#i did get them from libraries if possible

[abandonedandforgottentimes]

Many of the younger ccs speaking up about Wilbur's manipulation is INCREDIBLY concerning, and I don't think they'll be the last. I think it's also a big indication that it happened to Tommy too, and that he'll take a while to respond. People demanding an immediate response need to remember that he was likely a victim of it too, he just may not have been aware of it.

I mean, Wilbur's ADMITTED he relied on Tommy for his mental health when he was still a minor. That is NOT something adults should ever do and it has always been odd to me. It also makes it very hard for the minor involved to leave the friendship, since they see themselves as responsible for the older person. I don't think I need to really go into how unhealthy that sort of thing is, it isn't an uncommon occurrence and lot of people will have a better explanation than me. But it is something to keep in mind, that Tommy may feel responsible or have been groomed to excuse the behavior.

The library stream is another example of the manipulation, and I'm surprised no one is talking about it. Tommy literally talked about how uncomfortable he was at Wilbur's house. It was cold, he had no blanket, he didn't want to keep staying there, he would rather be out in public at night in a strange place. Then Wilbur just shows up out of nowhere and tells Tommy he's misremembering/being dramatic and pretty much shuts him up, gets him to stop talking shit about him. Everyone's exasperation with Tommy in the situation (being a minor alone and uncomfortable and uncertain of what to do, far from home with nowhere to go), helped Wilbur pull Tommy back in and convince him to go back to his house, especially since it was passed off as Wilbur being caring.

It was obvious to me during the stream that Tommy was telling the truth and Wilbur was the one lying, but I figured he was just being defensive because he didn't want all that online. Now we know that he had a LOT more to hide about his living situation that he didn't want being spilled, and manipulators/abusers don't tend to like it when someone goes and starts talking about the truth. They want to downplay it as much as possible, and Wilbur showing up in person to shut Tommy up and make fun of him for not wanting to stay with him, make it more lighthearted, is incredibly telling and I'm surprised I haven't seen anyone point that out.

There are so many other things I found odd throughout the years that finally have a proper explanation to them, but that's just a few examples. I'm not going to get too much further into it. Wilbur isn't who we should be focusing on, I just needed to get that out to move on from it.

I do think pointing out that Tommy has openly been manipulated is important because it may cause him to take a while to respond openly to all this while he processes. If Wilbur treated so many of his ex-friends badly it's safe to assume he did it to all of them, and we need to give everyone involved time to stop and think about the situation. A lot of people want Tommy to respond immediately, but he will need time to do that and it's only fair we give him the space to do that properly.

I also think it is so, so incredible that Shelby has given so many people the space and bravery to come forward. I believe there will be more people speaking up soon, they just need time. Support her and other victims!

#saw people on x posting 'fuck Tommy Phil Tubbo Niki etc for not speaking out' within fifteen minutes of the bitchass 'apology' #and then tubbo spoke out like an hour later?? like give them time #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #tw: wilbur soot

[targaryenluvs]

— TRAPPED (WORDS NOT SAID)

pairing: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: cold!corio, murder, nc kissing, possessiveness, very controlling thoughts and actions, arranged marriage, cheating, dark-ish themes since he’s literally insane HAVE U SEEN THE BOOKS? not proof read

summary: after the 10th hunger games, coriolanus set his sights on a girl from his younger years to be his wife. disgusted by his actions and scared by the rumours your family agreed. as you realise he wasn’t the same boy from before, snow finds himself intrigued, especially when you seem to be visiting a friends house too often.

word count: 1.9k words

a/n: i don’t usually write toxic shit but like that’s the definition of snow and his cute lil intrusive thoughts so here u go 😘 this man is a bad man especially after lucy. so i find it so funny when he’s super sweet in some fics but he’s super like ooh she needs protection, oh she’s fragile you get me???

PLEASE READ WARNINGS

there was no point in crying.

you knew that.

but at the prospect of marrying a man whom you barely even knew scared the hell out of you, and the thought of not being with your albeit secret boyfriend, not getting to marry him, start a life with him? it was unbearable.

your dress was crisp white, like snow. of course.

the memories of that day were jumbled in your head, you remember being stuffed into a dress, your hair and face being pulled every which way and holding coriolanus’s hands as you listened to his vows, void of emotion in the eyes but with a slight smile on his face. you couldn’t even recall what happened afterwards. and you didn’t want to. coriolanus hadn’t even let you properly bid your family farewell before he’d sweeped you away to your new home, courtesy of your parents and the plinths.

and even if your home was cold and distant you tried your best to be nice and easy with snow. you’d wear what he wanted, did what he wanted and everything else. you could tell he found comfort in control, knowing what was happening, being able to tell people what to do. even if you hated to admit it, it suited him.

in a rare moment, his mask would slip. the mask that kept his true thoughts and emotions neatly stored away, it would fall. and you revelled in them, a genuine smile, across his face. but as soon as it slipped, his walls were back up and he was straightening his red coat and out the door.

over the next months you’d learnt to keep yourself in check, there was no point in trying to bond with coriolanus, he knew his boundaries in your relationship? marriage? whatever it was, it was just on paper. you were mere passing acquaintances at best. you’d have breakfast together, he’d leave the house, you’d occupy yourself with the house, the library, entertainment, shopping, he’d come home, dinner and then off to your rooms.

but over a few weeks ago you’d met someone new.

andrenis was insanely gorgeous, his eyes shone in the sun and his brown hair reminded you of chocolate. he was breathtaking and he loved you. it’d been so long since you felt love, pure and devoted love to someone. the vacant halls of coriolanus’s and yours home were at the back of your mind in his presence.

at first youd started of friends of course and as you continued you felt, alive. every time he looked at you, talked to you everything faded to the back of your mind. but what you didn’t know was that snow had taken note. he’d noticed you skipping out on breakfast at times, your maids always claiming that you’d been reading late, working late and so on.

working late? you were married to him, what work could you possible have? why were you sleeping so late? could you not do your reading during the day? what was taking your attention, who?

even if you didn’t talk much, let alone see eachother you were a constant in his life now. something that gave him comfort of sorts. small talk with you in the morning and night, seeing you in the halls, your laugh echoing through the halls as you talked with staff, your scent lingering in the library and the drops of blood on his roses, since you were the only person whom he allowed to tend to them.

for him, you were security.

he knew you wouldn’t leave since you had no reason to. there was no love holding you to this relationship, you had a comfortable life, your friends and family in your reach and the luxury that you lived in. you were free, in your eyes. but in reality the second your own pen touched that paper and you signed the certificate your life was taken from you. even if you didn’t know it, coriolanus had been monitoring you from afar.

keeping track of what you did, where you went, what you spent. it was all to make sure you made it home of course. nothing less, nothing more.

so imagine his surprise when he heard reports of you sneaking out of the house and returning in the early hours of the morning.

for some reason he couldn’t help the pang of jealousy in his heart. why on earth would you be sneaking out? was this home not enough? the roof over your head and the food in your stomach? the bed you sleep in and the man you call your husband. your loyalty should be unwavering yet here he was, watching you creep out of the house through the servants quarters.

his jaw clenched and his fists curled as you laid your hands against his chest, foreheads against the others. “i’ve missed you my love.” the man’s voice echoed through his head.

words he’d never said to you.

“i know, but we are together and that is all that matters. i love you andrenis.”

words you’d never said to him.

“i’m to visit district 12, my father wishes for me to visit my brother. you know what he did, his punishment was to be a peacekeeper. but his time is up and mother misses him terribly. i do not know how long i will be y/n, but i will bring you back whatever you wish.”

“and what exactly will you get from district 12 that my dear wife will will not be able to get here?” it wasn’t a question, even if it was said as one. there was not a single thing that he wouldn’t give his wife. to keep up your appearances of course, he couldn’t have you going without something you wanted.

your heart was racing and your hands sweaty as you instantly pulled away from andrenis. snows eyes bore into his, andrenis breathed deeply before speaking, “coriolanus. you look good, rising above the ranks, marrying up are we?”

andrenis layworth. not only did coriolanus despise him but he knew how he truly acted. he should’ve stayed away from things that weren’t his, never were and never would be.

“andrenis!” you scolded him, it was already embarrassing in your eyes to be caught with him by your husband but you wouldn’t let him mock coriolanus.

your husband reached his hand out towards you, and you accepted as he spoke up. “i hope your travels are safe, andrenis.” the two of you walked away, him placing you into the car before shutting the door. he tapped on the back as you drove back home, without him to your surprise.

andrenis was taken aback. in all the time he’d been with you, you’d failed to mention your husband was him. and as much as andrenis would hate to say it, snow did intimidate him. nowadays at least. he rarely showed emotion, he was always proper and dressed appropriately, but all that didn’t matter when snow had his mind. his wit, intelligence and cunning was far more impressive than most.

he’d always kept himself in check.

but as coriolanus snow walked towards him with certainty he backed himself all the way into the dark alley as he was grabbed by his collar and slammed into the wall. “my wife. she is my wife, no one else’s. just because your pockets may be deeper than mine does not mean that i won’t hesitate to get you out of my way. you could never be worthy of her and if you so much as look at her, i will make sure you will never see the light of day. perhaps you’ll have a fall, or a crash with your traitor brother?”

the mask had fallen and the only thing left behind it was pure rage.

“or maybe we’ll hang? what would that be, three deaths on your hands?” andrenis smirked as coriolanus’s face dropped. he grabbed andrenis and shoved him infront, pushing him to walk. “you’re going to district 12 and you will never come out.” andrenis laughed loudly, “such terror you impose, poor coriolanus, clawing his way to the top. marrying a woman by force-”

“on second thought.”

a single gun shot rung through the air.

“district 12 isn’t low enough for you.” snow spoke as andrenis tried to crawl away from him. “no place on earth deserves the dishonour of having you waste their resources. the air you breathe is a privilege, that should not be taken by you.” coriolanus pulled him up by his hair, “the second you decided to be with her, was the day that you died.”

andrenis’s eyes were closing, fear swimming around. but corio couldn’t bring himself to care. his mind was clouded, for once he wasn’t thinking clearly. as he walked back into the house he saw you, sat with your head in your hands, jumping up at the sound of him entering. “corio.”

his heart was beating erratically at the sound of your voice, so soft and welcoming. why hadn’t he noticed your sweetness before?

“i’m so sorry, i- i was weak. we rarely speak to eachother, let alone allow ourselves to love. with andrenis, he reminded me of it, reminded me how it felt to love and to be loved. i won’t see him again, i promise.”

so submissive, rather than standing your ground. getting angry at him for forcing you into the marriage, for not talking to you, you were apologising. whilst you may have been disloyal he saw it only as a weakness. a bad habit to which he could help, he could fix. and he knew you’d keep your promise, not because you’d try your hardest but because andrenis was a cold stiff body in the bottom of a construction site. a mugging victim? an accident? it didn’t matter how his passing was seen as, he was gone and he’d never return.

he’d made sure of it.

as he walked towards you the scene from before replayed in his head as you walked backwards with every step you took, and in your eyes he saw what he craved to enforce, terror. and you were so small to him, something fragile, in need of control and order.

“don’t worry, i’ll keep you safe, i’m all you need.” corio spoke as his face got closer. the rise and fall of your chest was rapid, your eyes were wide as you realised what he was trying to do. you quickly turned your head but he quickly forced you to look at him, fingers digging into your face, “i give you everything, i will always give you everything. you deserve nothing but the best and i am the only one who can give it to you, you need me. do you understand?” he questioned as you began to cry, you’d never seen him so unhinged. his hair was slightly out of place, a strand infront of his eye.

(zayn malik vibes)

his coat was off, most likely hung on the door way and his sleeves were rolled, his usually pristine white shirt was crinkled, dirty. what had he been doing after you left? you’d gotten your answer as your teary eyes blinked away the tears, focused on his bare arms,

blood.

“corio, please. what did you do?” you cried as his hand made its way to your neck as he pressed your forehead to his, your stomach swirling and head spinning as a sense of deja vu crossed you, andrenis.

“what i had to, i will always do what i have to. nothing is ever handed to me.”

“you didn’t-”

he laughed, “snow lands on top, in life and on you.”

(going to puke why did i write that it’s so cringe)

the kiss was nothing like you ever had. it wasn’t sweet, passionate, rather hungry, as if he was chasing you, afraid you’d run. as if you could, he’d let one girl get away and with how he looked at you in this moment?

you were trapped.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #hunger games x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow

[venuiscmind]

i was replaying part two and all i can think of is the scene where dina and ellie talk about if anyone is still making movies. imagine ellie doing everything she can to find a camera so you and her can make your own type of movies ?? id explode.

Only on Camera (Ellie Williams x reader smut) 18+

Hiiiiii. Loved the request and has been on my mind ever since you asked for it. Bartender Ellie is still on the way but this just inspired me so much!!! ( also this was written at 3am so pls ignore any errors ooph) (W.C 3k)

Scissoring, tribbing, fingering, oral, making out, spit play (only a tiny bit), squirting, pet names.

read this.

</3.

If you asked Ellie, she'd tell you that she never thought she would be like one of those girls that she had seen on the smut magazines or pictures she had come across in patrols or in scavenges for trading material. The thought had briefly crossed her mind while she was on a patrol with Dina, and she had asked her if she thought 'Was anyone still making movies out there.' but she kept her lips firmly shut. 

Then she had actually discovered those tapes in Eugene’s Library.

Ellie never watched them whenever she returned to the library, but she was a woman possessed. She had to make trips back whenever she was patrolling the creek trails with Dina, and she would always take some weed back with her to trade or to smoke with you. She had even began trading the leaves with the others in Jackson swapping them for little things that she thought you would love like clothes, certain snacks or trinkets you would store in safe places. 

She loved seeing you happy and sometimes wished she could capture these moments of you smiling up at her or hugging her to say thank you forever. Make them permanent and tangible so she could hold onto it for the rest of her life.  

That was when she thought back on those tapes again. Not thinking of the girls or what they were doing on them but of you, and how you would look better on camera than any of them. Clothes on or not.  

And that was how it started. Her signing in at any patrol spot and then begging her partner to give her an hour to turn the place over to find what she was looking for. She began expanding her search to places that weren't necessarily on the patrol route but still needed to be checked out, schools, malls that seemed to be as stocked as could be in the apocalypse, certain houses that hadn't been too badly ransacked and lone stores that could have what she needed. 

Nothing. To say she was getting frustrated was an understatement, but she didn't give up. She wanted to try. So, she kept looking and bribing her partner to look the other way. Then one day it clicked. After weeks of ransacking and mauling properties she looked in the place where it had all started. She tied Shimmer outside of Eugene's library and got to work immediately.  

Finally in one of the drawers she found a handheld camera, still in good condition and as luck would have it still had storage. "Yes." She sighed into her frozen hands and silently thanked the soul of the now deceased Eugene. She stuffed the camera into her backpack and rode back to Jackson with a new stride in her step.  

She didn't bring up the idea to you immediately, but she did bring the camera to show you. Despite her frantic search Ellie wanted to ease the idea of being on tape onto you as gently as possible. But it didn't take long for her to ask. 

It was a rare evening that the both of you had off, Ellie relieved from her patrols for the day and you from your duties in the stables and gardens of Jackson. You spent it how you always did. At each other's respective houses, this time it was at Ellie's, and you had spent the day watching movies and keeping each other warm against the bitter cold of the town's winters.  

You started off watching the first few films side by side, sharing a blanket, then Ellie took your legs and swung them over her lap in the name if making you comfier. Soon after you had simply gravitated towards each other, each movement had you growing closer, negating any space between the two of you until you had gotten close enough to sit in her lap.  

You slid your leg on the other side of hers, so that you could straddle her and hear her ask a simple "you okay to keep going?" Your responses were always the same. A small kiss to her lips and a "yes els, keep going." mumbled against her lips. 

The dim light of the movie, kept Ellie's flushed face visible to you as you stroked the side of her face and leaned in, being met by her halfway as she arched up to kiss you. You always felt so foggy whenever you kissed her.  

Like all the heat in your body would suddenly flare up and you could short circuit. You felt as though your heartbeat had started for the first time and you couldn't get any oxygen into your lungs. But you didn't need any. Ellie was all you needed. With her hands gripping your waist before moving the soft flesh of your ass.  

You moaned into her mouth at the touch, sliding your hands up into her hoodie palming her tits and sliding your tongue into her mouth which was already open and accepting you into her. Your heart suddenly swelled at this, feeling the love the girl under you held for you and only you.  

Ellie leaned back and pulled away from you leaning her head against the arm of the couch, looking at you for a second, lips shiny with a small string of spit connecting the two of you together. She wanted to ask you desperately but didn't to make things weird now especially when she wanted to take care of you. You saw the furrow on her brow and whispered to her "Els, are you okay over there?" looking at the expression on her face. You moved to get off, but she kept her hands firmly planted before opening her eyes fully and settling them onto you.  

"Y-yeah just wanted to ask you about something. You can a hundred percent say no, but I just wanted to see if you maybe wanted to-" "It's about that camera, isn't it?" You cut off your poor girl's rambles feeling she'd never actually ask and keep circling. You looked into her eyes lovingly and smiled softly, continuing to stroke the swells of her cheeks.  

"I want to if you want to els." This caused Ellie to groan under you and offer reassurance of "we can stop anytime you want just say," or "we don't have to you know?". You knew she was assuming and worrying you were doing this for her, but the idea had popped into your head ever since she placed the camera into your hands. You wanted to make sure your love lasted forever. On film and with each other too. You lead Ellie to her bed, hand in hand and sat her down, kissing her before setting the camera up on her desk opposite the bed, facing the both of you before flicking it on and confirming the red dot was flickering. 

You turned to her pulling your shirt over your head and placing it on her desk and heard her breath hitch at the act that she would have this captured on film forever. 

You looked back at the girl on her bed, elbows holding her up as she leaned back on them gazing up at you with her shining green eyes. "C'mere." she said holding her hands out to you beckoning you over.  

You took them and she pulled you down onto the bed, the movement causing you to realise how much slick had pooled between your legs and probably coated your underwear.  

Ellie kissed your cheeks before pulling off her hoodie and her jeans, leaving her in a black wifebeater and her underwear. You took a shaky deep breath as she crawled in the space where your legs were open and lay on top of you, who wrapped your thighs around her middle in response to the intrusion of your space.  

You helped her pull off your pants leaving you only in your underwear. You shivered and pulled her in for a kiss which she gave you but quickly pulled back in favour of getting up and gripping your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed to make sure the camera would get all of what you were giving her making your shriek at the sudden movement. 

You huffed and cried out as she placed a kiss to your underwear. "shh" Ellie placated you rubbing her hands up your thighs to soothe you. She mouthed at you through the garments, listening to you shuffle and moan out at the contact. Her tongue traced around your clit before sucking on the bundle of nerves, making you cover your mouth as your jaw loosened and moans escaped your lips.  

"Ellie, please don't tease I can't take it." you groaned, but the girl was through tormenting you, pushing your underwear aside to taste you properly, spitting on your clit before sucking in your clit again. She slid her fingers against your folds, feeling you shiver against her, as she pushed into you, and settled against the spongy spot inside you. She didn't stay still though, as per your request. She never was good at denying you anything.  

She couldn't get enough of the taste sticking to her tongue and decided she wanted more before shoving her tongue inside of you after sliding her fingers out of you gently. You were so close you sobbed telling her and reached out to pull her short hair closer to your body scratching at the back of your neck. She loved when you did this groaning at the small bits of pain you were giving her she thought while her nose bumped against your clit due to your hips moving.

She hoped the camera wouldn't pick up on the way she was grinding against her own legs folded beneath her, to get some friction from the wetness in her underwear.  

She felt you cream and cum around her tongue, she lapped up as much as she could, tasting the tartness and sweetness of you in her mouth as you came on her lips. She pulled away once she felt you whine, knowing you would be overstimulated too fast if she continued so she kissed her way back up your body, grasped your jaw and you opened your lips before she even said the word "open." 

She let the liquid pool into her mouth then spat straight onto your outstretched tongue. She pushed her fingers into your mouth and felt you swallow around them. Ellie groaned watching you swallow yourself down with blown out pupils. "That's it." she said watching you, "My fucking good girl." You hummed, suckling on her thumb until there was nothing of you left to devour.  

You leaned up to kiss her then whispered in her ear "want you on me els, please?" You leaned back feeling yourself clench around nothing, aching again to feel her again. Ellie let you wrap her arms around her neck, pressing your tits against hers and kissing up her jawline to try and convince her of something she was going to do from the start.  

"Of course, baby." she whispered, kissing your cheeks back and cradling your head. She began taking off the rest of her clothes as you leaned back, letting her climb on top of you. She grabbed the back of your knees spreading them, moulding you into the position she wanted you in. You complied with her, running your hands down the lines of her abs, completely enamoured with the girl on top of you.  

She sank down slowly biting her full lips between her teeth to bite back the moans that were threatening to escape them. You wanted to hear her though, so you grabbed onto her hips gently to start fucking back onto her, coaxing her voice out of her lungs. She gasped and moaned, feeling your clits bump and your collective wetness start to mix together. "holy fuck." she groaned. She would never get used to the feeling of grinding against you. Every time she did it, she felt like she was living for the first time.  

She looked at you, blushing and trying to keep humping against her without finishing before her and had to close her eyes so as not to cum at the sight of it alone but fuck she was close. "Think I'm goanna cum oh shit-." She said cutting herself off as she felt the heat rise in her core and down to her clit as she felt herself tighten again. "so close els, cum on me please." You begged the girl above you. 

She came listening to your babbling underneath you. Ellie gushed and came just as her clit glided up against you, completely coated in your slick and felt herself float out of her body as her eyes rolled back into her skull. She also felt herself gush and squirt around you, holding onto your hands to keep herself grounded and so she didn't fall off your quivering body. She triggered your own orgasm as she felt your folds shake, squeezing around nothing but her slick.  

Once she finished panting and recovered from her orgasm she got up, remembering the camera was still on the both of you. She turned it off watching the light blink out and went back into bed after grabbing towels to clean you both. She dressed you in a shirt and kissed you.  

"Thank you, pretty girl. Can't wait to watch it." She grinned looking over at you while tossing the camera between her hands, as you blushed and covered your face, before jokingly slapping her arm. 

"As long as we watch it together, I want to see you squirt on me." It was her turn to blush at this, but she leaned in before closing her eyes to kiss you again and say, "Love you baby." in a hushed and enamoured tone. 

"Love you too els." You said fondly, wrapping your arms around the girl, covering you both in her sheets and nuzzling her nose.

#ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x y/n #ellei williams tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #the last of us part ii #tlou2 #ellie smut

[papercorgiworld]

It started with a book

A Mattheo Riddle love story

Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader

The reader is a total bookworm and has a crush on Mattheo. For a summary check the request.

Warning: bullying, foul language and kissing

Picture source: https://pin.it/4HBHs0yxy

I’ve never written about a Hufflepuff reader before, I know that’s very Slytherin of me, but I really hope I did justice to our kind and hardworking Hufflepuffs.

I. Books and lifesavers

You were sitting in the quietest corner of the library and had just finished your essay on gillyweed. You reached for your newest novel, happy to finally dig into the book after finishing all your work. You scan the book in every way possible, adoring the illustrations and paper, but when you finally start the first sentence you’re interrupted.

“No, it should be here somewhere. It’s about conjuration, so this section.” You heard Mattheo’s voice explain, before he appeared next to your table looking at the books on the shelves. Your eyes shot up at him, but he was too focused on the books to even notice you. Your eyes immediately dropped back to your book when you saw Draco. “How would you know? You’ve never set foot in this place.” He snarls at his friend. Mattheo just rolls his eyes as his finger moves over the different titles. “Elemental Structure and Duration… Element-” You heard Mattheo mutter to himself and you looked back up from your book, watching him as he focussed on the books. “It’s Theory of Elemental Structure and Duration.” You suddenly blur and get up from your seat. Mattheo and Draco look surprised, like you had shown up out of nowhere. “Eavesdropping are we?” Draco snares and your heart sinks as they both stare at you. “No, I-I just, the book- it’s over here, somewhere.” You stutter as your face reddens. Mattheo throws Draco a dirty look and Draco just raises his eyebrows in defence.

Mattheo watching you stammer.

You quickly turn away from them and take a few steps towards a different bookcase. You panic a bit when you don’t immediately find it, but after a few seconds you spot it. “Here you go.” You hold the book in Mattheo’s direction, who carefully watches you before taking it. “Great, thanks. You’re a lifesaver.” A nervous laugh rolls over your lips as your eyes lock with Mattheo’s, but he quickly turns away and with a small wave they disappear. Yup, the cutest guy at Hogwarts just called me a lifesaver. You can’t help but bite your lip trying to contain your smile. “Well of course she knew where the book was, she looks like she bloody lives in this library.” Draco’s loud voice makes you wish you had kept your mouth shut instead of helping them. I’m such an idiot.

Time skip: a few weeks later.

II. Deadlines and crushes

Mattheo enters the slytherin common room exhausted and ready to blow off some steam. “Astronomy tower anyone?” Theo answers his friend's question by simply raising his hand and reaching for his cigarettes on the table. “Where have you been all day? We’ve been waiting for you?” Blaise questions. “The library. Apparently, I’ve missed three essays this month. Sluggy says that I can make up for it by writing one long one about Felix Felicis. If I miss tomorrow’s deadline, no quidditch for a month.” Draco’s eyes fill with panic. “I bloody hope you’ve finished that essay or you’re not heading up to the astronomy tower.” Blaise laughs at Draco’s dramatics. “Okay there, Matt’s mom.” Mattheo shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I only have to write two more paragraphs but I brought the book with me.” After a moment Mattheo's eyes widened. “The book!”. Without another word he sprints to the library hoping he’ll get there before it closes.

“Urgh.” You groan as you drop your books for the third time since you’d left the library. Clearly there was such a thing as too many books. While picking them up you spot Mattheo running towards the closed door of the library. “Fuck!” He screams with obvious frustration and without a second thought he pulls out his wand and points it at the door. “No! It’s enchanted, you can’t and also they will know.” You startle Mattheo with your sudden interruption and he lowers his wand. “Yeah, well, I don’t care, I really need my book.” When he raises his wand again, you step in front of him. “A book about what?” Even though your heart is racing, there’s something calm about you that has Mattheo surrender. “Felix Felicis.” You feel yourself get all giddy knowing that you have exactly what he needs.

He helps you carry your books as you both make your way to the Hufflepuff common room. “You’re a real nerdy one, aren’t you?” Mattheo asks you somewhat tactlessly. You smile at his bluntness. “I prefer ‘book enthusiast’.” He raises his eyebrows, making you laugh. “Nerd.” He sings and you give him a playful push. “Do you still want your book?” You tease and he smiles, adoring you. “Well of course, my apologies dear book enthusiast.” With bright smiles on your faces you enter the Hufflepuff common room, making everyone look up in surprise. There’s some awkward shuffling between you two as you try to take the books he was holding for you. “I’ll be back in a minute.” You leave Mattheo standing in the Hufflepuff common room seriously wondering what you Hufflepuffs were thinking when you decorated the place.

“Tadaah.” You say as you hand him your book on potions. “There’s two chapters on Felix Felicis, Slugghurn advised me to buy this book so you’ll definitely score points using this.” Mattheo’s eyes light up. “You’re again a lifesaver, princes, I won’t forget this.” Princess? And, he remembers me from the library. “I’ll return it to you tomorrow afternoon.” You watch him walk away and when you turn around and spot Cedric you curse yourself for staring like a lovestruck fool. He comes up to you, trying to hide his smile, but failing. “You alright there tomato face?” You force your lips into a line and look up at him. “Yeah, I’m just helping him out by lending him a book, since the library was closed.” He nods pretending to be convinced. “Uhuh, but still watch out, he’s still Mattheo Riddle.” You nod and make your way to your dorm.

III. Acts of love

The next day Mattheo had returned your book and ended up walking you to class, which had you walking on sunshine for the rest of the day, but I didn’t stop there. When he caught you staring during transfiguration you looked away blushing. However, when you looked back up after a moment he was still staring back at you with a sweet smile. When you sink back into your book you hear Mcgonagall. “Mister Riddle, if you could please give your book as much attention as you give your fellow students that would be much appreciated.” Theo, who sat next to Mattheo, couldn’t help but snicker. “That obvious?” Mattheo asked. Theo nodded. “Yes, that obvious.”

Mattheo would hold the door open for you and wink. “Did Riddle just wink at you?” Hermoine frowned. “Uhm, no, I just helped him with a book once… or twice.” Hermoine raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry, who also thought your answer was a bit off.

The next few weeks, he would come over to help you whenever he saw you carry more than three books and walk you to your class or to your common room. It was starting to get obvious to those around you two that something was going on. “Why don’t you just ask her out?” Theo took a long drag from his cigarette and looked at his friend. Mattheo’s first instinct was to play dumb but he knew that was pointless with Theodore. “I’m working up to it.” Mattheo stated and Theo laughed. “I’ve never seen you work this hard in your life.” Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but I guess I’ve never had the motivation to work for something like this.” Theo stared at the cigarette in his hand. “Then don’t ever let go of her.” Mattheo swore to take that advice to heart when he nodded.

IV. Bullies and kisses

“This is a library, please just lower your voices a bit.” You had softly asked an overly noisy group when you were studying. They had just laughed and eventually the librarian threw them out because someone else had complained.

You were on your way to the great hall for dinner when you heard some people laugh. “This is a library, please just lower your voices.” One of the noisy guys from earlier mocked you. Panic filled your eyes as you saw two of them walk up to you. “Care to share your notes?” One of them joked and tried to snatch your notebook from your hands, but you held onto it tightly. You tugged hard and took a few steps back trying to get him let go of it. When he looked over your shoulder and noticed that you were close to the stairs he let go of it and you stumbled back, falling a few stairs and hitting your face. You heard people laugh and you felt like half of Hogwarts was there. Your eyes were watery, but only when Ginny came running up to you did the tears start to roll over your cheeks. She wrapped an arm around you, held your stuff and walked you to the great hall.

It was Hermoine’s harsh voice that made Mattheo look up to you. “What happened?” Hermoine almost shouted and Mattheo’s entire demeanour changed when he saw your teary face, but he stayed seated at the slytherin table. When Hermoine made you lower your hand from your face, revealing a bruise on your perfect face, Mattheo felt his heart ache like never before. “That bastard made her fall off the stairs.” Mattheo carefully followed Ginny’s finger and his eyes landed on some snickering low life. You were surrounded by your friends and hadn’t seen Mattheo’s fuming figure get up from his seat and walk towards the door of the great hall.

The two assholes were laughing at your crying, while casually leaning against the door when Mattheo grabbed the one that Ginny had pointed to by the collar and dragged him out of sight, so the professor wouldn’t see what came next. “Picking on Hufflepuffs, that’s your game? Bet you didn’t expect to have me in your face?” Mattheo raged on with eyes full of hatred. Despite the attempts of the second douchebag trying to hold Mattheo back, he managed to punch him. The guy fell to the floor and Mattheo dragged him to nearby stairs. “How about I push you off of these?” Blaise was the one who reached Mattheo first and held him back long enough for the two bullies to leave. “Think about the next quidditch game, mate. If you get caught fighting, you’ll get detention for the whole week.” Mattheo pushed himself free. “Like I care.” Mattheo turned around looking for something or someone to punch. “They took her to madam Pomfrey. Apparently, her wrist was hurting as well.” Enzo spoke softly. “You should go see her.” Blaise urged and Mattheo calmed down, nodding.

Pomfrey had just bantaged your wrist when you spotted Mattheo leaning against the doorframe. He looked a bit pained to you so you immediately thanked Pomfrey and walked over to Mattheo. “You alright?” You asked, making him chuckle. “You’re a weird one, you know that right?” Seeing your confused face he explains himself. “You’re the one in the infirmary, but somehow you’re concerned about me?” A sheepish smile takes over your lips. “You just look a little sad.” He shakes his hand and wraps his arm around you, walking you to your common room. “Don’t worry, I’m fine now. Let’s stop by the kitchens and then settle in that weird looking common room of yours.” You frown and narrow your eyes at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Weird looking?” Mattheo looked at you and fell in love with you even more. Soft, red eyes from crying, a bruise and a bandaged wrist, but still by far the most beautiful person.

“You sure you're alright?” You tilt your head a little as you scan his face, but he just shamelessly continues staring at you. Your cheeks heat up when you notice him lean in. Suddenly all your nerves calm and your hand rests on his chest as your lips meet. He places a hand on the small of your back and pushes you into him. His warmth and strong arms make you relax even more. Your hand sneaks up to the back of his neck, where you carefully play with a few strands of hair. As sweet as he tries to keep the kiss, there’s obvious fire and hunger in it. This has definitely been on his mind as much as it has been on yours.

V. Secrets and good books

You turn the page of your book. “No, wait, I wasn’t finished yet.” You groan and tilt your head to face Mattheo, whose arms are around you, as you both lay in bed. “You’re a slow reader.” He frowns. “No, I’m not, but in case you haven’t noticed there’s a pretty girl in my arms and that’s distracting.” You can’t keep yourself from smiling and blushing. Cheeky bastard, giving me compliments and stuff, so annoying, those damn Slyterins. Reluctantly you turn the page back, but at the same time you lean into him purposely distracting him. His eyes immediately lock with yours and you can’t help but giggle. He rolls over so you’re under him and he starts mercilessly attacking you with kisses, but suddenly you hear something. You push Mattheo off of you. “I hear something, someone’s coming. Quick, hide in here.” Without another thought you push the dark lord’s son into your closet.

Mattheo when he realises a Hufflepuff just forced him into a closet and now he has to listen to Hermione rant about Ron.

“Merlin! Ron’s the worst!” Hermione slams the door open and starts ranting for 10 minutes straight. It takes a lot of work and lame excuses to get her out of your room. When you finally manage to get her out, Mattheo doesn’t waste a second to open the closet door. “Ron is such an ass.” Mattheo says with a ridiculous voice, making you shake your head. “Also, wear this to the party tonight.” He says holding a dress he had found in your closet while he was in there. “Please.” He pouts.

VI. This one’s taken

“Honestly, hiding in a hufflepuff closet from Granger, was a situation I never expected to find myself in.” Mattheo said as he passed the bottle of firewhiskey to Theodore who was still grinning after hearing Mattheo’s story. “How long are you going to keep this a secret?” Mattheo just shrugged, he hadn’t really thought about it. Mattheo hadn’t spotted you at the party, but he knew you were here somewhere so his eyes kept scanning the room for your perfect figure.

Cedric stood next to you when he swung his arm around your neck and leaned in while pointing at a guy he started hanging out with a few weeks ago. “This is Liam.” You smile politely to the guy that Cedric’s pointing at as you continue to gently move with the music. “Nice to meet you.” Cedric lets go of you and his spot is filled by the new guy. Liam is definitely a fun guy, he’s interested in books and gives you tips on ideal reading spots. However, he’s not Mattheo and your eyes can’t help but search for your boyfriend.

“Damn, should we tell Matt?” Draco asks Blaise, oblivious to the fact that Theo and Mattheo are standing behind him. “Tell me what?” Draco’s eyes widen and he curses himself. Blaise points towards you and Liam. “That mcflirty is hanging out with your girl.” Mattheo finally finds you in the crowd and he instantly feels himself boil up. Liam’s hand doesn’t touch you yet but it's hovering over your lower back, while his lips are dangerously close to your face as he’s talking to you. Mattheo feels himself cool down a bit when he sees you take a step away from the guy and lean towards Luna. “Remember what your girl said Riddle, a week of no sex for every punch you throw.” Mattheo rolls his eyes, but then continues to watch you dance in that cute dress he had told you to wear.

When Mattheo hears the music change he downs his drink and walks over to you. You don’t see him approaching since your back is turned towards him, but when you suddenly feel a chest against you and a warm breath in your neck you immediately know it’s him. You tilt your head and he plants a soft kiss on your cheek, while his hands snake around your body. “I think it’s time we stop sneaking around. I would hate it if some guy got the wrong idea.” He whispers into your ear and your eyes shoot up to Liam, who clearly wasn’t pleased. Mattheo on the other hand is very pleased. He pushes his crotch against your ass and his hands move to your hips, while he continues to kiss your neck until you turn to face him and he catches your lips with his.

Hermione’s eyes roll between you and her drink, wondering what she drank to see what she's seeing right now. “I always thought they looked cute together.” Luna blurs. “Wicked.” The Weasley twins sing as they watch your little public make-out. “I’m pretty sure all of Hogwats will know about us by tomorrow.” You say when Mattheo finally releases your lips. He can’t help but smirk when he sees all eyes are on you. “Good. Then let’s go, because I like that dress on you, but princes it’s going to look even better on my bedroom floor.” He spins you around and picks you up, you immediately wrap your legs around him, while kissing him.

Word count: 2950

This was not proofread. If you spotted an error, let me know. Lovies!

#slytherin #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle

[subwaysurf45]

She’s Not Mad

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways. 

Words: 9k (if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been...)

Warnings: Bucky has mommy issues, mentions of oral sex, nudity, angst, fluff, college!bucky, slow burn

A/N: thanks for the patience! 

Masterlist

A Couple of Weeks Ago…

“So, you’re not a thing?” Bucky asked as he shoved his laptop and notebook back into his bag, grabbing the handle of his water bottle and choosing to carry it with him for the walk. 

The two boys were higher up in the rows of the lecture hall as they peered over the two girls talking to the professor. Steve had his eyes drilled into Natasha, the girl standing off to the side as her friend went over a question she had. 

“She told me she is still figuring out her feelings since her last serious relationship,” Steve sighed as he packed up as well, “and I told her I’d wait- apparently this guy’s parents had given their family engagement ring and everything.” 

Bucky pulled the corner of his lips out tight as they began to walk down the stairs, “who’s the other girl?” 

