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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years

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Nothing Changed But Everything’s Different | Sirius Black x Reader

Warning: slowburn angst, mentions of slight violence, alcohol, no happy ending

Time/Era: Marauder Era, Ages 18-21

Word Count: 10.1k

Summary: Sirius found someone who made him believe in love at first sight.

Request: Okay! :) Well in that case can I have an ANGST Sirius x Reader? Where they’ve been together for a few years (it’s post-hogwarts only a couple years) but the relationship is starting to sour and crumble. Sirius being Sirius is flirting with other girls and just neglecting y/n. They argue a lot and everyone can see that it’s deteriorating. It gets to a point where he just flat doesn’t acknowledge her even though they live together, long and ANGSTY pls 🥺 :) U decide the ending! :) Ty, much love!

A/N: I worked really, really hard on this so I hope you enjoy :) Let me know what you think :)

part 2 | masterlist | marauders era playlist | read on ao3

“She’s absolutely gorgeous, Prongs!” A young Sirius Black twirled around the dorm room and fell onto his bed with a dreamy sigh. “She’s witty and smart mouthed, but she’s so sweet and nice at the same time. She listens to the Weird Sisters and Queen and she’s a total badass.”

“Y/N L/N?” James scoffs, bending over a sketch he was working on. It appeared to be an intricate building of some sort, complete with four stories and geometric windows.

“Yes, Y/N L/N! I think it’s love at first sight, Prongsy. I’m going to marry that girl one day.” Sirius laid one of his ankles against the post of his bed. The leather of his boot made a loud squeaking noise, and James cringed.

“Have you ever even talked to Y/N L/N?” James smiled smugly and smudged ink across the side of his hand.

“Have you ever had an actual conversation with Lily Evans?” Sirius countered, making James sputter. James looked diagonally towards Sirius and moved his head so their corresponding bedposts weren’t in the way.

“I have! This morning, for example! We talked about the morning toast for a full 3 minutes!” His glasses began to fog as his cheeks warm. Sirius laughed heartily and threw the pillow that was under his head square at James’ face. With a deep ‘oof,’ James looks back towards Sirius, glasses now crooked. “Fine, don’t believe me! You’re just angry Evans is finally starting to fall for my charm.”

“Ah yes, my bad. I forgot sweat and body odor was irresistible to girls.”

“Lily isn’t a girl.” James reached his slender fingers to level his glasses. “She’s a woman.”

Sirius was sent into hysterics; chest heaving, loud laughter, tearful, hysterics. James rolled his eyes and threw the pillow back at Sirius. But, in all of its glory, the cushion hit Sirius’ bedpost and sent feathers flying through the air. Sirius busts out in even more laughter, falling to the floor with a big, dramatic thud.

“What’s going on here?” Remus asks, entering the room and setting his bag onto his bed. “Why is Pads on the floor?”

“JP assaulted me!”

“I DID NOT YOU THREW FIRST!!!”

Remus chuckled under his breath and unbuckled his bag to retrieve his homework. “And what exactly caused this alleged assault? Did Sirius call you Prancer again?”

A bark sounding laugh came from Sirius and James scowled.

“No, we were just talking about his newfound obsession with Y/N L/N and he took an unwarranted dig at mine and Lily’s relationship.”

Remus snorted and set his work on his desk. “What relationship?” Sirius let out another “HA” and pulled himself back onto his mattress. “And isn’t Y/N L/N the one who called your hair greasy, Pads?”

“Well, yes, but I like a woman with a bit of attitude,” Sirius sighed dreamily. His left pointer finger, ring and all, came to twirl a chunk of his hair. “I think I want an autumn wedding.”

“You’re not getting married to her, mate. You don’t even know her.” James came to Remus’ bed and started poking around his bag. “Are you putting on the scar ointment Pomfrey gave you still, Moons? Hey! Stop picking at that one, you’re going to make it worse!” He slapped Remus’ hand away from his face and Remus rolled his eyes.

“Who are you? My mother?”

“I am too going to marry her, James! Just watch me!”

Peter opened the door solemnly, a grumpy look plastered on his face. James turns nervously towards him before slapping him on the back.

“What happened, Pete? I thought you were supposed to be on a date?”

