she said, shoving an accusatory finger into crouch’s chest. “and you are the most deranged coward i’ve ever met. you talk big game around your little friends, but you don’t have the balls to say it to my face, do you?

“sloppy seconds, did you say i was? merlin, i didn’t realize you had enough gray matter to become more brainless,” lily scoffed. “i am nobody’s. unlike you, i have a sense of self-worth. i don’t need to cling onto some man-” lily glared at lucius, “-to validate myself. you’re pathetic, is what you are.”

crouch opened his mouth, likely trying to find the right words to respond, but lily was swift in her exit. tossing her long hair over her shoulder, she crossed the courtyard with a stony, unwavering expression. you watched in a mixture of awe and admiration as she swept up both your bags and nodded to you in beckoning. she was casual, like casting magic and digging verbal talons into blood supremacist slytherins was an everyday practice.

“are you okay?” you whispered, taking your bag from lily and letting your shoulder brush against hers to let her know you were by her side. “wait, that’s a stupid question. how are you feeling? should we go back to the dorm? or- or- we could talk to mcgonagall?” you stammered, tripping over your feet as you tried to keep up with lily’s long, determined strides.

“i’m fine,” lily said. her fists were gripping the fabric of her skirt, so lily was obviously not fine. “i’m fine. let’s just go back to the common room,” she repeated, reassuring herself more than she was responding to you.

you rubbed your forehead. the conflict felt neverending, and you were beginning to feel naive for thinking there’d ever be a light at the end of the tunnel. the wizarding world was on the path to war, after all. there was nothing but dark days ahead. it seemed like you were at the edge of the hurricane, not quite swept into the relentless winds but already swaying as the force of the storm challenged your resilience.

as expected, the common room was bustling with frenzied post-class students rushing to their dorms for afternoon naps and gossip about the day's happenings.

“lily?” marlene called, arm swung loosely over the velvet arm of a plush couch. she looked very cool. “y’good, darling?”

“no,” lily said bluntly. “not at all. those bloody slytherins-”

“it’s not bellatrix, is it?” mary asked nervously. regardless of blood status, bellatrix was an intimidating figure to all.

“no, it’s malfoy. unfortunately.” you frowned. “hoenstly, i’d prefer if it were bellatrix… at least she’s not a bloody coward…”

the mood quickly dampened, evident by the way marlene pushed herself up on her elbows to listen more attentively and mary took a seat on the ottoman, pushing her essay aside in the middle of writing a word.

“wait, what about malfoy?” dorcas asked, hushed.

lily seethed. “the foul git was talking shit in the courtyard, blabbing on about r-”

the girls looked surprised. lily wasn’t one to swear.

“bunny!” remus called from the portrait hole, waving his arm excitedly as he stepped over the threshold. “hey, i missed you in potions, is everything alright?”

five heads whipped around to stare at remus and the three boisterous marauders just behind him. lily rolled her eyes.

“i swear to merlin, if i have to deal with any more of these idiot men, i’m going to be in azkaban by tonight,” lily said, glaring at james very specifically. “i can’t stand them.”

“sure, lils.” marlene didn’t push, but her insinuation was clear.

you ignored lily’s complaints. you, for one, would never object to seeing remus.

lucius malfoy had been wearing his hair down recently.

“how’s your hand?” remus asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. the courtyard didn’t feel the same after your previous altercation, but here you were, sitting with your legs swung over remus’ lap as you skimmed your potions textbook.

“a little sore, but probably not as sore as malfoy’s face,” you snorted. “it was so worth it. if i could do it again, i would’ve punched him. maybe i could’ve broken his nose, or something.”

remus hummed. you’d told him what had happened. at first, you’d omitted the worst of the details, but with a bit of coaxing, remus pulled the full story from you. it was a new feeling, being able to share everything with someone and knowing that they wanted to carry everything you had to offer.

“want me to kiss it better?” remus said coyly, taking your hand in his and pressing a long kiss to your wrist. his lips crept in small steps across your skin. he placed one kiss on the fleshy part at the base of your thumb, another on the back of your hand, a dusting of kisses across your knuckles, until he grew bored and tugged you closer with the hand of yours he was already holding until you were close enough for him to kiss your lips instead.

“much better,” you laughed, giddy. “you- you make me feel safe, remus. sometimes i’m scared that there’ll be… well- and sometimes i’m scared something will happen to you. i don’t know what it is, rem, but there’s nobody else for me. i know it for a fact.”

“fuck, i love you so much,” remus breathed, pulling you in by the chin for another breathless kiss. “merlin, i don’t know what i did to deserve you.”

“you’re cute. and you help me carry my books,” you answered thoughtfully. “that’s what you did.”

“i see how it is,” remus grinned. “i’m just your arm candy and bookshelf, huh?”

“i suppose you could also be my boyfriend.”

“boyfriend?” remus furrowed his brows. a volt of panic shot through you—was it too early for labels? but remus only smiled. “boyfriend… yeah, can i be your boyfriend? i would love to be your boyfriend. i would love to be yours.”

“yes,” you nodded enthusiastically. “yes, rem. yes, be mine.”

“yours,” remus agreed, leaning his forehead on yours. “yes, i want to be yours forever, as long as you let me.”

“wait, does this mean i get to be your girlfriend?”

remus choked with a surprised laugh. “i thought that was implied?”

“just checking!” you poked his cheek. “i just don’t wanna get things wrong with you.”

“you could never do anything wrong, silly girl,” remus chuckled, enveloping your poking hand in his own warmer one. “i agree. there’s nobody else for me either. whatever we do, or whatever happens, it’s enough that i get to do it with you.”

with your back pressed up against the rough trunk of the crabapple tree, feet pressed into the dusty earth, hand squeezed in remus’, and his reassurance in your mind, you felt grounded for the first time in…

“it’s been a long time.” snape said curtly. his robes swished around his calves and he gripped the strap of his bag tighter as he came to a stop in front of you and remus’ conjoined bodies.

you raised your eyebrows. “come to avenge your pal, malfoy?”

snape ignored your question. “i hear the astronomy class is studying moon phases this week. yes, that reminds me… how are things for you, lupin?”

you felt remus tighten his grip around your hand and you placed your own on his thigh reassuringly. as much as you’d love watching snape’s face as you slammed it into the bark of the tree which was so close and right there, you’d drawn enough attention to yourself to last months.

“i don’t understand, sniv- severus. are you falling behind in astronomy? i hear the ravenclaws have a fantastic tutor group for struggling students,” remus quipped.

snape swallowed hard. his eyes flickered around the courtyard before returning to remus’. snape had barely acknowledged you.

“what do you ev-” you started, but were cut off.

“you and your blood traitor friends best watch your backs, lupin,” snape hissed, emphasizing remus’ name like it was a poison. “i’d watch the attitude too. perhaps the missus could learn from that as well.”

remus’ eyes narrowed. he stood, sick of looking up at a boy he despised. at his full height, remus towered over snape. he stood much taller than most at hogwarts, anyway.

“are you threatening me, severus?” remus said lowly, fingers twitching at his sides. you weren’t sure if he was holding himself back from punching snape or grabbing his want and hexing him into next monday’s charms class.

“is there a reason you’d feel that way, remus?” snape bit back. “the innocent need not keep secrets.”

“oh fuck off, would you?”

the three of you redirected your gaze to james, swaggering over with his shirt collar crooked and wand tucked behind his ear, covered by his intentionally disheveled hair.

“potter,” snape spat, even more venomous than he had been with remus’ name. “what are you doing here?”

“can’t i enjoy a lovely afternoon, snivellus?” james waved his arm in a broad gesture to the weather. “i could ask you the same. i’d think that with all your free time, you might’ve had time to try taking a shower. i guess i was mistaken.”

“yes, you are mistaken,” snape said. “you never were the smartest, were you?”

james looked unfazed. “are you a procrastinator, snivellus? i know you’d drop anything for slughorn, but personal hygiene is just as important, mate. how can you expect anyone to take you seriously when you’ve got lice and such a sallow, sad face?”

sirius smirked. “we can give you some tips, if you’d like. ‘course, you’d have to step away from our mates here. i wouldn’t want them to get caught in the- aguamenti!”

with a sputter and burst, a stream of continuous water sprang from sirius’ wand. he held it with both hands, waving it side to side like a firefighter putting out a flame.

snape was furious as he stood shivering in his drenched robes. if he hadn’t been such a lecherous little blood supremacist, you might’ve felt bad for him. he looked like a bad luck-stricken black cat, drenched in the rain and trembling on his feet.

“incendio!” snape shouted, aiming his wand directly at sirius’ chest.

sirius, always on the offense, would have surely caught on fire if it weren’t for james’ quick protection spell.

the two boys stared at each other through james’ magical shield, and you and remus took this time to sneak past snape undetected. you rounded the courtyard until you were behind james and sirius. sirius was breathing heavily. james’ jaw was clenched.

there had always been something much deeper and more personal between snape and james and sirius. peter went along with the deep rivalry simply because his friends felt the same way. remus was forced into it through snape’s blackmailing. and you, by asossiation, were now on his blacklist.

you suppose, as a muggleborn, you would’ve been on that list regardless.

“rictusempra,” you muttered under your breath, discreetly pointing your wand at snape’s ankles. you tried not to smirk as the boy fell to the ground, trying his best not to laugh. he looked like a seal, all slippery and wet in his all-black garb, squirming around on the ground collecting dirt and dead leaves.

sirius found this extremely funny, and needed no magical push to burst into raucous laughter. james looked impressed. when he met your eye, he could tell by your poorly concealed amusement that you were the culprit.

“severus snape!”

bellatrix’ voice slashed through the air. “severus, get up! you’re making a fool of yourself.”

with great difficulty, snape pushed himself onto his knees, still clutching his abdomen in pain. bellatrix rolled her eyes unsympathetically and flicked her wrist in snape’s general direction, lifting the spell and allowing him to collapse to the ground in a damp, defeated heap.

“ah, the little blood traitors,” bellatrix taunted. “i presume you are responsible for this?”

you looked at remus with tired eyes. “let’s go. if a teacher catches us, we’re dead. mostly me. i’ve been involved in too many of these… scuffles of late.”

remus nodded.

snape was clambering to his feet in shame. he swung his damp bag over his shoulder, then flipped it open and began frantically checking its contents. he glanced up at james and sirius, but his eyes were searching for remus. when they settled on remus’ face, emotionless and poker, severus’ expression turned murderous.

from within the bag he tugged out a book. it was soaked through and most likely water damaged beyond repair, but snape lifted the book far enough out of the bag to flash the cover and spine at you.

it came back to you like fragments of glass.

“lupine lawlessness: why lycanthropes don’t deserve to live.”

you knew snape hadn’t come over for the sake of saying hello. you figured he, being the creep he was, just enjoyed making people uncomfortable.

he had wanted you to read the spine of the book, just like he’d wanted you to find it in the first place. he’d dropped it in the potions classroom, knowing you’d pick it up. he’d done so the day of slughorn’s party, when he knew he could catch you off guard.

snape, who’d been thrashing on the ground like a fish out of water only moments ago, was now eye level with bellatrix and suddenly looking like much more of a threat than you’d anticipated. his hand was hiddin in his bag and you assumed he must’ve been gripping the book. he narrowed his eyes, acknowledging your presence for the first time, and imperceptibly, jutted his head in bellatrix’s direction.

your blood went cold. in this very same courtyard, a few days ago, barty crouch had tried to attack you while you had your back turned. isn’t that what you’d just done to snape?

maybe you should’ve known better than to underestimate snape. he wasn’t as physically capable as james and sirius, as influential as malfoy, or as frightening as bellatrix, but he was sly. snape was nowhere near bellatrix’s good graces, but he was about to be.

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eloquent-vowel · 3 years

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Hey! I have a request! Bucky x reader where the reader is from the red room. Maybe the avengers just got her out and Buckys helping her through the ptsd and stuff? Maybe she locks herself away to her room because she’s scared to do anything for herself? Also maybe some platonic nat? Sorry if that was too specific. Feel free to add your own ideas and change stuff or just ignore if you don’t like the idea! Thanks!

Hi! Thank you so much for the request, I'm sorry it took me so long, life has been evil to me and I may or may not have forgotten this blog actually had readers. I love me some good hurt/comfort. I hope what I have written works!

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When the Avengers had burst into the facility you had been kept in, with all the bravado of heroes you were shocked. You had heard whispers of these warriors that you were being trained eliminate. You had heard stories of the Black Widow who had betrayed the Red Room and while you didn't want to give yourself hope, a small part of you always longed to do the same. To be done with the endless list of missions and targets, to finally stop piling up the blood on your hands.

They had arrested you originally. You didn't blame them, you were one of the most active members of the programme, You had lost count of how many instructions you had followed, how many targets you had eliminated and you had no doubt that the Avengers had your face on their wall of targets.

That was why, when the Winter Soldier aimed a gun at your head you just knelt to the ground as you watched your seniors begin to fight the other Avengers. You didn't say a word in the carrier back to wherever they were taking you. It was easy to hide behind a bravado of stony silence, to pretend that your entire existence hadn't just been ripped away from you.

That was why, when the blank faces of the Black Widow and the Winter Soldier, stared at you from the other side of the interrogation table, you felt a panicked warmth creep up your neck. They begun to question you about the other facilities and to their surprise, you guessed by the way they looked at each other as you talked, you spoke truthfully and honestly to them. You told them everything you knew.

"If I can stop anymore becoming like me, I will. Everything I know is yours, I won't lie to protect something so hideous as the red room."

Because for as much as the red room tried to convince you otherwise, seeing young girl after young girl die by another girl was not right. Not right in the slightest. The more you saw of the world outside of the Room the more aware you became of this, so by the time it was to end, you promised to do anything to help the Avengers take down the remaining branches of the Black Widow Programme.

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Around 6 months after you had been captured, you were settled into the avengers compound, much to your surprise. You had been there personally to help the avengers gain access to some of the branches and during those mission you had begun a strong friendship with Nat and a... a something with Bucky.

There was something about the gruff man that was so gentle that drew you in. The way his smile lit up when a certain song came on and the little dances he would do while brewing coffee made your heart flutter- despite how much you tried to convince it not too.