“The one that was just asking the question is Y/N,” Steve watched as both girls left the room, “good friends, met last year, live together now.” 

“She’s cute,” Bucky said purely, no smirk or innuendo.

********

You sat over your laptop in the library with both hands acting as a brim to cover your eyes from the people around you. Tears rolled down your face as you studied the practice question, you felt pathetic and you tried to sniffle as quietly as possible. If anyone saw you silently bawling you’d drop out, it was stupid enough already when the librarian walked over and dropped a tissue box off without saying a word. 

“What do you mean?” you whispered to the page for the hundredth time, hoping for some answer. 

You had done the homework, you went to the study groups, you even extended your prof's office hours because you wanted to make sure you were doing everything right. Yet here you were, sitting alone on a Friday night because you still can’t do the practice assignment. Quitting felt like the only option, it wasn’t like everything was going to click; it was too late. 

This was just going to become the thing that you could never do, simple as that. Sometimes there are subjects that no matter how hard you try, you don’t have the flair. It was a tough pill to swallow but you’d never be able to do any work if you’d continue to hold yourself to a high standard, it was a win to get the little things right, not the entire question. 

The idea of failing was new to you. The jump from high school to college was still something you never adapted to, you always expected nineties on everything and not the mindset that C’s get degrees. 

Trying to do the question was like beating a dead horse, you needed a break. You ran your hands over your face and leaned back in your chair, hearing pops from your back as you did so, until you were leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. When you looked straight you saw someone already staring at you. 

He had longer brown hair that hit his jawline, blue eyes that jumped out at you, and a very concerned look on his face. He was familiar but you didn’t know what it was from. 

“Are you Natasha’s friend?” The guy came up to your empty table. 

“Yeah?” You wiped away your tears, extremely confused as he pulled out the chair right beside you to sit at the eight sided table. 

“I’m good friends with Steve, I think the two of them have something going on- not important, but I kind of know you and I'd rather not leave someone I kinda know alone crying, so…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” you rolled your eyes and faced your computer again, “the absolute last thing I need is something watching me cry, alright?” your bottom lip wobbled as you kept your eyes away from his at all times. 

He was still staring at you, “come on,” he sighed and moved his hand to comfort you but thought otherwise, “I’m not going to laugh at you or run and tell everyone I know I saw a girl crying in the library- y’know what they’d say?” You could see him tilt his head, “they’d say what’s the big deal, haven’t we all?” 

You scoffed, “no they wouldn’t.” 

“You’re calling me a liar?” 

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Bucky,” he stuck out his hand, “Bucky Barnes.” You shook his hand, “and since I am a Barnes and was raised by my ma I simply can not let this continue, it’s my obligation to either cheer you up or take you home.” 

You scoffed again and tried your best to hide your smile, “and I’m Y/N, and in my family we stress about everything and never give up so I can’t leave until I get this question, so…”

Bucky’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he flipped the laptop to face him a little better, “this is the class all four of us have together, alright,” he read over the question and immediately furrowed his brows before looking at you again, trying your best to hold it together. He knew the answer but couldn’t bear to see your reaction, it was painfully obvious you were beating yourself stupid over these questions. 

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” he asked like he was talking to a child. 

“I barely know you, dude,” you crossed your arms and ripped your laptop back to face you, “and I’ll have you know I don’t need a man to come in here and explain everything to me, alright, I’m going to figure this out on my own and I don’t need you, okay? So just head home, tell Steve I say hi.” 

Bucky took a deep breath himself, “that question isn’t marked on the homework, the reason you can’t get the answer is because the way to get it has most likely not been taught yet,” he paused and saw your face crumble, “and I didn’t want to freak you out because you look like you’ve been here a while and you seem to be beating yourself up and I just couldn’t-”

“Stop,” you whispered and covered your face with your hands, “just stop talking.” 

And he did. 

Trying your best to calm your breaths, it didn’t work. So fucking stupid, unbelievable, there’s no way you just spent close to an hour staring at a problem you didn’t even have to do in the first place. 

“Can you walk me home?” you squeeked. 

“Of course,” Bucky stood up right away and started helping you pack your bag, “I have some water, do you want it?” He held up his water bottle. You nodded and began drinking as you both made your way outside and towards your off-campus house. 

“Did you need to study?” you asked as you screwed on the cap. 

Bucky laughed and looked up at the night sky, “I was going for a walk because I heard there was a blood moon tonight, and there is, look,” he point up and saw the red mood looming above both of you, “and I just happened to walk past the library, I looked in the window and recognised your laptop as well as your hair, funny enough,” he laughed as he looked forward again. 

“So you just came in to see me?” you needed to make sure you were hearing this right, it’s not like it happens often. 

“I was going to introduce myself to you actually,” Bucky shrugged and looked over at you, “I know Steve and Nat are trying to figure things out and I thought friends of two people who might date should know one another. Then I saw you crying so I changed my game plan.”

You just nodded, slightly brushing into Bucky’s arm as you walked. It was hard to stay straight with the exhaustion taking over, every now and then you’d brush your knuckles past Bucky’s. He was a cute guy, and something about him being oh so caution around you made you feel important. 

“This is me,” you said later as you walked up the steps, “thanks Bucky, I hope we can be friends.” 

Bucky smiled and stood at the bottom of the steps, “if you ever get in your head again like that and need someone to pull you away, let me know- even in the middle of the night, alright?”

“Alright,” you laughed with your hand on the door handle. 

“I’m serious, Y/N. I look after the people close to me, I look after friends of friends like siblings,” there was no joking in his tone, it seemed other people doubted him on this promise. “I’ll give you my number,” he hand reached out for your phone. 

“I’ll be fine, you seemed to have good luck running into me,” you giggle and open the door to your house. Before it fully closed you felt resistance, looking over your shoulder you saw Bucky holding open your door. 

He was smiling, “then give me your number for another reason.” 

“Oh?” you turned and placed a hand on your chest, “you’re rather forward. 

“Well being cryptic didn’t work, did it?” He laughed and held out his hand again, “come on, I might need a study buddy one day- or even better, a lunch buddy.” you laughed as he tried to duck to meet your eyeline, “you don’t want to be my lunch buddy?”

“I’ll be your lunch buddy,” you giggled and handed him your phone, he wasted no time adding it in. “Goodnight,” you whispered and made it into your house, leaning back and resting against the door. You thought for a moment before breaking into a massive smile, replaying how he tried to keep eye contact with you. Or how he’d been so proud of how his mother raised him- “son of a bitch,” you whispered. 

He walked you back home and cheered you up. 

Just like he said he would. 

A Few Days Later…

Your phone must be hacked or something because your weather app said it would be completely clear today and sunny in the afternoon. As you sat in the cafe you thought it would clear up but it was only getting worse. 

All you needed to do was brave the rain and make your way home, but waiting for the perfect time when everything would let up for a moment was pointless. 

Walking as fast as you can with your head down, you saw your grey sweatpants become a darker shade instantly. It was a straight downpour with absolutely no sign of letting up, you swore you heard thunder when you waited at the crosswalk. Due to your phone lying to you, you had not brought a hooded article of clothing or umbrella so you just had to deal with everything going wrong. 

There definitely was thunder and the lightning was right above you, it seemed like you were the last person on Earth because everyone else was smart enough to stay inside right now; but not you. Down your little street you began to run, trying to get away from the lightning that was chasing you. 

If you could guess you’d say most people who had been struck by lightning most likely thought they were too far away, in denial as the sky opened up from above. It was hard to admit you were actually a little scared at that moment, rain getting in your eyes as you sprinted down to your house that was now in view. 

With your key at the ready you fell inside, slamming the door behind you. 

Natasha rounded the corner, “you idiot, I was trying to call you!” She screamed and saw your state, “Steve and Bucky are over-they drove over they could have picked you up,” Natasha got in your face to peel off the sweater, taking it off right over your head and leaving you in your bralette and those drenched sweatpants. 

“You took off my shirt when there’s boys here?” you whispered as you began to shake, covering your chest with crossed arms. 

“We guessed you were walking back so we put towels in the dryer,” as if on cue Bucky rounded the same corner with your fluffy towel ready, “thank you Bucky,” Natasha wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Hi, Bucky,” you squeeked, “glad we keep meeting like this.”

Natasha had walked upstairs, most likely getting different pants. Bucky got down on one knee and slipped off your shoes, “like what?” he asked as he looked up, he reminded you of a little puppy somehow. He was as big as a great dane but there was an underlying softness that made you want to hug him or just let him wrap his arm around you. 

You huffed as you pulled the towel tighter, “when I’ve just done something embarrassing and you’re there to save the day.”

Bucky stood up with his arms crossed, “only you would think crying or getting caught in the rain is embarrassing,” he shook his head and reached out to rub your shoulder that was covered by the towel, “I like helping and I like making sure people I know are okay, you know this.”

“I do,” you whispered and walked further in your house. Before you could get anywhere near comfortable Natasha whisked you away to change your soggy pants as well as throw on a sweater, they had also been thrown in the drier, everything was very toasty and warm.

Steve was sitting on the couch, staring intensely at the football game going on. Natasha guided you back in and towards the couch. There was enough room for four of you but you knew thighs would be pressed up against one another, you were okay with that if Bucky was sitting beside you. Though you don’t see him often it was nice when you did even though you made it seem like it was embarrassing. Something about having someone who loves taking care of people take care of you so well caused you to crave it a little more. 

Bucky came around the couch with a mug, “hot chocolate for you,” he whispered and took the spot beside you, next to the arm rest. You thanked him and let your hand slightly burn on the mug when you held it, liking how the warmth began to spread up your arms. Natasha found her spot on the other side of you while Steve stayed on the edge, leaning forward and never looking away from the game. 

“This is really good,” you sipped it and whispered to Bucky, he just smiled and leaned into your side for a moment. 

“What were you working on?” he asked after a moment. 

“I was at the cafe for a little treat but before I was doing my elective course,” you spoke softly. It seemed like everything happened for a reason because you only got food at the cafe which left room for this hot chocolate now. 

“And that is?” Bucky giggled as he leaned forward again. 

“Art history,” suddenly, you were coy. Most people thought your elective was a bird course but to you it was actually interesting, it wasn’t often you were met with a positive response. 

His eyes got wide, “that’s sick!” Bucky readjusted himself off the couch, “I would have never even thought of that course, wow, that’s really cool. So, like, what do you-”

“Bucky, I love you, brother, I really do but-” Steve sighed, “can you please be quiet, this game is very important.” 

“I didn’t think the Big Game was on today?” you asked as you took another sip. 

“It’s not that,” Steve places his beer down, “it’s the State Cup Finals, it’s college football.” 

Natasha smiled and looked over, “his team’s the underdog and are actually on the road to winning the entire thing!” She giggled and linked an arm with Steve who was happy to cuddle up with her, “it’s actually very exciting once you learn the ins and outs of it.”

You just nodded and faced forward again, seeing Bucky out of the corner of your eyes rubbing his thumb on the neck of his beer bottle, staring off into space. The moment you leaned your head on his shoulder he looked over at you, your heart broke when you saw a sad smile. He was just trying to talk to you, he got excited for you and here he was being scolded. 

“Do you want to come look at some of my notes, or are you into this game?” you whispered and saw his eyes light up, both of you quickly stood and headed up stairs with your bag slung over your shoulder. 

The moment you walked into your room you felt everything slow down, Bucky slowly walked in and looked around. He was smiling to himself as he l took in your photos on the walls or posters, even your to do list seemingly growing on the white board you have mounted to one wall. 

You sat on the corner of your bed as he flipped through your notes, “so you’re, like, breaking down these paintings, it's not just the history of when they were painted?”

“Oh yeah,” you fiddled with the hem of your dry sweater, “most of these artist go insane and we look for that in the work or even just what was happening during the time with stuff that you’d learn in a normal history class but we look at if and when it get put into art,” this was your little thing you could talk about for ages, “very cool stuff.” 

Bucky nodded and flipped the pages, “your notes are amazing,” he whispered, “you’re a pretty good student, huh?” he looked over his shoulder and saw you sitting there, just staring at him as he made his way around your room. “What?” he giggled and made his way over to you, holding his hand out to get you to stand up. 

“Nothing,” you tucked your chin to your chest, getting coy at the attention. “You’re just…y’know, sweet.” 

Bucky just smiled and rubbed your arm, giggling as you both stared at one another for a moment. “Do you want to go back down?” 

“Sure,” you nodded and leaned forward, smiling as you both made your way back downstairs. 

The rain still worked its way down your windows as the beers and wine kept flowing. The game had ended a while ago but Steve and Bucky didn’t see a reason to leave, it was a good moment that no one wanted to end. You had finished your hot chocolate and moved onto wine, sipping it slowly as everyone talked. It was nice to be brought into this group even though it stemmed from Nat and Steve, there was good chemistry between the four of you. 

Talking to everyone was effortless, you didn’t need to act like someone else to fit in. no one was yelling over someone else to get their point across, there weren't any passive aggressive tones in anyone's jokes, it was carefree. It was relaxing to have people this easy to talk to. 

The only thing that wasn’t relaxing was the amount of times you caught Bucky staring at you. Everyone had migrated to the floor with their backs against different furniture so you could break out the board games, Bucky was sitting adjacent to you on your right and Steve adjacent on your left, Nat right in front. Every single move whether it be placing a card down or moving your little object around the board Bucky would find a reason to look at you. 

“Good one,” he’d pat your shoulder. 

“Let me move your piece for you,” he’d say before you could reach across the table. 

“Sorry…” he’d smile before taking your little object and moving it back four spots. 

He was very attentive, always watching and scanning. But the more you noticed it the more you figured out he was doing it to everyone, including Steve. Something happened whenever Bucky would either move Steve’s piece for him or go get another beer so he wouldn’t have to stand up, Steve would give this look. It seemed as though he was silently telling Bucky he knew something or he was pointing something out that had been a topic of conversation before. Bucky would try to laugh it off but Steve was very protective of Bucky, you just didn’t know why. 

The games had slowly come to a close, everyone not drunk but a little more than tipsy. Giggles flowed freely around the table as the conversation resumed again, your eyes were growing heavy as you traced the rim of your glass. 

“I’ll be back,” Bucky muttered as he headed to the washroom. 

The moment the door closed Steve sighed, “this kid.” 

“What?” you were getting protective, why was Steve about to talk shit about his best friend? 

Steve just shook his head, “It’s hard to see how badly Winnie fucked him up.” 

Your heart plummeted. Any tiredness had left your body faster than the little gasp escaped your lips. Who was this Winnie girl and why did he mess Bucky up? The thoughts circled your head, was he in an abusive relationship? Natasha looked like she didn’t know either, pouring more wine into her cup. 

When Bucky came back he sat closer to you and you couldn’t help but reach out and wrapped your arm around his. He must have been a little surprised but you rested your head on his shoulder and continued on like it was nothing. 

You were half asleep when Bucky tried to do something for Steve, maybe get him another beer but whatever it was it left Bucky looking like a sad puppy because Steve said, “Buck, relax, I can get my beers, thank you, but I got it, alright?”

Steve's tone was soft but also commanding, he wasn’t annoyed at all. With your eyes closed you pieced it together that Steve was trying to help Bucky in some way, maybe get him to relax a little more. It was out of love but Bucky was very quiet for the rest of the night. 

********

You and Bucky had started hanging out a lot more on your own. There were a lot of late night drives or study sessions, Bucky always came to the library to walk you home if you stayed late or had turned your brain into mush during your studying. 

What Steve had said stuck with you more than you thought it would, it didn’t impact how you saw Bucky but it made you more aware of his people pleasing tendencies. You wanted to do the same as Steve, tell him it was okay but you weren’t as close. You saw how hurt he was the last time and you just couldn’t do it to him. 

Currently you were both sitting on his bed, the movie was wrapping up. Half of his laptop sat on one thigh and the other half sat on Bucky’s, your arms were linked and there was a steady brushing of your thumb on his forearm. In all honesty, you thought you were lulling him to sleep when you looked up five minutes ago to see him fighting his dropping lids. 

When the movie faded to black both of you sat there for a moment, content with the sitcom that was coming up next. You looked up again to see him with his face scrunched up, his other hand was on his back. 

“What is it?” you asked and leaned over, he was rubbing a specific spot on his lower back with his thumb. 

Bucky held his breath as he leaned forward to move his hand, “I was working out this morning and there weren't any belts left for my deadlifts and I did something to my back.”

“Do you want a massage?” you offered, he’d do the same for you. 

“I’m okay, thanks,” he looked down at your head resting on his bicep. 

“I didn’t know you worked out,” you smiled, “you don’t have the, like, bodybuilder physique.”

Bucky laughed and wiped at his eyes, giggling to himself before answering. “I don’t want that look, but…” you could see the boast on the top of his tongue, he poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek. 

“Tell me!” you sat up, taking the laptop off your lap so you could fully face him now, “are you, like, ripped or something?” you both laughed as he hugged himself so you couldn’t feel or see anything, “you are, shut up!” you placed both hands on his shoulders, his face so red from laughing and embarrassment you just wanted to take a bite out of it. 

“Steve calls it a sleeper build,” Bucky managed to wheeze out, he was trying to play-fight you off of him. 

“What the fuck is that?!” you gasped as your hands reached out but he copied you and intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“It’s when someone has muscle but you can’t really see it in normal clothing,” his face was calming down as well, but that stupid smile was still on his face. “It just kinda happened, just how I am.”

You tried to move his arms around but you couldn’t, his fingers were still tightly woven with yours. You just laughed and fell back into him, cuddling up again. “I had a friend's mom who was an actual masseuse, so…” you shrugged, “I actually know what I’m doing because she’d give me massages and walk me through her process.”

“You just want to take my shirt off, don’t you?” Bucky taunted. 

“I want to make sure you’re not uncomfortable the entire time we hang out and for the rest of the week,” you giggled before snuggling into his arm again and watching the show that had come on randomly. 

It took three days before Bucky came back for that massage. 

You were hanging out again like normal and he was still trying to relieve the ache in his lower back. It was becoming sad to see him so uncomfortable so you kept reminding him of your excellent massage skills. After what you counted as his third groan of pain you just looked at him and soon enough he was asking you to turn around so he could take his shirt off and lie down. 

Choosing your angle to stand with your back to him was a science, you wanted to make sure you had the mirror to look at but you also didn’t want to make it obvious. Part of you hated yourself for wanting to catch and peek at his body but it was infamous now, you just had to look. 

And my god was it worth it. 

It wasn't an obnoxious amount of muscle that made it seem like the strength drained from his brain and into his arms. The sleeper build comment was right, you had no idea. His chest made you feel comfortable and protected, the kind of chest you’d want to fall into when the subway starts up too quick and you’re not holding onto anything. His arms were, and you already knew this, amazing at covering so much surface area for hugs. They were secure and trustworthy, you knew that when you hugged him he had you; it also helped to remember when he’d whisper it in your ear. 

“Okay,” his voice was muffled by pillows at the top of your bed. 

You turned around and were greeted by his back which was also an amazing sight, the kind of body sculptors would use and their go-to subject if no one else was there. “I have some lotion on my hands,” you warned and pressed your palms onto his back and quickly began spreading the lotion around. 

Though this wasn’t a proper table and he was resting on one cheek instead of face down you knew this was the best he’d get for a college kid. You started all over and slowly worked your way to focusing on his lower back. When you felt the knot you knew you found it, the thing was massive. The low groan Bucky let out was close to pornographic as you dug into him. 

Something about seeing him grip the sheets, making his veins pop out, did something to you. At first you only really saw Bucky as another friend or a good member of the friend group you stumbled your way into. But the more you spent one-on-one the more you realized he was your perfect guy. Any guy can be perfect physically but his personality enhanced your view for him, it made you appreciate his looks even more. 

His laugh always brought out the crinkle in his nose and those pretty teeth, the sound of him giggling was music to your ears and also was the perfect accompaniment to his squinted eyes or broad smile. The same with his little fist pumps he does when beating you at a game either around a group of friends of a video game, that stupid celebration he does every time causes him to flex his bicep but that’s secondary to the little circles he makes with his fist.  

You kept working away and looking at his rested face once in a while, seeing his eyes closed and the relieved look on his face. There was something so pure about watching the guy your slowly obsession over fall into simple relaxation all because of you, it was a treat. 

“How’s that?” you whisper, “Bucky?” trying to make sure your pressure wasn’t too hard for him you wanted to check in, but he had fallen asleep. With the opportunity in front of you, you reached out and placed your bent knuckles along his cheek, feeling the stubble tickle your fingers. 

You found him blanket on his bed and covered him up so he wouldn’t get cold with his shirt off, before leaving you placed a kiss on his forehead before heading downstairs for a snack. You also wanted to give him space, let him sleep peacefully. 

Steve was down there when you got there, another roommate of his cooking as you found Bucky’s section of snacks to choose from. 

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve asked as he looked over his shoulder, not for long due to the football playing on the TV. 

“Sleeping upstairs,” you ate the goldfish as you rounded the couch to watch the game. 

He seemed taken aback at your casualness, “what did you guys do…?” he slowly looked over, most likely trying to see if your hair was disheveled or anything was blossoming on your neck. 

“I gave him a massage,” you shrugged and fell back onto the couch, “his lower back has been killing from his workout a while ago.” 

You could see Steve look over his shoulder to see if his roommate was also hearing this, he looked over at you again and squinted. “So- and correct me if I’m wrong here- you gave Bucky a massage and put him to sleep and now you’re down here getting a snack?” 

“You would be correct,” you smiled, “would you like to do a once over of my neck for hickies or maybe rummage through the trash for condoms?” you sassed and plopped a few more goldfish in your mouth, “I was helping him.” 

That statement made Steve look over his shoulder again. The roommate just shrugged with a smile before heading down to his room in the basement, noodles steaming from the cup. You just looked at Steve as he tried to piece together everything, it was actually funny to see him try to understand. 

“Bucky doesn’t accept help from anyone,” Steve turned to face you, “it’s his thing to never want to be in debt with anyone when it comes to favours of any sort.” 

“Well,” you just sighed, “I’ve been picking up on that too but I got to him I guess, he let me do something for him.” That was all you could say because you didn’t have a full background of why Bucky didn’t accept help from anyone you just knew he didn’t; the only clues you had were Winnie and her role in this. 

“That’s good,” Steve quickly added, “I’m far from saying it’s bad, trust me, it’s just he’s been in a funk for a while when it comes to that stuff, it ebbs and flows.” 

“Do you think he’ll ever tell me?” you asked as you watched the game, too embarrassed of the question to look at Steve. It seemed there was this vital piece of information that made Bucky who he was that was dangling right in front of your face, you were falling for him but that thing that made him him was out of reach. When Steve first made the statement he siad that this Winnie girl fucked him up which implied something bad much have happened and that can also mean something isn’t necessarily right. You were never going to fix Bucky but you did want to understand so you could help be a better friend to him and not unconsciously get in the way of his mindset. 

Steve nodded, “he’ll definitely tell you,” he looked over and smiled, “I mean, you’re all he ever talks about, this kid is head over heels for you  it’s just…some guys have hard times coming to terms with their past, he’ll get there though.” 

“I know,” you nodded, “I’ll obviously never force it out but I do want him to be aware I’m here to listen, y’know?” 

“He knows,” Steve laughed and stood up, going to the cupboard and grabbing a little snack for himself as well. 

You took a deep breath before standing up and heading back upstairs, you were guessing Bucky was still fast asleep. When you opened the door you found him still laying on his bed in the exact same position, only now there was little snores coming from him. 

With a pout you crawled back onto the bed and sat next to him, placing your hand on his back and sliding it down to his arm that was bent up so his hands could rest under the pillow. Your thumb gently rubbed his arm for a moment before pulling out your phone and scrolling through it. 

The boredom ate away at you, instead of scrolling through your phone you went to his dresser to find some clothes you could change into so you could crawl under his sheets and sleep over. When you pulled open his top drawer you were met with his underwear and socks as well as a box of condoms tucked to the side, you just giggled to yourself at the painfully college male sight in front of you. 

Something about wearing his boxers made your face heat up, that was a level of intimacy you wanted to reach with him one day but you didn’t know if it was time. Looking over your shoulder after a particularly loud snore you smiled to yourself and picked up a black pair, as you held it up you remember seeing the waistband sticking out of his jeans while he reached above his head to grab something for someone - you weren’t focused on his actions at the time. 

Quickly slipping your pants off and pulling up the boxers you maneuvered to his closet, finding your favourite hoodie he wore very often. This moment of intimacy, moving around Bucky’s room while he wasn’t aware, caused a surge of confidence to shoot through you. Though you had never talked to Bucky about what the relationship between you was, you knew both of you could agree there was no room for girlfriends or boyfriends for either of you, this was the time to build the foundation for something better later. Having this idea of only being the girl in his room you took off your bralette and tucked it back in his top drawer, across from the condoms.

You didn’t choose this bra specifically but you were wearing a slightly lacey bralette, it was far from lingerie but the lace added something to it. Making sure you put it where it wouldn’t be obvious but also not hiding it, you grew giddy at the image of Bucky finding it. 

Before getting in his bed you tugged and tugged the sheets under his body before managing to get the covers fully out from under him. You scooted in and pulled the sheets up to cover both of you, it seemed he really needed the sleep because nothing was waking him up, not even the little hug you gave him before turning off the lights and falling asleep beside him. 

********

You were sitting in class aimlessly scrolling through your phone during your five minute break in your lesson, your art history professor was one of the best teachers you've ever had. She was funny but also well informed, she also had a big heart and didn’t need a eulogy as a form of proof if someone asked for an extension due to a funeral service that day. 

Bucky: What the hell is in my dresser? 

Without knowing the tone or context your heart dropped. You read the text with Bucky’s voice as if he was screaming at you, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. It was in your head, you didn’t know if it was a flirty tone either. 

You: Just my bra, when I stayed over a couple of nights ago I changed into your clothes and just absentmindedly put my bra in your top drawer. I probably was just going through the motions and thought I was at my place. 

Bucky: Can I pick you up from class, when does your lecture end?

Something about him completely disregarding your explanation - lie or not - gave you the worst feeling in the world. Ice poured down your back as you watched your prof make her way back up to the little stage she teaches on, you couldn’t keep the conversation going and just needed to deal with it later. 

You: sure, it ends in an hour. 

Bucky: I’ll be there. 

Part of you didn’t want to leave when your lecture was over, you stayed in the hallway for a moment and thought of every single end of the world situation that could happen in the car. Bucky didn’t seem like a guy who hit women but your anxiety didn’t let you leave out that thought. He also didn’t seem like the guy who’d reveal he’d been dating another girl the entire time but who knows, he could be in a three year long relationship as you stood there. 

With all these terrible situations playing out in your head you decided to face it head on, you’d walk in there and wouldn’t let him talk; just saying your apologies with your eyes closed before he could get a word out. 

You walked down the steps and to the right to find Bucky’s car parked in front, coming up in the blindspot. You took a moment to take a deep breath, opening the door and sitting down as quickly as possible. 

“Do you-”

“Bucky,” you put your hand out but kept your eyes casted down, “I am so unbelievably sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I don’t know if you already have a girlfriend and she found it and it caused a rift in your relationship, or if you like to sleep with other girls and one of them found the bra and got jealous so you lost your credit. I don’t know what made you angry but please, I am so sorry for what I did, I wasn’t thinking and I just put it in there and I-...” you just held your mouth open as you looked at the center console, you had run out of things to say. “Um,” you slowly looked up to see him frozen in shock, mouth still slightly open from when he began to say something, “sorry, you were about to say something?” 

Bucky had to physically rattle his head to get out of the shock he was in, “do you want to get some coffee?” 

Your eyes flicked up and it was your turn to stay frozen, “what?” 

Bucky pulled his brows together, “I was making a joke about the bra thing,” he seemed concerned at your extremely anxious state, “I don’t care what you leave at my place, I really don’t,” normally someone would laugh in awkward situations but Bucky didn’t, it felt like it made everything worse. “Do you want coffee?” 

“What is going on?” you couldn’t believe the situation you had put yourself in, nothing was making sense. 

“Don’t get all mad at me,” now it was time for him to scoff, “you’re the one that thought I was sleeping with multiple women while I’m actively pursuing you, you idiot.” 

“Don’t call me an idiot,” you huffed and faced the front of the car, crossing your arms after putting on your seatbelt. 

Bucky laughed as he reached over and turned your face so you’d look at him, “that’s what you took from that statement?” He giggled, “babe, I just said I was pursuing you, does that just fly over your head?” 

“Wait, what?” you grew more interested, “you want to date me?” 

Bucky nodded, “have I not made it obvious?” You just shrugged and began to feel small, curling yourself further into the seat of his car, “I would like to take you out and I would like to continue to collect little pieces of you at my place while doing the same to yours, does that make sense?” 

“Then what were those condoms for?” 

“The same reason our house keeps tampons in our main bathroom,” Bucky put the car in drive and began working towards to coffee shop, “if you ever need a tampon you go and grab one, if Steve ever needs a condom and he’s out of stock in his room he comes to me,” Bucky looked at you at the stop light. 

“Oh,” was all you could say. 

“But let me get a few things straight,” Bucky placed his hand on your thigh, “I’m not sleeping with other girls, I do not have a secret girlfriend, I am not mad you left your bra in my dresser and I tried to make the text seem flirty, and finally,” he went at the green, “I really like you and I would like you to be my girl whenever we get there.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, “I’d like that too.” 

“Then it’s settled,” it was a short drive to the cafe, “let’s celebrate over coffee, shall we?” 

You looked down at his hand on your thigh, “yeah, we shall.” 

********

Your body felt like it was floating, your legs tingled and it was hard to catch your breath. As you laid on your back with your hands on your bare stomach Bucky worked his way back up from between your legs while leaving kisses on your hip bones as well as your stomach when you lifted your hands. 

“How was that?” Bucky asked breathlessly, licking his lips before kissing you. 

You kept your answer waiting, probably because he knew it already, kissing him slowly as he wanted. He was fully in control right now, setting the pace and tone of this entire afternoon. When he pulled away for a moment you complimented him like always, your hands reached up to his shoulders and tried to push him to lay on his back but he stayed strong. 

“Flip over,” you whispered and ran your hands down his chiseled stomach, working your way up to his shoulders as your fingernails raked up his back. 

“I’m all good,” he shrugged. 

“But you’re painfully hard,” you tried again to get him to move but he just fell beside you on his stomach, not allowing you to touch him where he was in fact, extremely hard. “Come on, you always do this.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled and pulled you down with him. 

“I just want to do something nice for you, you never let me do anything for you or give you any favours,” in your head it seemed like a normal observation, it was true that Bucky didn’t let anyone do anything for him while he actively tried to help everyone in anyway he knew how. 

That seemingly struck a nerve, “alright then,” he sighed and got up from the bed, heading into the bathroom as he left you naked and alone on his bed, the most lonesome feelings in the world. 

“Where are you going?” you sat up, grabbing your shirt from the edge of the bed. 

“Going to go jerk off in the shower,” he said as he closed the door. 

“You can’t be serious,” you quickly stood and made your way to the bathroom that was connected to his room. You opened the door to see him already adjusting the tap before starting the shower. “Bucky, it’s the truth, it’s who you are but it’s the truth and as your girlfriend I want you to feel good, I want to give you pleasure like you do to me.” 

You reached forward and placed your hands on his back, slowly working your way to his shoulders so you could turn him around. There looked like shame had overtaken him as he stood before you, though he was larger in size he shrunk himself down to look small. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, he didn’t know what to say. 

“If I can’t give you head then can I come in the shower and wash your hair?” you didn’t even put on the shirt you grabbed, it was dropped to the floor. “Come on, honey, it’ll feel so good.” 

Bucky only nodded before stepping into the hot shower with you. You made sure he got most of the stream on him, you stayed in front and made sure his hair was soaked before getting any product. You could see his tenseness at first but the moment your hands made contact with his scalp his eyes rolled back, his shoulders relaxed. In that moment it occurred to you that you had actually never seen his relaxed state before. 

“Doesn’t this feel good?” you whispered, making sure you used your nails to really cleanse his scalp. “Doesn’t letting yourself relax and breathe feel so good, Buck?” 

“Yeah,” it came out quiet and broken. 

Your eyes were focused on his hair the entire time, making sure you lathered up and took your time. You needed to savor this moment for both you and Bucky, you wanted him to be relaxed for a s long as possible as well as taking advantage of doing him a favour; never knowing when your next opportunity would come up. 

Gently tapped his forehead, you got him to lean back. The water immediately took off the top layer of suds but you needed to rub out the deeper layers as well. Your fingers scrubbed until the trail of water rolling down his body was pure water and had no shampoo in it. 

“I’m going to- oh, my gosh Bucky,” you reached out and saw his red eyes, “when did you start crying?” 

“I can’t remember,” he whispered and tilted his head down, the water pushed his hair to cover his eyes. 

You pushed his hair back and pulled him out a step further so the water hit his back, your thumbs quickly wiped away a mixture of water and tears off of his face. He couldn’t stop crying as you tried your best to keep his face clear, “honey, what’s wrong?” 

“I-” he choked on his own words, “I’ve never let my guard down this much,” he admitted before breaking off into harder sobs, you swooped in and pulled him tightly against your chest. 

“I know it’s a new feeling,” you whispered, “but I want you to be able to do this all the time, let your guard down around me,” it was a shot in the dark by saying this but you did it anyways, “I promise I won’t hurt you, I’ll never take advantage of your guard down, love.” 

It must have struck something because his knees buckled, his hands gripped tighter as he desperately kept you close to him. You didn’t know if you were making him feel better or worse but the act of letting go was needed for him, you kept holding him until there was nothing left to cry. 

When he pulled away he stayed close, close enough that you kissed him under the gentle rain of the shower and played with his hair at the base of his scalp. His hands stayed on your back and held you close to him, making sure you were always touching him in some way. You tried to get a good read on him but he kept his head low and gently ran his hands up and down your sides, just feeling you. 

“You’re very safe,” you whispered. 

Bucky looked up at you for a moment before keeping his eyes down for a while, his brows pulled together and it seemed like he was trying to say something but didn’t know how. Both of you were open and vulnerable, naked in the hot shower. Tears threatened to spill over at the picture of Bucky crying in front of you. 

“It was my mom,” Bucky whispered, “the one who broke me-”

“You’re not broken,” you quickly corrected, cupping his face and stroking his cheek with your thumb, “don’t say that.” 

Bucky just shrugged, “I’m the oldest, I have four sisters younger than me - all different dads.” Bucky took a deep breath and pulled you closer, “my mom…Winnie was an interesting woman who never wanted to be pregnant but somehow always ended up pregnant anyways, it also didn’t help none of the guys wanted to stick around.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him the easy opportunity to hug you if he needed to. Nodding along, you encouraged him to keep going. 

“When my mom realized I could do the dirty work she would take advantage of that. I basically raised my sisters and somehow she managed to worm into my head,” he let out an angry laugh, “she’d say she loved me if I did things for her and I was a bad boy if I couldn’t or wouldn’t help her, she would say I didn’t love her if I didn’t change my sister’s diapers or bathe them while she sat on the couch.” 

“Bucky,” you were the one to instigate the hug, “that’s awful.” 

“And I’m aware of how I act now, all I’ve ever known is helping other people to make sure they love me,” he laughed again, “and it sounds stupid but I can never break out of the cycle, I always think I’m doing a good job or not being overbearing but then I start to second guess myself, you know?” he pulled away and looked at you, you quickly nodded. “I start to think about what people are saying behind my back and so I keep doing what I’m doing to stay on the safe side, I know it’s fucking annoying but I can’t help it.” 

“It’s not annoying, baby” you leaned past him and turned off the water as it grew cold, “and if you’ll let me I can help with that, I don’t want to fix you or change you, I just want you to be comfortable in this relationship and not think I’m secretly mad at you because you didn’t get me a glass of water.” 

Bucky nodded, stepped out of the shower with you and grabbed two towels. The conversation had naturally ended, Bucky didn’t have anything else to say. It was hard not to think he was overthinking again, the idea that you were causing him to stress out stressed you out. You were being truthful when you said you wanted him to be relaxed in this relationship, the last thing you wanted was underlying tension. 

Back in bed Bucky rolled over and cuddled into your breasts, holding you closely as you watched his head rise with your breath. You had no idea if he was asleep or not, you knew he wouldn’t mind either way if you played with his hair. 

“Thank you,” was all he whispered before falling asleep. 

********

You all sat around the couch to watch another big game. Though you had no idea what was going on you were just as into it as Steve. Half time had just started and you all took a collective breath, the two college teams were close. 

“Want another beer?” you asked as you stood up, looking at Bucky who was sitting on the couch. Steve and Nat had already filled up, you wanted another cooler and Bucky was almost done. 

“Yeah,” he quickly downed his final sip of beer before handing the bottle off to you. 

There was this anticipation in the room, you smiled and took the bottle and walked past Steve who was already looking at Bucky. The room seemed still when Bucky didn’t move, just pulling out his phone to look at something while the commercials played. Before making it into the kitchen you looked over your shoulder and saw the back of Bucky’s head, you bit your lip to suppress the smile that was growing. 

The moment you got back and sat next to him Bucky took your hand and pulled it into his lap. He fidgeted with your finger before looking over at you, “how’d I do?” he whispered. 

You laughed and leaned into his side, “how much did that make your cringe?” 

“I was in pain for a moment,” he answered as fast as possible before giggling with you as you clink your glasses together and take a long swing. With a deep breath he looked back at the game and kept your hand in his. Bucky must have not been paying attention but his phone buzzed, illuminating and accidentally showing his lockscreen. 

It changed from the photo of the two of you to a black background with white writing on it: 

Trust me, she’s not mad at you.

********

Thanks for reading, feel free to reblog and tell me what you think!