“I was, but she stood me up. Again.” Peter responds, making a beeline for the window seat. Conveniently, it was located next to his bed, so he haphazardly tossed his school bag onto the mattress. He grabs hold of one of the pillows before hugging it to his chest and burying his head into it. Sirius and James share a look before Sirius speaks up.

“Awh, you’ll get ‘em next time. Don’t worry too much about it. It’s her loss, really.”

“No, it was my loss. It was Abagail Cavin, mate. It was definitely my loss.” Peter’s voice was muffled as he muttered into the soft fabric.

“Who’s Abagail Cavin?” Sirius asks, looking towards Remus for an answer. He shrugs.

“I think that’s the ginger girl who always hangs around Y/N L/N? A year or two below us,” James thought aloud. “She’s friends with Lily too, I’ve seen them studying together.”

Remus snorts. “Of course you have.”

“I don’t know if I’m sad or angry.” The mousy boy admits, throwing the pillow in his lap at the wall. It hit one of Sirius’ Queen posters, making the frame fall to the floor with a loud crash. James is quick to swoop in and redirect Peter’s attention in fear of him escalating.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, there’s no need to get mad at Abagail. Um, how about we go get some sweets from the kitchens, yeah? Maybe that’ll make you feel better.”

Peter tightened his jaw, staring at the now shattered frame on the ground. After a moment of silence from all the boys, Peter nodded and the pair exited the room.

“Y/N L/N,” Sirius spoke in his signature flirty voice. He tried to match her walking pace, but she seemed to be in a rush.

“Sirius Black, what can I do for you?” Y/N answered, her school uniform skirt swaying as she walked. She was on her way to meet Abagail in the library so the two could study together, and she was already 5 minutes late.

“I was wondering if you would -excuse me, sorry- if you would like to go to the next Quidditch match with me?” Y/N seemed to swerve in and out of the crowded hallway like a car in heavy traffic. “Supposed to be a good game, you know.”

“Me? Go with you? While you cheer your little boyfriend on? Thanks for offering, but I have to decline.”

“Come on, you always go anyway! It could be fun!” Sirius finally matched Y/N’s fast gait. “And maybe we could grab some hot butterbeer or cider after.”

Y/N sighed, suddenly stopping at the entrance of the library. She faced Sirius boldly and grabbed his upper arms with her hands.

“Listen, it’s really flattering that you want me to go with you, and I have to admit, you’re super cute. But, you don’t exactly have the best track record with girls and I don’t want to be just a checkmark on your list of girls to shag.”

While any person would be wounded by Y/N’s blunt assumptions, Sirius grins. “That’s where you’re wrong, love. I don’t really have a track record with girls, unless you count the week I dated Marlene McKinnon the October of our 2nd year. It’s our 7th year and I’ve had one kind-of girlfriend.”

Sirius watched as Y/N’s facial expression changed. Taking this as an invitation to keep going, he rubs his hands together and continues. “And if you’re talking about shagging, I’ve shagged maybe three girls who were not on some kind of to-fuck list, thank you very much.” Sirius suddenly leans in so he could whisper. “I’m just flirty. And based on the look on your face, the flirting is working.”

“Y/N!” Abagail’s voice made Y/N drop her hands and Sirius smirk. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, we’re just chit chatting,” Sirius answers for Y/N. “But, I do have a question for you, Ab.”

Abagail’s face scrunched in response. “Don’t call me that. What’s your question?”

“Why’d you stand up my mate Peter?” Sirius now stood with his feet shoulders width apart, arms crossed over his chest and his hair pulled to one side. Y/N couldn’t help but admire how well Sirius’ uniform pants fit.

“What do you mean, stand him up? We talked about hanging out, but we never made actual plans. Honestly, I don’t really think I want to make any official plans. Some of the things he says are kinda scary.” Y/N looks sympathetically towards her friend.

“I told you to just ignore him, babes.”

“I know, I know. I really think he’s a nice guy deep down though.”

Sirius looked puzzled, “What harmless, little Peter Pettigrew says scares you?”

Abagail nods frantically, “He came and sat with Lily and me when we were studying in the library last week. He went on a rant about how he can’t wait to become an Auror just to see,” The girl lifted her fingers to so air quotes. “How far he can take it.”

“That doesn’t sound like Peter at all,” Sirius’ eyebrows knit in confusion.

“Well, it was. And Y/N and I have a lot of studying to do. So, if you’ll excuse us.” Abagail gently tugged at Y/N’s arm.