It was a nice life, in the compound, you mostly stuck to your room until you were asked to help on a mission, or if Nat asked to spar with you. You still had not gotten rid of the memories, however. These vivid memories haunted you, if you weren't keeping busy your brain would wonder to times before. To victims of the red room, and your victims, the ones you had killed.

Their faces didn't hover as much as their voices, every plea they made would ring in your ears whenever there was a moment of silence. They whispered from the corner of your room at night, nothing would stop them from filling the void of silence. This meant that sleep did not come as easily to you.

It was one of those nights. When every time you closed your eyes there would be nothing but whispers and your brain seemed determined to run through every memory you regretted. There was only one solution to these nights, a good cup of tea (with a splash of whiskey in). So you pottered over to the kitchen, footfalls naturally silent as you boiled the kettle. Tony probably had some fancy gadget that would do the whole process more efficiently, but the sound of boiling water was rather grounding.

Perhaps your focus on the water was why you didn't hear the figure walking up behind you until you felt a slight breath on your neck. Training and years of being on the run kicked into gear and you immediately whipped around to punch her assailant around the jaw, and kicked a foot out to trip them. The figure fell with a very familiar oof, one recognisable from training.

It was Bucky.

Oh god, it was Bucky. Kind, thoughtful, gentle Bucky who had probably come out to check on you. The same Bucky who made you coffee in the morning, that was now lying on the floor clutching his eye as you looked down at him. And then his face, his figure, was all your other victims. A woman in hospital garb, a man in a suit, a wife, a sister, a child. It was too much, you had to run.

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Bucky watched as they ran from the kitchen, he stood up from the floor as the sound of a door slamming echoed through the tower. He rubbed at his jaw, how could he have been so stupid. Sneaking up on someone who was struggling with PTSD and running on little sleep, he didn't think.

"You gonna get that?" Nat's voice was hushed as she offered him a hand up.

He took it, pulling himself up, pausing to think for a moment before walking hesitantly over to the door. He knocked as quietly as possible. He could hear the gasping sobs coming from the other side of the walls.

Nat hovered on his other side, staying within comfort radius in case she was needed.

"Heya Doll." Bucky started, as there was no sign of reply he continued. "You alright?" Still silence. "I'm sorry I snuck up on you like that, it was my fault, should've thought but as Steve would say, thinking ain't always my strong suit."

He caught the sound of movement, hesitant footsteps coming towards the door.

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You managed to control your breathing enough to shuffle over to the door. You placed your hand over the door, where you imagined Bucky to be leaning. Guilt filled your conscious once more and the apology flew out of you before you could stop it.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky. God I am so sorry."

"It's fine, Doll."

"No, no its not!" You were practically yelling at the door now. "I hurt you. What if one day I kill you? You catch me with a knife in my hand and I jump, what then. For crying out loud I can't even make a cup of tea without hurting someone, I can't do anything. I'm sorry, I am so sorry that I'm so useless and I-"

"Hey, hey, hey breathe." Bucky's calm and even tone halted your rant. "Listen to me. Everyone of us has had moments like that, we all have our demons and those demons sometimes cause us to lash out. I've done worse than punch Steve many times, would you call me useless?"

You sniffed as you shook your head, forgetting he couldn't see you.

"Besides," He continued, "We all have our strengths, we all have our weaknesses but you know what's great? We are a team. Where one person can't make a cup of tea, another can make the best brew in the country. You don't have to face these things alone, Doll. We are all here for you, I am here for you, always will be."

You slowly began to open the door as he spoke, and looked up into the most sincere pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. There was a slight bruise coming up below his eye but he was smiling. He was doing that smile that meant his eyes crinkled, twinkling brightly- like stars.

"I'm sorry, Bucky."

"You don't have anything to apologise for, Doll, but you're forgiven."

You crept forward, reaching out for something, someone and the easy smile that filled your face as Bucky's arms wrapped around you in the most comforting hug you had ever had. You felt the faint echo of lips against your head and you gripped onto him tightly.

"You two are adorable."

The two of you separated slowly at Nat's voice. Not completely, there was still the comforting feeling of Bucky's hand against your back.

Nat's face was softer than you had ever seen it and there was nothing but understanding in her eyes as she spoke. "If you ever need someone to talk to come knock on my door. I know I would have loved to have someone there who knew."

Words caught in your throat as you nodded. You were soon wrapped in another comforting hug from Natasha, the scent of her perfume comforting and warm. The way forward would be hard but you knew that with these two by your side, your family, things would be a little easier than they had been.

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minkyungseokie · 2 months

Text

James Vowels

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist

⎆Written

‣Racing For Two

⎆Smau

There's nothing yet...

⎆Series

There's nothing yet...

⎆Moodboards

There's nothing yet...

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bloodyymaryyy · 1 month

Note

Could you do fic for James Vowles with wife reader? She surprised him at the office and she brought him homemade meals. You decide how it goes. Just something fluff and romantic. Thanks!! :))

Surprise!

Jemes Vowels x reader.

Side note : not gonna lie, I don't know anything about James nor does he interest me so forgive me. I am just doing what you guys request me to do! So... Might not be accurate like at all. I think he lives in England so I am gonna base it of of that! Again sorry!

Warnings : none that I can see

As James was leaving for work you woke up. You had a plan that needed to be put in acting.

Stretching your back, arms and legs you got up from the bed today was your day off from work so you didn't woke up earlier making it seem to James that you were sleeping in because you don't get to relax or get days off often so you walked into the bathroom doing what needs to be done and headed downstairs.

The previous day you went shopping for the ingredients to make your husband his favourite meal and his all time favourite desert.

Going into the process of the dessert first so you could put it in the fridge to cool down until is time for you to go the paddock.

When done with the desert in the fridge now you began making the meal. It took an hour to make it but it was worth it.

Packing both in containers, they were placed into your tote bag getting dressed up and fixing your hair you head out of the door with a smile on your face just imagining your husband's reaction not only for seeing you in his garage but you bering gifts or in your case home made food not only that but his favourite too

Arriving in you passed the doors and you heading to the garage stopping by as you saw both logan and Alex talking, you aprotched them hugging them kissing their cheeks, joining them in the conversation until you left for James's office.

Knocking on the door you heard a small come in from the inside with a familiar voice, twisting the knob and going in standing near the door until he lifted up his head to see who was it and not talking.

To his surprise it was his beautiful wife smiling down at him, he got up and hugged her and kissing her.

" y/n what are you doing here! I thought you were home sleeping still! Wow thanks for coming!"

" yeah I wake up just to get here! I brought you something that I know you will enjoy!"

Lifting up your tote bag and walking up to his desk to put it down again but now empting the containers out and opening the lids to gibe him a look inside for him to eat because it was lunch time anyway.

Kissed you again he sat down and ate it while closing his eyes from the pleasure of the flavours and homemade hood you brought him.

That's it thank you!

#x reader #drive to survive x reader #marriswriting #my writing #bloodyymaryyy #james vowels x you #james vowels x reader #james vowels #James Vowels fanfics #f1 x reader #x reader fanfiction

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buckystevelove · 3 years

Text

My Brightest Star

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word count: 2708

Warning: ANGST and fluff

A/N: This is my longest work. Please leave comments. Ask, submissions and requests are open.

A week, that’s how long has passed since Bucky’s world felt apart. He should have known, his whole life has been full of tragedy, one after the other. He had 7 years of happiness and peace, he will have to come to terms with the fact that maybe those years would be the only ones in his long and sad life that he would known what real and complete happiness really is.

He met you 7 years ago in a coffee shop, you accidentally tripped and spilled all your coffee in him. You apologized over and over again, Bucky couldn’t care less about the hot drink splatted all over his body, he was so enthralled over the beautiful woman standing in front of him, for years he thought that he would never get love, but you managed to prove him wrong. He claims that it was love at first sight, he simply knew that you were his soul mate.

After the incident, you bought his coffee as a symbol of forgiveness, though he really didn’t care. You exchanged names and phone numbers. Just a few hours later you received a massage from Bucky, inviting you to go for dinner the next day. Soon, one date turn to seeing each other every time you could. You felt for him, and hard. Eventually you met all of his friends, you became a great friend with Wanda and Nat. They would invite you to all the girl nights they had. You got along with Sam, always joking around and making pranks, same with Tony. You also became best friend with Steve, you had a strong relationship with him besides yours with Bucky. You too were like siblings, he always claimed that you were his little sister, and warned Bucky never harm you, or he would have to face the consequences.

Nobody was surprise nor bother when you moved to the compound with Bucky. Everyone was super exited to have you closer, that made Bucky a bit jealous.

You and Bucky were attached to the hip. One year into your relationship, he knew that he was going to marry you, you were going to be the mother of his children. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You were the one, so he asked you to marry him.

It was so beautiful, he took you on a trip to the museum, your favorite place to spend the time. When you were in the sculptures room the kneeled and said; “YN, since the moment I saw you I knew that you were the one, I knew that I was going to marry you, and all you have done is prove me right. You are the love of my life, my partner, my best friend I can no longer imagine a future in which you are not in it, because YOU are my FUTURE. You have been the light at the end of the tunnel, you have brought me happiness, love I thought I no longer deserved after all the awful things I had done, you helped name realized who the real James Buchanan Barnes is, and who I want him to be. I want to be your husband because I love you so much. You are my entire world YN. So, would you marry me?”

At the end of his speech both of you had tears in your checks, you throw yourself over him and said yes over and over again, you were beaming.

6 months after that, many hours of planning and cake tasting, you and Bucky had the most beautiful fall wedding. It was perfect. Your family and the team was there, everyone was so happy for the two of you.

When the time to say the vowels came you couldn’t be more thrilled, you have been writing them for so long.

“James Buchanan Barnes, you are the love of my life. You have been the one who has taught me what love really is, what it is like to love someone with every single atom in my body. You have taught me what is like to be completely and uoughterly happy, that is how I feel when ever I am with you. James, when we met you told me that you only saw yourself as a monster, as the vilan of many people’s lives, but baby, you are my knight in shining armor, you are absolutely everything to me. You are the brightest star in my universe, the one and only. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to tell you and show you how much I love you every day, I want you to feel how much I love you even after we are death. I want to keep loving you and choosing you a hundred of lives after this. Because Bucky, MY LOVE FOR YOU WILL NEVER END.”

At the end both of you were crying, among many other of your guests.

Your honeymoon was perfect. Tony paid the two of you a 3 weeks trip around Europe. Nine months later, you had your gorgeous daughter, Rebecca. She looked exactly like you, but her eyes, she had the most beautiful blue eyes just like her father. The three of you were the definition of a perfect family, you and Bucky did ocationaly fight like all healthy couples do, but your life was great. Your house was so full of love and happiness.

Bucky was so thankful to you, you had given him all he could ever dreamed for in life and more.

The three of you spent all the time you could together, you went to the park and had movie nights, went of family trips and spent lazy Sunday mornings in bed together. You wanted Becca to feel and understand what a loving home was, since you didn’t had one. You wanted her to feel the love you and Bucky had for her.

“Becca, Bucky, you two know you are the most important people in my life right. I love the two of you so so much. You are the ones that make me happy. You are my greatest treasures.” You said to your husband and 5 year old daughter one afternoon, while cuddling in the couch together.

“I love you too mommy, you too daddy. You are the best parents in the world, thank you.” She said kissing yours and Bucky’s face, making you giggle.

“You dolls are my everything. I love you.” He said before attacking the two of you with tickles, and whispering to your ear. “Thanks doll, for all this.”

The day had started like any other Tuesday would, you woke up after your alarm. Waking up Bucky with kisses and loving touches, after he woke up he heads to shower while you got Becca ready. Once the two of them were dressed, Bucky went to the kitchen to make breakfast wihle you got ready. The three of you ate together, you heard how Becca´s best friend was going to have a party next Saturday and you needed to buy her a present. You decided to go to the mall with her after classes and maybe have a girl’s day and do you nails. That made her smile so bright, which was what you loved the most about your life, that it was full of happiness.

After eating, you said goodbye to Bucky and Rebecca, he was going to take her to school and then go to the Avengers compound to train some new recruits, while you went to your office.

Bucky’s day went normal, as any other day would go, he did some training and hanged out with Sam and Steve. When 4pm came around the received a call from Becca´s school, her teacher told him that she was still there. You never came pick her up, he didn´t know why you were late. You always told him if your meeting was going to be longer so someone would pick your daughter from school.

“Sorry man.” He told Steve at the middle of the meeting. “Apparently YN never went to pick Rebecca from school she is there by herself, I really need to go. I also need to see what happened to YN. She is not picking up her phone.” Bucky said standing up from his chair.

“Sure pal, everything good with her?” Steve said a bit worry, he didn´t want his best friend to be in panic.

“I hope so.” He said walking to the door, but before he could reach it his phone rang again.

Steve just stood there, and watched how the color of his best friends face went completely white, then Bucky’s knees failed and he felt to the floor. Tears running down his cheeks, his face was shaking. He was wordless. Sentences couldn´t form in his mouth. Steve was next to him in second, he took the phone from his hand.

That when he heard him scream, he screamed as if he was dying, painful and horrible screams.

“Excuse me.” Steve said through the phone. “This is Steve Rogers. What happened?” He asked, though he already had an idea of what had happened.

“I am so sorry Sir, but I regret to inform you that Mrs. Barnes had a car accident today. She arrived to the New York Presbyterian Hospital at 2:36pm, she immediately went to surgery. She didn´t make it, she was called at 3:49pm. I am so sorry, but we need her husband to come.”

Steve hanged up the phone, he had tears in his eyes, he was about to cry. He had lost his best friend, but he needed to be strong for the man that was like a brother to him, to his nice.

Bucky was in the floor, sobbing and screaming. He went and called for Nat. She enter and saw the state in which Bucky was, then she saw the tears in Steve´s eyes.

“What happened?” She asked in panic.

“I… he…N-Nat” he mumbled between sobs. “Can you please look for Rebecca at school? Please.”

Nat realized, she immediately shook her head in disbelieve, “no, no, no,”

“Nat, please. Someone needs to be with her.” Steve managed to say. She wiped her tears and left the room.

Steve was in the floor hugging his best friend while he cried his eyes out, he was no longer screaming.