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[gay-dorito-dust]

Felix Catton x reader where he invites reader to Saltburn and he confesses his love to her. Super fluffy 🫶🏻😩

This was long as shit! But I hope you like it! 🦦

You honestly thought Felix was taking the piss upon extending you an invitation to spend the summer at Saltburn. You even waited for Farleigh to come out of nowhere to make his usual passive aggressive commentary in regard to your seemingly gullible nature, but nothing.

No Farleigh.

None of Felix’s little posse of posh cunts were nearby to poorly conceal their laugher behind their hands.

It was just you and Felix sat upon a stone bench somewhere, to which you must’ve looking like an right idiot, with your mouth opening and closing like an goldfish in disbelief at what you were hearing. ‘So what do you say?’ Felix asked after a prolonged period of awkward silence, looking as though a little on the verge of imploding at any given moment.

You blinked once, twice, then a third time for good measure before clearing your throat. ‘Yeah, sure…I’d love to but why me-‘ your sentence was cut off when Felix let out a relieved sigh as his mouth stretched into a smile, revealing his pearly whites, also as though he was…happy that you had accepted his invite; A reaction that naturally caused you to become curious as to figure out the reason why.

‘Oh thank fuck, you almost had me second guessing that you weren’t going to come.’ He said, looking at you with eyes that seemed to be reading your entire being, reading your each and every breath with such attention; so much that you swore it was as akin to that of a creator admiring his first creation. You -much like everyone else at Oxford- were very familiar with the stories that came with the supposed friends Felix had taken to Saltburn; they go to Saltburn, things seemingly get weird and the friendship is tarnished, then by summer’s end Felix next speaks with them again.

Used and discarded within the same breath.

You soon came to the conclusion that you didn’t want to be the next discarded toy on Felix’s long list of broken things. It would’ve been better had Felix kept his distance and stayed with his little posse, but he didn’t and now you were riddled with the endless possibilities that laid ahead of you. ‘Would’ve been a real shame if I did.’ You said, hyper aware of the fact that Felix was still staring intently at you. ‘But I’m glad you didn’t.’ He says softly, taking one last puff of his cigarette before its dying embers dwindled down to the bud, tossing it aside carelessly once it’s use has been served.

‘So am I.’ You replied, looking away from him and elsewhere as you pondered to yourself what you had gotten yourself into and what terrors would await for you at Saltburn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your first couple of days at Saltburn were okay to say the least.

Well that was mostly because Felix insisted that you’d spend the most of it together. So no matter where it was that you went through the manor, Felix was never far behind, looking over you like a protective shadow.

The pool? a shirtless Felix was sat poolside with a cigarette handing loosely from his lips, reflective shades concealing his dark eyes that you could feel shamelessly drinking you in as you dipped a toe.

The living room? Felix was there with a selection of movies and snacks that he retrieved from the kitchen along with comfy blankets.

The library? Felix was there reading a book that went over the treatment of women in Greek myths.

Bathroom? Felix was also there because upon giving you a grand tour of the intimidating building, he had informed you that you were to share a bathroom, instead of having you journey to the other side of the house to occupy another one.

You even remembered one time where you were deeply engaged in a topic with the likes of Farleigh and Venetia about Felix’s recent attitude towards you, with you being in denial and Farleigh and Venetia trying to make you see reason; When Felix came into the room as though looking for something, and upon seeing the three of you together, his jaw began to clench. It wasn’t until that very moment did you begin to take note of how Felix’s reluctance in having to share you with anyone else, and how it was staring to look something similar to a stubborn child who refused to share what he thought rightfully belonged to him.

‘Told you.’ Farleigh said with a winning smirk after Felix left the room in a huff. ‘He doesn’t want to share you with the rest of us, he only wants you for himself…and in more ways than one.’ He adds on, obviously knowing something that you didn’t.

‘What do you mean by that Farleigh?’ You had tried to ask but all he did was shrug nonchalantly and cryptically said, ‘you’ll see soon enough.’

You guessed you understood where Felix was coming from, I mean you did come here because of him, so naturally you were meant to be spending most of your time with him. However with what Farleigh had said earlier, you couldn’t help but theorise that there was a much deeper reasoning for Felix to have invited you to Saltburn; A theory that would later be put to the test when you were getting ready to go to bed, pulling back the covers just enough for you to slip in with ease, when a knocking at your door caught your ear.

‘Y/n. You in there? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something recently and it couldn’t wait any longer.’ It was Felix. Your brows furrowed at this, what could he possibly want to talk about in the middle of the night?

As to not keep him waiting any longe then he might’ve been before knocking on your door. You quickly made your way to the door -though not before making sure you looked presentable- and opened it to see Felix stood in your doorway in his sleepwear, which consisted of a short sleeve shirt and a pair of blueish gray boxers, as his dark hair looked ruffled as though he had just been vigorously running his hands through it just minutes prior.

Either way he still looked extraordinarily appealing to the eye. However that was just how Felix looked to near enough everyone; extraordinarily delectable.

‘What conversation could possibly be so hard for you to not wait until tomorrow to have?’ You asked, brows raised, wanting nothing more than to put an end to all the mental gymnastics you’ve put yourself through within the past couple days; It got exhaustive after a while and his childish antics of giving you the cold shoulder didn’t make matters any better.

‘Look, I know I’ve been a bit of a dick to you recently.’ Felix began.

‘A bit?’ You echoed, slightly annoyed. ‘Felix you wouldn’t even look at me when I went to the pool, which if I remember correctly,’ you placed a finger on your chin, faking a face of deep thought before clicking your fingers and leaning in towards him, ‘you invited me to earlier that same day.’ You concluded dryly. ‘So how about you explain that before whatever you wanted to talk about, just so I’m given more of a clear picture as to where we stand.’

‘Fuck. I fucked up.’ Felix sighed under his breath as he ran his hand down his face, his dark eyes peering down the elongated hallway in hopes that no one -Farleigh- would come out and see what was all the commotion about, before they returned to look into yours and decided to just skip the words he was planning on telling you and just get straight to the point; long winded speeches of love was never his thing when he could just be straightforward about it. After all he was Felix fucking Catton, but it seemed that just being in your presence was enough to leave him a little speechless.

‘I like you.’ He began but immeditly felt that like wasn’t the right word to use when putting into words of what you did to him. ‘No, that don’t sound right because at the end of the day y/n, I fucking love you.’ Felix corrects himself and you immeditly felt the anything that you wanted to say to him exit your brain, as his sudden declaration took its place as the only thing that you could clearly focus on. ‘I brought you to Saltburn in hopes that one day I would stop being such a pussy and tell you how I truly felt.’ Felix then looked saddened as he continued. ‘Yet it seems that the only thing I’ve managed to accomplish is pushing you away because I thought that you wouldn’t want me like that, and would try to drive that home by spending time with Farleigh and Venetia.’ By the time Felix had finished pouring his heart out to you, everything leading up to this very moment started making a lot more sense, even Farleigh’s cryptic response made sense.

This entire time Felix was planning on confessing and Farleigh knew, which meant Venetia must’ve knew and therefore his parents considering how upon meeting them, they seemingly knew everything about you in incredible detail. You knew Felix was a bit of a blabber mouth under certain circumstances, but you didn’t ever think that he would ever rant to his parents about you in the slightest and in a positive light too. Though it did feel a little odd at first when Elspeth complimented your eyes but now you knew why and you couldn’t help but be flattered; Felix is a handsome and beautiful man that to be viewed within the same perspective was a new feeling entirely.

‘Really?’ You asked, biting the inside of your cheek, praying this wasn’t an extremely realistic dream.

‘Really.’ Felix replied without hesitation, beaming as he brazenly took a step towards you.

‘You’re not fucking with me?’ You asked again, still somehow not finding any of this remotely real, now bitting down on your bottom lip this time.

Felix stepped even closer to you now that you could feel his body heat, his hand gently holding you by the chin as his thumb gingerly pried your bottom lip from your teeth before then moving his head so that it was resting against your own, forcing you to focus on the dark pair of eyes that looked right back at you in a way that one would a masterpiece. ‘I’m not fucking with you.’ He spoke in a low but soft tone of voice. ‘I think you’re the most beautiful and the most amazing person I have ever met. You’re genuine, you’re kind but most importantly, you’re real and I both envy and adore you for that.’ Felix finishes and you couldn’t help but groan with impatience.

‘You could’ve conveyed all that if you would’ve kissed me.’ You whined, hands finding their home within his hair, raking and slightly tugging at the tresses, making him laugh. ‘As you wish.’ He utters cheekily as he then descends his lips upon yours in a passionate kiss that conveyed everything that had been said and more.

#saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #Saltburn imagines #felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #Felix catton imagines #Felix catton fic #Felix catton fluff

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #astarion x mc #aware!astarion #to be continued #or maybe not lol #I haven't written anything in so long #and for good reason #baldur's gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader

[clarenecessities]

He-man.org will close in 5 days.

He-man.org has been a staple of the Masters of the Universe community since the early days, originating as an email list that worked to document episodes before anything (not footage, not lists, nothing) was available online. It grew into a sprawling, multi-faceted beast of a thing, including an encyclopedia (an in-house wiki), merch lists, a marketplace, forums, anything you could think of.

Several years ago now, the main site went down for updates/maintenance. For a few weeks, we were told, maybe months. The forums remained open for fans to communicate, and barring a period of downtime earlier this year things were going smoothly.

Yesterday, the owner of the site, Val Staples, announced the site would be closed on November 14th, 2023. Six days later. We are currently attempting to contact him, to see if he’s interested in selling, and if he means closed as in “no new posts” or closed as in deleted entirely. Regardless of its eventual fate, the archiving of these forums is essential to preserving the history of the franchise, the fandom, and the brand.

TO SHE-RA (and MotU) FANS SPECIFICALLY: I have personally used these forums to answer questions that could be answered nowhere else. Had I not had access to them, I would never have been able to prove that Purrsia was fake, or found so much unpublished concept art, or discovered that Scott “Toyguru” Neitlich personally wrote Catra’s MOTUC bio (even if he’s put off answering my questions about it for over a year now). Forum members have conducted interviews with the likes of Jon Seisa, Cathy Larson, Janice Varney-Hamlin—essential figures in the very foundations of POP, and those interviews revealed and recorded priceless information for future generations (me! you! us!) to find. Did you know Cathy Larson named Adora? That she originally pushed for “Dorian”, after her own daughter? We cannot let this treasure trove disappear into the ether(ia).

TO THE UNAFFILIATED: Please help. Pretty please. If you’ve ever liked my art or my writing or my haphazard blogging, ever, at all, consider archiving just one board. Just one page. Literally anything helps. I am spiraling into madness & this is my library of Alexandria. The mythical one that was totally unique and persevered nowhere else and was destroyed in a single cataclysmic event. Pretty pretty please help.

HOW TO HELP:

Archive.org has several ways to upload shit but most of them are longer term than “a few days” so we’re focusing on two (which can be run simultaneously): Save Page Now, and browser extensions. From their help page:

1. Save Page Now

Put a URL into the form, press the button, and we save the page. You will instantly have a permanent URL for your page. Please note, this method only saves a single page, not the whole site.

We want to keep outlinks and screenshots wherever possible. The Archive does not keep your IP address, so your submission is anonymous.

2. Browser extensions and add-ons

Install the Wayback Machine Chrome extension in your browser. Go to a page you want to archive, click the icon in your toolbar, and select Save Page Now. We will save the page and give you a permanent URL.

One plus to installing the extension is that as you surf around, when you run into a missing page they will alert you if we have a saved copy.

More extensions, apps, and add-ons:

Firefox add-on

Safari Extension

iOS app

Android app

I strongly encourage you to use these tools even if you aren’t helping with this project/after it ends. Documenting and preserving information is essential in this day and age & The Internet Archive is at the heart of it. Please support them however you can.

I’m serious about paying you, though I may need more communication with folks I don’t know so we can coordinate/verify shit gets done. I think this is a worthwhile pursuit in itself but I recognize your time is valuable & like, people gotta eat. DM me if you’re interested and we’ll talk. I may need to adjust pay depending how many people bite but I’ll do what I can

#motu #he man #she ra #spop #pop #sorry for tag spam but this is important and relevant to you #catradora #it counts! #sorry also if the formatting on this is a disaster #i’m on my phone and haven’t updated my tumblr app in… a couple years #archives #archive #archive.org #wayback machine #help #org forums #neotag #brothers. this has nothing to do with you but don’t you wanna help a bitch out? do it for illusen #please signal boost if you can

[justkindalivin]

Roommate trouble

summary: Your roommate Jesse and his girlfriend Dina fuck..a lot. loudly. When you finally get fed up after being woken up by their nightly “activities”, you go to Dina’s dorm for some peace and quiet only to run into her roommate, Ellie. 

warnings: Smut (18+ PLZ), Language, modern!au, college!au, making out, thigh riding, fingering (r rec), oral (r rec), dom!ellie, teasing, sub!reader, not edited well (I can’t think of anything else but lmk if you find something I forgot!)  

wc: 2.7k 

an: HEY YALL!! It's been a hot minute, sorry about that! The shotgun series is still ongoing but this idea popped into my head and I just had to write it. I tried to activate my asks or whatever but I’m still kinda new to how tumblr works haha. I wanna meet people in the TLOU community and make friends so come say hi!! Anyhoo I hope you guys enjoy, have a great day I love you ♡ - Lottie

------------

You loved Jesse, you really did. Starting from move-in day, you guys did everything together, knew everything about each other, and he quickly became your absolute best friend. When he first introduced you to Dina, a girl he met during orientation, you were so happy he found someone as sweet and open as she was. She always greeted you with a hug and smile, even going as far as inviting you to hang out with her and Jesse on whatever date they had planned. Eventually, you and Dina also got very close, going on your own little “friend dates” as she called them where you would go to dinner or just watch a movie. You always joked that if she ever got tired of Jesse all she had to do was say the word and you would sweep her off her feet. As much as you loved them though, there was one thing about them that you couldn’t stand. They fucked like rabbits. Literally 24/7. You actually didn’t even know it was medically possible for two people to get it on this much. You come home from a class and boom- they’re in your dorm going at it. Trying to take a nap in your room? Think again, here comes Jesse and Dina tearing off each other's clothes. You tried to be cool about it at first because you didn’t want to seem bitchy, but you were quickly reaching your limit. And tonight was the night you lost it 

-------

You had a long fucking day, filled with back-to-back classes that seemed to last an eternity and mountains of homework that took you hours in the library to complete. Practically as soon as you got to your dorm and your head hit the pillow you passed out, which is probably why you didn't hear Jesse and Dina come home. What you did hear, however, was a weird grating creaking noise that roused you from sleep. Blinking the blurriness from your eyes, you start to come to your surroundings. The creaking started to get louder and as you become more and more awake, you begin to notice soft moans and grunts coming from the direction of the creaking... - NO. FUCKING. WAY. 

“You little fuck gremlins, you’re unbelievable!!!” You exclaim, hucking your pillow in their general direction. The sound of a startled grunt and scrambling from Jesse’s bed fills your ears as they try to cover themselves up, and finally, you turn your bedside lamp on to glare at them. Both of them sit on his bed, messily wrapped in blankets with a light pink dusting on their cheeks, chests heaving as they try to catch their breath. At least Dina looks apologetic, Jesse just looks annoyed you interrupted them. 

“I’m so sorry, I-” Dina starts apologizing, but you hold up your hand to stop her. 

“Jesse, you're like a brother to me and I love you, but I can’t deal with you right now. Like, just give me a heads up when you two are gonna fuck and I’ll leave, this is traumatizing.” Jesse slightly rolls his eyes but nods, and you can tell he does actually feel bad that they woke you. “and Dina, just give me a chance I’d treat you so right, just say the word. You’ve done nothing wrong ever, and I love you.” 

Jesse shakes his head, throwing his hands up indignantly “Why do I get scolded like a toddler and Dina gets hit on?!? Where’s the justice?”. You shut him up with a glare, then focus back on Dina.

“Dina, where is your dorm and would your roommate mind me staying there? Y’all can finish what you started but I’m getting tf up outta here.” After getting the building name and room number, you quickly pack a small go bag with essentials, wrap a blanket over your shoulders, and begin to trudge across campus to Dina’s building. About halfway there you think about how crazy you’re going to look to her roommate, a girl you’ve never met before but Dina had mentioned in passing a few times. The only thing you knew about her was that her name was Ellie and she was an astronomy major. Fuck, what were you even going to say when you got there?? Hey! Our roommates were having a fuck fest in my room, mind if we have a sleepover? You spent the rest of the walk overthinking and trying to come up with something to say when you saw her until eventually, you found yourself on their floor. Wandering down the hallway, you finally stumble on a light wooden door that was decorated with colorful bits of paper cut into the shape of mushrooms that held both Dina and Ellie’s names. Keeping in mind the mini script you made of what to say when you were walking over, you take a deep breath and raise your hand to knock on the door.

After a moment of silence, clattering and distant swearing come from the other side of the door before it swings open. Your mouth goes dry, all the words you had rehearsed flying out the window as you take in Ellie for the first time. Her short auburn hair falls messily around her freckled face and as she lifts her hand up to rub the sleep from her eyes, you catch a glimpse of a tattoo on her forearm. Wearing just a white cotton tank top and black boxers, it was clear that she had been sleeping peacefully before your rude awakening. As you continue to check her out, you’re startled when her voice cuts through the quiet of the hallway.

“Dude, I was sleeping. The fuck do you want?” Ellie’s voice is still thick with sleep as her gaze falls on you. Oh shit, she must think you’re so creepy, just some rando waking her up in the middle of the night and then staring at her. You hastily blurt out your name trying to seem like less of a weirdo in front of Dina’s smoking-hot roommate

“Dina and Jesse woke me up with their... sex stuff? And they go at it all the time and I was kinda fed up so I asked Dina if I could sleep in her bed for tonight and she said yes so... now I'm here and-” Your awkward rambling was cut short by Ellie bursting out laughing, doubling over to clutch her stomach.

“No way dude that's fucking heinous! You poor thing get in here.” With that, Ellie grabs your arm and pulls you into the room, her hand finding the small of your back as she guides you in. “Welcome to our humble abode, that's Dina’s side so you can just dump your shit over there, and that's her bed.” She says, gesturing to the left side of the room. Shoving your backpack to the ground, you make your way to Dina’s bed, observing the room as you go. Ellie’s side is filled with drawings and posters, as well as a guitar that leans up against her bed rail. Pictures also litter the walls, some of her and Dina, some of her other friends, and a few of her with an older man you assume is her dad. Suddenly feeling the night catch up to you, a huge yawn leaves your lips and you crawl into Dina’s bed, letting your eyes fall closed.

“It's nice to finally meet you, Dina talks about you all the time. She didn’t tell me you were pretty though”. Your eyes fly open and you can feel your cheeks growing warm at the compliment. 

“Dina talks about you too. It's weird we’ve never met before, Dina always said I would like you” You reply, rolling over to face her to see that she was already looking at you. 

“Listen any time those two are annoying you, come over here. You’re always welcome” she tells you, a wide smile stretching across her face

“Thanks, Ellie”

“No problem pretty girl”

-------

“Ellie they’re doing it again!! They were literally eye fucking all over the room so I made my escape before my vision got assaulted. Again.” You yell, bursting into Ellie's room without so much as a knock. On that first night you stayed in Dina’s dorm, the two of you talked for hours, only stopping once daylight began to leak through the curtains on the windows. She talked about her adopted dad, Joel, what she wanted to do with her life, and her love of dinosaurs. With each word, you found yourself more and more enamored with her. You’d never met anyone like Ellie and from that day on you guys were close friends. Well... you don’t know if friends is the way to describe it. Ellie was almost always touching you, from wrapping an arm around your waist when you were walking together to pulling you down onto her lab when there was not enough room on the couch. At parties, she’d keep close to you, warding off creepy men with a snarl and her arm around your shoulders. You’d both shared countless kisses, some light and playful, others deep and passionate. There was something unspoken between the two of you, you saw it in the way she looked at you, the way she was protective over you like no one else in your life has ever been. You’d never labeled what you and Ellie had, too scared that if you talked about it, she’d get so weirded out by you reading too much into it that she would leave. 

“I keep telling you babe, set boundaries with them. As much as I love having your gorgeous face here, you gotta tell them when you need the room.”

That was the other thing, the nicknames she gave you. You don’t think Ellie has called you by your name once since the night you met. It's always pretty girl, gorgeous, or your personal favorite, babe. Wandering over to where Ellie sat on the edge of her bed, tuning her guitar, you flop face down next to her. Hearing her place the guitar down with a dramatic sigh, you feel Ellie’s body moving toward where you lay on the bed. Rough hands grasp your waist, rolling you until you’re laying on your back. Ellie kneels over you, one hand stroking the skin of your waist while the other glides up the side of your body to brush your hair out of your eyes. 

“I’ll beat the shit out of Jesse, will that help?” She offers, only half joking, earning a small giggle from you as she smiles. 

“My hero” You joke, hand rising to cup the side of her face and squeeze the flesh there. “You don’t have to, I just have to stop being a pussy and tell them. Maybe we can make a schedule or something, I don't know.”

“Oo a fucking schedule, how romantic. I’m sure they’ll love that” She teases and you shove her away from you playfully. Before you can fully shove her away, she grips your arm, using the momentum to pull you onto her lap. Her back leans against the wall and she picks you up slightly by your hips so that she can slide her thigh between your legs. 

“Shut up I’m trying okay?” You giggle raising your hand to push her once again. This time though, she catches it and laces your fingers together. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath from being WWE slammed into a cuddle session and you could have sworn you catch Ellie’s eyes flutter between your own and your chest. Did you wear a low-cut tank top and booty shorts on purpose?... maybe. Was it working? Hell yes. 

When Ellie finally looks up from your chest, you raise an eyebrow mockingly at her and her face immediately flushes a dark red. You laugh as she averts her gaze and clears her throat, leaning down to rest your head in the crook of her neck. Her hands migrate to rub your back, moving the fabric of your shirt to rub soothing circles on your soft skin. From her neck you try to sneak a look at her face, only to find that her eyes are already locked on you. With a small smile, you once again bring your hand up to cup her face, this time just caressing the skin there instead of pinching. Ellie removes her hands from your back and uses them to grab the hair at the base of your neck, bringing your head up to face her. After only a brief look from your eyes to your lips, Ellie surges forward and meets your lips in a searing kiss. 

She bites down on your lower lip playfully, taking advantage of the small gasp you let out to explore your mouth. Without realizing it, you begin to grind on Ellie’s thigh, desperate for friction. You only register you’re doing it when Ellie brings her hand down to grope your ass, forcing you further down on her thigh and quickening your pace. You break the kiss with a soft moan, getting lost in the pleasure until suddenly you find yourself on your back. Ellie slots her body fully over yours, eyeing you up and down with flush cheeks.

“Fuck, babe you’re so fucking beautiful.” She says, tracing her hand along the waistband of your shorts, toying with the fabric. 

“Please Ellie” You whimper, practically writhing under her despite the fact that she's barely done anything yet 

“Please what pretty girl? Use your words.” 

“Touch me, Ellie, please! I-I need you!” You cry out and with a smug smirk, she slides her fingers under your waistband and between your folds

“It's okay baby shh, I got you. Fuck you’re so wet, is all this for me, gorgeous?” All you can do is nod pitifully as her fingers sink into you, a harsh moan tearing from your lips. Her fingers slide easily in and out, your slick walls clenching around her as her face moves to suck marks onto your neck. The pleasure is too much, clenching your eyes shut all you can focus on is the rough pounding of her fingers within you. 

“Fuck, Ellie.. feels so good f-fuck” You incoherently babble as she curls her fingers, hitting your sweet spot and making your vision go dark. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your whole body clenching and shaking around Ellie’s fingers as she praises you. 

“That's it pretty, you did so good for me. You’re so fucking hot, babe.” Ellie removes her fingers and immediately puts them in her mouth, sucking off your slick with a contented moan. “Fucking delicious, will you let me taste more baby? Please?”. Not finding yourself able to speak yet, all you can do is nod and Ellie wastes no time. Clambering off the bed, Ellie grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge, kneeling before you now bare core. Throwing your legs over her shoulders, Ellie dives in, attaching her lips to your swollen clit with a harsh suck. You loudly cry out, hands flying to the back of her head as her tongue begins to rapidly lick and suck all over. You feel your orgasm approaching more quickly than before and you unconsciously begin to grind down on Ellie's face to chase your release. However, your trance is interrupted by a loud shriek

“OH MY GOD! What the fuck guys, what are you doing?!?!” Dina yells from the now open door, shielding her eyes with her hand. You scramble to cover yourself with Ellie's comforter as the woman herself lets out an annoyed groan.

“Is this what it feels like!?! Jesus, it's like walking in on your parents. I’m so sorry, I’ll come back later!” Dina rushes out and slams the door behind her, leaving you and Ellie alone once again. After a moment of silence, Ellie starts to laugh

“Well, at least she knows what it's like now. I doubt they’ll be causing you problems again.” She says between her giggles, grabbing a pair of her boxers to dress you in. You shake off your embarrassment and begin to laugh as well, taking Ellie's hand and tugging her into bed with you. As Ellie wraps you in her arms, you can’t help but think you might have to thank Jesse and Dina for being such sex maniacs.

-----------

an: I love you guys so much, thank you for all the comments, likes and reblogs on my previous posts. Let me know if you guys can access my asks, I wanna get to know yall!! this is my first time writing smut, yall can probably tell LMAO but all feedback is appreciated  ☺︎ 

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader smut #college!ellie williams #modern!ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic

[thebestofoneshots]

touches | Remus Lupin x Reader

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Word Count: 12.8 k (yeah, I don't even know how this happened, but damn do I love the final result)

Warnings: smut, teasing, dry hump*ng, finger fucking, hand job, masturbati*n, P in V, lots of praise, consent is sexy, lusty!Remus, he literally can't take his eyes off you. His big, sexy destrous hands make you quiver.

Prompt: Inspired by the sense of touch, this fic tells the story of Remus being absolutely head over heels for you and his obsession with a particular picture of you in a sundress. A picture, that unleashes his most lecherous, and debaucherous self.

Mutual Pinning, Idiots in Love, smut with a plot

sights is part of The Five Senses: an anthology series where each chapter will be a stand alone story, inspired by the different ways we have of perceiving the world around us.

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

You had had crushes before, but whatever this thing you had going on for Remus Lupin was something else entirely. Enticing, addicting, almost like a drug, no, not almost, Remus Lupin was most definitely like a drug to you. 

The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, you could actually tell he was coming in your direction just from the sheer scent that would hit you before his beautiful face did, and you would instantly perk up, and try to act as natural as possible when he passed by. It didn’t help that every single time he saw you he would smile so brightly, you felt like your entire world was being illuminated. He’d then walk closer to you, greet you, and place an arm over your shoulders, especially if you had to go to the same place, and most of the time you were going to the same place, the library.

You would sit across each other and no matter how much fucking attention you tried to pay to whatever book you were reading, or to whatever it was you were trying to study, you’d continuously get distracted by him. By the way he flipped the pages of his book, by the way he shifted on the chair, by the way he fucking breathed. You weren’t sure it was a crush anymore, since it started feeling like a bIoody obsession instead. 

There was something about the way his rich brown eyes looked at you that made you feel so fucking high, you might have as well held the record of the person with the most feet above the ground while flying a broom. 

The absolute worst part was the dreams you were having, it all started one time you were all chilling in the common room and for some reason you ended up with your feet over his lap, you didn’t even remember how it happened, but you certainly did remember how it had felt. The sly wolf had placed his stupid hot hands over your legs, and as he was talking to everyone, he started gently –and absentmindedly you assumed– rubbing small circles over your knees. And then his hand had traveled a bit upwards, just above your knee, nothing indecent really, just a stupid friendly hand, a friendly hand that was so big, and strong and dextrous that you couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Even days after it happened you were still thinking about the ghost of his hands ever so present in your head. But it wasn’t until exactly one and a half weeks later, that you solidified your obsession. You had a dream in which the exact same thing happened, except this time the rest of your friends weren’t there, and Remus' hand continued to travel upwards, and upwards, until it reached the place where you had wanted it the most. 

And he had done so many filthy and nasty things in your dream that when you woke up you weren’t only blushing for what had happened, but your panties had been so ruined that you had to change them before anyone noticed what had happened. Next time you saw Remus you were so fucking mortified you couldn’t even look at him in the eye. 

Remus Lupin wasn’t much better either. He had thought of you as beautiful from the day he met you, stunning even, but that had been that. You were all just kids and all just friends. In fact, he thought James was weird for having a crush on 12-year-old Lily. Who has a crush when you’re 12?, he’d thought, girls are dumb and entitled. 

Yeah, perhaps Remus didn’t have a crush on you from the very beginning like James had fallen for Lily, and he might have even thought he didn’t even like girls at some point, especially when he took into account his misadventures with Sirius and other boys in 5th year. But one day you were all having dinner, and then you bit into the juiciest plum he had ever seen, some of the sugary liquid spilling down from your lips as you took the fruit away from them, and something fucking snapped in Remus. 

You noticed he was staring, and gave him a bright smile “This one’s insanely good, wanna bite?” you’d asked him as you pushed the deep red fruit towards his face. On the inside, it was a lighter hue of red, and Remus swallowed when he noticed the bite marks on the side of its skin, your bite marks. ”I promise you’d like it,” you said as you dangled the fruit over his face. The boy did eventually lean in and gave the fruit a bite, his nose accidentally brushing against your hand. You blinked a couple of times when he peered through his lashes at you mid-bite, really trying to swallow the nasty thoughts that came into your head.

Remus didn’t so much as manage to do that, after the bite he pulled back, placing a napkin over his mouth to clean up the sugary wetness left by the fruit, and nodded, yeah, it had been a bIoody tasty fruit “Delicious.”   

“Told you,” you’d responded with a smile and gave it another bite, moaning just a little at the flavour. If Remus Lupin’s pants were already making him uncomfortable, the way you fucking ate that fruit all the way ‘till the end, could have been his elegy.  

“Dеad for lusting over his friend” he imagined his grave would say, feeling miserable over having such nasty thoughts of you. When you crossed the table to tell James something about a prank, Remus didn’t think much of it, he just sank a little deeper onto the chair and placed his robes over his lap to try and mask what was actually going on. He tried imagining Dumbledore naked, and it seemed to have worked at least a little bit, but after you were done you placed your hand on his shoulder and leaned over to him with a soft smile on your face. 

“I’m going to the library to go over some charms, you coming?” you asked him.  

He barely managed to muster a tight-lipped smile and shook his head “I’m… I’m not feeling too good, I’ll be going to the dorms,” he somehow managed to say. 

“Oh, all right,” you smiled, letting your hand draw from shoulder to shoulder, brushing just for a second over the skin of the back of his neck, and that just made another shiver run down his spine, “I’ll see you around then!” You said just before melting into the crowds of students as you left. Remus had to stay on his seat for a good 15 minutes after that.

"Moony, you’re not coming?" James asked him as he stood up and started walking with the boys. 

Sirius burst out into a devilish smile “Oh he is cumming, all right!" the boy said. James didn’t get the joke, but Remus groaned and let his head fall on the table. Sirius knew now. BIoody fantastic!

Next thing Remus knew, he was getting the most random boners whenever you were around, and he felt like absolute shit. Especially since you weren’t doing anything that should be causing those kinds of reactions on him. Or at least you weren’t doing them to get him turned on. Leaning down to pick up a pencil that had fallen to the ground and flashing him with the short shorts you wore under your skirt as the two of you walked towards the library shouldn’t have gotten his cock to twitch and yet he had to lie to you and tell you to get ahead of the two since “he had forgotten something”.

He also shouldn’t have gotten a boner when you pressed yourself against him in a hug to wish him a happy birthday, or when you gave him a small kiss on the cheek after he won the Wizards’ Chess contest. To be fair, you weren’t even sure where you’d mustered up the courage for that one, since you had turned so red you had fled the place before you even noticed the small tent on his pants. 

He shouldn’t have gotten one when Bins had you cross over the classroom and used you as a teacher’s assistant to write down things on the board. But he could’ve sworn your shirt was shorter that day, nothing more than a few inches, but there was definitely a lot more skin to see.

The one time he had a boner in the library because he dropped his parchment and leaned in to get it, realizing that for some reason you hadn’t worn your usual shorts and instead under your skirt he could actually see your knickers, was the time he thought it was acceptable. Especially when he did a double-take after he noticed the lacy pattern on your black underwear. Regardless it did nothing to make him not feel like a perv, even less when you leaned down on the table and gave him a rather concerned look “You okay Rem?” you asked “Did you find your parchment?” 

He coughed a couple of times, thankfully the parchment had fallen a bit away from his grasp, and he somehow pointed at it. You nodded in comprehension and extended your leg to kick the parchment towards him, flashing him even more in the process. He had to avert his gaze as soon as your eyes turned back to him “thanks,” he said, voice strained, both of you were back over the table in a second. 

You frowned “Sure you’re okay?” you asked again, leaning in closer with your extended hand just inches away from his face, but you pulled your hand away from him when you realized the apprehensive way he was staring at you. He was thankful, he was sure he might have cum in his pants had you actually placed your hand over his cheek the way you sometimes did. 

Lily had come and get you from the library and he had just stayed there, face hidden under his arms as he cursed himself for being a perv. Then he felt a hand over his leg and almost jumped from his seat, realizing it was just Sirius. 

The blue-eyed boy was looking at his friend with a knowing smile, Remus pulled back just a little “I’ve seen what’s been happening to you.” 

 “You haven’t seen shit,” Remus responded defensively which just got a laugh from Sirius. 

“Moony, if you think I haven’t seen the way you shift in your seat whenever she’s around, or the way you subtly place your bag over your lap in class sometimes, or the way you stayed down the table for a little longer than you would in any normal situation, then–” 

“–Shut it, shut it, shut it,” he said as he attempted to place his hands over Sirius, the other boy just laughed again. 

“I’m here to give you advice,” the other boy said calmly as he grabbed Remus’ wrists to stop them from accidentally hitting him.

Remus eyed him suspiciously “What advice?” 

“Wank it off,” Sirius said with a shrug. 

Remus deadpanned “I’m not gonna,” he started and then added in a hushed tone “wank it off!” 

“It’s the only solution I see, that or you tell her you have the hots for her.” 

“That’s not happening either.” 

“Could do it for you,” the boy shrugged again. “Seduce her and bring her onto your bed.” 

“Sirius, you’re most definitely not going to seduce my crush.” 

“But it’s painful to see you like this,” the other boy said, pointing at the bulge in Remus’ pants that was only now starting to subside. 

“Well then don’t look!” Remus said pointedly, pulled a book from the table and started reading it.  Sirius knew it was useless to say anything after that, but he also knew he had somewhat been successful, the idea had already been planted in his friend’s head. 

And really, it’s not that Remus wanted to think about it, but when he got another boner over you just walking past him, he knew he had to find a solution to his problem. And, in the end, the solution found him instead. You were just walking away from the library when something dropped from your bag, “hey wait you…” he leaned over to pass it on to you, but he noticed then that it was a picture of you. You were wearing a sundress, a milkmaid sundress, pale yellow with small pink flowers, and you were smiling towards the camera as you moved and looked back at the castle behind you. He realized quickly it was Bayern, the castle you told him you had gone to visit on your last summer vacation that had a rather complicated German name he hadn’t cared to memorize.

And while the castle was definitely an impressive feat of architecture, it was half as impressive as you in that sundress. You had shown him several pictures of your trip, but you had never shown him that one, he almost felt like he had been robbed of something from not being able to see you in that dress before. 

“You said something?” You asked, turning around to look at him. He quickly pocketed the small picture and shook his head, pulling the pencil he had been holding on his other hand.

“Just dropped this,” he said with a tight-lipped smile, trying not to let the guilt consume him.

“All right, see you at dinner,” you said as you turned around with a shrug and started walking away from the library.

He could feel the soft edges of the small photograph in his pockets with his hand still inside it, he was aching to get to see you in that bIoody sundress again, so after giving it some thought, that being exactly four seconds, he decided he’d have to skip class that day. Consequences be damned, he had to get to his room.  

In what could easily be considered record time, Remus was already in the common room, running up the stairs and opening the door to his shared room, he walked inside and looked around, trying to make sure there was no one in there. Score, room was empty, even the bathroom. While he started walking to the bed, he started having second thoughts. “You can’t do this” a little voice in his head said “It’s wrong, you’re betraying her trust”. 

Remus tried to shove those thoughts away as he continued feeling the edges of the photograph still safely tucked inside his pocket. He flipped his fingers over one of them and heard the small thump of the paper muffled by the fabric of his pants. Is it really wrong if I…? He wondered. It’s not like you had given him the picture… it's not like you had trusted him with it and he was about to do something heinous with it. In fact, he had stumbled into the picture, it had been all an accident, a coincidence, so if it were to actually wank it off with it, he wouldn’t be doing anything wrong, would he? 

He approached his bed, he’d made a decision, he was sure, a few steps towards it and he was taking another step back, still fidgeting with his hand on the pliant photograph paper. And then he remembered the stash. He leaned under Peter’s bed –where they all kept their shit– and went straight for one of the playwizzard magazines. He started staring at the pictures of the beautiful nude witches, with their huge assets and their surprisingly hot movements. He sat down on his bed and continued staring, making sure to use a spell to lock the door as he started unzipping his pants. 

But the witches were doing fucking nothing, nothing compared to what you did with 4 layers of clothing, nothing compared to his reaction to seeing you in that sundress. “Fuck!” he whispered-screamed frustrated as he threw the magazine to the floor, it falling back into place under Peter’s bed. He let himself fall on it and stared at the ceiling. The fucking photo he knew was still in his pocket weighing like led, he imagined you moving around in it, he remembered how the dress hugged your perfect soft curves from the seconds glimpse he’d gotten at it and… he felt the rush of bIood flowing downward.