“Wait! So, is it a date, Y/N?” Sirius called after the girls. Y/N turned over her shoulder and beamed.

“Common room before the match. I don’t like to be kept waiting, Black!”

“You don’t like to be kept waiting… but you think it’s perfectly okay to leave me all alone in the common room? That’s not very kind, Y/N.” Sirius watched Y/N descend the stairs to the girls dormitory. He was wearing his Gryffindor sweater and ripped black jeans, his hair tied messily in a bun. A long, striped scarf dangled lazily on his shoulders and draped down his frame to his mid thigh.

“I said before the match and if I’m not mistaken, it’s before the match.” Y/N tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Are those for me?”

Sirius quickly stood, holding out a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers. “Heh, yeah. I thought it was fitting because it’s the middle of October and we’re going to a Quidditch match. The leaves are orange and there’s so many colors and the sunflowers have the same kind of color pallet-”

“Sirius, they’re lovely. Thank you.” Y/N cut off the blabbering boy. She took the flowers happily and observed their pretty petals. Sirius was right; the rich golden color matched the fallen leaves that littered the Hogwarts grounds. Y/N held up a waiting finger to Sirius so she could go leave her flowers in her dorm.

“It’s pretty cold out, love, do you want to grab a jacket?” Sirius said when she returned.

“It’s all in the name of fashion, my dear,” Y/N pulls a piece of hair behind her ear and nods towards the portrait hole. “Shall we?”

Y/N sat in the crowd with her legs crossed; her shoulders were slumped forwards and her hands stayed sandwiched in between her thighs. Gryffindor was absolutely destroying Ravenclaw with the impressive score of 80-10.

“The snitch is right by Potter’s head!” Y/N screeched, bumping Sirius’ shoulder with her own.

“Where?! I don’t see it!”

“To the right! Meadowes needs to catch it before Lockhart sees it!” Y/N shivers in spite of herself, bringing her hands to her mouth in order to warm them. Sirius snickers and loops his scarf around her shoulders.

“Hopefully that doesn’t ruin your outfit, love.” Sirius winks and turns back to the game.

The scarf was soft and toasty, and smelt exactly like Sirius. The satisfying mix of leather, butterbeer, pine and smoke engulfed her senses and made her dizzy. Y/N wrapped it around her arms and snuggled deeper into the soft knit.

“Meadowes spots the snitch!” Remus announces over the intercom. The entire statum seemed to erupt into chaos; cheers and boos echoing off of every surface within 500 feet.

Y/N had always had a soft spot for Remus; they weren’t friends, but something about him was so warm and inviting. He in no way seemed like the type to announce a Quidditch match, but it appears that when you’re friends with James Potter long enough, anything could happen.

Dorcas zooms past the Gryffindor student section in her pursuit for the snitch. The entire group, Lily and Marlene especially, scream out loud words of encouragement. Y/N could have sworn she could see a faint smile appear across Dorcas’ features.

“Potter scores! 10 points to Gryffindor! 90-10! Ravenclaw could still win if Lockhart catches the snitch!”

“Come on, come on,” Sirius mumbles under his breath. No matter how much he liked to deny it, Sirius got really into Quidditch. He couldn’t play for shit, but he knew the mechanics of the game like the back of his hand.

“Meadowes catches the snitch! Gryffindor wins!!” The entire crowd goes ballistic. Kids hug, and some kiss, before storming the field to congratulate their team. James stays on his broom, doing small loops in the air in the hopes of impressing a certain redhead.

Sirius wraps his strong arms around his date, pulling her to her feet and lifting her into the air. “We won, Y/N! We won!!”

Y/N snakes her arms around Sirius in return, a similar happiness bubbling in her chest.

“What’d ya say about grabbing some hot cider from the kitchens to celebrate?” Sirius questions, noticing they’re the last students at their seats.

Y/N nods, a soft smile gracing her face. “Yes, please. I’m fucking freezing.”

“It would be easier if you just levitated the boxes in, love.” Y/N watched as Sirius struggled to carry boxes into the living room of their new flat. She giggled, admiring her boyfriend’s flexed biceps and strong hands. The prominent veins in his hands and forearms were bulging, making the manual labor a show for his very happy girlfriend.