“I am sorry buddy, I am so sorry.” He said to his friend. “I know how you feel, just let it all out. But later you need to be strong for your daughter. She just lost her mother, she will need her dad. She needs you to be there for her, but now. I am here for you.”

“Not her, please not her. She is perfect Steve, I can’t, I love her, we can’t lose her.” He sobbed and screamed. “We were supposed to spend the rest of our lives together, the two of us.”

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When he calmed down, they went to the hospital. A drunk driver had crashed against your car in a traffic light. He died immediately.

Becca slept in Nat´s room. Bucky slept in his old room in the compound, he couldn’t go to your home. Too many memories. He couldn’t face his daughter, he would broke in front of her, he needed to be strong. He cried himself to sleep that day.

He next day was awful, he needed to explain to her 5 year old baby, that her mother would never hug her again. He couldn’t even began to comprehend that.

“Becca, baby. I need to talk to you.” He said the next morning the compounds living room, all the other Avengers were in the hospital helping Bucky prepare every detail for the funeral, Steve was the only one there, next to Bucky and Becca. In case either of them needed him.

“Daddy, why did we slept here?” She asked frowning her eyebrows, just like her dad. “Where is mommy? We were supposed to have a girl´s day yesterday.”

That made Bucky tear a few tears which he rapidly cleaned.

“Babydoll, its because…” Bucky mad a pause and looked through the windows. “Mommy had an accident, and she will never come again.”

Becca made a confused face.

“Why? Can´t you just put her a bad-aid like you do to me when I have accident?” She asked in all her innocence, which made Bucky’s strength fall. He quickly enveloped her in his arms.

“That is the thing baby, she had a big accident, she is gone.” He started to sob again, so did Steve.

Becca began to stroke her father’s hair. “We will see her daddy, someday, but I am really going to miss her.” She started to cry and hug her dad.

“I want my mommy, dad.”

“So do I honey.”

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The funeral was beautiful, full with YN´s family and friends. They all told beautiful stories and tried to remember the amazing person YN was. Bucky couldn’t talk, he had so many things to say, none of them were for this people to hear, they were for his love.

A week had passed since you awful dead, Bucky stayed at the compound, he couldn’t go home, he also needed help with Becca. He could barely managed to take care of himself.

He was in his bed, looking at the celling, numb. He know the needed to stand up and shower, he needed to get up and care of his baby, but she was the carbon copy of you. It was like looking at you, it hurt, it really hurt. Lying there he heard some knocking at his door. Then Steve came..

“Hey pal, the lawyer came today, he left the will and this letter. She wrote it you when you guys had Rebecca.”

“Thanks, just leave it there.” He said gesturing to his night stand.

When Steve left he got up and grabbed the letter, it had his name in your beautiful calligraphy.

Bucky,

My love, I hope that you never have to open this letter, but if you do, I want you to know that you made me the happiest woman alive. In all the galaxies we know that exist, in all the universe that may. I was the happiest, all thanks to you. You teached me what the meaning for being alive really meant, you showed me so many incredible and beautiful things, and you gave me our most amazing gift, our daughter Rebecca, she is the tangible evidence of our love.

If the time in which you have to open this letter comes, know that you did everything you could. Under any circumstances think that this was your fault, it wasn´t.

I love you so much Bucky, you have really no idea, and I know you loved me just as much, that is why I am asking you one last favor.

Please don´t close yourself, don´t let yourself return to the man you were before be met, not that he was any less amazing, but he was lonely. I want you to continue living your life to the fullest. I know I can´t ask you to not miss me or forget me, I don’t want that. I want you to remember my memory and cherish it. I want you to show all then wonders of the world to sweet Becca. Please never let her forget that she was the most important person in my life besides you.

I want the two of you to continue to love, and let yourselves be love. I love you with all my heart, and every single atom in my body.

Don’t forget me my brightest star, YN.

After reading that Bucky cleaned his cheeks.

“I will always love you.” He kissed the letter and placed it in his nightstand. He got up and went to find his daughter.

“I love you baby, and so did you mother. You are our greatest creations.” He no longer had you here, so he was going to spend all his breathing moments showing her how much he loved her, he was the only part left in this world of YN, and she was that greatest gift she could have left him.

He would continue to love you long after you are gone. For ever, til the end of times.

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A/N: I cried so hard writing this. I am so sorry, but I hope you like it. I really appreciate feedback.

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tinawriting · 3 years

Text

My heart beats for you (S.B)

Requested: Yes/No

Pairing: Sirius Black x fem!reader

Navigation

Summary: On Y/n and Sirius' wedding day, he remembers the night he proposed to her and it gives him courage to take the next step.

Warnings: mention of sex, no sexual nudity

A/N: this counts as a second part from this fic if you want to read it first!

Word count: 1.3k

"I can't do this."

Remus rolled his eyes from where he was sitting. "Yes you can."

"No, I can't!" Cried Sirius. "She'll get tired of me and she's going to leave me! She deserves better!" He was tugging on his hair with his eyes wide.

James stood up and walked in Sirius' direction. "Mate," he said grabbing his shoulders. "She loves you. You love her. And this is happening. You're getting married."

Six months ago...

"Darling," said Sirius from their bathroom. "Can you come here for a second?" He heard Y/n coming down the stairs and turned around to look at her. "Should I cut my hair?" He said cocking his head to the side, drops of water falling on his bare shoulders.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile on her face. "You called me here to ask me that?" She said leaning on the doorframe, looking up and down his body, appreciating the sight of her boyfriend with just a towel and soaking wet.

"Yes!" He said with wide eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's important! Should I cut it or not?"

"Why do you ask me?" She said frowning. "Just do whatever you want."

"I just want to know if the love of my life would still think I'm good looking if I cut my hair."

She chucked at that. "Now you're just fishing for compliments, Sirius. As if you could look anything else than handsome."

He winked at her and reached out for her hand to pull her close to him. "Good to know." She smiled up at him fondly and he felt his heart soar in his chest. He took one good look at her, clothes wrinkled, her hair a mess, no makeup and ugly socks on her feet. She was absolutely stunning every second of the day and he just knew that today was the day. "I want to take you out tonight," he said softly with his hands on her hips. "Put on something nice and let's go."

Her eyes that were locked on his travelled down to his lips, and taking the cue, he leaned down to kiss her, their lips meeting softly. He felt her sigh against his lips and he thought that kissing her was the most amazing feeling someone could experience. He wrapped his arms securely around her back and kissed her harder, he parted from her in confusion when he felt her chuckling.

"I'm sorry," Y/n said laughing. "But I really have to pee"

He laughed along with her and kissed her forehead as he walked out of the bathroom.

She closed the door behind her and Sirius ran to their bedroom. Kneeling down, he opened one the drawers of his nightstand and pulled out a small box. Sirius opened it and observed the ring resting inside, took a deep breath and stood up. He heard the shower running and took the opportunity to get dressed. He put on some dark jeans. a black shirt and his leather jacket, he looked at himself in the mirror.

"You can do this," he whispered looking directly into his eyes with the box tight on his hand. "She will say yes. You know she'll say yes. Stop being a fucking coward." Sirius was so focused on giving himself a pep talk that he failed to notice the figure of his girlfriend coming up from behind him. When he felt a pair of arms wrapped around his waist he let out a shriek that he would denied it ever happened if anyone asked and dropped the box forcefully inside of the pocket of his jacket.

"What was that?" She said wheezing. He turned around in her arms and looked at her eyes glassy with tears of laughter.

"Shut up." He said grumpily. She tried to muffle her laugh with her hand but tiny giggles were making their way out of her lips as she was rummaging through her wardrobe.

He looked at her reflection in the mirror, the drops of water falling from her hair into her back, her naked legs. When she dropped the towel to the floor he looked at her thighs and admired the curve of her lower back.

Once she was dressed she walked up to him and looked at him with such adoration it left him breathless. She loved him as much as he loved her and he couldn't be more grateful for having Y/n in his life. I can't wait to marry you.

Coming back from the restaurant after having a wonderful date Sirius opened the door of their flat to step in after her.

"Can we dance?" She asked turning around to face him. "Please?"

He smiled and with a flick of his wand put on some slow music, she happily leaned on his arms hugging him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her waist and started moving with the music.

Sirius looked around their flat and remembered when they moved in together. It was weird at first. She would see him stressed or in a bad mood. He would see her tired and sad. Even then, they chose to be together, they chose each other everyday, and he would keep choosing her until the day he died.

"You have no idea how much I love you," he said into her hair and she smiled against his chest. "Even after all these years, I still can't believe I get to call you mine," he said. "I can't believe I get to hold you, kiss you, make love to you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, grow older together. Because my love, my heart beats for you."

She looked up at him with a smile that made his heart swell. He took a deep breath.

As he was kneeling down he heard her let out a little gasp, reaching the floor he pulled out the box out of his pocket and opened it on front of her

"You make my day by only existing. You make me a better person. And it would mean the world to me if you could give me the chance to make you feel as loved as you make me feel. Y/n, my sunshine, will you marry me?"

She let out a tiny sob and kneeled down in front of him, took the box out of his hand to leave it on the floor and she launched herself at him. Sirius let out a gasp of surprise as he wrapped his arms around his lover's waist.

"Yes." She sighed into his neck.

Today...

Sirius smiled at the memory and looked James in the eyes.

"Yeah," he breathed out. "I'm getting married."

He got out of the room and walked to the altar to wait for everyone to get comfortable. When the music started to play he held his breath but couldn't help that his eyes were watering at the sight of Y/n's beautiful form walking in his direction. She smiled brightly at him and sped up a little, thing that made him let out a soft laugh.

When she was in front of him he felt like his breath was taken away from him. He had never seen her more beautiful, her eyes wide with excitement looked at his and mouthed 'You look hot'. He scoffed lightly but there was a smile on his face.

After saying their vowels he couldn't even hear the words he was being spoken to, the only thought on his mind was I do, I do, I do.

"...take her as your wife?"

He looked at her and knew this was the face he wanted to wake up to every morning for the rest of his life.

"I do."

After she said it to, he grabbed her face with both of his hands and whispered against her gorgeous lips. "I love you so much."

She closed the distance between them and their lips connected. They kissed like they'd never kiss before. It was loving and sweet and full of promises neither of them would break.

#sirius black x reader #sirius x you #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fluff #sirius black

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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

Text

Artistic Instinct: Chapter 11

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 12.6k (whoops)

Warnings: Language as always, grief, loss and smut. If you're under 18, please skedaddle.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who reads, re-reads, points out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

True redemption is… when guilt leads to good - Khaled Hosseini

Chapter 11

You:

Yes, Sir.

Blood pounding. Heart thudding. Tunnel vision. People spinning out of nowhere into view. Hands tingling, fingers curling, feet screaming for you to run. Bubbles build in your tummy- that hideous discomfort as if you’ve taken a direct hit of caffeine to your veins that your elevated heart rate allows to unfurl its tentacles through every synapse in your nervous system.

You have to get away from Sotheby’s, and fast. Taxi? No. Too much. Bus? Too slow. Walk? Walk.

There’s those ants in your veins. That constriction in your throat. The swirling of your stomach and the buzzing headiness as your lungs try gasping feebly at the air around you but fail miserably in their attempt. Your feet are walking along a well beaten path - along Regents Street until you find the side roads you can cut down to head towards St James’s Park. A lump rises in your throat along with a mouth full of saliva.

Five things you can see: trees, grass, path, lake, ducks.

A wave of vomit washes through you, dredging your stomach for the remnants of your breakfast and far too many coffees. As you spit the bile tinged saliva beneath the trees, you take a moment to regather your breath and gaze around. Your brain feels as though it may swell beyond the capacity of your skull and the dehydration makes your insides feel furry - in desperate need of water.

A kindly hand - warm and generous in a time when you are not at your best - is placed upon your lower back as you grip the tree trunk for support.

“You know, they say that the ducks in St James’s Park know all of the secrets of the world’s affairs as they so often are fed bread by secret agents meeting clandestinely that they have developed their own Pavlovian reaction.”

The sob that escapes your throat on hearing that familiar voice, throws away any pretence of self-defence, “I didn’t have you down as a Neil Gaiman reader, Stephens.”

“Well, you nagged me so much to watch it that being the purist I am, I had to read it first. Rather enjoyed it, to be honest,” his clipped vowels comforting you as he guides you gently towards a bench and away from the contents of your stomach, “Water?”

Your head nods independently of your body as your brain feels like a storm cloud of cotton balls - utterly dehydrated and fuzzy, “What are you doing here?”

“Still trying to catch you as you fall, it seems,” an awkward arm is extended around your shoulders, with a light patting of your arm - not unlike a bumbling housemaster at a boarding school trying to comfort a Year 7 who’s missing home.

“I miss you around the office, you know. Everything is so grey, starchy and boring. I miss those brightly coloured tights you wear and the heap of unfinished paperwork upon your desk with a week’s worth of coffee cups growing various stages of mould. I also greatly miss your mum’s samosas so if you ever find yourself with an abundance, make sure to drop some off with me.”

Examining the flimsy plastic of the bottle Stephens has passed you, you frown before retorting, “You got rid of me. As my world was falling apart, you passed me on to Education.”

“I had to. Firstly, you needed a break from the field - your partner had died and I knew there was no other way to force you to take a break. You would have either ended up dead or with a severe nervous breakdown and there was no way that I was about to allow you to take either of those routes. Secondly, I had my reasons. For mostly unselfish reasons but I must admit, there were some selfish ones mixed in there too,” Stephens sighs before crossing one Harris tweed covered leg over the other.

“I knew that the job in 5 Eyes was coming up and after everything that happened, I felt it would be the perfect fit for you. I spent days speaking to anyone and everyone who mattered so as to ensure that you would be a dead cert wherever you applied upon the team - even if you’d wanted Pike’s role, it would have been yours.”

The older man looks down at his hands - considering the lines and liver spots - before continuing to fill you in on the decisions that had been made over your head, “Selfishly, I couldn’t bear to see you. You were this constant reminder of my loss and what could have been in a different set of circumstances.To have called you my niece would have made me so intensely proud.”

A cramp of subsequent heartache grips its iron fingers around your heart. The sun dipping behind a cloud, the air stilling and the ducks quietening their quacking in a sort of reverence for the pain shared by the two of you. It was never just Jasper you lost, but his family too.