“Just this once,” he said to himself as if he really thought he’d be able to stop afterwards “Just this once,” he repeated as he shut the curtains around his bed, out of shame rather than a bigger need of privacy, “just this once…” he repeated as he pulled the picture from his pocket, the back was facing him, there was a small legend on it, written in elegant cursive handwriting, your handwriting. He brushed his finger over it as he read  “Neuschwanstein, Summer 1976”. So that was the name of the castle, he thought as he moved his other hand to his trousers. 

He didn’t turn the picture, not yet, he hoped his imagination would be enough, he hoped that if he didn’t actually look at the picture while doing it, he’d have the moral high ground. He also knew that that was all bullshit from his own head trying to justify his actions. He started rubbing his hand over his trousers, feeling how hard the thought of you had made him. The nude witches from the magazine hadn’t done half that, it had been you.

 “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath as he started rubbing, not taking himself out. Not yet, he had to engrave that picture of you deep in his brain before starting, as if it hadn’t been done the moment he spotted it on the floor of the library. 

He continued to rub until he was panting and he stood up, kneeling on the bed instead of sitting down, undoing his button and pulling both his pants and briefs down in a surprisingly swift motion. He was so hard, there was already a bit of precum coming from him. He took a deep breath and placed his hands around himself, he gulped when he did, and then reached forward, flicking his finger over his tip, spreading some of the warm liquid over it, but it wasn’t enough. He brought his hand up and spit on it, using that as a lubricant as he started to move his hand up and down along his shaft. Slow at first, trying to remember the way you looked, but the more he pumped, the foggier his brain got, it was like he couldn’t hold the picture of you in his brain. 

On the spur of the moment, he made a decision he thought he wouldn’t be doing that day, he really, really thought he had an ounce of self restraint until he gave up, and flipped the picture. “Fuck,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth when he saw you, he was fucking thankful the pictures couldn’t talk like portraits did. He continued to pump himself, panting as he started to thrust into his own hand instead. There was something about the movement of his hips that made it more real. He swallowed thickly as he stared at you, your dress rising ever so slightly as you twirled to see the castle behind you. It wasn’t even more than what he had seen when your skirt rode up, or what he had seen that day at the library but it was doing things to him regardless. 

He grabbed a pillow and placed it in front of him, settling the picture over it carefully, still staring at your beautiful smile as he continued to thrust “so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered in between pants, she’s so bIoody stunning, how is it even possible? 

His mind was filled with praises when he finally came, but he was so erratic, so sexdrunk that he didn’t even manage to catch his cum in his hand like he usually did, instead it spilled past his hands and onto the pillow he had placed in front of him, onto the photo. 

When Remus managed to regain a little bit of himself and he noticed what had happened he panicked “What have I done?” he wondered as he pulled the picture up and attempted to clean the sticky hot liquid with the sleeves of his sweater –it was like he had forgotten he was a wizard altogether– but instead of helping it only spread out even more, now being all over your chest. And that, that sent another rush down his body, his gaze darkened as he stared, lips parted, not believing what was going on. 

He looked down, the twitch on his cock hadn’t been his imagination, it had actually fucking happened “What the bIoody fuck!” he whispered as he went to pat himself again, he would be sore as fuck later that day, but he didn’t give a bIoody damn about it. Completely forgetting his initial worry, he went at it again, when he was done, he came even harder, over the picture again, but this time, it had been intentional. Something about ruining that dress made his brain tick. When he was done, he just let himself fall on the bed, face down, not caring to adjust his pants, only turning his pillow around so he wouldn’t be sleeping directly over his cum. 

As he laid down face looking to the side, he pulled the picture from the side and stared at it, he was fucking spent, and yet he felt his cock twitch yet again as he saw your figure covered in his seed. You were fucking stunning in that dress. He fell asleep like that. Pillow with cum underneath, half-naked, and with your cum filled picture standing right next to his face. 

When he woke up again, it was because he heard someone trying to open the door. He jolted awake, pulled his pants up and used his wand to clean the bottom of his pillow and some of his shirts, some of it was sticky, while other bits were just staining the sheets with a cloudy white stain. He pocketed the picture, the one he didn’t care to clean, and walked towards the door. 

“Remus?” Sirius asked when he opened the door “Why weren’t you in class today?” 

“I was feeling off,” Remus lied, standing right in front of Sirius and blocking his view of the bed. It was clean, really, but he had forgotten to undraw the curtains “Had a headache.”

“But we’re pretty far from that time of the month,” Sirius said casually, then he spotted the edge of the magazine under Peter’s bed, and Remus’ bed too, the one his friend had been so adamant to clock out of his view and he smiled “Should’ve told me,” he said with a smirk and pointed at the magazine “I’ve got better ones.” 

Remus gasped “No I didn’t… I didn’t use that,” he shut his own mouth and cursed under his breath when he realized what he had involuntarily admitted to doing.

“No problem,” Sirius said with a smile “I was starting to worry about you and your obsessive little crush.” Remus gave him a reproachful look, Sirius just ignored it “She’s in the common room, you know? She was worried about you.”

“She was?” 

“Said she was waiting for you at dinner,” Sirius responded with a shrug. Remus looked at his friend surprised and turned to the clock on the wall “It’s that fucking late?” 

Sirius nodded, and smiled as he saw Remus walk past him and towards the door again “Go get her lover boy,” he said as he waved Remus goodbye with a smile. 

That day, since you hadn’t seen him, you’d brought him food over, and the two of you had some snacks by the fire, you had leaned into him a little, craving his warmth since the night had gotten cold, even if it was already spring. He thought he’d be giving you your photograph back that day, but he just couldn’t, not while it was still stained with his cum, so the picture stayed. Safely in his pocket as you waved goodbye and walked up to your room with a soft smile on your face. 

The picture had almost become part of his routine, whenever he was feeling too uneasy around you, or turned on for that matter, he sneaked to a private place in the castle and took matters into his own hands. At first, he was shameful for it, cheeks burning as he stared at you, but the more he did it, the less shame he felt. 

Eventually though, he heard you talking to Marlene about having lost a photograph that you really liked, and that you would straight up kiss anyone who found it because you had to give it back to your mom, who said she’d get you a duplicate if you really wanted it. 

Remus felt terrible, he’d been using the picture to wank while you had been looking for it because you had to give it back? That night, he shut his curtains, used muffliato all over and he did it one last time –technically a couple of them– and fell asleep staring at the picture, trying to memorize it completely, especially the dried blotches of cum and how they looked over you. Fucking pervert, he thought as he finally used his wand to clean it up, leaving it like brand new. 

The next day, he approached you on your way to the library, “Hey little witch,” he said as he approached you. 

You loved it when he called you names, it made you feel special. You turned around trying not to grin, which was almost your automatic reaction to hearing his voice “Hey Rem,” you responded with a smile. 

“I’ve got something for you,” he said as he bit his bottom lip. 

You gave him a surprised look and approached him “You do?” He nodded. “What is it?” 

“I found something you were looking for,” he said as he pulled the picture from his pocket. 

“Remus!” you said, not bothering to hide your excitement “You found my picture,” you smiled “I was worried it’d end up in the wrong hands…”

Remus averted your gaze, yeah like mine, he thought, but then turned to you with a smile, he decided to tease you “And where is my reward?” he asked with a cocky smile, you looked at him puzzled. “Didn’t you say you’d kiss whoever found it?” 

You gave him a smile, not sure whether he was joking or not, but decided to oblige him, pulling him down by placing a hand on his shoulder and standing on your toes just a little before placing the smallest little peck to his cheeks “Thank you, my hero!” you said with a smile as you pulled away, a slight sarcastic tint to it. 

All thought he’d asked for it, he was not expecting for you to actually go through with it. He coughed a bit and smiled, pointing at the picture as he tried to regain composure “the dress,” he said, “it looks really nice, you should wear it more often.” 

And those words were all you needed for him to say, you knew you had a Hogsmade outing on the weekend, so no matter what, you’d have to find that dress. You had been rummaging through your bottomless trunk for at least an hour when Marlene finally turned to you, looking at the mess of scattered clothes all around, and noting your distressed little expression. 

“What’s wrong darling, you lost something?” she asked. 

“Sort of,” you said, “I’m looking for my dress.” 

“Your dress? Which dress?” she asked. 

You pulled the picture and handed it over to her. She took in her hands and gave you a low whistle “You look stunning, luv. Who do we want to impress?” 

Your head snapped towards her with a small gasp “Impress!?” 

Marlene just smiled “Come on,” she said, “you wouldn’t be looking for it so frantically if it wasn’t for the fact that you wanted to garner someone’s attention.” She sat on your bed and stared at you, head tilted “Is it Remus?” You flushed. “It is Remus!” she added excitedly. 

You shook your head as you sighed, not bothering to hide it from her and nodded “he found the photo, he said the dress looked good on me.” 

“Bet he did,” she said, diverted and leaned in closer to notice the slightly worn edges of the picture, she turned it around a couple of times before noticing a small rip. She shuddered and let the picture fall on the bed. Looking at you and the photo and then back at you with shock “How long did he have it?” 

You shrugged in response, still dipping your head inside your trunk and pulling piece after piece of clothing “Not sure, he said he found it and brought it over.” 

Marlene looked at you suspiciously, not daring to take the picture again, were you that naive? “How long was it lost?” 

“‘Bout three weeks or so, I think…” you said as if it didn’t matter now that you knew where the picture was “fuck, it’s nowhere!” you whined as you continued to throw pieces of clothing behind you.

“Honey I think he…” she shut herself. And looked back at the pic, not taking in her hands again. She frowned, trying to decide whether to tell you or not. 

“hmm?” you said, turning to her.  

“I think you’ll look stunning in it,” she said, opting not to tell you “Come on, let me help,” she said as she stood up and walked beside you, helping you dig through the trunk until you found it. It was better if you didn’t know what he had been doing with that picture. All though, knowing you like she did, you might have been turned on by the idea anyway.

She was the one who found it, she stood with it and helped you carefully hang it on the bed as she used a steamer spell to get rid of the wrinkles. All the while you were using some levitating spells to put all the clothes back on the trunk. You’d told her you’d make sure to clean it up later. 

The boys were already at “The Three Broomsticks” since they had promised to get in ahead of you to find a table. And you had promised Lily you’d go to the hair stylist with her. You weren’t there to get anything done, but somehow she convinced you to let them style your hair in a nice way. She thought a bit of extra magic would look really nice with your dress “So you can woe Remus.” she’d said. As Remus needed anything other than your sole existence to be wooed. 

When you were both done, her red locks were perfectly done up and cut, your own hair styled in a way that you looked just like a princess, the two of you finally walked towards the spot you always shared with the boys. Marlene, and Mary were already there. Marlene was talking about Quidditch with James and they were waiting for you to ask you some things before the next match in a couple of weeks while Remus and Sirius were talking about something else. 

Sirius was the one who spotted you come in through the door, and him being Sirius, whistled shamelessly, garnering the attention of every single person in the table, and even some from other people around them “Look at them go, you look stunning girls!” 

Remus was about to reprimand Sirius for his crassness when he turned to see you. And when he noticed exactly what you were wearing, his mouth went dry, a rush of bIood going straight down his body. He never expected to actually see you in that dress in real life. To him, it was like a dream, a fantasy, but now it was real, and it made him grow pale, and hold his breath as you walked towards them and he saw the fabric ripple around you as you walked. Is that a– the dress has a leg slit?, he thought as he stared, swallowing hard and trying to snap himself out of the trance. 

Marlene noticed, of course, she noticed. And she tried to hide a snicker, by drinking some water but ended up coughing instead. Remus, who had been sitting next to her, didn’t even notice, so she hit him lightly “asshole,” she said. He turned to her rather confused. “I almost choked?”  

“Oh… really? Didn’t notice… want me to get you a napkin?” He asked politely, his eyes turning to her only briefly before going to you and then back and forth. 

Marlene rolled her eyes “No need, ooze at your little witch instead.” She made sure to use the nickname he had given you in a rather mocking manner. 

He snapped his head towards her now, paying full attention “I wasn’t– I mean I…” 

Marlene just shook her head and stood up, a wicked little smile appearing on her lips as she grabbed your shoulders “Take my spot, will you?” She said with a smile “I’m going to the bathroom real quick, that way we don’t move everyone when I’m back.” 

“You sure?” you asked, catching the fact that she had been sitting next to Remus. 

“Positive,” she added with a smile as she basically pushed you next to Remus and took off. You turned to her with a reproachful stance but took a deep breath and turned your head back around, rising in your seat just a little bit as you tried to accommodate the dress. The slit and the harsh way in which she had pushed you inside the booth caused one side of the dress to dip behind your leg, exposing it completely. 

Remus noticed, and his gaze lingered just for a little bit before turning towards the front, glaring holes at the napkin holder as he tried to both think of a naked Dumbledore to cool down and etch the curve of your legs in his brain for later use. 

Sirius, the other person at the table who knew what was going on, was a nice enough friend to hand Remus a glass of cold water. When Marlene came back, she had brought over some Butterbeer for everyone, and Lily had stood up to ask for some snacks at the counter. Marlene had sat an awful lot closer to you than she needed when she came back, with one sole purpose, to press you into Remus. 

“Sorry,” You said, looking up at him when the girl laughed and you ended up shoulder to shoulder. 

He looked down at you, staring with the softness he always used on you and smiled “No problem darling.” 

Marlene smiled, and when she saw Frank and Alice she called them over “Sit with us guys,” she said with a wicked smile. Alice gave her a look, knowing she was up to something just by looking at her expression. So even if she originally planned a date with just Frank, she decided to pull him along. 

“I’ll go get a chair,” the boy said as he approached the table. 

“Don’t be silly, we all fit in here,” Sirius said when he figured out what Marlene was doing, “I’ll just sit on Prongs’ lap,” He said before the two of them accommodated, allowing Lily and to move over and subsequently for Mary to do the same, successfully making enough space for Alice to sit in there. 

Remus was throwing pleading looks at his friend when Mary spoke “Careful Lils, Sirius might steal your man.” 

She chuckled, “he can keep him for all I care,” she joked, James pouted in response. 

“I guess I can sit on Frank’s…” Alice started. 

“Don’t be ridiculous luv!” Marlene said “You’re our guest,” she said, “(Y/N) can sit on Remus’ lap.” You threw her a look, and she just gave you an expectant smile.  

“Well as long as it doesn’t bother you,” you said, turning to Remus who swallowed but shook his head. Sirius was holding his need to laugh when you kind of stood up and placed yourself over Remus’ lap. And he wanted to laugh because Remus’ face was just priceless. He had his eyes shut tight, and he might have also been holding his breath. Sirius just honestly hoped you didn’t find one of those surprises that Remus often had when you were around. 

“So, what were you planning guys?” Lily asked as everyone started to get comfortable. Remus had placed his hands on the table, close enough to yours so they were brushing against each other, it made you feel butterflies.

“We were just going to have dinner and then walk around a little bit. Alice wanted to restock on her strawberry gum before going back too.” 

“Yeah, we didn’t have any strong plans, what about you guys?” Alice added. 

“Well Zonko’s is our mandatory spot, but we went there earlier,” Sirius responded as he pulled one of the breads from the center and split it in two, “Want some?” he asked looking at you and you nodded and handed it over, then he turned back to Alice.

You took a bit of your bread to bring it over to your mouth and turned back to them “Lils and I went to the hair salon.” 

“So that’s why you both look so stunning,” Alice said, by then, Frank who had stood up earlier had brought back two other butterbeers, one for himself and the other for his fiancé.

You then turned to Remus, who you realized was grabbing onto the edge of the table “Are you okay?” you asked him, concerned. Freaking Marlene, she didn’t even consider Remus might be uncomfortable, you thought. 

The boy looked at you, focusing like he had been thinking of something else and nodded “Yeah sorry, don’t know what to do with my hands,” he admitted, pulling them slightly from where they were brushing against yours. 

You looked at him, and grabbed his hands in yours, pulling them towards your lap, not quite wrapping them around your waist, but almost “You can put them there, I don’t mind.” 

Remus gulped but nodded. He could barely stop thinking at the way you felt pressed against him. Your legs on top of his were already enough to drive him crazy, but now his hands on top of your legs? He had to grab the butterbeer and bring it up to his lips to cool himself down again, drinking about half the bottle in one go. 

You pulled another piece of bread to your mouth and realised he had been staring at your hands, mistakenly, you assumed it was because he was hungry, you grabbed another bit and hovered it just about his mouth “Want some?” 

Remus just leaned in and took the piece you offered him munching on it as he tried to concentrate on the flavour. Other than the fact that he was struggling not to make it obvious how turned on he was, he thought the domesticity you were showing was overly nice.

But then you leaned in to grab another piece of bread from the far side of the table, and the smell of your hair got all the way to him, and then he looked at your soft smooth looking back that was a lot more exposed than normally and he fucked up. 

When you leaned back in your place, you felt it. You almost gasped. But then realised that it must have been your imagination. Surely there was no way you leaning onto the table like that would garner such a reaction from him. Right?

Regardless, you were too curious to just let it slip by, so you repeated your action. This time you noticed his breath catch on his throat as he emitted the quietest little gasp you’d ever heard. And so when you went back to your spot, you just grabbed your bread and started munching on it as you tried to keep a straight, not completely surprised face. 

You thought about not moving at all for a while, so Remus could sort out whatever was going on by himself. Really, it would have been the merciful thing to do. To freeze in your place, let him cool down and pretend it never happened. Unfortunately for him –or perhaps fortunately– you had never been merciful, not when you were playing quidditch, not when you were destroying your opponent in magic chess and you certainly wouldn’t start then.

Besides, if he really had been turned on by you and not by some other external factor, then you doing what you were about to do might have been all the proof you needed to know if Remus actually liked you back. 

At first, you didn’t want to make it obvious. And pretended you hadn’t noticed his reaction to you, which had him relax, if ever so slightly. But then you leaned in again, this time to Lily, and you made a small little gesture with your hand to have her lean into you too, telling her something silly about the homework. Leaning back toward Remus and then repeating the same action while pretending you had forgotten to say something. 

When you went back to your place, you pressed yourself against the boy a little harder, smiling when you realised that it must definitely have been you the one causing such a reaction in Moony. Your resolve only solidified when you felt his hands – which were still lying atop of your tights, ball into tight fists, his whole body tightening under you, in fact. 

Still, the boy hadn’t noticed you were doing it on purpose and he hoped to the heavens you hadn’t noticed what was going on with him. The possibility that you thought what you were feeling was keys or something else in his pockets was at least comforting.

You smiled, almost wickedly as you thought of yet another excuse to roll your hips atop of his, “Please stop moving,” he whispered in your ears after he grabbed your arms and forced you to lean closer to him. 

“Am I too heavy? Sorry…” You said aiming to stand up but going back down a second later, pretending it had been accidental. Remus cursed under his breath, feeling like shit for being so turned on over you… just existing. 

“No, you– you were just squeezing my tight.” He said, voice rougher than usual. 

You revelled in the reactions you were getting from him. “Oh sorry,” you said and rolled your hips to the side, his breath hitched in his throat, “This better?” 

 “I-“ he started, not quite being able to emit a full sentence. 

You held a smile and tolled your hips to the other side “And this?” you asked, still in an innocent tone. 

“fuck…” 

You bit your lip to not smile, turning your body to him and leaning on one of his legs instead, placing your hand on his cheek “Are you okay?” you asked, fake concern laced in your words, he was too far gone to notice. 

“Yeah, sorry I just, I feel like I should… Perhaps I can…” 

“Want me to stand up?” You asked with a small pout “If I’m making you uncomfortable the just–” 

“–No!” he said a little too suddenly, “I’m fine, you’re fine, everything’s fine.” At least with your ass pressed only to only one of his tights, he was starting to relax again. Even if the slit of your dress had repeated its action from earlier and had your leg a lot more exposed than before. He noticed, and you noticed he noticed. 

And so, doing the boldest thing you had ever done in your life, you spread your legs open just a wee bit more, letting the slit fall further behind and letting your leg show just a tad more. Remus swallowed thickly as he stared “discreetly”, which just made your mouth dry. 

You then turned back to the front, since Peter had arrived with the food, fish and chips and some other casual dishes. You moved yourself again, this time facing the front and pressing your ass straight to his crotch. You didn’t care for pretending anymore, you wanted to see how far you could push him, so you rolled your hips against him once. Leaned down for a fry and then rolled them again, two times this time. 

Remus’ breath was heavy, he was looking at you in shock, at this point he was so hard there was no way you hadn’t noticed. He saw you lean forwards, your movement different from the first time you’d done it, you were perking your ass against him, and when you leaned back you rolled your hips three times, basically grinding onto him as you did. 

That’s when he realised, and the next time you leaned for a chip, he pulled his hands from your lap and wrapped them around your hips tightly before pulling you back onto him, harshly, making sure to press you against him in a way that made you gasp in shock, he leaned onto your ear “Thought I wouldn’t notice little witch?” he whispered. 

Your mouth went dry, you weren’t sure anything anyone had ever told you made you feel that turned on in your life. Still, you decided to continue playing your own little game “Whatever do you mean Rem?” you asked innocently, turning your head to him, feeling his hot breath against your cheek. 

He chuckled, tightening his grip on your hips before pushing you down onto him again “Stop pretending, or this won’t stop till I’ve had my fill.” 

Your eyes shone at the idea, you tried to roll your hips against his again but his grip was way too tight “Is that… a promise?” 

Remus chuckled again before forcing your hips to roll against him again, pulling his head in a bit of an angle so he could whisper in your ear without anyone realising it, “It was a threat, but you can call it whatever you like sweetheart.” 

You smiled wickedly “Then I still have no clue what you mean,” you replied with another of those innocent smiles of yours, while you pulled the dress a little bit higher. 

Remus held back a groan as he looked at you, teasing him like you didn’t know any better. Like you didn’t know how many dreams of railing you in that dress he’d had in the past couple of weeks. 

In the middle of your little rendezvous, Sirius noticed something was going on, it was in the way Remus was regarding you really, same stare the wolf used often, fucking famished.  “Hey Moons! Didn’t you say you had to go to the castle early for that potions project of yours?” he asked, eyeing Marlene. 

“Right, same one you’ve been working on, isn’t it darling? You should go together,” she said, turning to you. 

Remus shot a small little sneaky smile at Padfoot and nodded “You’re right,” Remus said calmly “Both of you,” he said giving each of them a look, and then turned to you, “shall we go?”

You gulped, eyes as dark as his own “Yeah, we should.” 

Frank, Marlene and Peter got off from the booth so you could both get out, you were the first one up and Remus followed, placing himself behind you so no one could see the tent in his pants, but also because he enjoyed pressing himself onto you a little too much. 

You pulled your wallet and took out a couple of bills, “Remus’ is on me,” you said with a smile. 

Sirius snickered when he thought, Well, he certainly will be. Which was rather similar to what Remus thought as his eyes darkened. 

“If I help you with your homework will you also be paying for my butterbeer?” James teased. 

You smiled “How many butterbeers do you owe me then Prongs?” 

He gasped at your bold little response and you waved at everyone with a smile. Remus had placed his hand on your neck, Thumb brushing against your spine as he turned the both of you around and prompted you to move forward. Once outside you saw a small little alleyway that seemed just dark enough for the two of you “Remus, look–“ 

“Not there,” he said, “too dark.” 

You turned to him a little surprised. “What? You want to do it out in the open then?” 

He leaned over “Little witch, I haven’t been dreaming of you in that fucking dress for weeks so we end up fucking in a dark little corner where I won’t be able to see it properly.” 

The shiver those words sent down your spine was unprecedented, that was until you realised exactly what he had said. Weeks? That must be a mistake. “Does that mean you had the photo for…” 

“Yes, weeks,” he confirmed, not even caring to hide it anymore. “It’s clean now, don’t worry,” he added. 

“What do you mean it’s…” the words died out in your mouth, you knew exactly what he meant “Remus!” you admonished, half shocked, half complaining, but totally turned on.

“Got a problem?! Don’t leave you’re fucking photos laying in the ground for anyone else to see.” He said, the fact that he was using such crass language, something he tended to avoid around you was proof enough of how out of control he was at the moment “Coud end in the wrong hands.” 

You looked around “Where are you taking me?” you asked when you noticed you were walking towards the forest. 

“To a place almost as beautiful as you,” he said simply. Your bIood rushed to your cheeks. Fucking Remus John Lupin, he had you and he had you bad, “you do trust me, right?” he added leaning into your ears. 

This was definitely revenge for what you had done to him back at the pub. You somehow managed to nod and he smiled. The two of you walked along the forest for a couple of minutes, until you saw some light, the darkness and trees opened into a small circle, there were small floating pollen spores that you could only see when the sun hit them right, and the shadows the tall trees cast on the ground made the entire place look like it was something out of a fairy tale. Even the air… it smelled of magic. Perhaps the fairies would fly away scared after the two invaded their home, terrified of the debauchery that was about to occur… or perhaps they'd see the two of you together, looking so merry, that they would dance and party along with you, from their small little nooks hidden inside the roots of the trees.

The beauty of the place made you almost forget why you were there all together. Almost. Remus had brought you closer to him, wrapping his fingers around your waist and pressing himself onto you. He was still hard. It hadn’t been a long walk but you assumed that… Well, perhaps you didn’t know shit about male anatomy, let alone werewolf anatomy. You pressed your hips against him and he stifled a moan. 

You turned around and placed your hand on his cheek again, echoing the action you had done at the pub, but this time using it to bring him down for a kiss. First, it was just a small little one on the side of his mouth, but as you were pulling away he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you back in. 

It started slow, he started slow. Like he was savouring every inch of your lips before pressing his tongue against them, you let your own part, and the two of them started dancing against each other. You tried to deepen the kiss, to make it faster, but Remus was slow and steady and demanding. He was not about to let you rush him through this. 

No, Remus Lupin had dreamed of this moment for way too fucking long to let you be fast and desperate about it. “Remus I…” you whined.

“Shhhh little witch…” he coed “We need to take our time, make sure you’re ready–“ 

“I am ready,” you said as you pulled his hand from your neck and dragged it towards your core, when his fingers brushed over your wet panties he could not stop the curse that slipped through his mouth. 

“So fucking wet already. And just for the kissing–” 

“No.” 

“No?”

“It’s been like that since the pub.”

Remus chuckled, diverted at your boldness before he stared at you, at the dress again. Half of him wanted to rip it apart to see all of you, but the other one, the one that had made him fuck himself into his own hands so many times, wanted you to keep it on. He wanted to fuck you in that dress until it was filled with grass and dirt and cum. He wanted to fucking ruin you. You weren’t making it easy for him to hold back either. 

You noticed the way he was staring and placed your hand on the back of the dress, starting to unzip it when he placed his hands over yours and dragged them away from it, pulling the zipper back up and whispering in your ear “Keep it on.”  It wasn’t a question, it was a command.

“What? But… you won’t be able to– Will it be enough?” 

Remus looked at you in disbelief, raising his eyebrows as he nodded towards the tent in his pants “More than fucking enough.” He pulled you back in towards him, gliding his hands down your tights and sliding one of them through the slit, “I didn’t know the dress had a slit when I was using it to get off,” he whispered, hot breath against your ear making you shiver, you were about to crumble onto him “I imagine I would have… let my imagination run wild with it.” 

“Let your imagination run with it now,” you replied and pulled on his hair to bring him back to your mouth. He groaned at the harsh movement, and you almost fucking melted into him after he made that sound. “Remus! You’re too tall,” you complained in between kisses and you pressed your hands onto his shoulders to bring him further down. He smiled onto the kiss, but allowed you to push him down until you were both kneeling on the soft mossy grass. He was still too fucking tall “sit.”

“Sit?” he asked diverted, raising an eyebrow teasingly. 

“Yes, sit,” you said again, pushing him on the chest just hard enough to have him tumble back, ass on the ground as he stared at you, amusement evident on his face. Of course, had Remus actually wanted to stay up, your small little blow to his chest wouldn’t have done shit, but he liked how desperate you were. 

He looked up at you, still on your knees as you looked back at him, eyes blown with lust “I like it when you take charge like this,” he joked. 

You scoffed diverted “Shut the fuck up Moony, I’ll–“

“Make me,” he interrupted you, brattily. 

How many fucking romance novels had this boy read? “I’m sorry?” 

He just smiled wider, he knew what he was doing. He knew exactly what he was doing to you and he was getting a kick out of it. “I said… make me.” 

You wanted to scoff, but instead, you climbed on top of him pressing yourself against his cock and leaning in for a kiss, but not allowing your lips to touch. It’s what he wanted, really. You knew because you had probably read those same novels. Instead, you rocked your hips into his, and he gasped. Remus leaned in to kiss you but you pulled back and brushed your cheeks through his as you leaned over to whisper in his ear, rocking your hips against his once more before speaking “You were saying?” 

His mouth went dry, he was not expecting so much push and pull with you, he almost always imagined you as a little bunny he would ruin, but it seemed like you were as much of a wolf as he was, which was somehow even better, hotter, it made his whole fucking body feel like it was on fire, which was exactly what you were feeling as you felt his crotch rub straight against your wet panties. The friction making you feel things you didn’t consider possible. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, which only furthered your conviction “Darling if you-“ he groaned as you ground against him yet again “keep this up, I’m not gonna– not gonna last,” he somehow managed to get out. 

“Then stop me,” you said with a wicked smile. Remus pulled you back, to stare at your face, you still had that expression and he quirked one of his eyebrows. “Must I repeat myself?” 

Remus scoffed, biting his lips when he felt you roll your hips against his again, which got a hiss in return. When he was sure you were okay with it, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you back on his legs, just enough so you wouldn’t be able to continue grinding against his crotch. And then he lifted you up with remarkable ease before laying you on the mossy grass floor. 

Your hair sprawled around your face, your cheeks were flushed and your eyes so blown with lust they almost looked black, he wasn’t sure you’d ever looked prettier in his life. He hovered over you and you opened your legs for him, pulling them up to try and chase his, but he pulled them back, you gave him a desperate pout. Which made you look even more adorable. 

Remus placed one of his hands on your hips to hold them down and brought the other one to your legs, he was taking his sweet time as he brushed it over your leg, savouring the feeling of your soft skin against his hands, pressing lightly as he brushed over your calves and brushing your inner thigh with utmost care, you felt like you were at the common room all over again. The recurrent dream you had coming back to you in an instant.

“Remus,” you whined, as you tried to push your hips up only to be stopped by his dextrous hands. You heard him chuckle, voice hoarse still. 

“Let me enjoy the view darling, you don’t know how pretty you look right now.” 

“Well, enjoy while touching,” you said, pulling the dress as far as you could and placing your hand over the one on your hips to bring it down to your core. 

There was no shame in your movements, there was no fear, you’d let him touch you wherever he wanted and that made Remus’ cock twitch in his pants “Perhaps you shouldn’t be putting so much trust in a wolf’s hands…” he said as he rubbed his thumb over your wet underwear. Failing to keep up his smug grin when he realised just how wetter you’d gotten them, the small little surprise eased a smile on his face. And since you were looking so attentively at it –at his beautiful, perfect, licentious face– you noticed. 

Deciding to tease him further you rolled your hips against his thumb, feeling the way the rest of them pressed against the top of your slit, warm and kind, even as they pushed you back down again with relatively strong force “Maybe you’re just a sheep in a wolf’s skin,” you whispered breathlessly. 

“Isn’t that saying meant to be the other way around?” 

You started to laugh, easily being shut up by his thumb sliding to the side and back again, this time dipping inside your panties and rubbing through your hole “Shit,” you breathed. 

Remus smiled, realising how much you whimpered when one of his scars brushed against your clit. He tortured you with it for a few seconds before he pressed his thumb against it, earning a gasp from you. “A sheep in a wolf’s skin, eh?” he asked as he loomed over you, one hand still on your clit and the other one to prompt himself up, looking at your elated little face, and the microexpressions you made whenever he did something right.

You managed to somehow regain back focus, just enough to smirk in between a moan, “just a sheep,” you repeated. And he inserted a digit against you. You gasped again. 

But he was just as shocked as you were, “So tight,” he whispered, “It’s not going to fit…” he said more to himself. You pushed your hips against his finger, wanting to feel some fiction. 

“It will,” you reassured “Please Remus…” you begged then.

He almost came there and then. You were pleading for him to continue, fucking pleading. He complied. He started moving his finger inside and out, careful and soft at first, like he didn’t want to hurt you, keeping his eyes trained on your face to make sure you were okay as he dug deeper inside you. Your face was dazed in pleasure, almost too far gone when you felt another finger. 

You frowned, and he stopped moving “Hurts?” he asked concerned laced in his tone. 

You took a deep breath “No… just, give me a second…” You said as you tried to adjust to the feeling.  After just a couple more seconds, it was you who was pushing against his fingers. You hadn’t even realised when he had pulled his thumb and replaced it with his index and middle finger, but they were longer, and they reached places they hadn’t done before. You only figured it out when he started rubbing circles against your clit like he had done at first. 

And you moaned his name as he picked up the pace. The pleasure was so big you didn’t even realize he was actually preparing you, slowly moving his fingers as he rubbed and trusted so he could stretch you out, so he could actually fuck you the way he wanted. 

He reached a point you hadn’t even managed to reach yourself ever before and you bit your lips so hard you drew bIood, he figured it out in a second and continued to rub against the spot until he had you wrapping your hands around his tightly, he knew you were close, so he smiled and continued pumping even as you tried to reduce the friction, which had you coming undone after a couple of seconds. Your breath was ragged, your hands loosened as you lost yourself to the pleasure. He helped you down from your high, still pumping his fingers in and out, slower now, almost painfully slow. 

When he finally stopped, he pulled them out slowly and then brought his fingers straight to his mouth, and the guttural moan that escaped his lips when he wrapped them around his fingers and tasted set you ablaze yet again.  You reached your hand for his crotch and started grazing your delicate fingers against him. He was still looming over you, and you smiled when his stance faltered. 

You went straight to the button of his dress pants, and then pulled the zipper down, pressing your hand over his briefs, and you finally understood why he thought it wasn’t going to fit. Your fault for falling in love with such a tall boy. You heard him whimper above you and it only made your resolve strengthen, you pulled your hands inside his briefs now. When he felt your hands around him, not his rough hands- but your soft, small hands, around him he crumbled into you, his face buried into the crook of your neck as you stroked him. 

You were soft, and kind to him, at first… But you started picking up the pace when he pressed his mouth to your neck and started sucking against the soft skin, and against your collarbone, and then further enough to reach to the valley of your breasts. He looked up at you, lust filled his eyes as he leaned his cheek into your chest but he did nothing. 

You were almost too far gone to realise he was asking for permission, but he used his mouth to nudge the string that tied the section that gave the “milkmaid dress” its name and you instantly understood what he wanted. You nodded and he used his mouth to pull the small little bow you had made earlier undone.  Using the now-added space to trail his mouth to the valley of your breasts. You tightened the grip around him when you felt his hot breath against your nipples, and you did it again when you felt his mouth wrapped around one of them. 

“fuck,” You whispered. He hummed in response, his own moans being drowned out by your soft skin, as he licked and sucked and nipped to his heart’s content. But then you did something that almost got him over the edge, and he bit your soft skin almost a little too hard. You had moved your hand up and had started to rub his tip. You might have known shit about male anatomy, but if books had taught you something, it was that, that was the most sensible part of a man’s cock. From his reaction, it was just the same for a werewolf. 

“Okay, that’s enough!” he said roughly as he pulled your hand off him and pushed it over your head, taking the other one somewhere along the way and keeping them both in place with one of his own. He was still accommodating one of his hands to carefully hold both of yours down when you chased your hips against his. He gave you an impassive look and you just repeated the action again, a teasing smile dancing on your lips. He narrowed his eyes at you and you had the nerve to shrug innocently in response, or at least attempt a shrug, since both of your hands were still stretched over your head. 

He chuckled at that, shaking his head as he used his free hands to tug your underwear down. The cold caused you to shiver, but it didn’t last long, he was already rubbing himself into your entrance. The feeling made you quaver, you were desperate to have him, but you also understood what he was doing. He was coating himself in your slick. 

After a few more thrusts to your slick and he lined himself against your entrance. When he was ready, you pulled your hips up and his tip slewed over you and graced your already sensitive clit, you did it again, but then he pushed you down, hands digging into your flesh as he set your hips back on the grass, giving you a warning look. 

You smiled teasingly and attempted to do it again, but his hands were digging against your pelvis and you barely managed to squirm under him, “please just fuck me,” you said with a pout. 

“I was about to do that when you decided to tease,” he responded, a fake annoyance laced in his words. You let out a sigh but you felt him line against your entrance again. Your breath hitched in your throat and stopped squirming, allowing him to move his hand from your hips to guide himself inside. 

He was slow and didn’t go all the way in at first, paying close attention to your face as he slid inside, breath heavy “You’re so fucking tight,” he whispered. You were panting as well, but managed to bring your hips up to help him bury more of himself inside you, he gasped, and dug his hands back on your hips, forcing you to still. Fucking Remus and his fucking werewolf strength, you thought as you attempted to writhe. 

Remus was damn thankful he had played so many scenarios in his head as he touched himself, he wasn’t sure if he would have lasted half as long as he had if he hadn’t already pictured you in so many different ways. But even with so many, he hadn’t expected you to be so damn tight. When you kept squirming, he jerked forwards, dipping himself entirely inside you. 

You moaned, your face in that mix of pleasure and pain he hadn’t yet managed to decipher “You okay?” he asked to your ear, his voice a mix between a whisper and a groan. 

You nodded and clenched around him in response, he cursed under his breath. He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t moving because he was letting you adjust, or because he was trying not to instantly cum. You just felt so fucking good.