“I feel like that’s bad luck,” Sirius explained, placing the cardboard onto the floor. “I want to do this right. If I don’t we could be cursed.”

“Whatever you say, babe. But, just so you know, that box goes into the kitchen.” With a flirty wink and smile, Y/N walked into their bedroom to unpack some of their boxes.

Their new flat wasn’t overly exciting; it was a one bedroom, one bath flat above a small bakery in the center of London. It was a tiny space, as you’d expect two barely-twenty-year-olds to own, but it would soon be their home. Y/N was just excited the flat had a kitchenette and a small living space.

The best part, in Y/N’s opinion at least, was the fact that the smell of freshly baked bread filled their flat at the beginning of each day. The elderly bakery owners, Jullian and Caspar, had given the young couple a good price on the flat. According to them, they were waiting for the perfect couple to rent from them. What that meant, Y/N didn’t know, but it made her feel special all the same.

Y/N looked out of their window to the hustle and bustle on the sidewalk below. The shop was a small, hole in the wall bakery called Dream Puffs, that was oddly popular for its location. And Y/N was quick to understand why. Almost everything they made, especially the sour dough bread and cream puffs, were to die for. Jillian had presented Sirius and her a large loaf of the bread and a dozen cream puffs as a welcome present, most of which had been eaten already. Y/N wished she had known of Dream Puffs and the wonderful owners before, but she supposed she still had a lot to discover in London.

The one downside was the only way to get into their apartment was by going through the bakery. It’s not the worst thing in the world, but when you’re in a rush or having a bad day, having to face random people isn’t the most ideal situation. Jullian and Caspar were nice enough to close the bakery early for the couple’s move in.

“I thought you were supposed to be unpacking?” Sirius poked his head into their bedroom with sweat dripping down his brow.

“Oh right, sorry,” Y/N lazily flicked her wand and their clothing sprang to life.

“Bad luck, Y/N!” He entered the room and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, laid his chin on her shoulder and looked out the window. The busy streets and buildings were muted by the glass, which made Y/N feel as if they were watching ants in an ant farm.

“I doubt we’ll get bad luck from levitating a few shirts, darling,” Y/N brought one of his hands to her mouth, gently kissing his knuckles before returning it to her waist. “I can’t believe this place is ours,”

“Well, technically it’s Jillian’s and Caspars, but yes.” Sirius chuckles directly into Y/N’s ear and kisses her shoulder. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Yes and no. Not now, obviously, but eventually. We’re going to be together forever anyway, so why should we rush?”

Y/N sighed happily, feeling very loved.

“Do you think Abagail will ever talk to me again?” Peter asked, laying his head against the armrest of the couch. “I heard she's working at the book shop in Diagon Alley.”

Y/N snorted, laying her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder and enjoying the sound of the record playing in the corner of the room. Sirius and Y/N were hosting a dinner party for their friends in celebration of James getting accepted into the Auror academy. The nine of them -Sirius, Y/N, James, Lily, Peter, Remus, Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary- were all piled in Sirius and Y/N’s small living room, tipsy and full of warm food.

“That happened almost two years ago, Pete. Let it go,” Y/N hummed, Sirius’ gentle hand rubbing her back and lulling her to sleep. She could feel the vibrations of Sirius’ laughter through his leather jacket.

“Yeah, so? I’m not allowed to like someone that long?” Peter’s voice was harsher than he anticipated, making Sirius send a glare his way.

“She means stop moping around and pining after a girl who doesn’t want you. There’s a world of opportunity and thousands of girls just waiting to date you if you open your eyes to it.” Sirius’ tone was barely lighter than Peter’s.

“Well I don’t want thousands of girls, Padfoot. I want Abagail. Not everyone can hit it on their first try.”

“Hit it on their first try?” Y/N was now wide awake. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” Peter sat up, looking Y/N straight in the eyes. “You fucked Sirius on the first date.”

“Woah, woah, woah, alright that’s enough. Wormy, Pads, Y/N, let’s all just take a deep breath and calm down for a moment.” James was quick on his feet to defuse the potentially harmful situation. He knew how Peter could get, and he didn’t want to see it escalate to that point.

“Did you just slut shame me for having sex with my own boyfriend? Do you even have the authority to do that, Mr. Unused-Condom?” Y/N was now standing with James, starting to walk towards Peter. Peter stumbled to his feet and stared into Y/N’s eyes.