Gulping down the ache with a glug of lukewarm water, you turn back to Stephens, “What are you really doing here?”

“Ah, you know the drill, Anushka. If I told you, I’d have to kill you. Anyway, surely the question should be, what are you doing here?”

“I fucked up.” You shift uncomfortably upon the bench, the toes of your shoes wiggling in uncertainty.

“Badly as in you left a briefcase of state secrets on a train or badly as in something that you could come back from with a heartfelt apology and a promise to toe the line for at least a month?”

Trying to shut down the meerkat part of your brain that is trying to declare a cobra in your midst, you swing your legs and furrow your brow before answering, “Probably the latter.”

Stephens gives a barely perceptible nod before turning to face you, “Tell me, what is your impression of Agent Pike?”

“I think he is a good man. Doesn’t seem to have a bad bone in his body.”

“I truly hope that he is deserving of you, Nush.”

“What…?”

Two papery thin hands take hold of your hand, “In all of the time of us working together, I cannot remember you becoming so upset at fucking up something that you were completing for me that you vomited - and there were some fairly big fuck ups.

“The only time I ever saw you in such a state as this, was when you tried that honey trap on the forger and in doing so, put yourself in massive danger. Jasper’s reaction was understandable as he genuinely thought he was going to lose you- so I entirely understand why he would have shouted so harshly at you. But you. You thought that was it, didn’t you? And consequently, your lunch was in my metal mesh paper bin. I learned to line it with plastic bags following that.”

The corners of your mouth turn up slightly at the memory - of the mirroring of today’s events - how in that moment, Stephens had morphed from being just your boss to being like a kindly uncle to you.

You allow your eyes to wander your surrounding environment - the dead straight paths lining the sides of the pond that scattered couples drift along and businessmen in stuffy, constricting suits march along with a single goal in mind. How the ducks utterly ignored each and every one of those humans, happy with their lot of searching for roaches amongst their larder of the muddy green undergrowth with their feathered bottoms in the air.

“How do I earn his trust back?”

Frowning for a moment at your question, Stephens follows your eyes to the middle distance before responding, “You know how to do it. You have done it before. An honest apology and keep your head down - maybe take the time to tackle some of the paperwork on your table, instead of dreaming up elaborate schemes.

“Pike does not strike me as a stupid man and that is exactly what he would be if he gave up on you as an agent or as a potential future for him. Just give the man time to re-establish you in a trustworthy position in his head and heart.”

The words you wish to speak so eloquently in response to Stephens break up in your mouth - turning into stuttered, mumbled sounds spoken into the back of your hand as hot tears stream down your face. You sit there unmoving apart from your eyes squeezing tightly shut in the hope your tears would stop.

“My darling girl, take a piece of advice from an old man. The world cannot be saved by just one person - you must learn to work as a team in all areas of your life.” You hear the crunch of sixty year old knees as the bench tells you that Stephens has risen from beside you. “I know our paths will continue to cross but please, don’t be a stranger. My door will always be open to you - particularly if you come bearing samosas.”

A warm, tender hand brushes an errant tear from your cheek before you are left alone, biting your lip and observing the pond from the bench. On the surface, there is a duck - sparkling white with a bright orange bill - that keeps dipping its head below the water and shaking tiny diamond-like droplets that fly outwards, creating concentric circles that grow and grow and grow.

You watch Stephens as he walks away from you, as his hand dips in his pocket, the duck quacks and swims towards him - its wake stretching behind its tail in a perfect v. It moves through the water as if it is powered by an outboard motor as its legs work hard to move it at such a pace - the effort never showing upon its firmly set bill - as it heads towards the crumbs strewn across the water’s surface. Stephens turns to face you with an amused curl of his lips, “Turns out, Gaiman was right.”

✪✪✪✪✪

“Where on Earth have you been?” the sharpness of Dian’s tone is not lost as you walk back through the office door.

“I fucked up. I organised a viewing of Modigliani’s Nu Couché sur le Côté Gauche with my friend, Hephzi at Sotheby’s and guess where Pike’s meeting was?”

Dian’s brain stutters for a moment as her eyes widen, letting in more light as her thoughts catch up, “Oh that’s a fuck up and a half. Why on Earth would you go against orders? What an idiotic thing to do!”

A sharp Australian accent cuts through Dian’s angry accusations, “Because nine times out of ten, those moves pay off. You can’t always toe the line or you end up stale and pushing paperwork around.”

“Anushka may have jeopardised the investigation into this piece - if they allow us to go and check it out, she’s our art history person. No one else has that level of knowledge here - what the fuck were you thinking?” you brace yourself against the acid spewing forth from her lips as it burns Dian on the way out and catches you on the receiving end.

Harper forcefully steps between the pair of you, acting as a shield of sorts, “Dian, you need to step away right now. This isn’t helping anyone and judging by the look on her face, she’s pretty eaten up by her actions. I’m sure Pike will speak to her when he’s back from his meeting and bollocking Nush is for him, not you.”

You stand there dazed at the interaction between your workmates. The stun grenade that is Harper has the three of you standing, blinking hard after the initial flash - the reboot you need to spin back into work mode. Walking towards your desk, you spy a Violet Crumble left on the keyboard and look up to find a shy smile spreading across Harper’s face.

“I wanted to prove that Violet Crumbles are superior to your Crunchies. Found them when I unpacked another box last night - my mum must have snuck them in,” she wriggles a bit in her chair before turning back to her screen, face flushed.

You quietly mouth a thank you at her - genuinely touched by the sweet gesture - before the office door swings open again to several greetings from your co-workers. There is no need to look up to know who has walked through the door as you hear the confident steps of his polished brogues pattering across the parquet flooring. A shadow is cast across your paperwork and a small rap on a minutismal bit of uncovered wood forces you to lift your head and look up into Marcus’ eyes.

“Gimme twenty minutes, then come through.”

He punctuates the end of his sentence with another tap upon the table and a small, barely discernible furrow of his brow. A small nod from you acknowledging his request allows Marcus to walk on quickly, giving a small chuckle in response to an unintelligible riposte from Andy.

The blue light from your screen just highlights a singular phrase that keeps repeating itself in your brain.

Where do I begin?

It feels like forever before your fingers start tapping on the keyboard. Whether the words you were writing could be translated into any intelligible language is yet to be seen but at least it feels like you are attempting to work as the minutes tick down before the meeting. You kick your shoes off underneath your desk to try to feel the coolness of the wooden bricks making up the flooring - tracing geometric patterns with your toes as you try to ground yourself.

Stephens’ placating yet entirely honest words edge in and out of your thoughts. You’ve been here before, Nush and you’ll probably be in this situation again. Marcus is far from stupid but are you really worthy of his attention?

A small flash of light dances across the polished floor as the glass in his door catches the glare from the fluorescent strip lighting above.

“Ready, Agent Pierce?”

✪✪✪✪✪

As you walk into the room, Marcus doesn’t go to sit at his desk. Instead he makes his way to the more comfortable chairs in the corner - the low table already bedecked with his phone and two freshly made coffees. Marcus Fucking Pike - the most thoughtful bloody boss, even makes you a drink when telling you off.

Perching on the edge of the stylish, angular-armed mid-century style chair, you tuck your feet neatly underneath - attempting to look both semi-professional and hide the fact that your shoes are still beneath your desk. Fuck.

“Did you just give up on shoes today?” a small sweet smile curls upon his lips.

Pressing your hands into the cool, polished wood arm rests to rise back onto your feet, you mutter, “Give me two ticks and I can go grab them…”

“No, it’s fine. You’re probably comfier without them on,” again that smile - that sweet smile unfolding as Marcus sits back in his chair, his arms folded lightly across his chest.

Why doesn’t he sound angry?

“I shouldn’t have set up the meeting with Hepzhibah and gone directly against your wishes or lied to you. I know that what I’ve done has jeopardised the case and I completely understand if you want to have me moved to another team or put me through disciplinary action,” you acknowledge - desperately wanting to make eye contact with him but the shame stemming from your earlier behaviour making your head hang low.

Lifting your eyes slightly, you catch the furrow of his brow and the uncrossing of his arms as he nods slightly before responding, “Hephzibah used to work here, didn't she?”

With a barely perceptible confirmation from you, Marcus continues, “Yeah, she’s made sure that the Modigliani’s being transported over to our labs later today so that we can undertake a separate authentication of the piece.

“Tomorrow, I’m gonna need you working alongside the lab team so we can undergo a full analysis of the piece. Did you get some good notes?” his voice is firm yet smooth - not giving away any notes of anger - as the words hit your ears and the realisation hits of what Hephzi has done for you.

“Uh, yeah - I managed to take some good photos of the piece too. I was logging those as you called me in,” -Hephzi has had it transferred here? Sotheby’s never does that as they have their own labs- “How did…”

“I think whatever Hephzibah says, goes there and having worked in the labs here, she was able to convince her boss that the painting would be safe with us for 72 hours,” Marcus continues in his irritatingly calm tone - why can’t he just shout so you can feel suitably castigated and move on?

It feels as though every nerve is screaming within your body - his quiet disappointment at your actions seeping through your veins like a poison. Screaming you can take. Spluttered angry words you can take but this? This is hell. A tendon tics in your jaw as you clench your teeth against the deafening silence in the room.

“I need to know that this won’t happen again, Agent Pierce. I’m not pursuing disciplinary action but as your boss, I need to be able to both protect you and trust you.” With his eyes closed, Marcus rubs the bridge of his nose, adding, “Nush, the owners of the painting are seriously unscrupulous. They’re possibly attached to one of the far right groups we’re investigating - I didn’t want you at Sotheby’s and risk your face being attached to the case. I can’t keep you and the team safe, if you all go off and do your own thing. No intel in the world is worth putting your life at risk.”

“It won’t happen again, Sir,” you catch a small, pained twitch that crosses his face as you clearly enunciate the respectful address.

Unsure of what should happen next or where the conversation should go, you shuffle forward on the chair - flattening your feet ready to stand. Marcus seems uncertain too, his eyes trained on you but so many unspoken words lie on the tip of his tongue.

“Also, I completely understand if you don’t want to have the date later in the week as I know the betrayal cuts deeper than just work,” you quietly squeeze out through the feeling of strangulation in your throat.

A flash of alarm passes through Marcus’ features - his lips parting and brow furrowing as the meaning in your words unfurls in his mind. Sharply swallowing and with an abrupt shake of his head, he reaches forward - the warmth of his fingertips gently searching for your hand, “No. Work and home are separate. Unless, you… You don’t want to…”

“No. No, I … I still want to,” you say fervently to Marcus, and nod with your heart throbbing in your throat as your fingers intertwine with his - a modicum of comfort in an entirely awkward moment. How can one man be so patient? So kind? So forgiving? How can he still want to be around me?

You pause before rising to your feet as one ugly thought keeps ricocheting off the walls of your head, “I have to know - would you have done this for the others if they’d fucked up similarly? If it was Harper, Kiri or even Andy who’d done this - you’d react in the same way?”

“No preferential treatment. Everyone deserves a pass at some point and all things considered, it’s not that big of a mistake - you’re safe, nothing has been leaked or blown. Well, Hephzibah has totally saved your ass by talking her boss into freeing it up for our testing. Otherwise it would have been you talking in one of the other agents’ ears. But,” Marcus shrugs, “We’d’ve found a way around.”

Managing to take what feels like your first proper inhalation since you heard Marcus’ voice behind you at Sotheby’s, you nod and straighten up a little, “I’d better get back to my desk. Tackle some of that paperwork.”

“Well, I guess I’ll catch you later.” Marcus’ fingers pull away from yours with a final small brush of the back of your hand as the ache rebuilds in the back of your throat.

✪✪✪✪✪

You knew it would happen.

You knew that you would end up disappointing Marcus at some point but so early on? It has barely been a week of sharing the same orbit and yet, you’ve managed it already. Even with his calm, sweetness in that debrief? Disciplinary? Whatever the fuck that meeting was, you could hear the hurt in his voice that you went against his orders. The whole situation and your sheer bloody- minded stupidity has been fixed by having great friends perfectly placed but still.

Flicking the mouse to awaken your screen so you can get back to work, a pair of eyes burn into the side of your skull - still glowering with a little of the anger from your previous actions. You refuse to meet them and instead fix your attention upon the details you’ve captured from the Modgliani - making notes alongside each picture - forcing yourself to focus on the screen in front of you, and not on the clock that slowly ticked away the hours, the minutes, the seconds until you could leave and bury yourself in a pile of cushions and comfort food.

Would he say goodbye as he leaves tonight?

He might have said that work and home are separate but how on Earth that is meant to work when you live for your job, you are entirely unsure. FOCUS. Focus. Look for crack junctions to extract features.

Imagine if he changes his mind and wants to cancel the date for later this week? You could hardly blame him, you’re a fucking mess.

Physically shaking your head side to side to try to empty it of the panic that Marcus would call it a day based on your behaviour today, you try to focus on the colours and positioning of the signature. Colours match the palette of the piece, shaping of the signature shows flow and positioning matches most of his other pieces. It doesn’t matter what Marcus thinks - I still have my job. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

It totally does matter.

Drawing a deep breath, you close your eyes. You try to listen to the white noise of the office to stop those intrusive thoughts - the comforting drip of the coffee machine, the tapping of keyboards, the clunk of empty coffee mugs hitting the desk, the creak of spinning chairs and scratchy scribbles across post-it notes. A slightly heavier thud lands upon your desk pulling you from your blue screen tinted reverie.

“Coffee. Thought you could probably do with one,” Harper nods at you without catching your eye.

Pulling a spare legged chair closer to your desk, you pat the seat as an offer to her before opening your desk drawer to pull out and snap the Violet Crumble in half, “Definitely need that coffee - sugar hit?”

A reluctant grin forms across Harper’s face as she reaches across to relieve you of her half, “Brought that in for you.”

Sitting there drinking your coffee at your desk, you take a bite of the legendary Violet Crumble - scrunching up your brow as the honeycomb sweetness hits your tongue, “Ok, call me a Philistine but I’m not sure I could tell the difference between this and a Crunchie!”

“Maybe it’s just a comfort association,” Harper nods, “I’ll get you on TimTams next. Teach you how to drink tea through it.”