He could feel you breathing under him, your belly rising and falling almost alongside his, and he closed his eyes, just enjoying the feeling of being so close to you, so impossibly close. But you weren’t as patient. You hadn’t had as much practice with your own hand like he had, and you were desperate for him to move again. You tightened your muscles one more time. He cursed under his breath, and then you tried squirming under him. 

“Please, little witch,” he begged, he wasn’t sure what exactly he was begging for, when his head decided to cooperate he managed to speak again, still in your ear “let me adjust.”

You squirmed under him again “adjust while fucking me.”

He bit his lip, pulled back slowly and thrusted back in with a lot more strength, you gasped, but relished on the feeling of him finally moving “Such a crass language my luv,” he said in between another of those harsh trusts. You were squirming under him again, this time it wasn’t on purpose. You pulled your hands under his sweater, you wanted to feel his skin. 

He faltered at that, like it was a part of him he didn’t want you to see, let alone to feel, but when your fingers started brushing over one of his scars, in such a fucking adoring way, he couldn’t help but melt into you, he was sure he’d let you do whatever the hell you’d wanted to him. 

You started bucking your hips against his, meeting his rhythm as best as you could, he was still being mindful of you as he continued his thrusts, too scared to hurt you. It was only when you fastened your pace that he did the same. 

You whined his name, a little more desperate now, he knew you were close but he wasn’t sure the angle was enough for you, so he leaned closer “Would you,” thrust “mind it if I–” thrust “flipped you around?” 

You wrapped your hands around his hair, letting them roam over him as you brought him over for a sloppy kiss, he instantly knew that was your answer. He took you out of him, you chased your hips back to his almost unwittingly, and you saw his resolve falter, but he got it back as quickly and used his strong hands to wrap them around your hips and flip you around. You had your face against the grass, turning your neck to try and see what he was doing when he took off his sweater. 

He leaned over you, you could feel his cock pressed against your ass, but he was carefully bunching the soft fabric, raising your head with his hand and cautiously placing it under your head. Fucking sheep in the skin of a wolf, you thought, he’s too freaking kind. 

You were still nursing that line of thought when you felt him thrust against you again, a lot harsher now, you straight up moaned at that, and he smiled as he continued his thrusts, in and out, until you were mindlessly pushing yourself against him again. You felt one of his hands slide in between your thighs, he started rubbing circles to your clit, repeatedly. You were losing yourself to him. To his hips thrusting into yours with a lot more force, to his heavy breaths and panting, to every moan and gasp and whimper and groan he emitted. They all sounded so beautiful to you. 

He continued rubbing, he was determined to make you come at least a couple of times, he had come enough to your photo, he wanted to return the favour. He realised your hips were chasing his skin and he took off the soft cotton shirt he was still wearing when he leaned over and placed his hand around your waist, pulling you up to his chest. 

You let your head fall against his shoulder as he continued thrusting, you weren’t sure you’d be able to form a coherent sentence even if you tried, so you just leaned in and placed sloppy kisses on his jaw, or to the section of it that you had access to now. He heard you moan when he quickened the pace of his hands on your clit, the other one still tightly around your ribs pushing you flush against him. 

The feeling of his skin against your back was immeasurably perfect, you almost wished you could take off your dress to feel more of skin against you. You supposed it’d have to be for another time. You whined when he brought you to your climax yet again, the way your muscles clenched around him making him almost feral, he leaned in closer to you, “I’m going to…” he groaned into your ear. 

“You can, inside if–“ 

“–No.” 

“No?” you asked in confusion. He pulled you off of him and laid you back on the ground, still leaning over you when the first spurt of white warm liquid came out of his cock. You were still hazed, mind foggy and muddled from your orgasm but you realised what he wanted, and smiled reassuringly “It’s okay, I can buy another one.” 

Remus groaned, letting his hand fall next to your head as he leaned in and continued to pump the rest of himself over you, over the dress. When he was finally done, he was so tired he wanted nothing more than to let himself fall over you, but he pulled back a little, still panting, but wanting to appreciate the mess he’d made. 

You smiled at him, biting your lip, as you saw his lustful expression, your dress was coated in him, his sweat, and yours causing it to cling awkwardly to some part of your skin, but he absolutly loved it. He loved that he could practically smell himself on you, mixed in between the earthy and mossy aroma of the fores,t and the smell of sex. There was some cum near your breast, some over the left side of your waist, and some just over your entrance, that was still exposed to him. You looked even better covered with his cum than he imagined you would. 

“Fucking gorgeous, wish I could take a picture,” he mumbled. 

You smiled, pulling him to crash onto you, he complied, leaning his head against your chest like he had done earlier, you started brushing your fingers over his hair, especially the back of his scalp, he almost purred into your chest when you started scratching softly. 

“You can keep one around the next time…” you whispered “but I’ll be taking some as well.” 

He chuckled at your boldness, yet again. After what seemed like too little time but must have been close to an hour of the two of you just cuddling in the grass, you both knew you had to go back. So you stood up, Remus cleaned your dress with a swipe of his wand, almost lamenting the way his cum disappeared from it, but it had been pulled and dragged regardless. He wasn’t sure you’d be able to fix it. 

“Here put this on,” He said, passing you his sweater over your arms. 

You smiled as he bent back the sleeves to fit you better. And then he passed his fingers over your hair as if he was trying to make you look less sex drunk. You bit your lip “Do I not look like I’ve been railed to the heavens by a werewolf anymore?” 

He chuckled, letting his hand linger on your cheek, “Thought I was a shep.” 

“Hmm… You are, sometimes.” He smiled at your answer, and at your teasing smile. He stared at you for a second, he realised he was so unbearably in love with you it was absolutely insane. He wondered if you liked him a similar amount, judging by your reactions earlier, you might have.  

When you leaned over to get your panties, which had been discarded somewhere over the grass, he beat you to it. You expected him to pass them over but instead, he pulled them to his face, giving them a sniff before placing them in his pocket. “Remus!” you admonished. 

He shrugged, “It’s an exchange, you keep the sweater,” he responded with a rather dismissive wave of his hand. 

“I never agreed to– bedsides, you're the one that ruined the dress!” 

“And you’re the one that ruined the knickers, your point is?” 

You scoffed, diverted at his answer and rushed towards him to try and get your underwear from his pocket but he veered off your grasp with ease, “Remus!” you said in between a snigger “You can’t expect me to go back to the castle all commando…” 

He shrugged, “It'd be easier to go for another round if you did.” 

You bit your lips in disbelief, and he wrapped his arms around yours, pulling you to start walking “Come on, hopefully, you’ll look less sex drunk by the time we’re back in the castle.” 

“Speak for yourself,” you said as you pulled his jaw in between your hands to see his face better “You’re still all flushed.” 

He shrugged “how could I not be? I have my arms around the prettiest little witch in the entire universe.” 

You were sure you were the most flushed between the two after he said those words. 

A/N: Did this one get out of hand in the length? Maybe... Do I love the final result? I definitely, definitely do. Remus and Reader's teasing and banter is my favourite thing ever. The Five Senses was born as a way for me to practice writing smut for my brand new Wolfstar x Reader series that's currently being posted on a weekly basis. If you have feedback, please leve it in the comment below. I absolutely love reading your comments &lt;3

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[tomriddleslove]

Pt 4 - Drunk words are sober thoughts.

✩ Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: The one where Pansy organises a dinner party, you’re on the run from Theo, and bad decisions are made. Alternatively: Uncomfortable awkward tension, then smut.

A/N: We aren’t out of the trenches yet. We’ve only dug ourselves deeper with this one.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

Please let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the tag list!

MDNI!

Tags: Smut (duh),Drunk sex, PIV, Hair pulling, praise.

Songs: Love survive - Michael Nau

Star Treatment - Arctic Monkeys

The sun filters through the cracks in the blinds, casting an almost heavenly glow on your bed. The warmth was soothing, and you’d almost call it a very peaceful morning.

That is, of course, if you weren’t woken by Pansy yanking the covers off you, tossing them to the side.

You groan sleepily, rolling over as you try to shield your eyes.

“Oh come on! Merlin, you've been asleep for so long! Everyone else is up! I refuse to let you spend all holiday rotting in bed.” She nags, grabbing your arm as she tries to pull you up. You let your body go limp, the dead weight pulling you back onto the bed as you use your free hand to pull a pillow over your head.

“You know Pansy, have you ever considered my idea of a holiday is sleeping in all day?” You mumble and she tuts, grabbing the pillow from you.

“Nonsense. I’ll kill you if we don't make the most of this.”She admonishes, faffing around you like a mother hen as she walks around your shared room with Theodore (who notably wasn't there, his bed made.) She opens your closet and takes the liberty of choosing you an outfit as she flicks through your clothing, speaking again.

“We're going to celebrate the start of this beautiful Holiday I have so kindly provided us with. We’re making dinner and having a small dinner party. Nice clothes, naturally. Mattheo, Lorenzo and Theodore will be making the starters, and Draco, Blaise and I will be making the main, which means you’re in charge of dessert. Consider it a penalty for waking so late.” Pansy explained as she crouched down to sort through your other clothes.

You grumble, muttering childishly under your breath as you sit up, on the edge of your bed as you come to your senses.

“I'm putting poison in yours.” You half-joke, and she isn't phased as she tosses you a floral white sundress and a handful of jewellery. You dodge the assortment of gold sent towards you and you glare at her.

“There. You’ll have to change for dinner but this is good for now. We’re all downstairs, but I sent some of the boys to fetch the ingredients. Chop chop!” She calls out, as she descends down the stairs.

Pansy. She truly tested your patience.

You manage to drag yourself up from the warm confines of your bed as you head over to the bathroom, going to take a shower. You walk past Theodore's bed as you do so, and you see his copy of Little Women lying on his bedside table. Curiosity tugs at you.

It would be bad to take a peek, right? I mean, he did hand it to you that day in the library. Granted, he took it back right after, but surely that implied you could take a look.

You (rather weakly) justify your decision and pick up the book, thumbing through the pages as your eyes scan over the various annotations and underlined passages Theodore had analysed.

One in certain catches your attention. There, messily underlined, is the quote:

“Watch and pray, dear, never get tired of trying, and never think it is impossible to conquer your fault.”

Followed by “No. 4” scrawled in Theodore's handwriting. You frown, confusion etched on your face as you try to decipher what the four could possibly mean. You flick through the rest of the book, trying to spot any other instances.

“You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.”

No. 7

I've loved you ever since I've known you, Jo, - couldn't help it, you've been so good to me, - I've tried to show it, but you wouldn't let me; now I'm going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I can't go on so any longer.

No. 5

You couldn't seem to find any rhyme or reason for this labelling. It was simply random parts of the text underlined every now and then with a number next to them, as though some sort of list. Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you're itching to look for more when the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs snaps you out of it. You quickly shut the book, placing it back down as you grab your dress and towel, dashing into the bathroom. You just manage to lock the bathroom door when you hear the door to your room click open, and you let out a small breath of relief. Your mind is working tirelessly, trying to decipher the cryptic annotations as you take a shower.

You finish off and get dressed in the bathroom, taking your time to avoid Theodore. By your luck, when you unlock the bathroom door and peer out the small gap, Theodore is not there, and you let out a small sigh as you step out.

You put on the jewellery Pansy set out for you and slip on some socks, combing through your wet hair as you dry it lightly. Satisfied with how you looked (you did feel rather pretty, in all honesty), you make your way downstairs.

The kitchen is empty, save for Blaise putting the groceries away into the fridge. You grin as you walk over to join him, his eyes flickering over to you as you walk in.

“Morning. You got your rest, didn't you?” He teases and you shoot him a mocking smile, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah yeah, make fun of me all you want.” You sigh as you reach for the second bag, helping him put everything away.

“Where is everyone else?” You ask.

“Pansy and Lorenzo went out to get drinks, and I'm pretty sure the rest found some sort of creek or something so I think they went out for a swim,” Blaise says and you hum, nodding.

Come to think of it, you had completely forgotten about the rather surprising development between Blaise and Pansy. You and Lorenzo had bet on it as well. Deciding to pay Pansy back the favour, you begin probing into their little dilemma.

“So Blaise, tell me. What's going on between you and Pansy?” You ask, and he chokes on the coffee he was sipping as he sets the cup down. You open one of the cupboards, storing away a packet of pasta as he looks at you.

“What do you mean?” He responded, and a small grin tugged at your lips.

“Oh come on, don't act all shy now. This whole flirting thing you have going on.” You say, vaguely motioning in his direction as you put some fruits in the fruit bowl resting on the kitchen island.

“There's nothing. Just friend.” He denies, and you turn to him, resting against the island.

“Sure. Just one thing? You're both stubborn fools. Don't let that prevent anything.” You advise, looking at him. You grab an apple, tossing it into the air before catching it as you walk past Blaise, patting him on the back.

“Right now, out. I need to start prepping the dessert.” You say, and for the first time in your life, you see Blaise ever so slightly red.

He playfully grins as he walks out, and you tie your damp hair up as you look through what the boys bought.

You settle on a classic after taking note of the copious amounts of cream cheese the boys had bought (You were reminded to never ever ask them to go shopping, and you'd be sure to remind Pansy the same.)

A salted caramel cheesecake. You decided to make the biscuit base yourself - it would serve as a good way to pass the time seeing as you had the whole day to yourself.

Before you begin cooking, you wander over to the living room. Your eyes settle on a collection of vinyl records in the corner, and you sift through the sleeves, settling on one that doesn't look immediately terrible.

You carefully place the vinyl onto the turntable, the soft crackle of the needle hitting the record filling the room. The sound of a smooth jazz melody starts playing, creating a cosy atmosphere in the kitchen. As the music envelops the space, you begin gathering the ingredients for the biscuit base.

You preheat the oven and begin making the biscuits, sifting flour into the bowl as you work. It's surprisingly relaxing, the villa is empty and you're left to your own devices, humming along to the music as you bake. Sure, you definitely weren't the cleanest baker. A simple biscuit recipe had left you with a white powder coating over the kitchen, stacks of bowls in the sink and somehow, flour on your clothes as well. You huff, dusting down your dress as you place the haphazardly shapen uncooked biscuits into the oven. It didn't matter whether they looked good or not - you'd be crushing them anyway.

It only takes about 15 minutes before the delicious aroma of vanilla fills the kitchen, You're admittedly pleased at just how good they smell, and you can only hope they taste as good as they smell.

Whilst those finish off, you begin making the actual filling of the cake. You reach for one of the bowls when a certain song begins playing, your ears perking up at the sound.

“This is my conquering song

played on a wave so strong

pulled the broke-down ride for far too long”

You lightly sing along to the lyrics, a small smile tugging on your lips as you do so. You had always imagined this song to be blissfully domestic, something you'd willingly play if you were to cook or bake, so the fact you selected it by chance made you oddly happy.

Sometimes it was the little things that count.

With a little pep in your step, you walk around the kitchen as you gather the ingredients. Liberated by the villa having no other occupants, your movements are freer, a small little (unnecessary) spin or a little break to sing along as you cook.

Now, it had been long established that you really did not have the best awareness of your surroundings. This continued to be the case now because you were sure you would have stopped immediately if you had seen Theodore leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, looking over at you.

Unfortunately for you, you did not notice him.

Theodore leans against the doorway, his eyes fixated on you. They always would be, he couldn't not look at you even if he tried to.

A fond smile is tugging at his lips, watching as you lightly sing along to the song. It's offkey, and your impromptu dance moves incorporated with your haphazard baking skills is laughable, but Theodore can only look at you and feel simultaneously so happy yet also so terrified. Terrified because he acknowledges how such a simple sight can't get that smile off his face, and the fact someone has the capability of doing that to him seems daunting. He was scared because, for a brief second, he imagined walking over and helping you. You'd look up at him with that smile of yours.

God, that smile.

You have that little impish look in your eyes, ready to poke fun at him. He does the same with you. The worst thing is if he hadn't fucked up so royally, you could have been doing that.

Instead, he pushes off the doorway to go and help you. The first part goes as expected, you see him and you yelp, spinning around. He knew your ears would turn red, as they usually did when you got embarrassed. Theodore knew you like that.

He knew you'd look at him akin to a deer caught in headlights because your mind would go blank for a second. Theodore knew you like that.

He also knew you well enough to know that, despite his own hopes of your once confused and mortified face breaking into a wide grin, it would instead fall and you would avert your eyes.

Theodore knew you like that.

He hated it.

“Oh. Hey.” You utter, clearing your throat. You berated yourself for always acting so obviously on edge when Theodore was near. He looks down at you with an indescribable look in his eyes before he speaks.

“Hey. Need help?” He asks, and you look around at the messy kitchen, before shaking your head.

You actually did, but you'd be damned if you had to spend more time with Theodore, alone. You'd either end up dead silent or stammering some embarrassing declaration. You couldn't tell which one would be worse.

“Alright.” He mused, looking down at you. He doesn't make any move to leave though, and you're hyper-aware of the fact that he is very close to you.

His hand comes up, cupping the side of your face gently as his thumb brushes against your cheekbone. His hand is there for a second too long, crossing the boundary of what it should have been. Again, it seemed as though everything you and Theodore did crossed that boundary.

“You had flour on your cheek,” he says, and you nod, drawing away your face. You turn around, praying to the gods above that they'd stop torturing you and make Theodore leave. You keep your back to him as you continue cooking, and he seems to finally leave, making you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You hasten your cooking after that and you're out of the kitchen in no less than 20 minutes with the cheesecake stored in the fridge as you make your way to Pansy’s room. You absolutely would not go back up to yours, as you were sure Theodore was there.

Exactly how long did you plan on running from him?

Hours have passed lazing away on Pansy’s bed, bored out of your mind when she finally returns.

“Finally.” You sassed, sitting up as she raised a brow at you.

“Why are you waiting here?” She asks, and you shrug.

“Can I not miss my friend?” You quip and she eyes you, knowing there must be another reason. She chooses not to probe further, however, joining you on her bed.

“We ought to get ready. I did tell the boys to dress nicely, we’re dignified people.”She chided as she got up, walking over to her closet.

You giggle at her swift change of actions and lean back on her bed, looking over at Pansy.

Her love for micromanaging you often was a negative, but now it could very much be a huge positive.

“Pans… You always know just how to style me right. Can you run up to my room and choose a look for me? I'm hopeless.” You groan, putting your hand on your chin in an exaggerated display of hopelessness. Her eyes light up, as though she was a little kid playing dress up, and she nods.

“Finally, you've come to your senses! I know exactly what I'm getting, wait here.” She gasps, scampering upstairs. You grin, having successfully avoided Theodore once again.

(The answer to the previous question? You'd run from him for a very long time, seemingly.)

Despite her reassurances, Panys arrives a solid half an hour later, a scarlet lace dress clutched in her hands. An impulse buy, the dress was shorter than what you usually wore. It had a fitted bodice but a flowy skirt, though it only reached your upper thigh. The long sleeves that extended down into flowy bell sleeves had to be your favourite feature of it, alongside the bustier style bodice at the front. She grins as she passes over the dress, alongside a pair of black boots.

“Dressed nicely but not too fancy. Plus I've been dying to see you wear this, so up and change.” She demands, pushing you up. You grin lightly at her antics as you take the dress, disappearing into the bathroom to change. You run your hands down your body as you admire yourself in the mirror. A hell of a good impulse buy, the dress looked incredible. The low cut was far out of your comfort zone but boundaries were meant to be pushed, right?

(No, they were not.)

Pansy gasps as you step out, pulling you over as she admires the dress, words of praise leaving her lips.

“You look so good! Oh my god, wear this everywhere.” She gushes, and you smile shyly.

“Thanks, Pans. Really. And you look incredible too, like positively mouthwatering,” You say and she grins, doing a small twirl in her satin black dress. After styling your hair and doing some light makeup, you make your way over to the dining room, which had already been set up beautifully.

The table, adorned with a crisp white tablecloth, is set meticulously with polished silverware, crystal glasses, and porcelain plates. A centrepiece of fresh flowers in varying shades of red and white adds a touch of elegance, their fragrance mingling with the soft glow of candles placed strategically around the room.

Pansy's attention to detail is evident in every aspect of the setup. Delicate linen napkins, folded artfully, rest atop each plate. You begin to feel excited for the evening, walking over to the kitchen as you look for everyone else. Theodore, Lorenzo and Mattheo are all in the kitchen, sorting panicking over the starters as they rush around like headless chickens. You step in and Lorenzo spots you, a wide grin breaking out on his face.

“Wow wow wow. Look at who we have here.” Lorenzo says admiringly, calling over the attention of the other two boys. You grin, ironically doing a small little pose to shake away the awkwardness of their gazes on you.

“Stunning!” Mattheo announces, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he ruffles your hair. You groan with disdain as you jab him in the side.

“Ow!” Mattheo complains, letting go as he frowns, rubbing his side.

“The bloody devil, you are.” He mumbles, glaring at you, A small laugh escapes your lips.

You affectionately pat him on the cheek, before turning to Lorenzo.

“What do you need help with?” You ask them, and Lorenzo shakes his head.

“Nothing. You go and rest, we’ll come serve them soon.” He says, and you nod.

You've been avoiding Theodore's gaze the whole time you've been in here, but you stupidly can't resist looking up at him and instantly regret it when he staring at you so intently. His eyes meet yours and he seemingly snaps out of it, swallowing harshly.

You quickly walk back to the dining room.

A solid 4 hours or so later, you're all lounging in the living room, stomachs full with what was a surprisingly good meal. Whilst the starters were good, Blaise, Pansy and Draco had really knocked it out of the park with the main, a mouthwateringly good risotto that you helped yourself twice to. The cheesecake seemed to be a crowd-pleaser though, with Draco having three slices.

With a glass of whiskey loosely held in your hand, you take a sip, leaning back into the couch. Whilst you tried to fit the aesthetic and sip some wine, you couldn't bear the taste and (truthfully) wanted to get drunk tonight.

It was a lazy and subdued atmosphere, and you didn't even notice Pansy, Blaise, Draco and Mattheo all retiring back to their rooms. You yawn as you get up, stumbling slightly (you had drunk quite a bit actually). You sleepily bid goodnight to the remaining two ( as vaguely as possible because god forbid you say Theodore's name) and make your way upstairs (in one piece.)

You walk into your room and kick off your boots, wandering over to your bed as you begin taking off your jewellery. You look up a mere few seconds later when Theodore walks in, seemingly equally as drunk as he looks at you. He shuts the door, yawning as he pulls off his knitted jumper, leaving him with his white t-shirt on. He throws his sweater somewhere to the side as he flops down onto his bed with a sigh, rummaging through his pockets as he produces a lighter. You can't help but openly stare at him as he does so, alcohol freeing you of what little inhibitions you had.

Something about the sight of Theodore laying on his bed, lazily smoking a cigarette with his slightly messy hair and those damn eyes….

You could see his muscles shift every time he brought the cigarette up to his lips, and you didn't realise smoking could be so erotic.

For some awfully stupid reason, really I mean, you had to question your own sanity, you get up, walking over to Theodore. You're alarmingly quiet as you approach him, and don't say a word as you stand there. His eyes flicker up to you, and suddenly you realise:

Alcohol + tension + two rash people

Is not a very good mix.

You reach down, plucking the cigarette from his fingers. Theodore observes you with a small smile, those sinful eyes of his boring into you as you take a drag, before passing the cigarette back to him.

“He was right,” Theodore says after a second, looking up at you, You tilt your head. If you were already slow at making these connections, the alcohol only made it worse.

“Hmm?” You hum.

“Mattheo. You did look stunning today.” Theodore says, voice low.

Instead of doing what you usually did (some awful combination of looking away, panicking or just remaining quiet), a lazy smirk tugs at your lips as you look down at Theodore.

“Yeah?” You question, and you're 100% sure you watch his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Theodore's eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering across his face as he absorbs your murmured words.

Tentatively, as though testing the waters, he sits up, back propped up against the headboard as he looks up at you. His hand tugs at the sleeve of your dress, pulling you down, His hand rests on the curve of your hip, massaging light circles, and you go dizzy at the feeling.

You make no effort to move.

Rather, in a bold surge of confidence that quite literally materialised from nowhere, you swing your leg over Theodore's lap, straddling him. His hands immediately find their place on your hips, as though they're meant to be there, and he's looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

You knew this was a bad idea, but the alcohol spoke prettier words than your rationale did.

“You certainly know how to make an impression.” He murmurs his fingers trailing lightly along your thigh. You resist the urge to shudder at his touch, goosebumps erupting on your skin as he touches you. You lean closer, admiring the features of his face as you speak, mere inches away from one another.

“Well, I had someone to impress.” You say. He lets out a small, wry laugh, though he's far too consumed with looking at you.

Close the gap. Do it.

You do.

With a surge of hunger, your hands fist his shirt, pulling him in. His hand cups the back of your head as he meets your lips in a passionate kiss, mouths melding together. He holds you tightly, his grip both possessive and comforting at the same time.

The bulge of his clothed cock presses against your wetness, grinding against you with a desperate need. A small meek escapes your lips and it’s as though Theodore immediately swallows the sound, tongue slipping into your mouth as you continue to make out. It’s simultaneously lazy yet desperate - hungry.

"Fuck," Theodore murmurs against your lips, his voice laced with desire. "You're driving me insane." He mutters, trailing open-mouth kisses down your jaw and neck. You moan, arching your back as you tilt your head back, giving him easier access. He wastes no time in sucking and kissing the delicate skin of your neck, tongue soothing the places he nips at you, your skin blossoming red and purple.

His hand trails down your body, his fingertips tracing along the swell of your breasts. A low groan escapes your lips, hands coming up to thread through his hair. You tug lightly and feel him smile against your neck. With deliberate slowness, he undoes the lace on the back of your dress as he continues to press sloppy kisses to your skin, undoing the top as he tugs it down. He pulls back, eyes hungrily taking in the sight.

He flips you over with alarming ease, pinning you down onto the mattress as he hovers above you, holding your hands down by the side of your head as he begins kissing down your neck to your breasts.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, large hands coming up to cup one of them, the other holding your hands in place. He squeezes one of your nipples, pinching the bud lightly between his fingers as you gasp, arching off the bed. The sound is music to his ears, and he grins, his eyes remaining on you as he leans down and takes the other one into his mouth, tongue running over the sensitive bud as he pulls away, blowing lightly.

The contrast sends you into a haze, and a whimper escapes your lips. Theodore wants to devour the sound, he simply can’t get enough.

“Do you know how fucking long you’ve been on my mind?” He mutters, voice laced with desperation as he leans back down to kiss you, bulge grinding against your clothed cunt in a way that had you desperate for more. You can’t even formulate a response, because you’re all too consumed by Theodore. Everything about him.

He sits up slightly, hands resting on your thigh as he runs his hands up and down, his fingers disappearing under the hem of your dress.

You feel his fingers brush against the damp spot on your panties and swear that Theodore Nott will be the death of you.

Seemingly satisfied, a small smirk tugs at his lips, observing your reactions as he slowly pulls them down. He throws them to the side, and words cannot describe the look on his face as his eyes hungrily rake over you.

You needed him, every bone in your body ached with a visceral need for Theodore. Your hands come down to his belt, tugging at the buckle as you look over at Theodore, eyes glazed over as you were driven mad with your need for him.

He undoes his belt, the sound of the metal buckle clinking as he throws it onto your bed, unzipping his slacks. You can make out the bulge of his erection against his boxers and your heart skips a beat. You’re filled with this primal need to just have Theodore, you need as much of him as physically possible.

You tug his boxers down, freeing his strained erection from its confines. You swallow harshly at the sight of his cock, the tip glistening. You lean up to meet his lips in a kiss, your hands wrapping around his length as you give him a single jerk. You suddenly realise why Theodore was kissing you the way he was because the low groan that escaped Theodore's lips had you mad for more.

“Look at what you’ve done to me.” He murmurs, pushing you back onto the bed. He hiked the skirt of your dress up over your hips, eyes straying down as he spoke.

“You’ve unravelled every thread of control I have.” He says against your lips, teasingly running the head of his cock between your folds. A low moan escapes you, desperately seeking more friction.

“I’m going fucking crazy for you. I ache for you every second of the fucking day.” He mutters, and you pull back from the kiss, looking up at him.

“You have me now.” You respond.

His lips surge forward and meet yours in a kiss with renewed intensity, slowly thrusting into you.

You both let out a collective low groan as he slowly thrusts into you, and you can feel every inch of Theodore within, stretching you out so good you feel as though the simplest movement would split you open. A plethora of gasped curses escape your lips, but Theodore silences them instantly, coming down to kiss you deeply. He buried himself inside you fully, savouring the way you stretched to accommodate him, clenching tightly. He gives you a second to adjust before slowly pulling out. He rocks back in again, his moments slow and measured, but strained as though it’s taking every inch of self-restraint to not ravage you there and then.

“More. Don’t be nice.” You moan, and Theodores swears he won’t ever be the same again. One look at you, hair splayed out against the mattress, your back arched off the bed. It’s a sight he’d never forget.

“Don’t say shit like that. I’m already close to losing it.” He utters, voice strained as his hand grip your hips harshly, surely leaving imprints.

“Good. Ruin me.” You whisper, a fucked-out grin on your face.

Theodore groans, pulling out slightly before slamming back into you. You gasp, cursing as your hands grip Theodore's sheets. He sets a ruthless pace, fucking into you hard. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, though you’re sure it had to be muffled by the moans leaving your lips. It was only then that you were thankful for having a room all the way on the top floor. You both were too drunk to realise Muffliato did exist.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. Taking me so well. It’s like you were fucking made for my cock” Theodore groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. Your hands come up, running along his back as you lean up (to the best of your ability) to meet him in a kiss.

Theodore's forehead presses against yours, breaths mingling as he shifts slightly, before thrusting back into you. You can feel every inch of his cock brush against your walls, and you can’t help the pathetic plethora of moans and whimpers escaping your lips when he brushes against that spot, stoking a fire in your stomach.

“Theodore- Fuck! ‘m gonna…” You babble, and he lazily smirks, slowing down slightly as one hand tangles in your hair, tugging at it lightly. He experimentally plays with it for a second before harshly tugging your hair, eliciting another moan that felt like it came from the depths of your body, the line of pain and pleasure blurred.

“Hmm? You’ll have to speak up.” He hums, teasing you with shallow, slow thrusts.

You let out a whimper at the loss of contact, frustration gnawing at you as you look up at Theodore.

“Fuck, stop being such a tease. Please just..” You whimper, trailing off and he tuts, his grip on your hair tightening slightly as he forces you to look up at him.

“You have to tell me what you want. I don’t speak in half sentences, sweetheart.” He says, voice laced with an almost animalistic pleasure.

You groan, nails digging into Theodore's back as some slight form of retaliation.

“I’m gonna cum- please.” You say, breathlessly, and a small smirk tugs at his lips, his hand loosening its vice-like grip from your hair as it trails down the side of your face, his thumb running along your bottom lip.

“Good girl. Since you asked so nicely,” He muses, no longer teasing you with shallow thrusts as he wastes no time slamming back into you, cock brushing against your cervix. You moan, eyes rolling back as the heat in your stomach rises rapidly; the sensation of Theodore fucking into you was pure perfection.

“Theo…” You moan, breathlessly. He responds to you moaning his name with a harsh snap of his hips, nails digging into your hips as he grabs them tightly.

“Say it again.” He grunts, his thumb coming down to rub harsh circles against your neglected clit, sending a surge of electricity through you.

“Mmm- Ah, Fuck- Theo-“ You moan, and you’re sure you would have done it without him even asking.

“You close? Gonna cum on my cock?” He groans, and you’re sure you’ve become mush because you can’t respond, can’t think, your mind and body reduced down to one simple thing.

Theodore. Theodore, Theodore, Theodore.

You teeter impossibly close to your climax, nails scratching down his back. The sheer ecstasy was too much, and you felt like you couldn’t handle it but also like you needed more and more.

His eyes take over you, as if even though you're both inebriated, he tried to commit every little detail to memory, the way you moaned, mascara streaked around those eyes of yours.

His thrusts grow more intense, fingers working their magic against your clit as he brings you to your release. His relentless thrusts push you close to the edge over and over again,, eliciting a strangled moan from your lips as you feel his thrusts become sloppier, indicating that he was close. With what little strength you have left you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer as his lips descend down onto you, ravishing you with messy kisses. It takes one last thrust for you to be sent hurtling over the edge, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips as your orgasm crashes through your body with frightening force. Your walls clench around Theodore's cock, eliciting a low groan from him as he chases his own release, eyes never leaving yours.

It’s positively sinful, but he’s sure he’s never seen a prettier sight.

“Fuck-“ He grunts, his movements becoming erratic as you feel him twitch inside you. your legs don’t give in, though you’re surprised you have the strength as the rest of your body convulses with the sheer intensity of your orgasm.

“So fucking perfect.” He gasps, and with one final thrust, he stalls, burying himself deep inside you as he groans, hands momentarily tightening their grip on your hips before relaxing slightly. He utters your name with reverence like a sinful prayer, coming down to press lazy kisses to your lips as he releases deep inside you.

You reciprocate the kisses, and embarrassingly whimper at the loss of contact as Theodore pulls out of you, collapsing down next to you. You’re both breathless, panting as you come down from a high you've never experienced before. The post-orgasmic haze lingers over you, making you feel impossibly sleepy. Your eyes flicker over to Theodore and it’s evident that he feels the same. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the red spattering along his neck, not realising when you had done that.

In any other situation, you both wouldn’t have done this in the first place. But the effects of the alcohol had you both giving into temptation, and you didn’t fully comprehend just how badly you both had fucked up.

You roll over, pressing a teasing kiss to the hollow of his throat as he tugs the blankets over the two of you, an arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him. He rests his face in the crook between your neck and your shoulder, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder with an arm wrapped around your waist. You let out a small sigh of contentment, wrapping an arm around him as his hand massages your back and side lightly, the tender feeling sending you further into that sleepy state. The sheets smell of Theodore, and you find yourself (as you often did) consumed by him.

You and Theodore both fall asleep in each other's arms, holding onto one another as the night passes by.

You had fucked up, truly.

If only you knew the consequences your actions would bring in the morning.

You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, for it was a known saying that drunk words are sober thoughts.

The same undeniably applied to actions too.

@llpovi @camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8

#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #blaise zabini #theodore nott #pansy parkinson #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott angst #theodore nott smut

[lilahisntsadanymore]

Blood status seems to become less important when you acknowledge the actual feeling of love. What will Theo do when Y/n comes to the terms with the differences between them being impossible to ignore?

Pairing: Theo Nott x granger!reader

Words count: 1.9k

Author's note: My apologies for keeping you waiting so long, but I finally got some time off at uni!! Wishing you all a good year!!

Kind of a 2nd part of this fic, but you can read it without the previous one

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Keep you safe

One evening, Theo was waiting in the library. Waiting for a person he never expected to talk to. Y/n Granger. He found himself feeling a bit nervous, even though there was no reason.

Thinking about Y/n made him feel something. A feeling he never felt before. Slughorn said it's love, the muggle kind of love, the purest form, not induced by anything supernatural.

Theo decided to read about it. Hoping to find some book about it, he asked the librarian. She gave him a book specifically about love potions and spells. One of the first chapters was just what Theo was looking for.

"How to tell the difference between love and infatuation caused by magic." He whispered the first sentence to himself.

He started reading, his mind realizing what he got himself into as his gaze brushed over the text. Well, technically it wasn't his own fault and apparently also not the girl's fault.

But there must've been a reason. If love was a part of biology, brain chemistry, there had to be some logical factor.

"What are you reading?"

When Theo heard Y/n's voice right next to him, he immediately closed the book, causing it to make a loud sound.

"You took such a long time I got bored." He replied.

"Don't be so shy," the girl shifted her eyes to the title of the book, "oh, love potions and spells? But we're doing something completely different."

"Really? I couldn't care less, forgot what we were supposed to do." Surely one thing he'd love to do was making out with her on that table.

Y/n put her homework on the table.

"Read it and tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong, I just-"

"What's wrong with my text, Nott. I didn't ask how you were doing."

"Right."

Theo took the papers and started reading. The text was written with the most beautiful handwriting he's ever seen. So elegant, so precise.

"How long did it take you to write?" He asked.

"One evening. It was easier than you'd think."

"I think it's extremely easy." He bragged. "Anyway, is that all? Or do you wanna add something?"

"Well, Slughorn thought it's necessary for you to help me. Is there anything you think should be added?"

"Uh, no, it looks fine," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Fine? Theodore Nott, the perfectionist Slytherin, settles for 'fine'? I expected more from you."

"Look, it's not my homework, it's yours. I don't know why I agreed to help you, but it was pointless."

"You got yourself into this, could've said no."

"What the fuck am I even doing?" Theo asked rather himself than the girl. "I don't need to be helping a mudblood, who cares what grade you'll get." With these words, he stood up.

"Because-" Y/n stuttered. "Because... I've heard your conversation with Slughorn. And you said... that you liked me."

"Me? Liking you?" He snorted with laughter. "What the hell, Granger?"

Tears formed in Y/n's eyes as she watched Theo walk away. Sure, he was mean to her before, this wasn't the first time. But this time was somehow different.

Y/n could swear she heard Theo confessing to Slughorn that he's actually in love with her. It's not possible her brain played tricks on her. Plus Hermione said Theo told her about his feelings for Y/n.

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Harry walked onto the astronomy tower. Y/n was supposed to be back a long time ago. Ron and Hermione also wanted to go there, but Harry asked to let him go alone.

Harry knew where Y/n was thanks to the Map. He felt such relief not seeing Nott's name next to hers. She was standing alone, leaning on the banister. There was something in her hand, Harry couldn't see well in the dark, but from the smell he realized it was a cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoke." He spoke.