“He wasn’t your boyfriend then, Miss Drop-My-Panties-for-a-Knut.”

Sirius was quick to act, anger boiling inside of him. His knuckles balled into a fist and he threw a nasty punch square into Peter’s jaw. “No one insults my girl, Peter. I thought you knew better than that.” Sirius’ voice was like nothing Y/N had ever heard; it was cold and icy, yet fiery hot and full of hell-bending anger.

Peter looked up and slugged Sirius right in the nose, making it gush blood. Remus grabs Sirius’ arms and binds them behind his back, trusting James to do the same to Peter.

Y/N shrieked, having never seen Sirius or Peter get physical with anyone, let alone each other. Marlene grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the boys.

“What have we talked about, you two?” James demanded, the vein on his neck bulging.

“I’m not going to sit around and let him harass my girlfriend, JP! He’s a fucking asshole and he knows it!” Sirius struggled against his binds, but Remus was much stronger than him.

“I’m not the one dating a slut!”

“Get the fuck out of my flat!” Sirius screams making the room shake. Peter wiggles from James’ grip and grabs his wand before disapperating out of the room.

Remus releases Sirius and he stomps out of the flat and down the stairs, most likely to go smoke a cigarette. James quickly follows after a glance towards Lily.

“What did James mean when he said ‘what have we talked about,’ Remus?” Y/N asks, her soft voice a stark contrast from Sirius’ shouting. Remus runs a big hand down his face and plops onto the couch.

“I wasn’t supposed to let you girls know,” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Sirius and Peter have been at each other’s throats for the past few years. Recently, it started getting physical. James always tries to defuse the situation, but it doesn’t work a ton.” Remus meets Y/N’s gaze and smiles sadly. “That boy would do absolutely anything for you, I hope you know that.”

Sirius laid in bed with his arms wound tightly around Y/N’s waist. It was near 5 am and the light was just barely peeking through the window of their bedroom. The morning bread must have just been put in the oven, as the smell of fresh bread was slowly starting to overtake the flat. A long sliver of silver light slashed against the wall before fading delicately into the white paint. Sirius sighed contently and looked down at his girl.

Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly agape; Sirius observed how Y/N’s eyes moved under her eyelids while wondering what she was dreaming about. He hoped she dreamt of him, as his dreams were constantly riddled with her. Every aspect of her danced around his dreams: her lovely smile, her laugh, her scent, her gait, and everything that made Y/N Y/N. Sirius’ own lips parted a miniscule amount as he brought the back of his fingers to brush her cheek. He couldn’t help but notice how soft her skin was under his touch. She was so peaceful in this moment, and if she was to be disturbed, the world would crack.

But all good things come to an end, and Y/N opened her eyes. Her features were riddled with the grogginess of sleep as she batted her eyes to focus her vision.

“Darling? Is everything alright?” Her voice was honey in his ears.

“Perfect, my love. Go back to sleep.”

“What time is it?” Y/N began to wiggle from his strong grip, but Sirius tightened his hold on her waist.

The man shot a spare glance at the old coo-coo clock that hung in the corner. “Quarter to five”

“Then may I ask why you’re awake?”

Sirius sighed, pressing an opened mouth kiss on her forehead. “Couldn’t sleep, the nightmares are still awry.”

“What was it this time? Your mom?” Y/N was now wide awake and propped up onto her elbow.

“No, the last Order mission, actually,” Sirius gently brushed a clump of hair out of her eyes. “But it’s okay, I’m alright. I have you here with me.”

Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched and her mouth pierced. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, my darling. I just want to lay here with my beautiful girl in my arms.”

“I’ve never been to this bar before,” Y/N giggles as Sirius opens the door to the small building. The outside’s appearance was rather unappealing; cracked, exposed brick that has moss growing out of it, a leaky gutter system, a splintering wooden door and a faded open sign. Y/N looked up towards the LED sign that spelled out the bar’s name. Silver Sickle Bar and Eatery illuminated in the wet pavement, but multiple letters were unlit, making it read Silver Ickle and Eat.

“Me either, one of my clients works here and said she’d give me free drinks.” Sirius winked before following Y/N inside.

The place was small and drafty, but oddly cozy. It had the same exposed brick as the outside, but this time, they were bright red and covered in picture frames. A few wooden tables were scattered across the floor opposite the bar, and various older men sat with beers in their hands.