“What the fuck is a TimTam? And drinking tea through them, that sounds sacrilegious,” You snort, spraying coffee and honeycomb crumbs across the table.

Looking up, you see Dian surreptitiously glancing over - holding out the remaining piece as a peace offering , you ask, “Would you like to try some?”

A small shake of her head and a turn back towards her screen makes your heart sink a little. You hug your coffee a little tighter - allowing its warmth to seep into the palms of your hands.

“She’ll be right. Just give her time to calm down,” Harper soothes quietly.

A large shadow is cast across your desk making you look up, “I’ll take it off you if you don’t want it?” Kiri grins down at you as he takes up residence on the edge of your desk.

“Show us what you found,” Kiri points at your screen that’s filled with a collage of photos and notes.

“Everything is pointing to it being real but as it’s not in his catalogue raisonnée, we’re going to struggle to have it authenticated. I think the main worry is who owns it - Marcus mentioned that they’re pretty dark,” you pull up the shot of his signature, “So, signatures are always a good place to start as it’s pretty hard to mirror a signature perfectly. Picasso always used to sign his pieces in pencil - the angle of letters and the spacing adds another level of difficulty in reproducing it.

“Modigliani’s signature is similar to Picasso’s in that it looks printed rather than written in cursive. When he signed with a pen, it was joined - generally at the o to the d then the i by itself before joining from the g to the final i. It was only when he was painting that he printed his name.”

With a chuckle, you continue, “The marks above his letter i’s are quite striking as often they look a bit like a heart - proper pre-teen girl moment.

“When it arrives tomorrow, I’m going to need to take some samples for the lab and take a closer look using the microscope and X-rays.”

“Too early to tell?” Kiri muses, “Marcus and I found some links between the owners and The Old School. Shady bunch of fuckers who still believe in racial purity and hardcore anti - immigration.”

“They sound delightful,” Harper shakes her head, suddenly looking up, making you join her gaze.

“Yeah, there are questions that they have been attempting to pass fraudulent as authentic pieces and the opposite, in the hope of devaluing certain artists,” Dian adds as she steps closer to your desk, wrapping her cardigan tightly around her as she walks.

Upon your screen, you bring up the versions of Modigliani’s signature to show the others against today’s- busily entrenching yourself in work and trying to ignore the creak of Marcus’ door opening.

Your heart throbs wildly in your throat as you point out another feature, “So on this piece we also have a loop on the l - this isn’t there in every painting but in most sketches it is as it would match the style of cursive he would have learnt as a child.”

Careful not to crowd you, Marcus crouches down with a creak beside you to investigate your findings on the screen, “What about this g? Did he generally create a loop with the tail to join it?”

“Not necessarily, but, there are several that match that style of g in other paintings. Thing is even when we sign things, our signatures change from day to day so it’s understandable that Modigliani’s would too,” you shrug, trying to keep what little cool you can muster as a waft of warm Marcus hits your nose. The hint of verbena, sandalwood and dark roast coffee makes you want to rugby tackle him to the ground and kiss him so hard that your lips bruise.

Fuck. Keep it together, woman.

His head nods in acknowledgment of your comment, his eyes not moving from the screen, “Love what you said about how he dotted his letter i - I can remember being told not to put soccer balls above mine in school.”

Kiri’s eyebrow arches, before giving Marcus a little wink, “I’d have you down for more the hearts type, Sir.”

His baritone chuckle lifts the cloud from the Monday soul of the office. Marcus’ laughter is so free and pure - so child-like despite his adult years. It comes to your ears as a tickle and bounce - and only the hardest of hearts could do anything but join in such infectious mirth.

“You’ve probably hit the nail on the head, Kiri. I’m sure my sisters could probably provide you with some evidence for that.” The deep creases of laughter highlighting the crescents of his eyes as he adds, “Is everyone heading off now?”

“I need to finish running my report,” Kiri grimaces darkly.

“Can’t be finalised tomorrow?”

“Tried that on Friday - lost the lot. Nah, it’ll take me five minutes to get it finished. Just came in search of sugar and then got a free art history lesson at the same time.”

“Yeah, think that’s the danger of heading towards this desk,” Harper laughs, giving your arm a small pat as she heads back to her desk, “I’ve got some data to input but I might finish it tomorrow. Got netball training starting in half an hour and I don’t want to have to jog there - no more effort than I have to put in.”

“Dian?”

You look over at the back of her rapidly disappearing figure as she walks away from you. Without looking back she mutters, “Got a few bits I want to finish before heading off.”

Marcus’ brow furrows as he considers her comment, “M’kay - just if you stay late, make sure that you come in a bit later tomorrow. There needs to be a balance.”

With a small tilt of his chin, Marcus locks you in his gaze, “What about you?”

“Might head to a yoga class before heading home but not got anything else planned,” you say, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Your brother mentioned that you do yoga. Can you hook me up with a local teacher? He said it'd be good for my running?”

“Hah, I wondered whether he’d nab you on that! He’s so passionate about his work - mentioned that you have a good gait after you left,” you grin, remembering the relief on Marcus’ face when you pointed out your familial link to the kids surrounding you, “Yeah, I can give you the number of a teacher who’s brilliant for running support. She also coaches long distance running if you ever fancy doing a marathon or two?”

Folding his arms across his chest, Marcus’ eyes dart to the left of him as he considers your comment, “Always fancied doing the London Marathon. Lots of amazing landmarks.”

“Trust me, there are better ways to sight see,” you shake your head at the horrifying thought of running anywhere, let alone destroying your joints on twenty-six miles of concrete and tarmac, “Anyway, what do you have planned for tonight?”

“Probably trying to get through some of the food you left in my fridge,” your smile only grows as he pats his tummy at the thought, “Otherwise, nothing really.”

“K - well, I’d better save this work before heading out,” You point awkwardly towards your screen.

“Yeah, I’d better sort my office out before heading off,” You catch how his hand twitches - as if it wants to reach out and pull you close to him. Instead of a PDA, he scoops a couple of old coffee cups from your desk before walking away.

At the thought of him wanting to hold you, you can’t help but call after him, “Have a good evening, Marcus.”

With a small glance over his shoulder before disappearing back into his office, he smiles, “See you later, Nush.”

✪✪✪✪✪

The studio is pretty empty and as the previous class was a mum and baby one, and it doesn’t smell too bad as you settle yourself towards the back of the space. Grabbing a mat from the pile, you curl yourself into a child’s pose - your knees as wide as the mat and heels touching lightly under your bum with your forehead touching the floor and arms outstretched.

Just need to stretch some of this fizziness out of my joints.

Slowly, quietly the room fills around you. The lights are low and the sounds muted and whispered - a calm you have needed all day. Mats are unfurled and flattened on the carpeted floor and apart from the odd creaky, cracking joint, there are very few noises.

The teacher quickly runs through some basics and checks injuries before starting the session. Getting everyone into their comfortable seated pose, she talks you through relaxing every muscle and joint in your body - letting go of that tic in your jaw and the tightness in your shoulders before putting you back into a child’s pose.

After a quick cat/cow stretch of your spine, she then brings you into a downward dog - getting you to pedal your feet to warm those hamstrings into stretching that little bit further. With your bottom in the air, she guides you all from a three legged dog to a wild thing pose and then a fallen triangle. The coordination and elongation of your body feels exquisite and you almost haven’t thought of Marcus for ten minutes. Almost.

God, that’d be a distracting session.

Marcus stretching out beside you. You cannot help but allow a smile to spread across your lips as you move from a triangle to a half moon, thinking of how tempting it would be to tickle him when he is balancing alongside you. How goddamn tempting it would be to slap his bum when he’s in a downward dog.

Concentrate, woman!

Perhaps the teacher picks up upon your concentration floating out of the room as she invites everyone into a series of heart openers. You feel the day’s constricting belts around your ribcage loosen and untie themselves as you slowly edge each of those intercostal muscles into stretching a little further, allowing the stale air to finally escape. As you push your tummy skyward into your full wheel, you hear a sob echo around the silent room- wondering for a moment where it originated from before you realise it is yours.

Bloody heart openers making those stupid feelings bubble to the surface.

Tears streak into your hair as you hang suspended upside down, gravity dragging the salty wetness across your forehead into the tight sweep of your bun. Ever in tune with her students - having noted your sobbing the teacher guides the class down into the savasana, the lights lowering and after a gentle padding around the room, a soft fleecy blanket is placed at your feet.

Cocooning yourself in its warmth, you shut your eyes and allow your body to melt away into the mat. Whilst the initial part of the savasana is a guided breath meditation, the teacher then allows you a moment to float away. Those emotions that have been bubbling away beneath the surface threaten to break free again - this being your first in the field job since Jas’ death, Marcus Fucking Pike, seeing bloody Seb, kissing Marcus and then fucking everything up in a blink of an eye today.

The subsequent tears that are shed, streak sideways - a glossy trail cutting through the dryness of your skin. After bringing yourself to an upright seated position, they flavour your lips with a light saltiness. On opening your eyes, a white tissue is held out to you - the perfect present before you head back out into the world with your goddamn game face on.

“Sorry.”

“You can’t hide from your emotional gunk when you’re practising - you know this, Anushka,” your teacher reminds you, “That’s the whole reason to practise - to release it and let that shit out because it does zero good inside of you. Are you staying until the next class? It starts in ten minutes.”

Gently shaking your head, you bring yourself slowly to standing, “No, I need my pjs, a hoodie and a fuck ton of chocolate but I’ll see you later this week.”

A soft hand rests upon your shoulder before a small squeeze and with that, you are released back into the world.

✪✪✪✪✪

On arriving on your landing, you see two pairs of shoes attached to two pairs of outstretched legs kicking out from your doorway.

“The fuck are you two doing here?”

Adam grins up at you, “That’s no way to greet your baby brothers when we come bearing food from Mum!”

“You ok, Nush? Your face is all blotchy and your eyes are red,” Jacob frowns as he takes in your face.

“Just a day of it. My fault, but work was tough.”

Adam sticks out his hands for you to pull him to his feet, grinning at you lopsidedly, “Well, as nice as your doorstep is, we brought beers, pakoras and samosas so, come on, let us in.”

Instantly, your mouth waters at the thought of biting into the crisp pastry of your mum’s samosas - the spice cutting through the oiliness and the juxtaposition of the softness of the pakora. You might have filled your bag with sugar at the local off licence but this was the comfort food you needed. A hug from your mum wouldn’t go amiss either but she was probably helping one of your sisters in law get all the kids in bed or nagging Noah, your baby brother, to go to bed at a decent time. The fact that he is a twenty year old man studying medicine at uni still doesn’t quite seem to click with her.

“Can I kick the door this time?” Jacob offers - scratching a hand through his thick jet black hair, “I’ve just finished four nights in a row and my two are just being delightful.”

The consternation on his face brings a grin to yours - after unlocking your door, you stand back for him to give the door the required force to the baseplate that it needs. As soon as the three of you are inside, it feels like your flat is full to the brim with bodies as you kick your shoes off by the door.

“Nush, why are there still boxes here?” Jacob tries his soft paediatrician eyes upon you - a trick that has not worked as he noses into one in the pile stacked in the corner, “How long have you been here for?”

“Leave it,” the warning tone in your voice growling at your younger brother.

You catch the shake of Adam’s head and his mouthing of not now and a level of anger threatens to burst through at the thought of their pity. The poor big sister. Living by herself in a shitty flat with boxes full of ghosts. Nothing except her job, which is worthless as it isn’t medicine. No partner. No babies. No value.

Trying to calm your breathing, you try to draw some deeper breaths instead of decking the men who have brought you some food, “Before I hit either of you - where’s the fucking pakoras?”

Two large tubs are produced from what feels like nowhere and a small sense of peace seeps back in as you pry the lids off to display the golden goodness beneath, “‘K - we gonna pretend that we’re civilised or just dig in?” you question your brothers as Jacob collapses back into your mountain of cushions - his mouth already full of fried onions and potatoes - and Adam disappears in search of a bottle opener.

As Adam re-enters the room, he tosses the bottle opener towards the pair of you - it disappearing quickly into the quagmire of cushions between you. After a quick delve between them, both Jacob and you have open beers and you sit in a companionable silence of swallows and gulps before Adam announces, “Didn’t we buy those shelves when you first moved in?”

Shaking his head, Jacob rises to his feet - heading towards your cupboard of doom, “Right come on, Nush. I actually don’t care if you get angry with me - we’re getting this shit sorted. We’re all fed up with you living in a half home.”

You feel Adam’s eyes on you as your face crumples, turning quickly into a stream of snot and salty tears. You know that he was expecting you to launch yourself at Jacob - rugby tackling him to the ground, a head lock, some wrestling moves from the early nineties - something other than the sobbing mess of his sister in front of him.

“Right, found your tools - where do you want the shelves? Oh…” Jacob looks as confused as Adam by your reaction.

Adam sinks to his knees in front of you, tilting your chin up to try to catch your eye, “Tell us where you want the shit to go and we will get it sorted. Then, you’re going to go get in the bath and into something more comfortable, k?”

You point wordlessly at pictures and the shelves - placing them around the room - the boys nodding in agreement at your placement. Stumbling away between the bodies and furniture, you head towards your bathroom in search of a soak to dull your senses. The thunder of the water and squealing of the pipes almost drowns out the sound of your brothers bickering in the next room as they try to figure out whether they were hanging pictures straight.

Switching off the taps and submerging yourself beneath the skin of the water - your hair billowing around you in dark thunder clouds - you allow yourself to be supported by the water. Allowing those muscles to finally relax, you bring your head back above the surface, resting it against the gentle slope of the back of the bath.

Still listening to the gentle and not so gentle ribbing your brothers were giving each other, a bit of warmth fills your tummy. Your family still loves you. Even with how little sometimes it feels like you give them in return - they’re always there. Your mum’s invisible visits to clean your flat and fill your fridge, your brothers’ protective - yet teasing love of you and even your dad’s wordless pats of your arm.

A sudden knock at the door disturbs your guilty thoughts making you question, who on Earth would be knocking at almost 8 in the evening? You hear Adam drop the hammer on his toe - his swearing turning the air blue as Jacob’s footsteps can be heard heading towards your door. A third male voice can just about be picked out over the top of Adam’s swearing and Jacob answering the door.