Y/n expected this to happen, she was aware of Harry's feelings towards her. She took one last drag from her cigarette then dropped it on the ground, put it out with her shoe and kicked off the tower.

"Why do you keep doing this?" Y/n asked, smoke leaving through her mouth. "I knew you're gonna look at your silly little map to see where I am."

"We were starting to get worried. Theo is... you know, dangerous. We got scared he would hurt you."

And he did. Theo did hurt Y/n, just not physically.

"Hermione should be here instead. But, let me guess, you told her you'll check up on me."

"Maybe," Harry admitted finally, "do you know why? Because I actually care about you. I've had feelings for you for years. I deserve you, not Nott. I deserve you, because-"

"Because you're the chosen one?" She mocked and paused. "Look, Harry, I like you as a friend. I've never felt anything more than this. I can't change how I see you and I won't pretend otherwise."

He nodded, acceptance settling in. "I get it. I just... I thought if I cared enough, it would make a difference."

"Caring is important, Harry, but it doesn't always lead to the feelings we hope for."

"Whoever you date, just don't date Nott, please."

"I promise I won't. Not after today, I'm over him."

"Care to share what happened?"

"I'll tell you, Hermione and Ron in the common room. Let's go, I've been here too long."

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Y/n didn't even know how wrong she was that night on the astronomy tower, but she forgot about it. Weeks went by, Christmas had passed, everyone were back from the break. Classes started again and Y/n found herself hoping to catch a glimpse of Theo.

They kept exchanging glances on the corridors, accidentally bumping into each other in the crowds. Y/n wanted to believe Theo liked her, but even if he did, they could never work.

"Y/n, listen to me," he said, catching her when she was alone in the library one time. "I know how things have been between us, but during the break I... I realized I don't wanna keep being enemies."

"Theo, you know it could never work. You said what you said and maybe it's better to leave it this way."

"I contemplated a lot," it was true, he spent the break mostly in his room, drowning in thoughts. About her, about them, coming to terms with what he was feeling. "I decided to accept my feelings."

"That's great for you, but we could never work. I've always 'fancied' you, I guess, despite what you were doing, ironically, but the time we worked on my project together, I accepted we could never work."

"And why's that?"

Y/n took a deep breath, wondering if he was stupid or just pretending. Maybe it was a bet he had with someone. Maybe Draco dared him to do this.

"You don't see how different we are? What do you expect is gonna happen? Would you introduce me to your father? Wouldn't you care that I'd get you disowned?"

Theo looked at her, Y/n could see sadness in his eyes. She realized her words made him realize the differences between them, because he walked away. Theo walked away without a word.

Y/n pierced her own heart with an invisible knife. She was really hoping they could work, but it just wasn't possible in this universe. Maybe there was a universe where none of this purity bullshit didn't exist. Y/n wished she would've been born there.

Y/n couldn't predict what Theo was going to do. She thought her words made him give up on her. It was for the best, of course, she should've focused on her studies firstly, and then on a realistic relationship.

It was a Friday. Y/n was sitting next to Ginny by the Gryffindor table. It was dinner time, all the students gathered in the Great Hall. All the students besides one Slytherin, the one that Y/n hoped to see. Maybe it was weird, but she enjoyed the sad looks they'd pass to each other.

"Hey, Y/n, are you listening?" Hermione asked from across the table.

"Sure," Y/n quickly shifted her eyes to her sister. "You were talking about Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"You've got divided attention. Stop looking at the Slytherin table."

"Ugh," Ginny groaned, "were you doing this again? Merlin, you stare at this Slytherin git 90% of the time."

"Well, he isn't here today. I wonder where he could be. Everyone else is here."

"There he is," Ron pointed out, rolling his eyes.

The golden trio and two younger Gryffindors looked at the doors' direction. Theo had just walked into the Great Hall, but surprisingly he didn't walk towards his table. He walked towards Y/n.

"Y/n," he spoke, catching everyone's attention. People were reading to witness another argument. "I can't help this, I love you."

Shocked noises came from all the tables, but Slytherins kept whispering between each other also when Theo continued talking.

"I don't care what anyone says, anyone thinks. Love is not meant to be controlled, it kills me to fight it."

Y/n stood up from the table, ready to leave the room.

"Theo, stop," she begged, "you're embarrassing us both. Your friends will-"

"I don't care what they do. If they don't accept it, they're not my friends. If anyone wants to fight me for having feelings for a muggleborn, I can fight, I've never lost a duel."

The whole Great Hall fell silent, even the teachers didn't try to intervene, when they saw Theo pulling out a small, black velvet box.

"I want you to wear this ring," he opened the box, "as my promise to always protect you from whoever tries to harm you or our relationship."

"It's beautiful, but..." Y/n was speechless by the sight of the ring. It was silver with two gemstones forming a subtle heart - half emerald and half ruby.

"It was custom made and if you accept it, I'll once get you a matching engagement ring. Also, there are thorns which will hurt you when you try taking it off. I want you forever, Y/n Granger."

The ring in the black velvet box sparkled under the enchanted ceiling. The Great Hall remained in silence as Theo poured his heart out, confessing his love. The unexpected turn of events had everyone on edge.

Slytherins exchanged intrigued glances, Gryffindors shared confused looks and even the teachers seemed to not know how to react. Y/n could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on her, and for a moment, she considered the potential consequences of accepting Theo's proposal.

"Theo," she began, her voice breaking, "it's not that simple."

"I know it is. But I can't keep hiding my feelings, Y/n. I've tried, and it's tearing me apart. I'll protect you from whatever comes our way."

Y/n looked at the ring, then back at him. "I believe in second chances. And I appreciate your sincerity. I accept the ring, Theo."

Theo carefully took the ring from the box and gently slid it onto Y/n's finger. The Great Hall burst with cheering and applause, only the Slytherin table didn't seem so enthusiastic about this.

Theo placed his hands on Y/n's waist, pulling her in for a kiss. She didn't hesitate to kiss him back, her hands sinking in his dense her yet the ring on her finger still visible, reflecting the light from the ceiling.

#Theo Nott #theodore nott #slytherin boys #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic #theo nott fanfic #Lorenzo Zurzolo

[angelicyoongie]

lovesick (XIV)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 5.8k — warnings: yandere, obsessive behaviour, other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

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"Darling."

You glance up at Namjoon, abandoning the half-finished scarf you've been slowly unraveling for the last hour. He stands at the foot of the couch, glasses slipping down his nose as he struggles to hold on to all of the books piled up in his arms.

You jump out of your seat to help him, grabbing half of the stack to place it on the table next to you with a small huff.

The books are thick and heavy, and you doubt that any of the volumes are under five hundred pages. Most of the spines in Namjoon's arms look old and weathered, like their proper place should be under a glass case in a museum instead of a library.

Namjoon breathes out a sigh of relief as he carefully deposits the rest of the books next to the others. He nudges his glasses back in place with a small chuckle as he says, "I must be getting out of shape, I don't remember them being this heavy."

"I doubt it," You mutter, sneaking a quick look at how visible Namjoon's muscles are even under his thick sweater. 

"What did you say, darling? I didn't catch it," Namjoon gives you a curious look. 

"Ah, it's nothing!" You flash him a quick smile, swiftly shifting your focus back to the table. 

Namjoon furrows his brows at the way you suddenly avert your eyes, the tops of your cheeks growing warm. He glances down at his sweater, worried that he might have missed a stain. There's nothing that looks out of the ordinary, but Namjoon still dusts off the bright red wool for good measure, a little perplexed by the strange look you were giving him. 

"I brought the books you asked for, this is everything we had on soulmates and soulbonds," Namjoon clears his throat. He steps closer to the table, picking up a few of the books before he starts sorting them into smaller piles, "These are the most recent publications and the ones furthest to the right are the oldest ones. I found a couple down in the archives too. They're not supposed to leave the library since they're so old but, well, I'm sure no one would mind a little exception. I know you'll take good care of them." 

"I'll be careful," You nod, brushing a finger over the spine of what looks to be the oldest book. 

"Good," Namjoon flashes you a warm grin, his dimples on show. He reaches out to stroke your hair, tucking a lock behind your ears as he gently says, "I hope they can be a nice distraction for you. I know you've been feeling down since you talked to Heejun."

"Thank you," You give him a tight smile, refusing to comment on it. You know it annoys them that you're not willing to open up more, that you don't want to talk about your emotions, but what's the use in bringing up something they won't understand? They are the ones making you sad, not Heejun. 

It's been a week since you last spoke to him, and your heart still aches from it. Hearing his voice felt like splitting open a barely closed wound. You can't shake off how mournful he sounded when he said his goodbyes, like he knew you wouldn't be able to contact him again for quite some time. It has left you feeling unsettled. And, since your days are filled with nothing; you have more than enough time to think, think, and think some more. You sometimes wonder if cabin fever will take you out before the soulbond does. 

It feels like time barely passes here and yet you know that the sun rises and sets, that the minutes are steadily ticking away even if you feel frozen. Using your phone finally gave you an opportunity to pinpoint the date. The day you talked to Heejun was December 11th and now that one week has already passed, there are only seven days left until Christmas. It's odd to think back to how you celebrated the holidays last year, and how different your life was then. You knew of your soulmates but you didn't know them. You were scared but you were free. 

You shake yourself loose from your thoughts as Namjoon presses a soft kiss to your cheek, catching the tail end of his sentence as he says, "– for you, just call for me if you need any help, darling." 

"Great, I'll do that," You say. Namjoon doesn't seem to have noticed your wavering attention. 

You can only assume he mentioned he would leave you to read in peace, as he gives you another warm smile before he straightens up and exits the room. You hear him greet Hoseok in the kitchen, their voices just distant enough that you can't pick up on what they're talking about. 

Taking a deep breath, you try to empty your mind to focus on the task at hand. You did ask Namjoon for these books for a reason, so you must utilize the time you have. Namjoon seems to have borrowed the entire section the library has on soulmate-related books, so it's only a matter of time before someone comes asking for them.

You decide you might as well begin with the newer books first, they should hopefully contain all the information and studies that have been done on the bond over the last three hundred years or so. You grab one that looks somewhat familiar to you, a newer edition of a volume you're sure you did a paper on back in middle school. Skimming through it, you quickly skip to the section that talks more in-depth about bonds. You already know all of the basics, the history, the tale of the first two soulmates – it's practically ingrained into you from birth. What you need is something different, something uncommon in the sea of familiar facts. 

You're disappointed when you realize that the book barely touches upon soulbonds with more than two people. Having two or more soulmates isn't that uncommon but it's also not the norm. The most you've ever heard of was a group of five soulmates and they were treated as a media spectacle from the moment they announced it. You remember the headlines reading along the lines of rare, strange and unprecedented – so you can only imagine that if there are more groups like them out there, they're keeping quiet about it. The soulmates that did choose to step forward about their bond were insistent that it was the same as a bond between two people; they all loved each other and their connection was equally as strong for every soulmate. Their situation was clearly very different from yours. 

You close the book with a huff, moving on to the next one. There's a brief mention that soulbonds with more than two soulmates require a bit more work, but that's all. It's barely enough to fill a sentence. Your frustration only grows with every book you look through, it's just the same information regurgitated over and over. You know there's something out there though, the story Namjoon told you shortly after you had woken up at the cabin must come from somewhere. Namjoon might have found the excerpt online but you do recall that it was supposedly from an old and rather obscure book.

Your gaze drifts over to the book that looks like it's falling apart at the seams, the etching on the cover so old that the letters have been lost to time. You find yourself holding your breath as you gingerly pick it out of the pile, wincing as you feel the pages shift within the book. There's a small note attached to the front of it, one that reads: NO PUBLIC ACCESS. For a split second it makes you pause, thoughts that it might actually be a valuable book crossing your mind, but you quickly disregard them. If this book was important, it would've never been left to rot in the library archive. 

Carefully placing it in front of you, you open the front of the book slowly, mindful to prop it up with your hand so that you're not causing too much tension to the spine. The insides look as tattered as the front, the title page barely legible. The font is cursive and swooping, the letters blending together so well it's hard to make out much of it. In the end, all you can decipher is that it says soulmates and that it was written in the year 1783.

You turn the page, squinting at the faded words. The layout of it reminds you more of a diary than a book, with random dates placed before every entry. They explain how the author decided to travel around to gather stories about soulmates, soulbonds and the people they met along the way. After some twenty-odd pages, you finally come across what looks to be a table of contents. Tracing your finger down the side, you halt as you make out the words nucleus bonds.

Bingo.

You feel your pulse kick up a beat as you flip to the correct page. The title reads 'Highly unusual cases of soulbonds and soulmates' and you can tell from the first sentence that this must be the excerpt Namjoon had found online. 

It describes just what Namjoon talked about; that while there's always a risk of one soulmate feeling the bond more intensely than the other, the probability of it happening is heightened the bigger the bond is. Skewed bonds are typically seen in groups of four or more soulmates, as it is likely that one soulmate in particular becomes the nucleus of the bond – the center that holds it all together. The book goes on to mention examples, old cases of nucleus bonds you've never heard of. They seem more like fables than true stories, all of them more fantastical than the last, but it does seem that Namjoon was right. In the olden days, nucleus bonds were viewed as a gift bestowed upon them from the heavens. That the ones that found themselves experiencing it were special – powerful. 

"What a fucking joke," You sigh.

The only thing this bond has made you feel is helpless. 

There's a small paragraph at the end of the page, one you suspect wasn't included on the digital scan Namjoon found.

While powerful, nucleus bonds can quickly go awry if the proper precautions are not taken to ensure the bond's well-being. For ill effects of the bond, please see the entry on Lovesickness.

You feel your mouth go dry, a heavy pit settling in your stomach. This must be it. You can't help the slight tremble to your fingers as you flip to the correct page, unease and excitement blending into a confusing feeling. You desperately want to know what's going on, if there's something that's causing the boys to act the way that they are, but the title worries you. Not all illnesses can be cured. You've survived on the small hope that you might be able to help them but if that gets taken away, what will you have left?

You chew on the inside of your cheek, nervous, as you land on the right entry. 

// Lovesickness Lovesickness, or soul sickness, occurs when the bond between two or more soulmates is neglected. This illness has only been recorded in bonds with a nucleus soulmate and is thus regarded as a prominent ill effect. While skewed bonds may occur in any soulbond, it is even more likely to do so in instances where one soulmate is viewed as the nucleus. It is a dangerous soulbond, as it makes the other soulmates unstable and there is an especially high risk that they will crave closeness with the nucleus to make up for the weakened connection to the rest of their soul-group. The other soulmates or "the outsiders", are known to grow irrational, obsessive, angry, highly emotional, and in some extreme cases, they can even be influenced by other outsiders' emotions despite their weakened bond. After first contact is made, it is imperative that the affected soulmates spend time together to minimize the risk of soul sickness. Failing to do so will have grave consequences. //

"Oh gods," You whisper, staring at the book in mild horror. 

If what the book is saying is correct, then that means that everything that has happened over the last year isn't completely their fault. 

The soulbond must have started slowly poisoning their minds ever since they met years ago. They didn't even know they were soulmates back then, not until that night in Hoseok's shop, so you can't imagine they have been able to nurture the bond properly. Their connection was so weak they probably mistook it as simply wanting to become friends and even though you know they're all close, you also know that their schedules are so conflicting that it's impossible for all of them to hang out as much as they should have. The bond was practically doomed even before they met you. 

It makes sense that they all came together before you did, that perhaps there was a part of them that couldn't seek the nucleus out before they had collected the rest of the group. The sickness must've become even worse once they did find you – festering and growing stronger the longer they tried to stay away. You wonder if it was the bond that made them keep their distance back then. If their souls recognized that your connection to them was weaker than it was supposed to be, maybe that's part of what made them so scared to approach you. Regardless, it had likely reached a critical point when they decided to kidnap you, their souls so affected, so warped, by the illness that they had no other choice. 

All of this – everything that has happened – has been out of their control. How were they supposed to fight an illness they didn't know they had? 

You cover your face with both hands, muffling your choked breaths. You feel lost in a way you haven't before. Their actions are still not excused, you can't find it in yourself to forgive them for all the hurt and trauma they've caused you. But you can understand why they ended up going down the path they did now, because, well, it turns out they didn't have much of a choice at all.

There's no right answer here and you're finding yourself at a loss of what to do. You doubt that telling them about it will change anything, not when they're this far gone already. They'll probably just look at it as you trying to distance yourself from them again. 

You drag your fingers down your face with a low groan, glancing down at the book. The entry on lovesickness doesn't go past the page and you can't find any additional information that describes what you should do if something like this has already occurred; just that it's important to make sure that the bond doesn't get messed up in the first place. With the book being so old, well over two hundred years, it's not like you can reach out to the author for help either. But there must be something you can do.  

Thrumming your fingers against the table, you shift your focus towards the kitchen, to the soft sound of Hoseok's laughter. Now that you think about it, the boys have become more trusting, more mellow, over the past months. They have started leaving you alone for longer periods of time and they have calmed down significantly compared to when they first brought you here. Perhaps.. If your distance is what worsened their illness, maybe this – being close – is what is going to cure them? You doubt it can ever bring them back to normal, whatever that may be, but it could help stabilize them. 

If you try, really try, to accept them for what they are now and return their affection, it might help the bond settle faster. 

You give yourself a weak nod, closing the book as you push yourself up on your feet. You don't like thinking about affection, love, as just a means to an end, but it's not like the situation you're in is normal. You're willing to do anything if it'll get you out of here, and in the end, you're doing this to help both yourself and them. You might have tried to deny it this whole time but it doesn't change the fact that they're still your soulmates. As awful as it is, you have some responsibility over them too. 

You ignore the queasy feeling lingering in your stomach, shaking out your limbs before you muster up the most genuine smile you can. You just have to try. 

"Hey guys," You call out, crossing the common room to go join Hoseok and Namjoon in the kitchen, "What are you up to?"

Soft sunlight streams in through the windows, warming your feet just so as you stand in one of the illuminated patches on the floor. There's activity from every corner of the cabin, Sundays being the only day all of them are able to gather at the same time. It's been four days since you realized just how messed up your bond is and you've been trying your best to stop pushing the boys away since then.

You look wistfully out of the window, the white snow sparkling under the sun. You haven't really been much outside since you tried to escape, their trust in you is too broken to allow you to. The most you've done is stand on top of the stairs with the door open; Namjoon waiting a few steps down in case you should be stupid enough to try to run, and Seokjin behind you, holding on to one of your hands.

You miss being able to walk around and move your body more, and you truly are beginning to go a little stir-crazy. 

"Hi baby," Jimin croons as he wraps his arms around your waist, gluing himself against your back, "What are you thinking about?" 

You lean into Jimin's hold, your heart quickening at the kiss he plants at the back of your neck. You let out a small sigh as you confess, "I'm bored." 

"Bored, hm? Anything in particular you'd like to do? I can think of a few ways to waste time." 

You can hear the smirk in Jimin's voice, heat rising to your cheeks as you remember the night you spent together.

"Actually–" You pause, bracing yourself for a negative reaction before you say, "I'd like to do something outside today. The weather is so nice." 

Jimin's arms tighten around you like a snake, so tense you worry they might pop right off his body. "Outside?" He echoes. 

"What's outside?" Hoseok seems to have abandoned whatever he was doing earlier in his room, his sudden appearance startling you slightly. 

"Y/n was just telling me that she's bored and that she wants to do something. Outside," Jimin fills him in, voice void of any emotion. 

Hoseok is silent as he walks across the room, meeting your gaze with raised eyebrows as you turn to look at him. He doesn't look away until he's standing next to you and Jimin, his eyes briefly flickering down to the death grip the younger has on you before they fly back to your face. "Why would you want that, sunshine?" 

It's not an immediate no – so you jump on the chance to play it up a little and use it to your advantage. 

"I just want to hang out with you guys outside, maybe do something fun. I just thought it would be nice to do something, you know, together," You pout. The sparkling snow in your peripheral gives you an idea. "Maybe a snowball fight?" 

Hoseok shares a look with Jimin over your shoulder, one that's long enough to almost make you nervous. Jimin eventually relaxes when Hoseok gives him a nod. It's hard to tell what's going through his head but surprisingly, Hoseok doesn't seem too put off by the idea. Maybe they really have begun to trust you again, or maybe this is just another test. Either way, it's something you can make use of. 

Hoseok reaches out to touch your cheek, his lips curving into a heart-shaped smile as he says, "That sounds like a good idea, sunshine. I'll go ask the others if they want to join."

"I call dibs on being on Y/n's team," Jimin says, smug. 

Hoseok's smile grows a little more dangerous as he moves his attention back to Jimin, "We'll see about that, Jiminie." 

You grunt as Seokjin tugs firmly on your jacket, sending you a step forward.

You're wearing so many layers you can barely move, all of them too big. The boys took great joy in dressing you up in their winter clothes, as nothing you have at the cabin is fit for withstanding the cold. You're glad you don't have to freeze, but the fact that everything you're wearing is too big doesn't evade you. They must still be worried about you trying to run away if they're trying to impede your ability to move.

You know not to make a fuss about it though, it's better to just go along with their whims when it's something so harmless. 

"Watch your chin," Seokjin warns before he drags the zipper up, sealing you in. 

"Thanks," You say, nodding for good measure. Your voice is so muffled behind Jungkook's thick scarf that you can barely hear your own voice. 

Seokjin flashes you a grin, gesturing to the door. "Go on then, sweetheart. You're going to overheat if you stay inside here for too long." 

You waddle over to the door, practically dragging your feet with how heavy the boots you borrowed from Namjoon are. You can hear the others talking outside, only Seokjin left behind as he volunteered to help you get everything on. You're admittedly glad you didn't just brush him off because there's no way you would be able to bend down with how thick your jacket and snow pants are. 

A burst of biting cold air hits you as you open the door. It takes you a moment to get used to the temperature difference but once you do, you shuffle down the stairs as quickly as you can manage. Hearing the snow crunch under your boots and feeling the sun warm the little skin you have exposed makes your heart swell. You finally feel alive again. 

"Y/n, there you are!" Taehyung throws the half-formed snowball in his hands to the ground, waving you over to where the rest of them are busy shoveling snow. The boys have already managed to clear a decent-sized patch, patting the shoveled snow into two barriers on the opposite sides of the cleared ground. Jungkook and Yoongi have even had time to start making two piles of snowballs, stacking up a good amount of them. 

Taehyung is sporting a wide smile by the time you make it over, his eyes twinkling as he opens his mouth.

"Don't say anything," You cut him off, huffing from the restrictive layers. Taehyung holds up his hands in surrender, chuckling as you try (and fail) to cross your arms. 

"I wasn't going to," He looks you up and down once, biting down on his lip to stifle his laughter. "But if I was, I'd say you look like a cute marshmallow." 

You groan. "This is way too much! I can barely move." 

"It's just to keep you warm, babe. We don't want you getting sick," Taehyung bops your nose with his glove. "Your team will cover you during the fight anyway, you won't have to move around too much." 

"Fine, if you say so," You murmur, not entirely convinced. You know all of the boys, especially Jungkook, have a competitive streak, so you doubt it's going to be as easy as Taehyung makes it seem.

"Seokjin hyung!" Taehyung calls out as he looks over your shoulder, "Hurry up! We need to divide the teams!"

It's quickly decided that the best way to do so is by playing Rock-Paper-Scissors. It takes a few rounds to get it right but in the end, you're teamed up with Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon, while the other four make up the opposing team. 

"My poor angel, I can't believe she's been doomed to be on the losing team," Jimin sighs, all dramatic. He shoots Seokjin a teasing smile, like he just knows his hyung won't be able to resist rising to the bait. 

"Losing team?!" Seokjin exclaims, just as predicted, poking his finger into Jimin's chest, "How are you expecting to win? You and Yoongi are too short to even look over the barrier!" 

"Hey! Don't drag me into this," Yoongi pouts, swatting Seokjin's hand away from Jimin. "Let's just start the game. Namjoon, what are the rules?" 

Namjoon claps his hands together, gathering everyone's attention. "Alright, so the rules are very simple. You're allowed to run up to the line that goes through the middle of the cleared area. That means that some of the trees around here can be used for cover as long as you don't cross the line. If you're hit, you're out and have to wait off to the side for the game to end. One team wins when all the players on the opposite team are eliminated. Yoongi hyung and Jungkook have already made a pile of snowballs for each team, but we'll get exactly one minute before the game starts to make as many additional ones as possible."

"Everyone got it?" He asks, looking around the group. You all chime out yes, watching as Namjoon pulls out his phone and sets the timer to 60 seconds.

"Okay, as soon as I hit this, the game starts! Three, two, one– Go!"

You hurry as best you can over to the closest barrier, letting Hoseok drag you along to give you some extra speed. He helps you kneel once you reach it, looking over at Seokjin and Namjoon as he asks, "Okay, so what's our plan? We can't let sunshine get hit." 

"They have Jungkook, so they're going to go in for an intense attack right away. I think our best bet is to just wait until they start slowing down and then attack back. Jimin is probably going to try to sneak closer to the line once it dies down from their side, so let's try to take him out quickly," Namjoon says, keeping his voice low enough that it won't carry over to the other team.

"Sounds good," Seokjin hums. He hastily forms another snowball, adding it to the growing pile beside you. 

"I think you better try to stay out of the way as much as possible, darling, they can get pretty brutal," Namjoon adds, shooting you a worried look.

"That's probably for the best," You agree, slumping further down behind the barrier. There's no way you'll be able to play when you're this bundled up, you doubt you'll be able to duck in time if you even attempt to throw a snowball. 

"Okay, then–" Namjoon's eyes go wide as the alarm on his phone rings out into the near quiet forest. He mutters a curse as he ducks down the best he can, fumbling to turn it off.

The moment it goes silent, mayhem breaks loose. Snowballs start raining down immediately, hitting the barrier with dull thuds. You squeak as one lands right in front of your knees, nearly hitting you. You quickly shuffle to the side, practically crawling, as you hear the other team yell and taunt yours to fight back. 

Just as the attack begins to wind down, Namjoon gestures for the rest of you to lay low while he peeks over the edge.

He's hit in the shoulder before you can even blink, a burst of snow raining down on the rest of the team. Namjoon flashes you all a dumbfounded look as he stumbles back, reaching up to dust off the lingering snow as someone calls out 'You're out!' from the other side.

"They mean business," Namjoon mumbles, shaking his head as he hands his snowball over to Seokjin. 

"We'll get revenge for you, Joonie," Hoseok's expression is somber, a little too serious for a snowball fight. 

"They always get a little too into it, don't mind them," Seokjin whispers, pulling a face.

The moment Namjoon has safely left the area, the fight picks back up, Hoseok and Seokjin joining in on it. It doesn't take long before you hear an indignant cry coming from the other team, Seokjin yelling out a cheer at the direct hit he landed on Jimin. 

You feel like a sitting duck behind the barrier, unable to help your team with how tightly you're bundled up. With the boys still distracted by the ongoing fight, you quickly unzip your jacket in your crouched position, throwing it to the side. Thanks to Seokjin going a little overboard with dressing you up, you already had another jacket underneath to keep you warm. You smile, already feeling a little lighter. 

"Keep going, I'll cover your left," You murmur to Hoseok as you crawl behind him, your sight set on one of the closest trees. You ignore him as he hisses out your name, clearly confused as to why you're moving away from the barrier that's protecting you. 

There's a decent gap between the edge of the barrier and the nearest tree, so you'll have to make a run for it and hope that you manage to catch the others off-guard enough that they won't be able to hit you. You take a deep breath as you bring yourself up to a crouch, placing your hands on the snow for extra support. You shoot off as fast as you can but the big snow pants slow you down significantly, almost reducing your speed to a leisurely stroll. You barely manage to duck behind the first tree, taking cover, when you hear a snowball explode against it. 

"How could you aim for your soulmate?!" You hear Hoseok yell out. 

"Uhm, all is fair in love and war?" Taehyung sheepishly calls back. 

You huff, collecting yourself for a minute before you dare to peek around the tree. The coast seems to be clear, neither Jungkook nor Taehyung is looking your way. You can't spot Yoongi, so you can only assume he's ducked behind the barrier, making more snowballs to keep up with the tempo the two youngest are throwing them at. 

It's now or never.

You use the tree to give yourself a needed push forward, running towards the much larger one that's square in the middle of the cleared area. You're so focused on making it there without getting hit from the side that it takes you a second too long to realize that someone is coming full speed right at you. You barely manage to slow down before you crash right into Yoongi, the two of you stumbling into each other. Yoongi grabs your waist to steady you just as you reach out for his shoulders, your eyes locked in surprise. 

"You scared me," Yoongi wheezes, pulling you tighter against him as another snowball smacks into the tree. 

"Sorry," You puff, "You caught me off-guard too." 

You're both panting from the tiresome terrain, your breaths swirling up towards the sun. Yoongi's cheeks are rosy from the cold, the tip of his nose colored a precious pink. He looks so cute that you almost don't know what to do with yourself.

Your gloved hands find their way from Yoongi's shoulders to his cheeks, cupping them as you ask, "Are you cold?" 

"I-" Yoongi doesn't get the chance to reply before you hear Taehyung get hit, a chorus of groans and cheers sounding from the other side of the tree.

If Taehyung is out, that means that only Yoongi and Jungkook are left. You might not have been able to do much until now, but you'd be damned if you can't at least help take Yoongi out. It might be time to play dirty, even if what you're about to do makes you feel a little bad.

You swoop in to kiss Yoongi the moment you hear Taehyung being greeted by Jimin and Namjoon, pressing your cold lips to his in a chaste kiss. You feel him going pliant in your hands as your heart begins to race, your body burning hot despite the cold.

Yoongi has a starstruck look in his eyes when you lean back, one that quickly morphs into confusion as you yell out Hoseok's name before you duck. A snowball hits Yoongi square in the chest a second later, forcing him to take a step back. 

"You– Seriously?" Yoongi shoots you a betrayed look as you get back to your feet. 

"I'm sorry," You flash him an apologetic smile as you brush the snow away. "I think all of the competitiveness might have rubbed off on me."

"Please forgive me?" You murmur, planting another kiss on his lips, one that lingers a little longer. 

"You're gonna be the death of me," Yoongi groans, shaking his head at the bright smile he gets in response. "Hurry back to your team, Y/n, you haven't won yet." 

Jungkook might be a great player, but he's no match for 3 against 1. It barely takes a minute from the moment Yoongi joins the sidelines until Hoseok lands a hit on him, finally eliminating the entire opposing team. Jungkook looks stunned that he actually got hit, eyes wide as he touches his stomach. Jimin and Taehyung groan in unison, immediately beginning to bicker about what went wrong. 

"Loser team my ass, Park Jimin!" Seokjin points to the sidelines with a wide grin, laughing as Jimin flips him off. 

Hoseok wraps you up in a hug, swaying you from side to side as he laughs. 

"We did it!" You squeal, wrapped up in a burst of happiness as Namjoon comes running over, the entire team huddling together as you celebrate your win. 

"Well done, angel, I didn't know you were so sneaky," Seokjin chuckles, kissing your cheek. 

"I think we might have found our secret weapon," Hoseok agrees, eying you fondly as he ruffles your hair. 

You look over to the other team as you attempt to duck away from Hoseok's hand, your smile growing bigger as you notice the other boys laughing and joking around too. Jungkook seems to be mimicking Yoongi throwing a snowball that didn't go very far, causing Jimin to laugh so hard that he falls over. 

Your heart swells at the scene, at finally seeing all of the boys act normal and happy. Maybe you actually can do this. Maybe it's not too late after all. 

"Come on, let's bring it in!" Namjoon grins, grabbing your hand.

As you all jump around in a circle, arms tangled together and spirits high; all you can think of is that it feels nice – special, even – like something you could get used to. 

a/n: what do we think about the new information the mc found – will it change anything?? and i hope you enjoyed some domestic time spent with the soulmates! (enjoy the good vibes while they last friends <3) i know i promised taegi last time but that has been pushed back to ch 15, so apologies for that, buuut you'll get taegi and namkook smut in one ch so i think that's a good deal, no? 🙈

please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter!! it means so much to me 💖 especially now that we're nearing the end of the story 🥺

(and you know the drill, please excuse any mistakes until i have time to go through and edit!)

#yandere bts #bts x reader #yandere x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere jimin #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #yandere taehyung #yandere hoseok #yandere namjoon

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

I don't know you anymore (maybe I never really did)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.7k

genre: fluff, angst (happy ending to come)

warnings: slytherin reader, some serious emotional dodging and avoidance but you know me it all ends up ok, peter is your bestie and that's just the way it is sorry, no happy ending YET but I promise it's coming this is not a tragedy

a/n: happy ending next week I love y'all too much to leave you with heartache

"Sorry, love," Remus begins to bend down, hand reaching to pick up the book you'd dropped when the two of you collided in the library, but you quickly shoot your own hand out to snatch it up first. "What are you doing here this late?"

"Getting a book," you say plainly. Remus's brows furrow slightly, his eyes drifting over your figure as if to somehow see why you're acting so strangely.

"Alright, dove. We're all planning on studying pretty late tonight - you're welcome to join us. We can always sneak you back down to the dungeons whenever you're ready to call it a night." Remus is quiet when he talks, that soothing, soft air he has about him making your shoulders drop as you lean against the bookshelf next to you.

"As if I can't sneak myself around the castle without your help," you bite back playfully. A smile twitches across Remus's lips as he thinks, just for a moment, that you're back, that you'll follow him up to his common room and spend the night laying on a couch with him, your legs slung over James's lap while you throw wads of paper at Sirius's head. His heart thumps a little painfully when he realizes that he can't remember the last time you've done that with them - he can't remember the last time you've hung out with them at all. 

It's as if you remember that fact at the same time he does, as the faint smile slips off your face and you straighten. "I can't tonight," you say kindly. "But thank you." Remus blinks as you begin to move past him, your polite voice ringing through his head. Like we're strangers, he thinks weakly. Except you're not even that nice to strangers.

Remus is busy slouching against the nearest bookshelf and wondering what they possibly could have done to make you avoid them so desperately but so kindly when he hears you let out another sigh from where you've walked past him.

"Wow," Sirius drawls as Remus turns to see him and James standing in front of you and you pointedly looking past them, like you're a trapped animal searching for the nearest escape route. "I'd almost forgotten you go here still." Your gaze snaps to Sirius and you narrow your eyes at him.

"It's good to see you," James interjects, seeing the two of you size each other up and eager to avoid a showdown between you and Sirius. "How have you been, love?"

"You see me in class almost every day," you snipe back at Sirius before turning to James. "I've been busy, and I still am now so - if you'll excuse me." With that, you slip between the two of them, exiting the library swiftly. Remus sighs and Sirius scowls at the now empty doorway, James opting to look down at the floor, staring dejectedly like a kicked puppy. No doubt you're holing up down in the Slytherin dorms all night now - as far away as you can get from them. Sirius smoothes a hand over James's unruly curls as Remus squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

"We'll figure this out," he says gently, and as Sirius looks at him, he begs himself to believe it.

"You lost, Pete?" You don't look up from your book as Peter plants himself in the seat opposite you, frowning at you.

"Like we've never had breakfast together before," he huffs back, and you can't stop the smile that flits across your lips at the confidence that he's so clearly been nurturing. You close your book with a thump and place your chin in your hand, staring at him and waiting for him to continue. "Half the time, you're at the Gryffindor table. It can't be so different for me to come over here."

"Hm, maybe it's not," you shrug, picking your book back up to toss it across the table at him. "Read the back of that. You can borrow it when I'm done - I think you'll like it." Peter picks it up tentatively and gets about halfway through the synopsis before he's dropping it back on the table and crossing his arms.

"You're making them miserable," he says bluntly. You pout in a mocking sort of manner, but Peter's frown tells you that he doesn't believe you're as heartless as you typically let on.

"I thought you just came here to have breakfast with me," you switch tactics. 

"Tell me what's going on with you," he pushes. You straighten up in your seat.

"Why don't you just ask them?"

"I have - they don't know. Every time they try to talk to you about it, you find some reason to run away."

"Would you like to see that first hand?" 

"You can't run away from me. I'll cry," Peter insists. You sniff indignantly, mostly because you know he's right. The two of you stare at each other for a long time, and it's to your surprise that he doesn't waver. Your heart does something strange in your chest when you realize that his determination may be because this is more serious than you'd thought - you're hurting them more than you thought.

"They need to get over me, Pete," you say quietly.

"Why?" He presses.

"Because if they don't then this gets messy. None of us want that," you insist. Peter softens a bit, looking sympathetic.

"It's already messy." The bite has left Peter's voice as he reaches to pat your arm across the table. You look at his hand pointedly and he's reminded swiftly that anyone else who reached out to console you like that would get a smack from you. He smiles as he thinks of the kindness that lives in you that you seem to be blind to.

"I'll talk to them," you sigh, leaning forward to let your head thump down onto the table. Peter pats the top of your head gently and, for that, he does get a smack.

"James," your voice makes him stumble to a stop, whipping around to look at you so fast that you nearly run into him, sidestepping him at the last minute as he looks at you, bewildered.

"Are you talking to me?" He asks, confusion and surprise making his voice thick. Something painful twinges in your chest at his shock. Of course I am, you want to say. Who else would I ever want to talk to?

"Yes," is all you end up saying. James shifts on his feet and looks at you a little wearily.

"Are you ok?" He asks and a breath leaves your lungs quickly. 

"I'd like to talk to you… if you have a moment?" James looks at you strangely, but he just nods and leads you out of the hall to the quiet courtyard. There's no, of course I have time for you, pretty thing. I always have time for you. It's just James, stiff and silent and hurting… because of you.

"Peter says I'm making you all miserable," you say bluntly, regret immediately seeping into you at the way James flinches, sitting on the bench in front of you slowly. You stay standing in front of him, looking down at the way he runs a hand through his curls.