“Oh, Sirius! My love, you came!” A very angelic girl from behind bar squeals, quickly exciting the bar and throwing her arms around Sirius. Her hurried speed made Y/N step away from the pair to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Sirius chuckles heartily, wrapping his arms around her small frame, seeming to forget Y/N was there.

“Vanessa! Nice to see you again,” He exhaled. A sinking feeling settled in the bottom of Y/N’s stomach. “How is your tattoo healing?”

Vanessa pulls her shirt down to show Sirius the skin in between her breasts. On her skin sat a magical tattoo of a Hongorian Horntail dragon, which looked towards Sirius and blew a big breath of fire his way. The art was gorgeous, very obviously Sirius’ work, which only made Y/N’s stomach sink further into her feet. The red, lacy, v neck bra Vanessa was wearing brought out the ink in the tattoo perfectly, and the shape of the cut displayed not only her breasts, but the dragon beautifully.

Y/N knew that many of Sirius’ clients were girls; she wasn’t stupid. He was a newly licensed tattoo artist at the biggest magical tattoo parlor in all of London. Not to mention, Sirius was an incredibly talented artist, which meant his appointment list was extremely difficult to get on. The charming attitude and good looks only added to the appeal of his artistry.

“Who’s this?” Vanessa turned her gaze from Sirius’ to look directly at Y/N. Her long, black hair fell over her shoulder like a waterfall and her porcelain skin glowed under the dim lighting.

“Oh! Right,” Sirius stuttered, shooting a grin in Y/N’s direction. “This is my gorgeous girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N this is Vanessa, I did her dragon tattoo last week.”

Y/N forced herself to send a polite smile towards the girl who was just all over her boyfriend. Vanessa sent an equally fake smile and began to walk back to the bar.

“And what can I get started for you, handsome?” She giggled, standing in front of the large wall of liquor. Y/N felt as if she was back at Hogwarts with all the girls throwing themselves at Sirius.

“Old fashioned,” Sirius responded, taking place on one of the wooden stools. “And for the lady, tequila on the rocks with lime.”

Vanessa sends Y/N an icy look before giggling sweetly. “Coming right up.”

Y/N sends a worried glance towards Sirius, but he just responds by squeezing her thigh and kissing her temple.

“So, do you have any tattoos? Since you’re so good at your job, I would assume you do, yes?” Vanessa asks, pouring Sirius’s drink and sliding it towards him.

“Quite a few,” He catches the glass before it flies off the bar. “Most of them are covered by my shirt though.”

It was true, Sirius’ torso and shoulders were littered with tattoos: A large lion across his right shoulder onto his bicep, stag antlers across his shoulder blades, a moon on the lower left side of his stomach, rat paw marks under the moon, and constellations riddling his collarbones.

The bartender tilts her head to the side cheekily. “Can I see them?”

Sirius chuckles in a very happy, flattered way. “I don’t think that’s quite necessary here,”

“But I can already see this one…” Vanessa reached her arm across the bar and traced the bottom of the lion’s mane with her long, slender fingers. The tattoo seemed to move with her movements. “Can’t I see the rest?”

Y/N coughs, slapping her hand against the bar. The vibration of Y/N’s sudden movement caused Sirius’ drink to wobble inside the glass. “I think I ordered a tequila not a random chick flirting with my boyfriend.”

“Of course, how foolish of me.” Vanessa sent a scowl Y/N’s way and turned her back to fetch the bottle of alcohol. Sirius matched Vanessa’s expression.

Once the flirt finished making Y/N’s drink, she slid it over to her. Y/N took a sip, only to find it was awfully made and very watered down.

“Sirius, babe, I have a headache, can we go home?”

“You didn’t have a headache a minute ago?” Sirius raises an eyebrow.

“I know, I just feel a migraine coming on. I really need to take my migraine potion before it gets bad. Please?”

Sirius sighs and nods, throwing an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple. “Of course, babygirl.”

The pair stand from their stools but Vanessa stops them. “That’ll be 2 galleons for the tequila.”

“You said you’d give me free drinks?” Sirius placed a comforting hand on Y/N’s lower back, rubbing small circles over her shirt.

“Yeah, for you. The tequila wasn’t for you.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out two galleons, slamming them onto the bar.