It doesn’t sound like Dad or Noah has joined the others -not that Noah could when he was down in Brighton being a baby doc. Who the fuck could it be? Unless the boys have ordered some more food?

Quickly washing yourself, rinsing your hair and jumping out of the bath - you wrap your fluffy bathrobe around you and another towel around your hair in a vain attempt not to drip everywhere. In your bedroom, you pull open a drawer in search of some jammies - still trying to listen carefully to the voices in the other room. The third voice is still there so it can’t have been a delivery.

Your breath catches in your throat as you pull your pj t-shirt over your head - a familiar baritone chuckle fills your flat.

Marcus?

Heading out of your bedroom, back into the front room, you survey the tableau in front of you. Adam is chatting happily away at Marcus - passing him an open beer as Jacob is giving him some serious side eye and questioning him whenever he can squeeze a word between Adam’s stream of consciousness.

“… I mean, most patients exaggerate their pain as they think they will get better attention if they do so but having someone moaning in pleasure - that has to be the most awkward appointment,” Adam chuckles away - mostly to himself.

The cocked eyebrow of Jacob - unrelenting in its mission to find out why your boss was at your door well after hours, remains arched as he shakes his head, “I would say kids are trickier. They say their tummies hurt and rub their heads. Most of what we do is detective work as they’re pretty unreliable narrators.”

Marcus pauses before taking a swig of his beer, nodding towards your middle brother, “That must be really tough. Where do you work?”

“Great Ormond Street. Amazing place to be but some tough cases,” Jacob replied as he unashamedly eyes the tote bag at Marcus’ feet. “What did you bring with you?”

“Uh, last night Nush cooked one of her curries for the team and while the rest of us had piles of leftovers to take home, she forgot to take her share so I thought I’d bring it over,” desperate to escape the interrogation that Jacob keeps putting him through, you watch as Marcus rifles through the Tupperware boxes in the old cotton bag he’d chosen to bring the food over - mainly in the vain hope of sharing it with you.

As Marcus brings his gaze back up, he catches yours - the sweetest of smiles spreading across his face as you stand there in the doorway, in your oldest, baggiest pjs. You shuffle awkwardly as you feel him drinking in every detail of you - memorising each crease, wrinkle and grey hair as if he is frightened that if he looks away for too long, he’d forget.

“Hey,” Marcus shuffles further forward on his seat towards you as you step into the room - his gaze never faltering, “I.. Uh, brought some of the food from last night - thought it could save you from cooking.”

Sending him a grateful smile back, you grab the bag and head towards the kitchen, “Everyone hungry?”

After a chorus of yeses and affirmative grunts, you set about reheating the food. Listening carefully to Adam’s easy and cheerful chatter with Marcus - the conversation flowing as easily as it did at the lake, the juxtaposition of Jacob’s protectiveness tickles you as it feels like they’re playing a game of good cop, bad cop with a man who is genuinely the good cop.

Throwing each bit in the microwave, you grab four mismatched plates and fill them to the brim with a heap of brightly coloured, steaming food. Passing equally poorly matched cutlery to each man, you bring them their plates before settling yourself on the sofa next to Marcus.

“My mum sent over some pakoras and samosas that she made earlier today so we have these to supplement the meal,” you nod at him, in the direction of the somewhat depleted boxes on the breakfast bar.

“Mmm, so good food runs in the family then?” Marcus mumbles through a mouthful.

Adam cannot help but splutter the food on his fork across the floor at Marcus’ compliment, “Yeah, you wouldn’t be saying that had you tried what she’d made in the past! Although, grudging respect where it’s due - this isn’t half bad, Nush.”

Jacob nods, “Gonna have to let mum know that you can cook, Nush.”

“Nooooooo! You can’t do that to me - she’ll stop filling my freezer,” your face falls - utterly aghast at the thought.

“Keep cooking us these curries and you might get to keep your secret,” Adam winks at you.

You catch the amused creases of Marcus’ face as you mutter about bribery and corruption - the warmth in your belly growing a little more.

He wouldn’t have dropped it off if he didn’t want to see me. Would he?

As the plates in front of the four of you are virtually licked clean, you stretch cat-like as the day’s tiredness catches up. Marcus goes to clear everything away and you join him in the kitchen as he rolls the sleeves of his work shirt up his arms, ready to start the washing up. You hear the clinking of beer bottles as Adam picks them up to put in your recycling bag and the Hoover being quickly pushed around by Jacob where the boys had put up your pictures and shelving.

It was an oddly domesticated scene - each of you eagerly beavering away in the tiny, tight space. You rummage through the drawer beneath where you keep the cutlery - the one where your mum puts all the cleaning and drying up cloths. Whereas normally, you’d let everything drip dry, today you will dry up. Obviously this has nothing to do with wanting to stand elbow to elbow with the gorgeous man who’d dropped off food for you.

In a moment of sheer silliness, Marcus grabs a blob of bubbles and boops you on your nose with them just as Jacob walks into the kitchen. Just as you cross your eyes to look at them, you catch your brother go into his wallet and pass Adam a ten pound note, making you pause.

“Gentlemen - what’s going on?”

Adam grins widely as he tuck the cash into his back pocket, “When we bumped into Marcus at the lake in Sutcliffe Park, I said to Jacob that I reckoned the two of you would be together before the end of the month - didn’t think it’d be quite so quick. The way the two of you look at and tease each other - it’d be a shame if you didn’t.”

The heat from the embarrassment is intense as it seeps through your body and although every instinct screams to hide your face in your hands, you own the moment, “It’s early days still - I mean we kissed for the first time yesterday - but yes, Marcus isn’t just my boss.”

Taking your face in his hands, Marcus gently brushes the half-forgotten bubbles from your nose before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Your sister is a wonderful woman - ridiculously intelligent and beautiful. It is early but when you meet someone as special as she is, you don’t really want to hang back.”

“I need to apologise…” Jacob starts.

Waving his hands as he shakes his head, Marcus smiles as he looks over at Jacob before saying, “Not at all. I’ve done the same for each of my sisters’ partners.”

Jacob’s eyes widen, “You have multiple sisters? Shit, poor man.”

“Yeah, two,” Marcus nods chuckling, “Not that they can’t look after themselves but it’s hard not to be the protective older brother.”

“They’re not even older than me - just two bloody idiots who bet on their sister’s love life,” you shake your head at them, herding the two loveable idiots towards the door, “Go on, piss off. You’ve been useful and I’ve fed you in turn - go home to your wives and kids.”

After a series of goodbyes, bone crunching squeezes for you and welcoming handshakes to Marcus, your brothers head off together to find their cars. You lean over the landing - alternately waving them off and sticking two fingers up at them in turn as they make hearts with their hands and flutter their eyelashes at you from the car park.

Turning back, you catch Marcus in the doorway, smiling widely at you.

“What?”

“Just admiring the view,” he chuckles as a rosy hue reaches his ears.

“Yeah?” you grin, wiggling your bottom at him, “Even in my oldest, least sexiest pjs?”

“Uh huh. C’mere,” Marcus reaches forward for your hand before tugging you into him, “You could make a trash bag look hot.”

Pulling back slightly from his arms, you take a moment to look into his eyes, “Are you sure that you still want to be around me - after today?”

A flicker of consideration crosses Marcus’ face as he takes a small step back inside your flat, both of your hands in his, “Did you meet someone else today?”

“No.”

“Did you do this on purpose, trying to hurt or anger me?”

“No.”

“Right, and one of the major things we need to think about is that working together, we’re gonna grate on each other as partners and as colleagues,” Marcus shrugs as his thumbs stroke small circles on the back of your hands, “We’ve got to figure out a way to try to keep work stuff at work and home stuff at home, if we wanna give it our best shot.

“So whaddya think?” Marcus brings his hands to cradle your face, “You wanna give this a go?”

Gazing deeply into his eyes, you nod unable to bring the words past your lips.

“C’mon, I need you to use your words, Anushka Pierce.”

Giggling, you can’t help but dig at him - tickling his sides as you grin up at him, “ Was that you trying to full name me?”

“I know you have two middle names but I can’t remember them,” Marcus mock winces cheekily at you.

“Meera Leah - my grandmothers’ names,” You nod with the easiest smile that has graced your face today, “So, when we were out in France, I saw that you have an F as your middle name. And I decided it stood for Fucking - Marcus Fucking Pike.”

A wave of relief washes through you as Marcus laughs heartily at your moniker for him as you shut the door behind him.

“It’s for Francisco after my Uncle but I need to know more - why Fucking?”

Blowing your lips out, you dig back to early last week and your initial view of Marcus, “‘Cos my initial assessment of you was that you were Fucking nice, a fucking tease and…” the heat rising through your cheeks forces you to pause.

“And what,” Marcus inquires.

“And fucking hot.”

The throaty chuckle that emanates from his throat, gladdens you as he pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “So Ms. Anushka Meera Leah Pierce, you wanna give this a go?”

“Definitely, Sir Agent Marcus Francisco Pike,” you nod, stepping closer to him.

Marcus’ unsteady breath is warm against your lips as your hands slide up his chest - the strong, rhythmic thrumming of his heart beating into the palms of your hands. A small push on to your toes brings your face more in line with his as you take note of the constellation of freckles at the base of his throat and the small scar to the left side of his nose. A voice in your head begs you to ask him where the mark came from in desperation of knowing everything about the man in front of you.

But that can wait.

Right now, you need him.

The deliciously hypnotic smell of Marcus - that personal blend of clean woodiness and the spices from your cooking - pervades your nostrils, making your breath catch in your throat as your lips part desperate to taste him. A light push from you, presses him into the wall of your hallway as he tilts his head slightly to meet yours.

And then he’s kissing you. Enveloping you.

Marcus effortlessly spins you so that it’s your back against the wall - your body that he’s pinning tightly - the light vibration causing one of the pictures Jacob had hung to fall to the ground. The sudden thud makes you both laugh into the kiss, giggling into each other’s lips as if you were school kids on the back of the bus rather than middle aged adults with responsibilities. The moment quickly sobers with the intensity of the kiss resuming - open mouths and soft lips, hands clinging tightly to each other’s form - it was almost as if you didn’t, one of you might cease to exist.

Breaking away momentarily from your lips, Marcus kisses you along your jaw - the delicacy of his kisses against the comforting sensation of his frame pressing into you feels entirely decadent and makes your whole body tingle. With a hand, he cradles the back of your head, pulling you ever closer - claiming your mouth as his - again and again until your knees feel like those of a newborn foal.

Marcus seems to notice your giddiness as he lifts you upwards - ensuring that your legs can easily wrap around his waist. His closed eyes are now wide open, as a gentle curiosity washes through his features.

“Couch?” he politely questions.

“No. Bed.”

For a moment, he seems half-stunned at your answer - to the point that you are about to ask him if he’s comfortable with that before a sweet dumbstruck smile spreads across his face. It’s a smile that’s so irresistible that you cannot help but mirror it back at him - the two of you just goofily gazing as if the other had hung the moon for you.

Pulling you away from the wall with a quick bounce of you to ensure that he has a firm hold under your bottom, Marcus walks towards the open door of your room.

You nestle into his neck, alternately pressing kisses against each freckle there and inhaling the addictive scent of his skin before he lightly settles you on the edge of your bed. Barely a split second passes before you tug him clumsily towards you - noses bumping and lips bruising as his mouth devours yours - a half moan, half growl emanating from the back of his throat making shivers of pleasure shoot through you.

Initially, your hands seem to have a mind of their own as they grab clumsy fistfuls of his cool cotton shirt - pulling it free from his suit trousers. You’re not sure when, but at some point, they manage to work together to find their way under Marcus’ shirt in search of the smooth, soft warmth of his skin beneath. Pressing your shoulders deeper into the mattress, you pull back a little to look into his eyes - checking in with him as your fingers find the buttons.

Staring back at you, his lip twitches as he nods - the affirmation needed for you to start unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. Your breath judders as you begin to uncover the broad expanse of his chest - his slight shyness at the softness of his tummy as you reach the lower buttons, utterly endearing him to you as your heart sparks alive and swells to the point of bursting. Marcus’ hands coast downwards over the soft jersey of your top, fingers skimming over the creases as they search for the radiant warmth of your skin.

Where your top has slightly lifted, a flushed strip of your tummy is able to be skin to skin with Marcus making your body hum and tingle from head to toe. Not wanting to waste anymore time with anything blocking contact between your bodies, you push up from the bed to wriggle your top off - a little embarrassed that the first underwear he gets to properly see you in is your galaxy printed crop top rather than a sexy, lacy little number.

Marcus does not seem perturbed by your choice as he sits back on his heels to peel his shirt from his shoulders. He stays kneeling up - just looking at you. Adoring you. His hands lightly tracing your curves as you watch him memorising each stretch mark, freckle and scar across your skin.

“You are beautiful. Inside and out, Nush,” his voice falters slightly as his tongue lightly trips over the words.

As you go to respond to him, he leans forward to kiss you again. The type of kiss that leaves little breath in your lungs and little space in your brain for clear thought. All you want is him. To feel him. To taste him. To know him. To love him.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he murmurs thickly against your lips - your hands exploring, stroking every inch of his back as your hips mould together, moving against one other.

“Marcus,” you half whisper, half moan as you tighten your arms around him - raking your short nails down his back.

The groan he releases as you gently soothe the ragged red marks with loving strokes brings a heat between your legs - the same heat you felt this morning when you were worried about making a mess of his suit trousers. As he sits back on his heels to adjust himself, you sit up with him bringing your hands to his belt.

“Don’t want to get your trousers messy,” you utter with a wink as your fingers make light work of undoing the buckle, top button and fly.

“You have no idea how your words have tortured me all day,” Marcus growls in your ear as he shakes off his pants over his hips, “The thought of you soaking the material and being able to smell you on me was making me feral.”

Pushing you back lightly that your back bounces against the bed, Marcus bends down over you - lightly brushing his lips across each cheek, “We don’t have to do this though. If you want to stop, we can at any point.”

Nuzzling your neck before allowing his teeth to gently graze against your pulse point - his light touch sending shivers scattering throughout your body. Lower and lower Marcus’ lips explore your skin - your senses heightened by the tender attention he is showing you. In a momentary decision, you softly push his shoulder up away from your hip bones - his eyes widening as he considers the meaning of your action.