"It's just," he begins, looking around as if to find the answer somewhere, or maybe just to find some way of getting away from you. "If we knew what we'd done to upset you then maybe we could make it better. You're just freezing us out, lovely, and that means we can't fix… whatever it is that's happened."

"It's not…" Now it's your turn to look around vaguely, wishing you could get out from under his sharp gaze. "It's not anything you've done. It's just - it's the way things go sometimes. It's ok, James, you just have to move on." But James's face hardens at that, a sternness you're not used to overtaking his features as he stands so that he can look you eye to eye. You have to tilt your head back to look up at him.

"That's what you want us to do? Just… move on? Forget about you? Pretend we were never friends?" The sombre tone in his voice doesn't suit him, and neither does the timid hurt in yours.

"Are we friends, James? Is that what we all are?" James blinks at that, taking a step back and sitting back down onto the bench rather abruptly. When he looks up at you this time, there's something akin to remorse swimming in his eyes.

"Is that what it is, lo-" the pet name dies on his tongue as he presses his lips together firmly. "I'm sorry. I thought - we all thought that you felt the same way about us that we do about you. We thought… we thought we were all more than friends with you and that you… I'm sorry. We never dreamt of making you uncomfortable." You scoff at his words, shaking your head fondly and toeing at the dirt by his feet with your shoe.

"Uncomfortable?" You say disbelievingly. "Please - you three are the biggest gentlemen I've ever met. I don't think you could make me uncomfortable if you tried." James's shoulders sag in relief, but the look he gives you is still that of a lost, confused puppy. You look past him to see a group of students hurrying to their next class and open your mouth to remind James that the two of you also are officially late, but he speaks before you can.

"Then what is it? Please, just… what did we do?"

"It's like I said, James… it's just a bad idea. It's wrong and I can't do this. I… we have to get to class."

But James doesn't go to class that day. He sits on that bench, staring at the place you'd been standing in, until Remus and Sirius find him that evening. And as the two of them tug him up and inside, all he can think of is how they really have lost you.

#smsn.writes #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #marauders x you #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders imagine #poly marauders #sirius black imagine #james potter imagine #remus lupin imagine

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

The Cards We're Dealt

Title: The Cards We’re Dealt

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, alcohol, cursing, objectification of women and mild sexism, bad parents, angst, fluff, mentions of drugs

Summary: Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.

A/N: Wow! Another long fic because I have no self-restraint. There’s a bit of Irish in this because I couldn’t resist it when I wrote Steve. Translations are at the end, and anything incorrect can be blamed on Google Translate. As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and supporting me in all the ways you do. 

There is an unspoken rule amongst the mobs in New York that the more drug manufacturers a man controls, the nicer you treat his daughter. So, when Bucky’s father tells him that he’s once again been pimped out as part of a deal, Bucky knows to ask the question,

“How many does he control?”

If Bucky had his way, of course, he would treat all girls as well as he is able (which is very well). He likes girls, and he likes going out with girls. He just wishes he could choose which girls he got to take out.

“Seventy-five percent,” George Barnes says, and Bucky freezes with his glass against his lips. He has a club soda to his father’s whiskey—he’s in a good mood and was actually hoping to enjoy the day, though now he’s reconsidering it. His plan to lounge by the pool with Becca and soak up as much of the late spring sunshine as possible is quickly dissipating. 

“That’s not possible,” Bucky replies. He quickly does the math in his head. His dad owns over half the manufacturers in Brooklyn. “We own—“

“Not anymore.”

The library falls silent as Bucky tries to wrap his head around the news. Just yesterday he’d overheard his father on the phone with one of his men, explaining in great detail what he’d do if they didn’t get him a sample of their newest product by the top of the hour.

“How?” he asks. He sets his glass aside and sits straighter in his chair. “Did something happen? You didn’t tell me about a takeover.”

George takes a sip of his whiskey. “That’s because there wasn’t one.” He sets the crystal tumbler on the small bronze tray nearby. Marta will come clean it up later. “I sold them.”

“You sold them? If you’ve already struck a deal, then why am I taking out his daughter? Isn’t that normally something you have me do to butter their fathers up before you make the deal?”

Bucky watches as his own father stands and goes to watch the landscapers through the library window, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s long since been out of the army, but some habits die hard. Very rarely did the man ever relax.

“You are the deal,” George answers, his voice much too casual for Bucky’s liking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” snaps Bucky.

“Watch your tone, boy,” his father replies. He doesn’t turn around to witness the way Bucky grinds his teeth together in response. “In exchange for the majority of Theo’s territory, you and Y/N will be married within a year and a half, though the exact date is up to the two of you. I believe that Theo mentioned his daughter likes spring, so perhaps a spring wedding. June is popular, from what I’m told, though that’s cutting it a little close to the deadline.”

Bucky’s up out of his seat now. He can feel his pulse thrumming and he can’t quite catch his breath.

“So what? You threw me in to sweeten the pot? Am I just another bargaining chip to you now?”

He’s shouting. He doesn’t care.

George turns and regards him in silence, and, like always, his expression betrays nothing of what he’s thinking or feeling. He doesn’t seem fazed at all by Bucky’s outburst.

“You’re my heir. I make my decisions based on what’s best for our family. Nothing about this decision is impulsive or frivolous, James,” he finally answers, his voice cool and even. There’s nothing familial in his tone—George Barnes is all business. 

“You can’t just decide that I’m getting married. I won’t do it. I refuse,” Bucky tells him. He balls his fists at his sides and he sets his jaw, furious. How dare his father try to control his life like this? It’s one thing to occupy the majority of Bucky’s nights and weekends with dates, meetings, dinners, and weapons runs, but it’s another to throw him into a marriage he doesn’t want.

“I can and you will. If you don’t, there will be consequences. To start, you will be immediately cut off from our family. You will have no money, no home, no resources, and no contact or communication with anyone involved in the business, including your mother and your sister.”

Heart pounding, Bucky glares at him. He’s got a migraine coming on. He knows his father isn’t kidding, but he wants more than anything for Steve to pop out and say that this is all just a joke. He’s never even met Theo’s daughter. He’s barely even met Theo. According to the rumors, his only daughter is his most prized treasure. She isn’t someone who frequents any of the bars, clubs, and restaurants that he and the other “mob children” frequent. Maybe “mob children” isn’t exactly the right term, at least not anymore. After all, Bucky’s engaged now. He’s just part of the mob, another pawn to be moved around the chessboard.

“You have the rest of the day off. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning,” says George. He picks up his glass and downs the last of the liquor. “Theo and his family are coming for breakfast, and then Y/N will be moving in with us. I want you on your best behavior.”

He pauses and Bucky continues to glare at him, not validating his words with a response. George’s eyes grow dark with a thinly veiled threat. Bucky knows that look—if he pushes his father any harder, he’ll regret it. 

“Do you understand, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky grinds out.

Turning on his heel, Bucky stalks out of the library and slams the door behind him. He immediately heads down the hall, then down the stairs and across the ground floor of the Barnes Estate to the garage. His keys are still in his pocket; he’d only just gotten back from a night out with Steve when his father had summoned him.

It doesn’t matter that he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Bucky climbs onto his bike and revs the engine, speeding off down the long driveway that winds around the house. The guards barely get the gate open in time and then he’s flying down the road, heading straight to Steve’s bar in the city. He knows his friend will be there, most likely nursing his hangover and going over the books in his back office. He won’t be hard to convince to go out again, though Bucky knows he won’t approve of the plan to drink as much as he possibly can in the next twelve hours. It doesn’t matter, though—it’s Bucky’s last night as a free man, and he’s determined to make the most of it.

You sit between your parents, staring at the empty seat across from you. They’d told you this morning that you were going to the Barnes Estate for breakfast, and while you’d expected the grandeur of the dining room and the meal, you didn’t expect the eldest Barnes child to be completely absent. You’ve never met him, but your mother has insisted that you speak to James—George Barnes’ only son and heir—as much as possible during the meal. Supposedly, he’s the same age as you.

Rebecca Barnes is a ray of sunshine and her cheery disposition is a stark contrast to the dark clouds that now hang over your fathers’ heads. Maybe it’s a deal gone wrong or maybe it’s something else, but you don’t like it. It leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Silently, you sneak a hand under the table to find your mother’s. You squeeze and your mom squeezes back, glancing over to give a reassuring smile.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Barnes starts, and you jump a little in your seat. You haven’t been verbally addressed since you’d been seated a half hour ago. The food has yet to be served. “Your parents tell us that you’re very interested in horticulture. Did you know we have a rose garden out back?”

You force a polite smile. “I don’t know about very interested. I have a few house plants that I’ve managed to keep alive, though I would love to see your garden sometime. I’m sure it’s beautiful,” you add.

“Maybe Bucky can take you,” Rebecca says, earning herself a sharp look from her mother. She simply shrugs.

Oh, to be as unbothered as Rebecca Barnes!

“Where is James?” your father asks. His voice is a low, threatening growl and you sink down in your chair, staring at the cloth napkin still folded atop your plates.

“He knows to be here,” Mr. Barnes growls back. “You’ll have to excuse his tardiness, he’s not normally like this.”

Mrs. Barnes gives Rebecca an even harsher look when she opens her mouth to speak, and this time the girl actually looks ashamed. She takes a sip of her orange juice to hide the guilty look on her face. She’s the first person to have actually touched something on the table, and it’s like whatever spell the room has been under is broken.

All at once, the dining room springs to life. A short, slightly heavy-set woman in a gray dress and white apron enters through one door. She’s holding a delicate silver coffeepot and the smell of coffee instantly fills the room. Two younger women in identical uniforms follow behind her, each of them pushing golden carts laden with food. Through the door across the room, a tall man with short, dark brown hair stumbles in. He’s wearing all black, from his rumpled button-up and jeans to his boots and sunglasses. His hair is sticking up in every direction and just like the coffee, you can smell the stench of alcohol coming from him even from your seat.

You grimace at the smell and pull your napkin into your lap as one of the women comes to place food in front of you. It’s a formal dining service and the strange new man who’s entered feels entirely out of place. From his attire to the way he shuffles across the antique rug, everything about him screams that he’d rather be anywhere else. If you acted like that, your father would be pulling you back out into the hallway to reprimand you, and you look anxiously at Mr. Barnes, who’s seated at the head of the table. 

“James,” he greets, his voice unnervingly even. A chill runs down your spine. “It’s nice of you to join us. I trust that you slept well last night?”

James collapses into the only empty chair at the table, the one across from you, and pointedly ignores his father. You risk a glance up at him as he reaches for the cup of coffee that’s already been poured.

True to form, Rebecca leans over and claps a hand on her brother’s shoulder blade. “Good morning! Aren’t you excited to have breakfast with our guests?” she shouts, and her smirk makes it much too clear that she’s fully enjoying the way her brother’s scowl deepens. Rebecca also ignores her parents, including her mother, who leans forward to look past James and give her a look of warning.

James shrugs his sister off of him and starts buttering the toast on his plate. You watch for a moment, then start picking at your own food as your mother also begins to eat. Everyone’s acting so strangely that you’re already on edge, and you’ve only managed to get down a few grapes and two bites of dry toast by the time your father speaks up again.

“So when are we signing these papers?” he asks, sipping his coffee. 

“As soon as the marriage license is signed,” answers Mr. Barnes.

You frown. Marriage license? Who’s getting married?

“And the terms are the same as when we last spoke?”

Mr. Barnes sips his own drink, something that looks suspiciously like whiskey, and sets down the glass. “Yes. I have that contract in my office. We’ll review and sign after we’re done here. Are all of your daughter’s things ready to be moved?”

Your stomach drops and you turn to stare at your father with wide eyes. He nods, not even paying attention to you as he continues his conversation with the other man. Your mother pointedly ignores you, choosing instead to stare at her plate as she eats. When you look around the room, it seems like almost everyone else is doing the same. Rebecca is the only person who actually meets your panicked gaze. She gives you a pitying look as your anxiety rises.

It feels like your mouth is filled with sandpaper, and you grab your glass of juice. You have to drink half of it before the feeling even mildly abates. As soon as you set it down, one of the women in gray appears to refill it.

“What’s going on? Why are you moving my stuff?” you finally choke out. You twist the napkin in your lap with both hands, wringing it as you look from one person’s face to the next.

Mr. Barnes stops mid-sentence and the whole room freezes. Even James, who’s pouring something into his coffee cup from a small silver flask, stops what he’s doing.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” your mother begins, taking your hand under the table.

You want to pull away. You don’t.

“After breakfast, your father and I are going home, but you’ll be staying here with the Barneses.”

“What?” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “No, I don’t— I don’t want to stay here. You never said anything about me—“

“We’re getting married,” James interrupts. He’s chewing and you look over at him, gaping at the casual way he’s sprawled out in his chair. You can feel his gaze on you even from behind his sunglasses and it makes you feel dirty. 

“Excuse me?”

He chuckles and sits up, then leans forward in the chair. He drops the greasy strip of bacon he’d been eating onto his plate. “We’re getting married. They’re using us like bartering chips, sweetheart. You and me in exchange for all the drugs and all the territory in New York.” James gestures grandly with one hand, a too-wide grin on his face. There must be at least ten rings on each of his hands and you swallow thickly at the threatening display of black and silver metal.

You’re trembling now and you pull your hand away from your mom’s. She reaches for you again but you shake your head, shying away from her touch. Frantically, you look around the room to see if this is some kind of joke or a drunken rambling, but no one is laughing. Even Mrs. Barnes has the decency to look sympathetic on your behalf.

“No, no. You wouldn’t—“ You look back at your parents, imploring them to say that it isn’t true. You swallow thickly, trying to stave off tears, and your voice wavers as you prompt, “Mom? Dad?”

Their silence speaks volumes and a whimper escapes you as you wring your hands in your lap. The napkin slides onto the floor. It suddenly feels like you can’t breathe and when your mom reaches out for a second time and starts to tell you to calm down, you jerk away and stand. The chair falls backwards behind you, but you ignore it as you rush out of the dining room and into the hallway you’d entered from. Everything is unfamiliar. Frantically, you pick a door and yank on the handle. It doesn’t give way and you continue the process until one of them finally opens and you can rush inside. You lock it behind you and press your back against the door. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows are closed, shrouding the room in darkness. You can’t make out much of the furniture through the tears in your eyes.

Out in the hallway, you can hear your mother calling for you and your father arguing with Mr. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes is yelling at somebody too, but it’s hard enough to hear the others over your own gasps and sobs. You’re properly crying now and you sink to the floor, curling up on the carpet as you heave. It’s a good thing you weren’t able to stomach much breakfast.

A knock on the door makes you yelp and then cry harder, and you crawl into the darkness of the room to try and find a hiding spot. You’re lucky enough to find an old, heavy desk right away. It’s the perfect size for you to crawl under for shelter, and there’s no chair for you to move out of the way. The drawers on both sides create a cubby for you, so you crawl into it and curl up into a ball with your back towards the door, just in case someone manages to get in. If you’re quiet enough, it’s possible they’ll walk right past you.

The crowd in the hallway has definitely heard you by now. The doorknob is rattling as whoever’s on the other side tries to get in, but after a few minutes, they stop and the hallway goes quiet. You hold your breath after every couple of sobs, listening for any sign that they’ve found a key or that they’re picking the lock. Nothing happens, however, and after a while, you give up on listening.

You sit in the darkness and cry until you’re thoroughly exhausted. Once you’ve run out of tears, you sit and zone out with your head resting against the side of the desk drawers for a while longer, numb from the news. Your body feels light and a buzzing, tingling feeling makes moving your limbs seem impossible. You could’ve never imagined that your parents would be so capable of treating you so poorly. You’ve always felt so loved by them, and to hear that they’ve practically thrown you away at the first chance of a profit makes you want to puke. Upon that realization, you actually do throw up, and the stink of your vomit on the carpet of whatever room you’re in makes you want to cry all over again.

The door opens just as the stench is becoming too much to bear. Light floods in from the hallway and you squint, curling up in fear. After a moment, the shorter woman in the gray uniform that you’d seen at breakfast appears a few feet away from the desk, right in the path of light. You look up at her. 

“Oh dear,” she sighs, and you instantly feel ashamed at the disappointment in her voice.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. Your bottom lip is trembling again as fresh tears somehow appear in your eyes. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your wrists. “I can clean it if you—“

“You’ll do no such thing,” the woman says. Her voice is gentle and kind, so much so that you don’t feel the need to argue with her. She waves her hand dismissively and approaches you, then holds out both hands. She’s careful not to step in the mess you’ve made. “Now come on, up you go.”

You let her help you to your feet and then you straighten out your clothes, sniffling and wiping at your nose again in a desperate attempt to look more put together than you feel. Still a bit unsteady, you whimper for a second time, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, dear.” She gives you a warm smile. “My name’s Marta. I’m the head housekeeper here. It’s very nice to meet you.”

You don’t feel the same way about meeting her, given the circumstances, but you hold that comment to yourself and simply nod in agreement. Marta leads you back out into the too-bright hallway. It’s empty except for a bald man mopping the floor on the far end.

The high ceilings and glossy marble floors make it look like you’re in a castle. Even the silence feels regal. Everything seems so cold compared to your home, and you feel too small in the massive space.

“What time is it?” you quietly ask, looking back at Marta.

“It’s almost noon, Miss.”

Your stomach sinks and you press your lips together, inhaling deeply as you look around again. Three hours have passed.  “My parents…”

“They left about fifteen minutes after breakfast,” she tells you. Her words are matter-of-fact, even if she delivers the news in the softest possible way.

Somehow it hurts worse that they’ve left you than finding out they’d practically sold you to the Barneses in exchange for God knows what. Drugs or territory, whatever James had said. Not only did they treat you like nothing, but they’d deserted you after it was clear you didn’t agree with their plans. They hadn’t even tried to reassure you that they still loved you or that you’d still be able to see them. Maybe you wouldn’t be. Maybe they didn’t.

You nod numbly. There’s been nothing to prepare you for this, no precursor or warning, so you keep looking around the hall, though in reality you’re not really seeing anything. 

“Your room is ready upstairs, Miss Y/N. Would you like me to take you?” asks Marta.

You nod again. You feel like you’re underwater as you follow her up a grand staircase and then down a long, narrow hallway. It’s decorated similarly to the ground floor, though with a plush Persian rug running its length. Marta talks as she walks ahead of you, no doubt explaining what the many doors lead to, but her words simply go in one ear and out the other. It’s all so surreal that when you finally get to your own room, you don’t even open the door. Marta has to reach around you to open it, and then she gently ushers you inside when you still don't move.

Just as they had said at breakfast, your belongings have all been moved into the Barnes Estate. The furniture here is different, grander than what you’re used to, but your blankets and pillows are on the bed, and the two bookshelves are packed full of the books you’ve collected over the years. Even the strip from the photo booth at an old friend’s wedding is pinned to the bulletin board above the desk. Someone’s even thought to put your plants on their own table by the window. 

“There’s a bathroom on the left and your closet is on the right,” Marta explains, pointing to each. “If you’re hungry, dinner is at five.”

“Do I have to eat with them?” you ask.

If Marta is surprised by your question, she doesn’t show it. She simply shakes her head with a gentle smile. “No. We can bring food here if you’d like.”

You nod and stand in silence until she leaves and closes the door behind her. Then, after another minute passes, you drag yourself over to the bed, climb under the covers, and close your eyes.

If there’s any mercy left in this life, you think, I’ll fall asleep and never wake up again.

Weeks pass and you still haven’t adjusted to life at the Barnes Estate. The staff is only slightly less friendly than those you grew up with, but they’re more attentive. It helps that there are more of them. For every member of the Barnes family, yourself included, there are at least four staff members to attend to their every need. It makes you feel like royalty, but it also makes you feel guilty. You don’t need this much. You certainly didn’t ask for it.

You haven’t seen James since the ill-fated breakfast, nor have you seen your parents. They’ve gone so far as to block your number. After that discovery, you’d locked yourself in the massive ensuite bathroom and cried for an hour. Marta had been the one to coax you out. The poor maid who’d found you when coming to get you for dinner hadn’t known how to help. You’d spent that entire evening curled up on your bed while reruns of The Nanny played on the TV embedded in the wall across from the massive mattress. Marta had spent every second with you that she could, but eventually Mrs. Barnes—Winnifred, as you referred to her in your mind—had scolded her for neglecting her nighttime duties across the estate. That made you feel even worse.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca asks, and you turn to look at her from where you’re staring out the hallway windows at the gardeners. The backyard is massive, complete with a rose garden in full bloom, an outdoor swimming pool, a forested walking trail, a large green expanse for games and parties, a gazebo, a fountain, and what seems to be stables far in the distance, though you haven’t ventured far enough to be sure. A visit to the rose garden hasn’t been brought up again either, and nothing seems interesting enough to explore on your own.

Nodding, you don’t say anything before turning back to watch the men work. They talk and laugh with each other as they prune, pick, and water. You wish that you could trade places with them. 

“You don’t look okay,” she says. Rebecca props herself up on the window ledge to your right, facing you with a suspicious look on her face. “We haven’t seen you at any meals, and Valerie told me that you were crying in the bathtub three nights ago.”

You should feel ashamed, but you’re too numb to care. It feels like you’re floating through each day, detached from most things. You’ve spent your entire life thinking that you would marry for love and live happily ever after. Now, your parents have sold you to the highest bidder and your husband-to-be is a cruel, disgusting man-child that wants nothing to do with you.

Rebecca’s fingers lacing with yours jerk you back to reality and you look down at your joined hands in confusion. Her nails are bitten short and she wears a single ring with the Barnes family crest. It’s dainty and gold, a stark contrast to the many rings on her brother’s fingers.

“You’re safe here, Y/N,” she tells you, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to be alone. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you. If I had any say in it, you could be home right now with your parents, but I’m far from the top of the totem pole.”

“I hate them.” You spit the words out and jerk your hand away from hers. “I hate my parents.”

That’s the first time you’ve ever said that in your entire life and your heart skips a beat as the anger makes your lip curl. You’re baring your teeth at her but Rebecca doesn’t even flinch. She’s a mafia princess, through and through.

“They made me believe that I could have anything I wanted, that I could marry whoever I wanted whenever I was ready, and then they threw that all away and treated me like shit the first time it was convenient for them.”

She nods. “That’s true.”

“I was so foolish to have believed them,” you growl, but the fight in you is fading just as quickly as it came. You burn bright, but you burn quickly, too.

“No,” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “You’re just human.”

You look away, embarrassed by your display of emotion as your eyes begin to water with more tears. You were raised to be reserved. You knew very little about the inner workings of your parents’ business, but you’d learned as a young girl that you’d fare better if you always clung to the edges of the room, avoiding the dirt and grime and blood that surrounded your whole life. Over the years, you’ve grown very good at hiding yourself and your emotions from the people around you. From the spark in her eye, you have the feeling that Rebecca is the exact opposite. She could hold her own if it came down to it. You couldn’t.

“It’s okay to be upset,” she insists.

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath and look back out the window. You lift your chin slightly and when Rebecca tries to rope you into another conversation with her, you ignore her and focus on the men outside. They’re finished tending to the roses on the edges of the garden. Now they’re working their way inwards.

You’re finally left alone a few minutes later and as soon as she’s around the corner, you let out a heavy sigh and relax your posture. Slumping forward, you lean forward into the window ledge, curling up just a little as you continue to watch the gardeners. The silly song from Alice in Wonderland pops into your head and you hum along, eventually mumbling to yourself about painting the roses red.

You feel a little bit like Alice, you realize. You’re out of your element in a strange land where everything you’ve learned about life seems to be turned on its head. In this world, nobody marries for love and the girls are just as entrenched in the business as the men. Does Rebecca conduct business with her father and older brother? You could certainly picture it. Will the same be expected of you?

That afternoon, Marta knocks on your door with a written invitation from Winnifred. Your presence is being formally requested at their dinner table, though from the look the housekeeper is giving you, it’s more of a demand than a request. With her help, you pick out something to wear. By the time five o’clock rolls around, you’re crossing the enormous hallway in a dress and heels that you’ve never seen before. It’s far too showy for your taste, but it’s clearly something someone wanted you to wear. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have put it in your closet.

George Barnes and James stand when you enter the dining room, as do several other men you don’t recognize. Your father is standing near the head of the table with George, though your mother and Rebecca are nowhere in sight. Besides Winnifred, you don’t recognize any of the other women. The only empty seat is beside James and your immediate instinct is to flee, but then he’s stepping aside to pull out the chair and all eyes are on you.

Slowly, you close the distance between the two of you and sit. He helps you scoot in, then takes his own seat on your right. The other men sit as well and then dinner resumes. You sit in silence, staring at the top edge of your plate with your hands in your lap. You’re not really listening to the conversations around you, either, but you can feel someone’s eyes on you as you try to stay as quiet and motionless as possible.

“Are you sick or something?”

You startle and look up with wide eyes. James is watching you. He’s got one hand on the table with his fingers brushing the stem of his wineglass and the other resting on his thigh. Unlike your fateful breakfast weeks ago, James is dressed in a neat, all-black suit. He has no tie, and his rings are all gone except one. It’s identical to Rebecca’s family crest, except his is silver and has a thicker band.

His eyes are full of something you can’t place and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. As quickly as you turned to him, you turn away and look back at your plate. The napkin is folded in some elaborate way on top of the plate. You’re not sure if it’s supposed to resemble anything at all, but maybe if you stare at it long enough, it will look like something.

“Y/N?” he prompts. You nod once, tightly, and then pull the heavy cloth napkin into your lap when a server appears to present the first course.

Between the second and third course, you can feel James’ eyes on you. After the third, he gets roped into conversation with a man sitting across the table, but you know that he’s glancing at you all the while. After the fourth, he bumps his arm against yours. You shirk away and feel him tense beside you.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, and you push your chair away from the table. Immediately, the conversations stop and all the men stand again. It’s too much attention on you and you hurry out of the dining room as fast as your heels and dress will allow. You’re stumbling over yourself by the time you get back to your suite on the third floor. The door slams behind you and you collapse onto the floor beside the bed, too overwhelmed to even climb atop the oversized mattress. You’re on the verge of tears when there’s a soft knock from the door, and that rips a sob from your chest that you hadn’t expected.

Immediately, the door opens and James is standing in the open space, a dark look on his face. You sob again and scramble backwards until the edge of the bed frame is digging painfully into your spine.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You swallow hard and take several gasping breaths, trying to control yourself. Your mind is spinning with insults, calling you weak and pathetic, and you believe every one.

“It’s just too much,” you answer through your tears. “I don’t want this!”

James huffs. His angry expression has faded, now replaced with something more akin to irritation. “And you think I do?”

You shake your head. “Of course not.”

“These are the cards we’ve been dealt, doll. You’re gonna have to get over it. Let’s just get married and then we can live happily ever after in a big house where we never have to see each other. I’ll do what I want and you can do what you want. Sound like a plan?”

You look down at your hands. A big part of you wants to say that no, it doesn’t sound like a plan. You don’t want that life. You don’t want a house so big that you practically need a golf cart to get from one side to the other. You don’t want a husband who ignores you in favor of his blood money or his side chick or the next shiny toy off the black market. You don’t want James.

Though every part of you is screaming the opposite, you nod. He crosses the room and you inhale sharply to steady yourself as he approaches you with no care. His black dress shoes are tracking dirt across the rug. James holds out a hand to help you up and you take it. The heirloom ring on his right hand digs into yours until you’re standing, and then he drops your hand like it’s on fire.

“We need to go back,” he tells you, and you nod again. “Our parents are pissed.”

“Of course they are,” you mumble. 

James pauses, staring at you critically. You’ve been staring at the baseboards since he helped you up, but when he doesn’t move or speak, you glance upwards at him. He’s got one eyebrow raised. His expression is thoroughly unreadable otherwise and an unsettling feeling blooms in your stomach.

“What?” you ask. You step back a little, but there’s no place to go except up against the bed again.

He shakes his head at you. “Nothing. Come on, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” You scrunch your nose. “Anything but that.”

“Sugar?” he offers, and when you shake your head, he sighs. “Well, what do you want me to call you, since you’re suddenly the one calling the shots?”

His words cut deep and you look back down, hating the way shame immediately pools in your belly. How could he seem angry and irritated with you, then borderline kind, and then completely disinterested in your feelings the next? It’s disorienting, and you don’t need that on top of everything else.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

Grabbing your arm in a grip just bordering on painful, James pulls you out of your bedroom and back down the hall. He holds on as you stumble behind him in your heels. When you reach the ground floor hallway again, he drops his hand and offers you his arm. You’re hesitant to take it, but he sighs a little and you decide that it’s easier to give in than to put up a fight.

The two of you walk back into the dining room and the conversations immediately hush. James leads you to your waiting seats, pulls out the chair for you, and then helps you scoot towards the table again once you’re seated. As he takes his spot beside you, your father speaks up.

“Have you and James discussed when you’ll be getting married?” he asks.

You pick up your fork and stare at the strange food on your plate, ignoring him. Though your stomach is churning, you force yourself to take a bite. He can’t expect you to answer while you’re chewing—it would be bad manners.

“Next spring,” James answers. “In the rose garden.”

You want to spit on the roses. You swallow your food instead.

“Good choice,” Mr. Barnes agrees. He turns his attention back to your father. “Your daughter is quite the well-behaved woman. She’ll do well with our James.”

Beside you, James tenses again, his grip tightening slightly on his fork. You glance at him, holding your breath, and wait until he relaxes again to take another bite of your food. 

The rest of the dinner passes with mundane, meaningless conversations. Nobody addresses you for the remainder of the meal, not even your parents, and finally the men begin to make their way out of the dining room to an adjoining room. You hadn’t even realized there was a room connected; the door is hidden amongst the paneling and crown molding on the walls.

“You can’t go in there.” James grabs your wrist as you stand to follow the group of men into the new room. His voice isn’t malicious and his grip isn’t tight, but you flinch away from him anyway. It’s only then that you realize the few women that had been in the room are leaving through the door to the hall with their wineglasses in hand.

“Because I’m a woman?” you counter.

“Because you don’t want to hear the things that they’re going to discuss,” he answers. He tosses his napkin on the table and stands, towering over you. After a long second of eye contact, he steps away from you and heads towards the men.

You watch him go and silently weigh your options. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have even thought about following the men into the second room. You would have simply taken the same path as the other woman, though your wine would have continued to remain untouched. Now, however, with your wine in hand, you stood at a crossroads. You could go into the room and potentially face the wrath of your father, James, and George Barnes, or you could live forever curious as to what was actually being discussed. 

With your mind made up, you down your wine, step around James, and head through the open door into the room. It’s a study with dark wood paneling on the walls, leather couches, and stale cigar smoke in the air. As soon as you enter, the laughter and conversation stop and all eyes land on you.

“Y/N, you should be with Winnie and your mother,” Mr. Barnes says, stepping towards you. James is behind you now and though you’re hedged in, you simply lift your chin at the older man.

“Why? Am I not allowed to know what family I’m marrying into?”

His face darkens. “Girl, I’m warning you—”

“Don’t speak to my wife like that.” James’ voice from over your shoulder startles you and you quickly turn your head, looking back at him with shock. 

Why is he suddenly standing up for me?

“Hold your tongue, James,” his father snaps. “You aren’t married yet, and Y/N needs to learn her place. One would think her father would have taught her better, considering the problems his wife caused.”

Though you hate your parents for what they’ve done to you, your blood boils at the insult. Your anger rears its ugly head even more when you realize that your father doesn’t look intent on standing up for you or your mom, either.

“That’s enough!”

You swear the room rattles around you when James shouts and you grit your teeth, furious at Mr. Barnes. How dare he insult your father? How dare he talk to you and his son that way?

James grabbing your hand shocks you back into reality. Once again, his grip is almost painfully tight, but you force your face to reveal nothing.

“Y/N and I are going out. If I so much as hear that you’ve said a single thing about her in my absence, you will regret ever giving me any kind of power in this business,” he growls. “The next time you see her, I expect that you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.” 

The men stare at you and James in disbelief, and then you find yourself being practically dragged out of the room. You’re too stunned to fight back, so you let him pull you across the ground floor of the estate to a door only two down from the dark room where you’d hit the morning your parents had left you behind.

“We’ll have to take the car, unless you’re okay riding the bike in that dress,” James says, pushing open the door. He doesn’t look back at you as he speaks, and it takes you a second to realize he wants a response.

“Car,” you answer after a few seconds. “Please.”

The room James has led you to is a massive garage, stretching farther than you ever realized a similar room could. Three of the walls are made of light gray cement, as are the floor and ceiling, and the fourth wall is made up of windowed garage doors, each one big enough for several cars to drive through simultaneously. Running down the center of the rectangular garage, there is a row of seven parked cars, with enough space to fit at least another car between each one, and beyond that, you can see a row of several motorcycles parked in a similar manner. The cars are in varying shades of gray and black, with the exception of one red sports car at the far end of the group. You can’t see the bikes well enough from the door, but you catch glimpses of blue, silver, gray, and black.

Four enormous, black and silver tool chests are lined up against the wall facing the hoods of the cars, but there isn’t a spot of oil or dirt in sight. You don’t even see any loose tools or equipment. Looking around, you wonder if the tool chests are just there for decoration, or if someone on the estate actually works on the cars and motorcycles.

Maybe James works on them?

“Are all of these yours?” you ask, unable to help yourself. He seems like the kind of guy who would enjoy driving around for fun, and he’s just mentioned something about a bike. You stare at the side of James’ face as he plucks a set of keys off a black pegboard on the wall. There’s a button embedded in the wall beside the board. James pushes it with one thumb and the keys in his hand bump against the wall.

One of the garage doors near the last few cars starts to roll upwards onto the ceiling, revealing the outside of the estate. The sun has completely disappeared from the sky, and the moonlight is blocked by the clouds you’d seen rolling in earlier in the afternoon. The leaves of the large shade trees that surround the estate and form a protective shield from the outside world rustle in the wind. Crickets and cicadas chirp, reminding you of the cool spring nights you’d spent on your family estate as a little girl. You’d run around in the grass near the garden while your mom or your nanny watched you. Sometimes your father’s men would watch from the perimeter of the property, and when you’d wave, they’d wave back, asking what you’d done that day. You always answered them, even if you knew it would get you in trouble. They never stopped asking either, even if it got them in trouble, too.

You stop walking and close your eyes, then breathe in deeply as the night air rushes into the garage. It’s the first time you’ve been even close to the outdoors since arriving at the Barnes Estate. Your skin is still warm from the stifling dining room and the anger you’d felt in the men’s study. The breeze is a blessed relief, even if you do shiver after only a moment. Goosebumps form on your exposed skin—the dress Marta had picked out for you did little to keep you safe from the elements. 

James keeps walking down the aisle formed by the wall and the front of the cars, though you hear his footsteps pause a few moments after you stop following him. 

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You’re a little surprised that he’s not demanding that you catch up. When you open your eyes, you immediately meet his gaze, and a weird feeling bubbles up in your stomach. The expression on his face betrays little, but his stare reminds you of the way your father’s men looked at you all those years ago—interested and almost fond, but ready to push you away at a moment’s notice. You nod and hurry to catch up with him.

Once you get closer, James presses a button on the key fob in his hand. One of the cars in front of the open garage door rumbles to life. The sound it makes is a low purr, almost seductive, and you raise an eyebrow as James approaches, then runs his fingers over the hood. Even if the others aren’t, this car has to be his. It’s a sleek black, with dark tinted windows and a gleaming silver grill in the front. The BMW logo shines proudly in the center. It looks like a car your own father would own. Though you know he’s never owned a BMW, if this car is anything like the ones in your father’s fleet, you know that the inside will be as much a picture of luxury as the outside.

You slide into the passenger seat when James opens the door for you, and in the time it takes him to cross around the front of the car to the driver’s side, you take inventory of the interior. It’s a manual transmission—something your father once said was obsolete, except for car collectors and enthusiasts—which means that you wouldn’t be able to drive it, even if you tried. The car is pristine, so much so that you’re afraid to move. Two water bottles are in the cupholders, and it still smells brand new inside. There isn’t a speck of dirt or dust on the dashboard, nor on the floor mats. The leather seat is soft and there’s a control for seat warming and cooling on the control panel.

James climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door. He buckles up and you follow his lead, and then you sit back as he reverses the car out of the garage and onto a winding driveway that leads you around the front of the estate, then along the other side to a large gate with a guard house. You’d forgotten about the extensive security since the last time you’d been outside the Barnes Estate. Your father had handed over your driver’s license, along with his and your mother’s, before breakfast all those weeks ago, and there’d been a strange code word of some kind. It dawns on you as the guard opens the gate for you and James that you’d never gotten your license back.

“Where are we going?” you ask as James pulls onto the main road. It leads away from the estate and into the city. 

“To get some real food,” he replies. His tone is gruff, and it feels like he’s on the verge of an angry outburst, so you slump back in your seat as he shifts gears and the car accelerates. The tension in the car is thick. You don’t want to be the one to deal with it, especially since he’s the one creating it.

After several minutes of watching the enormous mansions and the forests surrounding them pass by, you look over at James again. His expression, just like in the garage, reveals nothing, but you can tell that he’s more put-together than the last time you’d interacted, and it’s not just the tailored suit. His hair has been trimmed and styled, and he has an even dusting of stubble that frames his jawline nicely.

In the time since you’d learned you were engaged, James hasn’t said anything to you. You’ve heard him talking in the hallways as you wandered, but you haven’t wanted to be near him. This is the closest you’ve ever been. Your brief conversations so far tonight make up the majority of the words you’ve spoken to each other. His words from the bedroom echo in your head, until finally, you can’t help but blurt out your thoughts.

“Do you really not want to marry me?” you ask. Your voice sounds small and pathetic, and you hate it, but it’s too late now. 

He glances over at you with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift. “What do you mean?”