“Can I bet on seeing you again?” A loud giggle comes from her mouth as the couple exited the building. “Maybe you can show me your tattoos.”

“I don’t know, Lily! She was all over him and he didn’t stop it.” Y/N bit into an apple and traced the Potters’ tablecloth. It was a month after Sirius and Y/N had visited The Silver Sickle, and Y/N couldn’t keep her anxieties to herself.

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” Lily responded, kneading a big glob of pie crust at the counter. Potter Cottage was much larger than Sirius and Y/N’s flat above Dream Puffs. Earlier that month, Lily had announced she was pregnant, so James decided it was time to upgrade from their small flat to a house fit to raise a family.

“Yes, but each time I try to bring her up he gets defensive and assures me that it was nothing, that he was trying to get free drinks.”

Lily stared down at her dough intensely before grabbing her rolling pin. “Well, I wouldn’t let him get away with it. Maybe try to ask him again tonight? Just sit down and have a real, hearts on the table conversation about your feelings and whatnot. It’s important to do that.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. He’s been staying at work late this entire week. Apparently, one of his clients is getting a full back tattoo and it’s taking multiple sessions to finish. This is his biggest job to date, I don’t want to ruin it for him.”

“How late is late?” The mom-to-be laid the pie crust into her pan and began to trim the excess off of the edges.

“Nine, sometimes ten. He comes home exhausted.”

“Hm, okay. I’d still try to speak with him if you can. How’s your work going? St. Mungos treating you well?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. My supervisor said that I’m one of the best beginning level healers he’s seen since Pomfrey worked in my ward,” Y/N took another bite of her apple. “I might get transferred to the branch in France for a week coming up, though. There was a big gas explosion and they have over 200 burn victims. My supervisor said it would be a good experience for me.”

“Oh, I read about that in The Prophet! Those poor people,” Lily filled the crust with apple pie filling. “I’m sure they need all the help they can get.”

“Oh, I know. I haven’t learned much about burn solvents yet, so it’ll be interesting to learn on the job.”

“Are you going this week? What a shame, it’s your birthday on Saturday.”

“Oh, no, the earliest I would be leaving is a fortnight from now. I’m kind of a last resort since I don’t have much experience or training yet.” Y/N stood and threw her apple core into the bin. “How’s JP doing at the Academy? He’s in his second year by now, right?”

“Oh, he’s doing lovely. The Order is grateful for his efforts and have been sending him on more missions than before.” Lily sighs. “It’s rather nerve wracking, isn't it? You’re lucky Sirius doesn’t get called on many.”

Y/N laughed a bit uncomfortably. “Yeah, I suppose they prefer actual Aurors to go on the calls. But when he does go, those are the worst nights. I can’t imagine having to go through that on a daily basis.”

“It’s really hard,” Lily’s voice cracks and she begins to cry. “I’m sorry, it’s the hormones.”

“Don’t apologize, Lils. I know how scary it can be. At least he's with Wormtail most of the time, yeah? They’re at the academy together and all.”

Lily takes a deep breath to control her crying. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Thank god for Wormy.”

“Hello there, pretty lady. I heard there’s a 21st birthday party to be thrown?” James said happily as Y/N opened the door of the flat. Lily and Remus tailed him ever so slightly, all three wearing large grins and holding brightly wrapped packages.

“Birthday party? You guys don’t-”

James waved his hand dismissively. “We’re already here, so you’re kind of stuck with us. Peter should be here eventually.” The three push their way into the living room.

“The nice elderly woman downstairs asked me to bring you this,” Remus held out a cupcake with bright red frosting. Y/N took it happily and walked to the kitchen to set it on the counter.

“Thank you, Moony. But, really, you guys didn’t have to. Sirius isn’t even here.” Y/N felt self conscious around her friends. She was wearing an old tee shirt from her early teens, a beloved Scooby-Doo tee with a rip in the left armpit, and black yoga pants. It was safe to say Y/N was more than ready to spend her birthday alone.

“What do you mean, not here?” Remus was standing in the corner of the living room, flipping through Sirius and Y/N’s record collection. They had so many at this point that the couple was unsure which record belonged to who.

“I don’t know, he left early this morning saying he got called into work. Something about an angry customer.” Y/N felt small under the group’s gaze. “I wasn’t really paying attention, I was half asleep.”