Lifting yourself up so that you rest on your elbows, you lean forward to kiss the creased furrow between his eyebrows - his skin velvet soft against your lips.

“Do you wanna st…”

To quell that thought spinning through Marcus’ mind, you quickly haul your crop top over your head, reach up and pull him back down to you - swallowing the little oof he releases into your mouth as his chest hits yours. The witchery of your actions and lips have Marcus bewildered momentarily until his eyes drift down and his breath catches in his throat at the sight before him.

You’ve never been what society deems as sexy or beautiful as you’re not skinny, pale or blonde. Not dark enough for people to pick out your heritage quickly but definitely not just English. But the way that Marcus looks at you. The way that he strokes over your soft curves and relishes the strength in your muscles. The way that he enjoys your robust realness.

Through his eyes, you feel beautiful.

It isn't the first time for either of you - not by a long shot -, but you’re both so nervous you'd be forgiven for thinking otherwise. There's something about Marcus that lights you up from the inside and in turn, there's something about you that melts his very being to nothing at all. Touching him is like being handed the holy grail - like your heart is finally on course for being mended even though you never truly knew the extent to which it was broken.

As Marcus regains the clarity of his thoughts and the co-ordination of his limbs, he lightly grazes his fingertips over your breasts. Slowly - very slowly - he draws circles - barely making contact with your skin, hardening your nipples as wide-eyed, you watch his focus on this one part of your body.

You couldn’t move if you tried as his fingers have short-circuited your brain in the best possible way. Marcus’ movements are so exacting that although he’s barely touching you, the lightness of his fingertips are resulting in intense waves of pleasure. In a desperate attempt to not try to flip him onto his back and ravish him, you close your eyes - trying to concentrate - not react and rush things.

Marcus, however, has other thoughts. As the warmth of his breath moves from your cheek, you feel it take a slow path - dancing over your skin - as his mouth lowers onto your body. You cannot hold back the gasp that escapes your mouth as his lips move slowly downward, brushing lightly across the surface of your soft skin. The tip of his tongue traces the circles his fingers drew before until it reaches one of your nipples - his lips gently wrapping around it, mouth sucking delicately as his left hand massages the other.

“Oh, Nush,” he growls at you as his lips part wider to take more of your breast into his mouth, his sucking gently tugging at your soft flesh

Under his ministrations, your breathing quickens and your body feels weak. You move your hands from his shoulders where your hands have been stroking and kneading his skin in turn, so that they are now behind his head - your fingers curled tightly into his hair as you gasp into the twilight darkness of your room.

Marcus only lifts his head long enough to move to your other breast - quickly resuming those light licks and that sensual sucking that has your body on fire and toes curling in response. Suddenly, he removes his mouth - pushing his body up from his elbows and by placing his hands below your bum, he scooches you up the bed. Caging you between his arms, he sorts a pillow beneath your head before leaning forward to kiss you again before settling beside you - his head resting alongside yours as he gazes deeply into your eyes.

Your brow furrows lightly as you stroke the side of his face - brushing a curl from his forehead before asking, “Are you ok?”

“Nush, I wanna be straight with you. In all my previous relationships, I fell hard and fast,” he quietly utters as his hand strokes over the soft skin of your tummy, past the waistband of your pj bottoms onto your hips, “I keep checking in with you not only to get your consent but to protect my own heart. ‘Cos once we go there - once we are intimate together, I know I will be in love with you.

“So, for my own sake, I need to know that you feel the same. I need to know that I might be something you want. Something that you want to keep. That you want me to keep you.”

The vulnerability in Marcus’ eyes makes you want to gather him up and cuddle him safely in your arms - protect him from the ghosts of his past and his own self doubt.

“I’m not sure that I’m entirely deserving of your love, Marcus but I want this. I want you.”

As he leans into you to seal your promise with a kiss, you show him your eagerness to return it - reaching your hand behind his head and pulling his face into yours as your lips part slightly. You can feel his tongue playing with the tip of your own - stroking, tenderly probing.

Marcus slides his body lower, leaning over yours to kiss a path down your body - starting through her cleavage. You can feel him using his tongue to trace a path between your breasts - stopping occasionally to kiss patches of skin. He surprises you by stopping at your tummy button -pausing to push the elasticated edge of your pj bottoms down a little to be able to kiss you across your lower belly.

“May I?” he asks you quietly as his thumbs trace the waistband, making your tummy twitch and tickle beneath his touch.

“Yes.”

In a fluid movement that is helped by a quick lift of your hips - you are lying fully naked in front of him - entirely vulnerable and yet, completely unafraid. Before you have a moment to register what’s happening, Marcus is freed from his boxers and your bodies are flowing softly together. Sliding over each other like the finest of silks. You feel his hand stroking your hip - slowly moving its way across, through your tight curls before stroking lightly back and forth over your slit.

“So fucking wet for me.”

His touch drives you crazy as he entwines you in a kiss - and then he’s inside you, making your breathing change with each thrust of his thick fingers - his thumb rubbing addictive circles across your clit. His eyes are hooded and heavy as he watches his effect on you - watching you writhe and unable to articulate a single thought in your mind.

Suddenly, his fingers are removed - leaving you aching and empty. You feel the bed shift as Marcus shuffles further down the bed, placing his head between your legs - his plush lips pressing sweet kisses along the inside of your thighs before you feel his nose nudging your pussy lips.

“You don’t have to…”

As you peer down between your splayed thighs, Marcus looks up - his dark, lust blown eyes a little confused by your words, “Yeah, but I want to.”

Nudging your curls with his nose, he then gently kisses you along your slit before the taste of you drives him wild. With a glorious abandon, he digs his fingers into the flesh of your bum as his tongue sweeps through the folds of your pussy - drinking you in and searching for that sweet spot that will have you singing his praises.

His lips encircle your clit as two of the fingers from one of his hands have you gasping - pushing into you and curling forwards - beckoning you into a screaming high. Your thighs clamp around his head as your hips fly up from the mattress - his large hand moving to pin your pelvis back so that his tongue can coach you through your high.

Marcus’ ministrations have you alternately gasping and turning the air blue with your whispers of, “Oh shit,” and, “Holy fuck.”

“Come on, precious girl. You can give me another,” Marcus mutters thickly before his lips and tongue go back to work on you

The five o’clock shadow that has built upon his face tickles your inner thighs and your already sensitive flesh as he kisses you like a starving man consuming his last meal. Sucking at your already hypersensitive clit has you tugging at his silky thick hair, moaning his name again and again as if it is the most precious prayer to pass your heathen lips.

Marcus feasts upon you as he slides a third finger into your warm wet depths as his gentle cajoling guides you into a mind-melting second wave of overwhelming sensations.

As you finally loosen your fingers from his hair and your breathing resettles into a calmer pattern, you watch as he lifts his head with the smuggest smirk upon his slick face. You can’t help but grin back at him as you beckon him back up the bed, beside you.

“What was that, Agent Pike?”

“Do you need a reminder? I can head back…”

As he makes to settle down again between your thighs, you laugh - grabbing him unceremoniously by the shoulders to haul his broad frame back up the bed. Bringing your hand to his cheek, you pull his face towards yours, tasting yourself upon his lips and tongue as your hands explore the soft, olive skin of his chest and tummy. Your fingers drift lightly through his treasure trail until they reach the thick, heavy length of his cock - the end already shiny wet and begging for a release.

“Sweetheart, if you are about to touch me - I won’t last. I wanna feel your sweet pussy wrapped around me but your hand or your mouth wraps around me and I’m gonna embarrass myself,” he chuckles as his cheeks charmingly flush with a rosy hue.

Flipping yourself over so that you half hang off the side of the bed, you fumble towards your lower drawer searching beneath your supplies of batteries and toys for the condoms you know are hiding in the depths of there.

Resting his chin on your shoulder, a deeply impressed voice speaks over your shoulder, “That looks like a fun drawer. Might need to have a proper look in there next time.”

“It’s been a long three years,” you grin back at him, “A woman has needs!”

“Honey, I wasn’t judging. Meant it.”

Your fingers eventually find one of those precious foil packages that you rip with your teeth to open it and pull the rubber out, “May I?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Marcus gasps as your hands stretch the condom over the length of him - his breathing ragged and uneven.

“La petite morte?” you tease mercilessly - biting your lip and watching his face closely as your touch comes close to being the undoing of him- your strokes making him groan and swallow hard.

Before he allows you to lie back, he places one of your pillows beneath you to elevate your hips. As he braces himself over you, he shakes his head before muttering, “Not sure what you’re going to do to me can be called a little death.”

Grinning up at him, you thread your fingers into his hair and nudge your nose up to his - softly kissing his lips, enticing him closer to you. Marcus leans into you - his breath warm on your face as he lines himself up - you shifting your hips up towards him as he pushes gently in.

“Oh fuck, Marcus-” you breathlessly whimper as he fills every inch of your need.

“Do you need me to stop?” the consternation for you written clearly across his face.

“Don’t you dare,” you growl, before cupping your hands around his face - the hungry kiss you place upon him leaving him in no doubt of your feelings for him.

“I need you to move, Marcus.”

The groan he releases as he bottoms out makes every nerve come alive in you. A warm smugness builds inside your tummy as you can feel that it has sparked something in him too through the gradual increase in his pace as he glides back and forth through your wet folds. Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your thighs - one of his hands gently stroking down your belly to your overwrought clit.

“I can’t again,” you moan pitifully through the rapidly building pleasurable waves he creates with the confident circles of his thumb.

“Yes. Yes, you can, sweetheart,” he rasps before kissing your ankle that’s resting on his shoulder - the alternate thrusting and rubbing bringing your body to the point where you shatter again around him.

As your high gradually ebbs away, you lean onto your elbows, arching your back to lift your hips higher - offering ever more of yourself to him. This deep, sweet angle becomes the undoing of the stoical loving man inside you as he loses the tenuous grip on the thread of his resolve.

“Fuck, Nush,” he hisses and groans, collapsing forwards into the nook of your neck - pushing you flat on your back as waves of indescribable ecstasy wash over him.

Both of you lie there dazed - heaving chest to heaving chest - neither of you can move yet. Neither of you want to move yet. Eventually, Marcus nuzzles his nose up the sensitive skin of your neck before pressing sweet little kisses against your jaw. As he pulls out, you find yourself already missing the radiating warmth of his skin and the delicious pressure of his weight against you - the coolness of the night air almost torturing your skin.

As soon as he has dealt with the condom, he goes to get a washcloth from your bathroom but before he can move too far from you, you tug him back into bed.

A small furrow builds between his brows as he tilts your chin up, “You ok, princess?”

Nodding slowly, you smile up at him, “Just feeling ridiculously fucking needy right now and want your arms wrapped around me.”

“Uh huh?” a lazy grin spreads slowly across his handsome face as he climbs back into your bed, “Can definitely provide that.”

You hum contentedly as he organises himself into somewhat of a human pillow for you - his chest beneath your head and his strong arms swaddling you close to him. Deep inside his chest, his heart beats a steady comforting rhythm that you cling to - a kind of sanctuary and auditory cocoon.

“Marcus?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I stay like this forever?” you stupidly ask - wanting to kick yourself as soon as the words pass your lips.

His arms instantly squeeze away your skittishness and you feel him smile into your hair, “Yeah,” he whispers happily, “I’d really like that.”

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prfctethereal · 3 years

Text

just another horror movie. | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader

chapter: one

warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (male receiving), exhibitionism, talk of dead bodies, actual dead body, blood, vomiting

word count: 3.7k

read the prologue here or on ao3 here

summary: you and james take a quick detour through the woods, to have a bit of morning fun, but find something gruesome.

Three weeks earlier…

The quiet town of Hogwarts had never been quieter. It was typical though; towns that resided in the countryside of Scotland were often described as “quiet”, unbeknownst to most that it was anything but. Except, Hogwarts lived up to the stereotype. Peaceful, tame, quiet.

Quiet.

God, you needed some quiet.

Exam season was narrowing in, which meant endless nights of caffeine and random studying music that you found on spotify, its main purpose to help you concentrate. It was unfortunate, with the school year coming to a close, but you were determined to leave the year proud and satisfied with your work. Everything was going perfectly so far. Nothing could screw it up.

This is what you told yourself as you began your walk to school this morning. Leaving your house at seven in the morning on the dot had become the regular for you. Now that Summer was finally coming in, the walks were warm, without chilling breezes. You could feel comfortable with the wind in your hair and a light shirt on your back.

Something felt tranquil about this morning in particular. You didn’t feel held up or anxious. You didn’t even feel stressed as you busily organised your school bag this morning. You didn’t even blink an eye when you dropped your chemistry textbook on your foot. You were in a good mood. You were glowing.

Maybe it was because you had been getting some amazing sex from your amazing boyfriend lately.

Maybe.

But today wasn’t for what ifs. Today, you had one thing on your mind. A conversation needed to be had between you and your guidance counsellor, as the prospects of colleges were starting to roll around. Applications were beginning to close and your aspirations for life after high school were beginning to get clearer and clearer. You no longer wanted to be tied down in a small town, where the most important job you could get was at the Mayor’s office, sitting at a desk, listening to the complaints of highly egotistical citizens.

Wasn’t for you.

Your mind drifted off to your could-be life, and before you knew it, your legs had walked to your boyfriend’s house without you even realising. It was something unconscious and natural, something you were completely used to. The sight of the grand, three-story mansion that your lover lived in brought unprecedented comfort.

The spiralling pillars covered in the greenest of vines was something from a fairytale. A pale cerulean was painted across the panelling, giving a dream-like feel. Right above the front door housed a giant window, one that opened up into James’ bedroom.

Right. James.

Walking up the path, you felt comforted by the familiar sound of gravel beneath your feet. It reminded you of all the nights you had snuck up this very path to climb into James’ bedroom via the window. Nostalgic really.

Now you were here in broad daylight, ready to walk hand in hand with your boyfriend to school. Knocking on the front door, you were excited to see a nearly immediate opening of the door, with a very joyous boy standing there. His signature dopey smile glistened even brighter, as his eyes lingered over your clothed body a little longer than expected. His tongue shot out very quickly over the pink cushions of his lips, something you could’ve missed in a blink of an eye, but you didn’t. Laughing, he pushed his glasses up the nose of his bridge, before running his fingers through his unruly hair.