You sit up a little in the seat, though you keep your hands in your lap and you try not to move your feet, just in case there’s dirt on your shoes.

“I mean,” you say, watching him carefully for his reaction, “that when you came to get me upstairs, you said you didn’t want to marry me. Is that really true?”

“I never said that.” He shifts gears again as you near a stoplight, and the car slows. 

“Yes, you did.”

“No,” he shifts again, his teeth now clenched, “I didn’t. I asked if it looked like I wanted to marry you, and you said it didn’t. But I never said I didn’t want to.”

Now you’re confused, and you frown at him, ignoring the obvious irritation in his voice. The car rolls to a stop behind a Ferrari blasting music out the open windows. 

“So you do want to marry me?” you ask. 

He sighs and drops his hand from the gear shift, then looks over at you. “Y/N, I’m not going to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, so if this is you testing to see how I’ll treat you, then you have nothing to worry about. I’m not a monster.”

“It’s not. I just…” You stop, unsure of how to phrase what you’re feeling. It’s strange to be upset over a marriage you don’t even want, but for some reason, you are. 

“What?”

“If you don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry you, then why are we going along with this?” you finally ask, settling for the bigger question than the one that’s truly nagging at you.

“Because we know that if we don’t, life will be hell,” he answers.

It’s the truth. You know it is, and you know it deep down. If the two of you refuse this marriage, your life will be worse than you could possibly imagine, and you’re fairly certain that your fathers will find a way to make it happen anyhow. They’re well-connected in every sphere of life, not just when it comes to drugs and weapons. Your father probably has a priest on his payroll.

The light turns green and James moves the car forward again, merging into the right lane almost immediately. He slows as you approach a valet stand outside an upscale bar you’ve never heard of. It’s not one of your father’s, which means it probably belongs to George Barnes.

Then again, you think as a uniformed man opens your door, maybe it belongs to James.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Barnes,” a valet on the other side of the car greets.

James hands him the keys. “You too, Tommy. Listen, don’t park it too far off. We’re not staying too long.”

The man nods and climbs into the driver’s seat as your own valet leads you away from the curb. James meets you next to the valet stand and offers you his arm, then heads towards the doors.

“What is this place?” you ask as he holds open the door for you.

“My friend’s bar,” James says.

Your stomach twists itself in knots as heavy club music starts to get louder. The bass rumbles in your chest and you dig your nails into his arm as you near a set of glossy black double doors. You haven’t been to a club in a long time. The last time you’d gone, you’d been dragged by a childhood acquaintance, but you’d spent most of the night alone after she’d ditched you for someone she met on the dance floor. You’re not particularly eager to relive that experience tonight, especially with the man you’re being forced to marry. Who’s to say he won’t ditch you for someone else right in front of you, just to rub it in your face? After all, he’d said it himself in the bedroom—you’ll do what you want and he’ll do what he wants. It’s the cards you’ve been dealt.

If these are the cards, then I’ve got a sucky hand.

“James—”

“Bucky.”

You stop and squint at him in the low light of the entrance hallway. The two bouncers in all-black suits stop with their hands on the door handles, ready to open them for you once you start walking again. The music pounds in your ears, so much so that you can feel your eardrums vibrating.

“What?” you ask, not sure you’d heard him correctly.

“Bucky,” repeats James, a little louder this time. “You should call me Bucky, if we’re going to be married.”

“Is that… a nickname?” 

Even in the darkness, you can see him laugh, and a bashful, boyish smile spreads across his face. “My middle name is Buchanan. Steve used to tease me about it when we were kids, and he started calling me Bucky as a joke. It caught on.” He shrugs it off, but there’s a fondness in his voice when he speaks of his childhood friend, and it makes you smile just a little.

You loosen your grip on his arm. “Okay then. Bucky,” you add.

When Bucky steps forward again, the doors are pulled open, revealing a much more casual bar than you could’ve anticipated. Though it’s clean, it looks a little run down, and the heavy music fades into jazz piano as you step through the open doorway and into the large, open space. With almost cathedral-height ceilings, walnut floors and support pillars, and well-worn wooden booths and tables, the bar feels more homier than you’d expected. It’s clearly been well-hidden from the busy crowds of New York. Only a few patrons are scattered around the room, sitting in the booths or at two-top tables, but Bucky leads you to the wood, u-shaped bar that juts out into the room from the back wall. A single man stands behind it, drying glasses with a white bar towel. He smiles when he looks up and sees you approaching.

“Bucky,” he greets, and he reaches over the bar to pull Bucky in for a hug. It’s the first time you see Bucky smile—a real, full, genuine smile—and you watch in silence as he hugs his friend.

“Steve,” Bucky replies. Instantly, your brain starts connecting the dots. This is his childhood friend, the one who gave him his nickname.

“Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil.” Steve turns his attention to you, and you quickly look away from Bucky and at him. Your brain whirs as you try to place the language he’s just spoken. It’s not one you’ve heard before, which means none of your father’s men speak it, and neither do any of the Barneses.

“You must be Y/N.”

You nod and offer Steve a small, polite smile. You’re not sure how to act around Bucky’s friends. If they’re also part of the mob, it’s possible they’ll treat you even worse than George Barnes had after dinner, but a new, surprising voice in your head argues that Bucky would never be friends with someone like that.

“It’s okay,” reassures Bucky. He reaches out and touches your arm, gentler than he has all evening. “Steve’s a nice guy, and he knows about our family businesses. You can trust him.”

Steve looks between the two of you before picking up a glass and setting it right-side-up in front of you. “What’ll it be, Y/N?”

You glance at him, then at the wall of liquor behind him. After a moment, you list off a drink that’s not your favorite, but that you know you’ll be able to stomach no matter the circumstances. Steve nods in response before starting to make it.

Silently, Bucky takes one of the chairs at the bar, and you do the same. He sits with his arms folded on the counter. He’s still wearing his suit from dinner. You feel a little out of place in your fancy clothes, and you wonder if he feels the same.

Your drink is placed in front of you a moment later, and after Steve’s silent prompting, you take a sip. It’s delicious, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“Aha, I’ve still got it!” Steve cheers, and you laugh. He grins at you, a charming type of smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You feel a little sheepish at the intensity of his joy, and you fidget in your seat, then with your hair.

Beside you, Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses a round paper coaster at his friend. “Knock it off, Rogers,” he huffs. “Stop flirting with my girl. You’ve already got one of your own.”

You glance over when he calls you that, but you don’t say anything. There’s another weird feeling in your gut now. This one, unlike the one you’d had in the car or the fluttering feeling Steve had given you, you recognize immediately—pride. It feels good to have Bucky call you “his girl”, even if you barely know him. It’s strange, and the thought makes you squirm in your seat again. You drop your hand down to the bartop and take another sip of your drink, trying to quell the strange feelings inside of you. 

What is going on with me? Why can’t I just feel normal about all of this? Is there even a normal way to feel about this?

“You hungry?” asks Bucky, and you nod when you realize he’s talking to you again.

“I make a mean twice-baked potato,” Steve says. He plants his hands on the bar to look between the two of you. “Whaddaya say, Y/N? You up for it?”

“Only if you put the jalapeños on the side this time, punk,” Bucky tells him before you can reply. He seems to remember himself a second later, however, because he looks over at you. “Unless, of course, you want them on top.”

You shrug, not wanting to upset anyone, and Steve groans.

“Come on, Y/N,” he says, and he smiles wide as he gestures around the almost-empty bar. “I’ve got all the time in the world to make your food exactly the way you want it. Don’t make me guess.”

“He’s bad at guessing,” Bucky chimes in.

“Terrible,” Steve adds, nodding earnestly.

Tentatively, you list off what you want, and Steve makes a note of everything on a notepad that seems to appear out of nowhere. Once he’s got your order down, he disappears through a door in the back wall. Before it closes, you catch a glimpse of a shining kitchen filled with stainless steel, and you wonder how many patrons come through the bar if Steve has what looks to be a full-sized kitchen in the back.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured I’d bring you someplace that actually has good food,” Bucky says. He reaches across the bar to grab a bottle of beer Steve has left out, and he uses one hand to pry the top off. 

You gape at him, too distracted by the blatant show of strength to properly process the very thoughtful thing he’s just said to you. “What?”

“I said that you didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured—”

“You just pulled the top off like it was nothing. How did you do that?” You look around on Steve’s side of the bar for another bottle, hoping to try your luck. Maybe it’s some new kind of bottle that he’s trying out before it hits the market, or maybe Steve has bootleg beer with a different kind of cap.

Bucky is staring at you, seemingly just as confused as you. “With my arm.”

“With your arm?” you repeat. You’re certain that he’d used his hand to pry it off.

He stares at you for a second longer before the confusion disappears and is replaced with a glint of mischief in his eyes. It makes the shadows on his face melt away a little, and his blue irises seem bright and youthful again, entirely unlike a man who’s seen too much.

“My arm,” he reiterates, and then he pulls off the black glove you’d assumed to be part of his personal style. It’s not just for show, however, because he pulls it off to reveal a black metal hand with dull gold knuckles. Bucky continues, standing and shrugging off his jacket, then rolling up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. As he reveals more and more, you realize that the black metal continues, making up what would be his left arm.

No wonder it hurt when he grabbed me.

“It’s metal,” you dumbly say, and he snorts.

“Observant.”

You shake your head and look from his arm to meet his eyes. “You have a metal arm. How didn’t I know that?”

Bucky shrugs and drapes his jacket over the back of the chair. He leaves the glove on the bar where he’d first set it down. Once he’s seated again, he rolls up his other sleeve to match.

“Beats me. I figured everyone knew. My dad wasn’t subtle when he was bragging about the arm he had made for me when it first happened,” replies Bucky. He takes a sip of his beer, then sighs and sets it back down.

You don’t want to pity him, so you try your best to school your expression by taking a sip of your own drink.

“Was it an accident?” you ask after a minute has passed. He doesn’t reply right away, and you scramble to save the conversation. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen,” he says, and his voice is quieter than before.

You look back down at the drink in front of you. Twisting the glass around and around, you ask, “And it was an accident?”

Bucky takes another swig of his beer. “I was with my dad, working a job. I didn’t even realize I’d been injured until I woke up in the hospital, two weeks later, missing an arm. Apparently, falling shipping containers are heavy.”

You can’t help but curse. What he’s describing sounds horrible, but Bucky only laughs.

“That sounds about right, yeah. I’m lucky I had Steve around to keep me sane,” he tells you. “My friend Sam was a big help too, but he moved down to Louisiana a few years ago.”

“Steve seems like a good friend,” you agree. “They both do.”

You can feel Bucky staring at you now, and you take a sip of your drink while you wait for him to look away again. When he doesn’t, you glance in his direction.

“What?” you ask.

“What?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are!” you laugh, and you look at him fully this time. Bucky’s grinning, and you ball up a cocktail napkin and toss it at him.

“Okay, I was staring,” he admits, still smiling. “But I can’t help it. You’re pretty, and you’re nice, and you seem smart.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment, and you look away. “You don’t have to say that. We’re already engaged.”

“I’m not saying it because we’re engaged. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

You don’t have a chance to reply before Steve comes out with two hot plates. He places them in front of you, joking briefly about giving you the wrong order, and it’s distraction enough that you sit up tall and smile wide. You push Bucky’s compliment out of your head as you chow down, groaning and moaning about the potatoes. They’re exactly what you need after the stressful dinner. Bucky was right—you hadn’t eaten much, and Steve’s cooking is delicious.

Once you’re full, you push your plate away and lean back in your chair. Steve grins at you before he goes back to counting the cash drawer. The other patrons have left already, leaving you, Steve, and Bucky alone in the bar.

“That was amazing,” you tell him for the hundredth time, and Steve chuckles.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell mo bhean chéile—my wife—you said that, considering she still believes potatoes aren’t a meal.”

You notice the wedding band on his left hand as soon as he says it. Above it, also in silver, is a familiar ring. If you weren’t able to see the family crest, you would’ve thought it was the same as Bucky’s, but this ring has an eagle and a star engraved on it, rather than the wolf you’ve seen on Rebecca and Bucky’s rings.

“Potatoes are a meal!” you argue. You can tell that Steve has clocked you looking at his rings because he shifts his hand, instinctively blocking your view as he looks for your own ring. You’d taken your parent’s ring off the day you’d cried in the bathtub and you haven’t worn it since, but no one in Bucky’s family has replaced it with their own. It’s the first time since middle school that you haven’t worn a family ring, and you’d be lying if you said it was a weight off your shoulders. You’d thought it might be, but instead it just makes you feel naked.

Steve laughs and his posture relaxes. He stops hiding his rings from you when he realizes your hands are bare. “Well, whenever you meet her, you can have that argument with her, because I’ve already had it at least a dozen times.” He closes the drawer and fixes his eyes on Bucky, who’s just finishing his food. “Speaking of, when are you two coming over? I promised Peg I’d wait until Y/N had settled in to ask, and you seem settled enough to me.” He glances at you for the last part, and you look down at your empty plate.

“It’s not up to me,” answers Bucky. “We’ll come over whenever Y/N is ready. This is the first time we’ve been together since my dad dropped the bomb on us.”

Steve pauses, his hands on the tablet he’d set down before starting to count the night’s profits. “Wait. Really?”

You nod when he looks at you, suddenly self-conscious again, and you pull your hands into your lap. “I haven’t been the best house guest…”

“You’re not a guest, Y/N. It’s your home now, too,” Bucky interjects.

Reaching over the counter, Steve smacks the side of Bucky’s head. His accent is thick when he huffs, “Íosa Críost, you thick! You didn’t think to go talk to her? To see if she wanted to watch a movie? To see if she needed anything?”

Bucky stammers over in his seat, and you keep your head ducked to hide your smile. Clearly, Steve knows more about being married than Bucky does—most likely from experience, since he’s already mentioned his wife—and he isn’t afraid to tell his friend off for not looking out for your well-being.

“I’m sorry!” exclaims Bucky, ducking another hit. “I wasn’t thinking!”

“Like ifreann you weren’t!” Steve retreats and picks up the tablet with a huff, then looks at you. “Y/N, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him. He’s actually a nice guy when he’s not being stupid.”

“Stupid?” Bucky protests beside you.

“I wouldn’t have talked to him even if he’d tried,” you admit, finally looking up, “but it wouldn’t have hurt if he had.”

Steve nods, satisfied with your response. He leaves you a minute later when his phone rings. The wide smile on his face is enough to tell you who’s on the other end, but then he says her name as he walks away, the phone already held to his ear.

“So what’s with this place?” you ask. The quick change in subject is purposeful, and you hope that Bucky will take the bait.

Thankfully, he does. Bucky glances around before finishing off the last of his drink and setting the empty bottle closer to Steve’s side of the bar.

“Well, Steve wanted a place that we—and other people like us—could spend time without feeling like there was always a fight about to happen. We didn’t have that growing up, you know? And now that he’s in charge, he can do what he wants with his money. Everything’s filed properly, he doesn’t advertise, and all employees are paid above the table. If other people show up, then sure, they’re welcomed in, but they’re also fully vetted once Steve gets their IDs. Weapons aren’t allowed, and there’s no shop talk of any kind.”

“So it’s your little hideaway,” you say, propping your head up with one hand. The heaviness of the potatoes combined with the alcohol is starting to make you sleepy, and the emotional exhaustion from the night has started to weigh heavy on you, too.

He smiles a little. “Something like that.”

Bucky stands and rolls his sleeves back down, then pulls on his glove. He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and sets it on the bar.

“Come on, doll. We should head home,” he says.

The warm feeling you’d felt when Bucky had called you his girl comes back, and you smile a little when he holds open his suit jacket for you. A little sheepish at the gesture, you slide off your seat and let him help you into the sleeves, then take Bucky’s hand when he offers it.

“Bye Steve!” you call, waving with your free hand.

Steve looks up from the other end of the bar, where he’s wiping down a counter with one hand and holding his phone with the other. He lets go of the rag to wave back.

Silently, Bucky leads you out to the front, where the valet already has his car pulled up. You’re not sure how they knew to have it ready, but you don’t dwell on it. Stranger things have happened in your world. Bucky tips the valets with another wad of cash before opening the passenger door and helping you in.

You fall asleep on the drive home. You don’t mean to, but Bucky turns on the radio a few minutes into the drive, and he lets the first station that comes on continue to play. The music is soft, and he drives so smoothly that it lulls you to sleep before you’re even fully out of the city.

When you wake, it’s because Bucky’s stubbed his toe on something, jostling you in his arms. He’s muttering curses under his breath and hobbling down the hallway, and though the jerking motion and his tightening grip isn’t the most comfortable for you at the moment, you keep your eyes closed and force yourself to keep your smile at bay. Bucky is a much sweeter guy than you’d first thought him to be, and it seems like he’s trying now to make up for lost time. You’d misjudged him at first; just like you, he has his own ways of dealing with the life forced on him by his parents, but he really is a gentleman underneath it all.

He carries you to your bedroom and carefully lays you on top of the covers. Then, as gently as possible, you feel him lift your foot and pry off the uncomfortable shoes Marta had picked out for you. Bucky stays totally silent as he takes the shoes off and sets them on the floor at the end of the bed. He pulls a thin blanket over you, one that you’re sure is just for decoration when the bed is made, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. You have to force yourself not to smile when he whispers,

“Goodnight, sleep tight.”

The door clicks shut as he closes it slowly, and you peek open an eye after a few seconds have passed. Your room is dark and empty. Silently, you smile to yourself and crawl under the covers, your eyes heavy. It’s been a long, exhausting evening, and you’re happy to be in bed. You fall asleep to the sound of spring rain on the estate windows and with Bucky’s jacket still wrapped around you.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky slowly enters your life in both big and small ways. He smiles at you over meals in the dining room and late night snacks in the kitchen. He drives you to the city to visit Steve, Peggy, and his other friends, and when he finds out that his father still has your license, Bucky argues with him for over an hour to get it back. Marta delivers your license to your room the very next day, along with a handwritten note that the dark blue Mercedes in the garage is there for your use. Sometimes, you wake up to a bouquet of flowers with another handwritten note. Sometimes it’s a text, and sometimes it’s a gift. Bucky develops a habit of purchasing anything you mention enjoying or even vaguely liking, and you eventually have to tell him to stop because he’s bought you so much that there’s nothing left to buy for yourself.

Bucky turns out to be a closer friend than anyone you’ve ever known. He’s kind, and funny, and intelligent, and he remembers all the little things about you that nobody else does. When you’re sick or feeling lonely, he’s attentive and his presence alone reminds you of all the good things in the world. He makes your days brighter, even the worst ones. You find yourself falling in love with him, much to your surprise. You admit this to him one day. He kisses you then, and he tells you that he’s been in love with you since the first trip you’d taken to Steve’s bar. 

Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas roll around. New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, and Easter come and go. The Barnes’ grand celebrations for every holiday blur together as the months fly by, until eventually, it’s June and you’re standing in your room, staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror.

The wedding dress you’d picked out a few days after Christmas is just as beautiful as you remember it being. It fits you perfectly, thanks to the impeccable work of several tailors employed by Winnifred, and your hair and makeup are flawless as well. There’s no possible way you could’ve imagined how beautiful you look and feel on your wedding day. 

Through the open window, you can hear a string quartet playing outside in the rose garden, where the ceremony is set up. Steve has already come by once to check on you at Bucky’s request, but both men are back downstairs. Bucky’s no doubt at the front of the garden with the priest—the one that you now know for certain is on your father’s payroll—and Steve is waiting with the rest of the wedding party. The only people remaining in your room are Marta, your mother, and Peggy. 

You’ve grown to love Peggy more than any of your childhood friends. She didn’t grow up in the same world as you. She didn’t even grow up in the same country, and you love her all the more for it. She’s rational, cool-headed, and kind, though she’s not afraid to stand up for what’s right. On top of all that, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. It’s easy to see why Steve fell for her during his time in the military.

The quartet finishes the song and moves onto a new one, one that you recognize after only two notes. Your stomach drops and you close your eyes, gripping your bouquet tightly. It’s the song you’d been listening to the morning you’d found out about your engagement. You’d discovered it the night before, and you’d had it on repeat before going to sleep that night, then again that morning as you’d gotten ready. You’d even listened to it in the car on the drive from your parents’ estate.

Who added this to the playlist? Is this some kind of sick joke to them?

The same feeling of dread you’d felt that morning comes back, making your mouth dry and your head spin. You try to take a slow, deep breath to calm your nerves and block out the song, but it doesn’t work.

“Y/N?” Peggy asks.

You inhale sharply at the sound of her voice so close to you. She’d been texting Steve from near the window only moments before. You hadn’t thought that anyone would realize your distress, and you’d hoped to be able to collect yourself before it was noticeable. You hadn’t even sensed her coming closer.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell her, but your voice wavers and your lower lip quivers. You try to take another slow breath.

“What’s going on?” Marta asks. Her hand lands on your arm and you pull away, closing in yourself and pulling the bouquet tight against you.

Your mother’s scolding makes you feel like you’re a little kid again. “Careful, Y/N! You don’t want to ruin those flowers. We don’t have time to make another bouquet for you. George is already hounding your father about how soon after the ceremony you’ll be signing the certificate.”

Anger wells up in you at her thoughtless comment, and you open your eyes. She’s standing behind you in the main part of the bedroom, near the foot of your bed. Any guilt you might’ve felt over ruining the flowers is gone now, and you turn and chuck the bouquet at the carpet by her feet. It bounces once, then lays motionless in a heap of smashed petals and ribbons.

“Enough, Mother!” you shout.

Marta rushes to close the window so the guests in the garden won’t hear your outburst.

Your mother gapes at you, somewhat surprised, but she doesn’t budge. “Y/N, dear. What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” you yell, stepping closer. Your dress swishes as you walk, and you normally enjoy the sound, but you’re too furious to care how pleasing it is. “What are you doing? I am your only daughter! You should be treating me like a princess and worrying about how I’m feeling and what I need, but instead you’re too busy thinking about the damn flowers! I’m sick of you thinking of me like I’m an object you can sell, steal, and trade away whenever it’s most convenient! You and Dad are so obsessed with the timeline you’ve created for yourselves that you don’t even notice how much this has affected me! You didn’t even ask if this is what I wanted!”

She scoffs at you, and any trace of motherly care and concern has disappeared from her expression. Your mother is showing her true face—the mafia wife that has almost as much blood on her own hands as her husband does, if not more.

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” she asks. She picks up her clutch from the end of your bed and steps closer until you're standing eye to eye. Her voice is patronizing and infuriating, and she continues, “It’s your wedding day, dearest, and you can’t back out now. We’ve made sure of it. Even James has agreed to the contract.” 

Your anger wavers. “Contract?”

“Yes, the contract,” she repeats, smirking. Her cards are all on the table now, and she’s got a winning hand. You both know it.

There’s a malicious glint in her eye as she says, “It’s already in effect. It has been since we agreed on the marriage.”

“What contract? What are you talking about?” There’s a sinking feeling in your chest, like your heart has decided to drop into your stomach, then down to your feet and through the floor. Bucky hadn’t said anything to you about a contract, and you trusted him, but you certainly didn’t trust your parents anymore, nor did you trust George and Winnifred Barnes.

Your mother smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile that makes you want to puke. “That’s a conversation for another time. After all, it doesn’t even matter to you until James gets you pregnant.”

The alarm on your phone rings and you close your eyes, your hands trembling. You’d set that alarm to remind you when it was time to leave for the ceremony. Right on cue, the wedding planner knocks on the door to your bedroom.

“Y/N?” she calls, knocking again. “Are you ready?”

Slowly, you squat down and pick up the bouquet. It’s smashed on one side and the petals have fallen off of various flowers, but it’s mostly intact. It shakes as your hands tremble and tears well up in your eyes.

Marta appears in front of you, having pushed your mother out of the way, and over the ringing in your ears, you hear Peggy talking to the wedding planner. Somehow, you make it out to the ground floor of the estate, to the double doors that lead out to the rose garden. You’re dazed by your mother’s strange revelation. The sound of the alarm is still ringing in your ears. Peggy says something to you, but you can only stare straight ahead. 

Your father is next to you then, as Peggy disappears through the doors and joins the rest of the wedding party. You see her glancing back at you, and whispering to the rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Most of them are Bucky’s friends who have now become your own, and all of them look worried. 

“Let’s go, princess,” your father says, and he pulls you forward by the arm.

Numbly, you follow his lead. Not even Bucky’s initially delighted expression shakes you out of your trance, but the way he rubs his thumb over your hands at the end of the aisle pulls you out of it just enough for you to lift your head and look around. You don’t remember walking to him, nor do you remember handing off your bouquet to Peggy, just like you’d practiced last night at the rehearsal.

“Y/N? Darling?” Bucky asks. He crouches and tilts his head slightly to try to catch your eyes. “You okay?”

“I—” Your mouth is still dry and you swallow, your eyes flitting from one place in the garden to another with no rhyme or reason. The world feels like it’s spinning and you clutch Bucky’s hands, unsure of what to do.

“Someone get her a chair,” Bucky orders, raising his voice enough that you flinch. He immediately starts murmuring reassurances to you, and he pulls you into his arms until he can lower you into a seat.

Someone fans you and a cool glass is pressed to your lips. You drink obediently, closing your eyes as the water helps the sandy feeling in your mouth abate just a little. When the water is gone, the glass is pulled away. 

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Bucky asks. 

Slowly, carefully, you nod your head. He sighs in relief and when you open your eyes, he’s kneeling down in front of you. His shoulders are tense and his forehead is creased with worry. You’ve never seen him this stressed over anything and it makes you want to cry.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, heat flaming in your cheeks. You feel horrible. Bucky has been looking forward to the ceremony—he’d told you last night at the rehearsal dinner.

“It’s okay,” he quickly replies. He reaches forward and takes your hands, and you glance away from him to peek at the guests, your parents included, who are still watching you from their seats.

“Are you ready for this, or do you need a break?” 

You look back at Bucky. “A break?”

“She’s fine,” your mother says, and you look over at her from your seat. She’s standing in the front row, her eyes fixated on the priest behind you. “They’re fine, Father. Y/N’s been a bit nervous all morning. Wedding day jitters, you know.”

“I—” You frown at her, still clutching Bucky’s hands. “That’s not what it is.” You look down at him and shake your head. “I’m not nervous to marry you.”

“I’m not nervous either,” he says with a small smile. 

“Then shall we continue?” the priest asks.

You turn to shake your head at him. “No. I’m sorry, Father. I need to talk to Bucky—James—in private for just a minute. Is that alright?”

He smiles gently and nods. “Of course.”

There are more agitated murmurs from the crowd, but you ignore them as Peggy, Steve, and Bucky help you up and back down the aisle. When your mother moves to follow you, she’s blocked by Sam and Clint, another one of Bucky’s friends. She calls after you once, but you ignore her as Peggy helps you onto a bench inside, then leaves, closing the double doors behind herself. She’s handed back your bouquet, and you clutch it with both hands like it’s an anchor in the storm.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asks. He stands near the door, and you can tell from the way he rolls his shoulders that he’s stressed. His prosthetic always bothers him more when he’s agitated, and you suddenly feel even worse about stopping the ceremony.

“Yes,” you say, but then you shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. Obviously, it’s not, or I wouldn’t have stopped everything. I’m sorry, Bucky, but I have to ask you something.”

“Okay…” There’s a wariness in his eyes, one that you loathe yourself for. You put it there, and you wish with all your might that your mother hadn’t told you what she did. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to do this.

“Did you sign a contract? With our parents?”

He frowns and his whole body grows very still. “A contract?”

You nod. “Yes.” With your hands still fisted tightly around the bouquet, you inhale deeply and add, “A contract about getting me pregnant.”

“What?” Bucky’s furious response is immediate. He shakes his head, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you might be making this up. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“Did you sign a contract agreeing to marry me, and agreeing that my parents get something after you get me pregnant?” The words make you sick to your stomach. You haven’t eaten anything all day, which doesn’t help, but the thought of Bucky agreeing to something so vile… It’s enough to make anyone nauseous.

He’s shaking his head at you again. “Why the hell would I sign anything like that? Do you really think I would do that?”

You shrug a little and look down at the bouquet. “My mother…”

“Darling…” Bucky sighs and comes closer, and he kneels down in front of you again, just like he had outside. All the fight and anger has left his voice. “I would never do anything like that. Not in a million years, and especially not to you. I love you.”

“She said you signed it before they’d even told me we were engaged,” you said, quiet now that he’s so close. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, to see what his face might be telling you that his words aren’t.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, you lift your eyes from the flowers in your lap to meet Bucky’s eyes. They’re just as blue as the ribbons wrapped around the flower stems, a choice you’d specifically made without the wedding planner’s guidance. You’d wanted him to be your “something blue”, even if it felt a little cheesy.

“Do you want to marry me?” Bucky asks.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “Yes.”

“Do you believe me when I say I had nothing to do with that contract? That I didn’t know it existed?” he questions.

You nod again, tears forming in your eyes.

“And do you trust me to help you find a way to get rid of it, once all of this is over? Do you trust me to protect you?”

You nod for the third time, and Bucky takes both of your hands in his.

“Okay. Then let’s get married, and I swear to you that as soon as our honeymoon is over, the guys and I will start doing some digging.”

“What about me?” you ask, sniffling. You pull one of your hands away to dab at your eyes before the makeup can get too damaged by your tears.

“What about you?”

“Can I dig, too?”

Bucky chuckles and kisses your knuckles on the hand that he’s holding, and then he pulls himself up off the floor to sit beside you on the bench. He pulls you into a half-hug and you cling to him, sniffling and smiling as he rubs the your back and answers,

“You can do all the digging you want, doll. I’ll even hand you the shovel.”

Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil. = It’s good to see you.

Mo bhean chéile = My wife

Íosa Críost = Jesus Christ

Thick = A stupid person

Ifreann = Hell

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

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Forever: @aya-fay

Bucky Barnes: @lipstickandvibranium @valhalla-kristin @buckymcbuckbarnes

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[carriesthewind]

The IA's "Open Library" is Not a Library, Yesterday's Lower Court Decision does Not "Hurt Authors," and the Planned Appeal Is (Almost Certainly) NOT a Good Way to Try to Change Bad Law (In Fact, It's More Likely to Make Bad Law Worse)

Ok, so a day later, I'm still mad about this. If anything, I'm even madder. I'm going to write this as a response to the Internet Archive's "The Fight Continues" blogpost, but before we begin, let's get some facts straight:

Copyright law in the United States, especially the law around digital lending, currently sucks. It's really really bad, and anyone with a stake in the game - except the big publishers and e-book services that profit from it - hate it.

That said, copyright law exists as a thing. As I said in a previous post, you *can* try to change it through court cases, but there are certain things you cannot change. And there are certain things you can try to change, but it will be an uphill battle to change them in a positive direction. And notably, as bad as digital lending law is in the U.S., it still could always get worse! And one general rule of impact litigation: if you are trying to change the law, you want to make sure you have the best possible facts. Because the worse your facts are, the worse your case is likely to go.

Yesterday's district court ruling DID NOT CHANGE ANY SUBSTANTIVE COPYRIGHT LAW IN THE U.S. I cannot emphasize that enough. Regardless of whatever you think of the ruling, it was applying already existing law to the facts.

This is because the Internet Archive's "Open Library" absolutely violates existing copyright law. It just does! They broke the law, they had plenty of notice they were breaking the law and harming authors (more on that below) and just think the law shouldn't apply because they don't like it.

The Internet Archive's "Open Library" is not a library. Some big ways it differs:

While it pretends to have a one-to-one owned-to-loaned ratio, as the opinion granting the publisher's motion for summary judgement notes, IA concedes that it allows "partner libraries" to add books to its collection and then doesn't check (and has no way of checking) if the book is out of circulation at the "partner library" at the same time it's being "checked out" of the Open Library. In other words, it's like if you took a book, scanned the pages, and then gave the scans to your friend who then loaned the scans out to other people but totally promised they were only lending the scans to one person at a time so it's basically like there is still just one copy! And meanwhile you still own, are reading, and lending out the physical copy of the book. Except instead of one book, they were doing this on a massive scale. NO, THAT'S JUST THEFT.*

Speaking of which, the "Open Library" didn't keep that promise! Their "Emergency Library" just let everyone borrow as many copies at a time as they could! Again, THAT'S JUST THEFT.

Like I'm sorry if you don't like the idea of copyright at all: right now, we live in a capitalist system where authors need to be paid for their work in order to, like, not die. If you take their work, scan it into your computer, and give it away for free to anyone and everyone, THAT'S JUST THEFT.

Also, most authors love libraries! Libraries allow more people to access their books while not substantially impacting their revenue and not impacting their rights! AUTHORS - not just publishers, authors - DO NOT LIKE AI'S "OPEN LIBRARY." Why haven't authors sued to stop this before, why is this the publishers suing? From the above letter: "Even simple copyright lawsuits must be brought in federal court, and often cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. A challenge to the Internet Archive could easily cost millions." Publishers have deep pockets that authors and authors' groups don't. Also, authors who object to AI stealing their work are frequently subject to harassment.

If IA won this case, the new law that would be made is this: it would be legal to steal an author's works.

*I'm using "theft" and "steal" instead of "piracy" throughout this write-up to make it clear what this is. "Pirating books" is just stealing them.

So to sum up the facts above: copyright law in the U.S. sucks, but it exists. Attempting to change it for the better through the court system would be very difficult. Even then, changing the law for the better would likely require a case with good facts. Unfortunately, the law could also change for the worse. Yesterday's ruling did not change any law. The facts in this case are very bad, because the IA absolutely violated copyright law. That is in part because the IA's "Open Library" is not a library; they just steal books. Many (if not most) authors and author's groups don't like that IA is stealing from them. If IA won this case, that victory would mean that anyone was allowed to steal an author's works.

*deep breath*

Ok, let's turn to the IA's statement, "The Fight Continues":

"Today’s lower court decision in Hachette v. Internet Archive is a blow to all libraries and the communities we serve."

The Internet Archive is not a library.

No it's not. It is a blow to the Internet Archive, specifically, because you broke the law and it ruled you broke the law. As stated above, it does not change anything with regard to copyright, including digital copyright, law in the U.S., and therefore does not impact libraries or the communities they serve. If you appeal this ruling, as you have stated you intend to, and the law does change for the worse (which is always a risk of appeal, and a risk that gets worse when you have bad facts), THEN libraries might be affected.

"This decision impacts libraries across the US who rely on controlled digital lending to connect their patrons with books online."

I mean yes, in the sense that "controlled digital lending" isn't normal e-book lending. It's the thing you made up where you steal books and illegally redistribute them.

This genuinely sucks for libraries and communities that don't have other ways of accessing digital books because the current copyright scheme sucks so bad! Real libraries are doing things to try to help, and not just steal from authors! More on that below!

"It hurts authors by saying that unfair licensing models are the only way their books can be read online."

OH GO FUCK YOURSELVES

Ok this line, this line right here? That is honestly why I wrote this whole thing.

How DARE you cloak your theft in the real struggles authors face with unfair licensing models. How DARE you pretend you are on the side of authors when you are stealing their works, and they have made it quite clear that they would like you to stop, please. And how DARE you frame it in this "for exposure" bullcrap that ignores the real struggles that authors have to eat, to get healthcare, to get any sort of fair pay and wages for their work, and instead pretend that all authors should care about is whether or not their books can be read online.

And bluntly? If you - not IA, YOU, tumblr user reading this - if you shared this bullcrap statement and told people to donate money to the IA because of this? If you told people they should steal more books in response (because it's the publishers fault, ignore the real authors who are actually harmed)? How DARE you. How DARE you pretend to be on the side of authors and writers.

"And it holds back access to information in the digital age, harming all readers, everywhere."

Except for those readers who are also authors, and need to eat.

And readers who want to read books that will never get written if authors can't write (because they need to eat).

And also, no it doesn't, because it doesn't change the law. It just applies the law that already exists to you. Because you are not above the law.

"But it’s not over—we will keep fighting for the traditional right of libraries to own, lend, and preserve books."

You are not a library.

You were not (and are not) fighting for "the traditional right of libraries." Plenty of other organizations are fighting against bad copyright law in the U.S. This court case, however, was literally just about you stealing books.

Like I cannot emphasize enough that you were just stealing and you got caught.

"We will be appealing the judgment and encourage everyone to come together as a community to support libraries against this attack by corporate publishers."

You aren't a library.

Fuck you for borrowing the (justified) hatred of corporate publishers to paper over your bad actions.

Does "coming together as a community to support libraries against this attack" mean giving you money, as suggested by the calls to action at the bottom of this page? Because you aren't a library.

"We will continue our work as a library."

You aren't a library.

"This case does not challenge many of the services we provide with digitized books including interlibrary loan, citation linking, access for the print-disabled, text and data mining, purchasing ebooks, and ongoing donation and preservation of books."

First, and most important: these are all uncritically good and important things that the IA does! Despite the rest of this post, I am really really glad the IA exists, that it is doing these things, and I hope that it will continue to do this things!

You are correct that this case does not challenge those services! Because those services aren't just stealing books from authors, which is what you were doing, which is what this case is actually about!

I'm skipping the statement from Brewster Kahle because it's just more of the same. The statement then invites you to Take Action! by donating to IA and positing themselves as standing up for libraries! (They are not a library.)

But real libraries and librarians are actually fighting the good fight over lack of access to materials, especially digital materials and bad laws, and you can support them!

If you actually do want to "come together as a community to support libraries," and support digital access, may I suggest instead donating to The Brooklyn Public Library's Books Unbanned program?:

https://www.bklynlibrary.org/books-unbanned

While they aren't directly challenging bad copyright law, they are directly fighting back against laws that are much more actively and materially impact people's access to books, including providing free e-book and database access to everyone in the U.S. age 13-21. It's a great and important program, and your donations can really help!

#libraries #author's rights #internet archive