“Should we go then?” It sounded as though it was the first time James had spoken this morning, a fact that you didn’t mind, as your brain thought unholy things when listening to his gravely morning voice.

“Soon.” You mumbled, your voice trailing off slightly, as you stepped towards James, swinging your arms around the back of his neck. Taking a breath of his scent, you leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss upon his lips. They were slightly chapped, but you didn’t care.

It may have been a Summer day, but that wasn’t the only reason you were feeling hot.

Stopping yourself before you went too far, you pulled backwards, not before suggestively running your hands down James’ chest, smirking against his lips. “Come on, let's go.” You remarked playfully, smacking your hand lightly against James’ firm butt, which elicited a short laugh from the bubbly man.

So, hand in hand, you and James darted down his footpath, back into the street. Even more birds had woken up by now, with a choir of chirping serenading your descent into the bustling streets of Hogwarts.

Everything now seemed a little more public than you initially thought. Neighbours were waking up and going to work now too, giving no shorter than five second glances at you and James’ hand intertwined. You know what they would say; old people gossiped too much for your liking. It made you especially nervous, knowing that your parents didn’t know about your illicit relationship. Maybe it should stay that way. Well, before any neighbours get a little too gossipy in the weekly book club meetings.

“Are you listening to me?” James asked, snapping you out of your thoughtful haze. Blinking twice, you returned your attention to James, who’s eyes were laced with concern as he looked you over once again, eyebrows furrowed. “You seem out of it.”

“Oh, sorry.” Your voice came out almost silently as you looked away, flushed and embarrassed. “What were you talking about?”

“How I was going to fuck you so hard later today that you are going to struggle to walk.” James followed his statement with a dash of laughter, something that you mimicked like a pirate’s parrot.

“Well, I hope that’s not a joke, my dear.” You flashed a sly smile, looking James up and down. You both stopped walking, with James now admiring the way you were biting your lip, as if you were a siren trying to entrap him. Surely, you guys wouldn’t quickly dash away into the bush and go for a quickie right now, right?

James thought about it too, eyeing up someone’s poor hydrangea bush. Unfortunately, there would be too many witnesses, and exhibitionism wasn’t something you had both openly discussed before, although it wasn’t completely off the table.

“Lunch period.” James finally said, stopping his momentary halt, and marching forward.

“Lunch period?”

James leaned over, pressing his lips so close to your ear. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine, ones that ended in your core. “Meet me in the hallway between the chemistry and physics lab. I think there’s a new cupboard we could Christen.”

Giggling in excitement, you rubbed your fingers up the length of James’ arm, tugging him down the footpath, continuing your conversation about whatever. You learnt that he had a History test today, all about women earning the right to vote. You sighed as you listened to him talk about what he was passionate about, his stressed vowel sounds turning you on more than you would’ve thought.

Then came a predicament. An actual, real life crossroad. Right in front of you was where the footpath curved to the left, following along the road onto the main road through town. It was the way you went every day, with the road taking you directly to school when you walked along it, arriving perfectly at seven twenty-five every day. It was ideal.

This morning, though, you were feeling cheeky. From this footpath curve was another opportunity. The footpath also opened into a dirt path, something that twisted into the woods, or, as the conspiracy theorists of the town called it, the Forbidden Forest. It was hardly forbidden though; they literally took Scouts classes there, and those have kids as young as seven in them.

Feeling devilish, you paused James for a moment, the cogs turning over in your brain. You might arrive at school a little later than you first thought, but at least you would have some distance between the prying eyes of the Hogwarts neighbourhood. And maybe, you could have a little bit of fun too.

“James,” you smirked, tugging at the edge of his shirt, capturing his attention, something that wasn’t actually that hard to do, “shall we go for a detour this morning?”

Your eyes flashed over the forest and onto the quiet stillness of it. You could feel James’ heart rate speed up, but it wasn’t because he was scared. He was just as excited as you. It was like a switch had flicked on in his brain, although he was still hesitant, his feet still planted firmly on the ground.

“Are you sure?” James questioned. “How late is this going to make us?”

“Not that late at all.” You justified, mocking offence. “Oh, we should get there at maybe, quarter to eight? And besides, it’s fresh air, it’ll be good for us, and our lungs. Think of it as reversing the side effects of being around Sirius and Remus when they smoke all the time. Your lungs will thank us.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” James laughed.

“How would you be so sure?”

“I’m the one that takes biology out of the two of us.”

You had to try another tactic, so, you jutted your bottom lip out of your mouth, putting on your best doe eyes, hoping you could flutter your eyelashes enough for him to give into temptation. “Please?”

A sigh escaped James lips as he seemed to give in. His reluctant look of worry was quickly replaced by an eager spark. Knitting his fingers in with yours, you two walked hand and hand together down the dirt path. The change of feeling beneath your feet was almost instantly recognisable, the normal, smooth, concrete path replaced by the rough dirt, and slight mud, even though it hadn't rained in days.

As you continued to wander down the path, you were suddenly covered in a canopy of shade, as the trees of the forest soon covered your heads. The route got a tad darker, the path no longer illuminated with the light of the sun, not that you minded though. You could still easily see where you were going.

You felt a little colder without the extra heat from the sun. You didn’t like the way goosebumps rose on your skin or the way you had to rub your hands along your arm to keep yourself warm. You felt out of control, a feeling of which you loathed. You didn’t want your perfect morning to be ruined by a little chill.

When you reached a tall, winding tree, you stopped James from his walk, pulling him off the path. Luckily, you had spotted a small dip in the earth, perfect to stay in, somewhere where regular bystanders wouldn’t find you. Happy with your discovery, you looked back at James, who had a puzzled look across his face.

“What’s going on?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked breathlessly, your hands already getting fidgety. You wanted to be connected with James again, intertwined if you will. You needed to feel his skin, even if it was barely quarter past seven in the morning.

“Yes, love.” James breathed out, his voice quiet and shallow. WIth the consent, you leaned upwards, connecting your lips at last. It felt right to be pressed up against each other once again, even if it had been only yesterday when you had last felt such passion.

You deepened the kiss, feeling urgent to make the most of the short time you had together. Your mouths melded together almost perfectly, your lips pushing against each other like a playful pillow fight, one which you were determined to win.

Feeling mischievous, you reached to James’ hair, tugging lightly on his roots, an action you knew he liked. This action got the response you wanted from him, a needy moan, in which you took the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, battling it out with his own, regaining confidence and dominance.

You pulled away, your cheeks flushed from the lack of oxygen. James looked disheveled but pleased, wanting to continue your little make out session, but unfortunately, you had limited time.

“Can I suck you off?” You whispered against his mouth innocently, looking up at his hazel eyes, brushing his hair off of his forehead. You could hear him gulp with nervousness, before nodding quickly, his hands making their way to his slacks.

You knew James was slipping into a mindset clouded by arousal, so you sank to your knees slowly in front of him, still looking up at him through your long lashes. On your journey downwards, you carefully unzipped the zipper on his pants, pulling them down to ankles, until he was clad in only his boxers.

Lifting yourself up slightly onto the balls of your feet, you kissed him lightly on the outside of his boxers, feathering gentle kisses. You knew you were being a tease, but you needed him nice and hard. As you felt his bulge setting like cement under your lips, you lifted your hands up, joining your lips so you could palm him, stroking the material.

When James started moaning, - “oh please, stop teasing, I beg you,” - you released him from the cage of his underwear, dragging the clothing down the apex of his things, watching the muscles twitch in excitement. There, James’ half hard cock laid against his thighs, the tip a gentle rouge colour.

Your fingers grazed over his prick, lightly tracing a prominent vein of the underside of the sex muscle. James groaned in pleasure, the teasing getting too much for him to handle. Feeling benevolent, you dribbled saliva over the tip of the cock, before wrapping your entire hand around it. You started stroking harder and faster, making sure James could feel all of you in a way you hand. He was starting to fall apart above you, but it wasn;t enough.

“So- so good.” James murmured, his eyes gently shutting as he became lost in the feeling. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop. I love your hands, so perfect, so precise. Perfect for me, precise for me.”

“It was like you were made for me.” You agreed with the raven haired boy, before bringing your lips down to the tip of his penis. This action shocked James, but the whimper out of his mouth made you know he was enjoying it. Living from the excitement of the exhibisionist route, you swiveled your tongue across the tip, reaching down the length of the cock, savouring his taste.

“Right there.” James moane, as you brung the rest of your mouth down over his now fully hard cock, reveling in the flavour of the salty precum that was leaking from his angry tip. With a smooth rhythm, you bobbed your head up and down on James’ cock, the sound of his moans itching you on.

You knew you were running out of time, and you still wanted him to cum, so you sped up your movements on James’ cock, stroking the base of his cock, which could not fit in your mouth. Adding to the pleasure, you let your hands move downwards a bit more, so they played gently with James’ hanging balls.

This applied pressure was becoming too much for James, as his breath became laboured and a tingling feeling was nearly bursting at his cock. “I’m gonna cum, please, I’m going to do it.”

You lifted your mouth off of James’ cock, just to murmur, “let go.” James, with your permission, spurted his cum across your hands. Eager to savour him, you opened your mouth, catching as much of the milking substance as possible, not wanting to waste any of it. Jacking James off through the entire thing, you watched as his orgasm crashed over him entirely, the way his face contorted in pleasure almost being the most beautiful portrait to you.

Licking the rest of his cum off of your fingers, you stood up, wiping your knees off, as the dirt sticking to you was becoming slightly uncomfortable. While you stood up, you reached from the top of James’ pants, pulling them upwards as you went.

“Thanks.” James almost laughed, except he still sounded out of breath, which was very reasonable though. You did just suck the life out of him. His fingers worked quickly, rearranging his pants, and cock, so that you both could continue on your way to school.

As you waited for James to finish cleaning himself up, your nose turned upwards. There was a strange smell coming from the area, one you didn’t notice before when you were on your knees in front of James. It was a smell that you were relatively unfamiliar with, but all you knew was that it stank like rotten meat.

“Can you smell that?” You asked James, looking off into the little ditch you were beside. Wherever you were, it seemed that it had been recently disturbed. Broken twigs snapped into pieces laid amongst crunched up leaves. If you squinted, you were sure you could even make out that faintest of footprints on the ground. It was odd, but nothing you haven't seen before in the woods. The smell on the other hand…

“Smells like thrown out vegetables.” James readjusted his glasses before holding out his hand, inviting you to close your fingers in with his. “I bet some old granny thought it would be a good idea to throw out their compost in the woods. If the council found out, they would have a fit. You know all about their weirdly tight rules on littering? It’s not even bad for the environment.”

You had stopped listening a while ago. Something didn’t feel right, but it was nothing you could sort out now. You weren’t satisfied but you turned back towards James anyway, knowing that you needed to head off to school or you would be running a little bit behind schedule. As you turned around, you noticed James’ face morph from a cheeky grin to a concerned frown.

“What is it?” You pondered, stepping towards James, matching his pear-shaped frown with one of your own.

“Did you cut yourself when you were on your knees?”

“Huh?”

“Look.” James bent down to look at your knees and you turned your head down too. What you thought had just been a bit of dirt must’ve been something else. Your knees were covered in a browny-red, maybe a maroon colour. It looked as though your entire knee had been cut open, as blood was still dripping from your skin, but that couldn’t be right. You felt no pain on your knee. You hadn’t cut yourself.

Swiping your fingers across your knee, you gathered some of the drying blood on your fingers. This was the first time you had looked at your hands since you wiped off your knees before and you saw that you had smudged blood stains all across your palm. You nearly barfed on the spot. You felt incredibly uneasy, like a stormy ocean filled your stomach.

You lifted your fingers up to your nose, a theory hypothesising into your head, and you were right. The smell of the blood matched the rotten meat smell you could smell before. As if you were a dog, the odor latched onto your nose and expanded, its putrid smell being the only thing in your senses.

“I'm going to be sick.” You doubled over a rock. Resting your hand against a boulder, you hovered downwards over a patch of leaves, letting your breakfast out. Your head was reeling as you could still smell the retching odor of the old blood. You couldn’t get it out of your mind, so you leaned over again, round two of the hurling intervention.

James rushed over to you, placing his warm hands on your back, rubbing soothing circles. He wished he could say that his main focus was to make you feel better, but it wasn’t. Over in the deepest part of the dish, he noticed something strange. It was almost like a small lump in the ground, something unnatural. It seemed to be covered very messily by old leaves and sticks, and an entire tree branch, as if it would make it any less inconspicuous. It even had that opposite of the desired effect, seemingly sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Darling,” James waited until you lifted your head back up, regaining your breath once again, “what do you think that is?”

James’ hand pointed into the direction of the ditch, in which you followed his eyesight and body movements. You could see it too; just a lump in the ground. Your mind was racing of what it could be. A dead animal? A pile of rotten food? Maybe a…

“Holy shit!” You had only just realised that James had already walked over there, except his body was covering your eye line, and you couldn’t actually see what James had found. Although, he told you immediately. “Quick, call the police. It’s a body.”

A dead body in Hogwarts? Making sure you didn’t lose any more of your stomach through puking, you rushed onto the path in the woods, grabbing your phone out of your pocket, hoping you could get service all the way out here in the woods. Fumbling to turn your phone on, you nearly groaned out in annoyance when you saw that you were getting no bars of service.

Running back to James, you couldn’t stop at the moment. You called out to him, your words a blurred mess, trying to convey to him that you were going to find someone to help. Unsure if he had even heard you, you ran back down the path, your feet carrying you to where you needed to go, unable to bring yourself to a cohesive thought.

When you exited the forest, you flicked your head around, trying to find someone, anyone, that could help in the moment. The first person you saw was your calculus teacher, Mr Slughorn, to which you promptly called out to.

“Mr Slughorn!” You cupped your hands around your mouth to project your words across louder. Mr Slughorn snapped his head around and gave a friendly wave. Annoyed, you shook your head. “Call the police!”

“What?” He called back, walking towards you now. You groaned, trying again.

“There's a dead body in the forest. Call the police!”

***

lmao. anyway this has become a series whoops.

#James potter #James Potter x reader #harry potter #marauders #marauders era #James Potter smut #jahmfic

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