Y/N watched as Lily and James shared a look. “I didn’t think the shop was open on Saturdays, but I guess they are.” Y/N’s shoulders lowered visibly, making Lily backtrack. “It’s the pregnancy brain, Y/N. I’ve been mixing things up for the past week and a half.”

“Right, right. Of course. Um, how’s that going, by the way?” She crossed her arms across her stomach uncomfortably.

“Oh, it’s going wonderful! We actually have something to give you, if that’s okay.”

“Wait!” James cut in. “We should wait for Wormy to get here!”

Lily hit his chest with the back of her hand. “Oh, come off it. You know how late he is to everything! Let’s do it now.” The couple led Y/N to the couch and sat on either side of her, both wearing matching shit-eating grins. Remus remained leaning against the wall, ready to flip the record when the time came. James placed a medium-sized purple box on her lap.

Y/N carefully undid the wrapping paper, prompting James to let out a loud groan.

“Any day now, woman!”

Y/N giggled. “Hey! It’s my birthday! Be nice to me!”

“I am being nice to you, Y/N! I gave you a present, didn’t I?”

Y/N bumped her shoulder with his and reached into the box. Her fingertips met with the soft fabric of a tee shirt. Upon pulling the garment out completely, she observed that the words World’s Best Godmother was printed across the front. Immediately, Y/N dropped the shirt and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Is that a yes?” Lily asked, her eyes tearing again.

“Yes! Oh my god!” Y/N’s own tears trailed down her cheeks as she hugged both tightly. “Me? Godmother?”

“I can’t think of anyone more worthy,” Remus remarked as he watched the heartwarming scene unfold in front of him. Y/N was so overwhelmed with joy that she had almost forgotten that Sirius was absent. Almost.

The party went along swimmingly from there on out; Peter had arrived shortly after Y/N unboxed Remus’ gift, a new cauldron and potion ingredients, and another gift from the Potters, a pair of gorgeous black combat boots. The mousey-boy shuffled over to Y/N and handed her a small gift bag.

“Oh? Thanks, Pete.” Y/N awkwardly pulled out the contents of the bag. “Oh, good, a gift card to Silver Sickle Bar and Eatery.” She tried to sound thankful towards the man in front of her, but the disdain was still evident in her voice.

“Sirius said it was his favorite bar, so I thought you’d like it. Maybe we can grab some lunch there, obviously my treat,” He lazily gestures to the card in her hand. “We haven’t really hung out for a while. I figured it would be nice. If you don’t like it I can get you something diff-”

Y/N cut him off with a hug, “Thank you, Peter, this was really thoughtful. Would next week work?”

“Wednesday?” He wraps his arms around Y/N’s frame for a moment before letting go.

“Wednesday works perfectly.”

The four continued to hang out well into the night; laughing, chatting, drinking, listening to music, and playing board games. As the party dragged on, Y/N couldn’t help but grow worried about Sirius’ whereabouts. Her worries were harshly pushed aside, though, when Lily suggested they play poker.

“Ugh, I fold.” Peter slams his cards down onto the coffee table and laid back onto the carpet in defeat. Y/N smirked at Remus, her only opponent, and gestured for him to show her his cards.

“Straight, beat that,” Remus says confidently. James and Peter “oooh” childishly and looked towards Y/N. It was very apparent that all of them, besides Lily, were very buzzed.

Y/N smirked and shook her head, “You play a hard bargain, Lupin. So good that I applaud you. But,” Y/N laid her hand on the table: four of a kind. “You’re just not good enough.”

The room laughs as Y/N pulls the large pile of galleons, sickles, knuts and Lily’s wedding ring towards her. Y/N slips it onto her own ring finger and holds her hand as if to admire it.

“Oh, Lily, dear, don’t you just adore my new ring? Look at how it glistens in the light!”

The redhead rolls her eyes and snatches it off of Y/N’s finger. “I’ll just be taking that,” She puts it back on.

“It will forever be known to be my legal property, Evans. Don’t forget it!”

“Does that mean I’m married to both of you now?” James smiles a dopey grin and looks back and forth between the two women. Y/N pretends to gag.

“On second thought, I surrender my rights to your ring.”

The group continued their laughter until the front door of the flat swung open. A very drunk Sirius Black stumbled in the door, dumbfounded as to why all of his friends were in his house.

“Why are you guys here?” Sirius slurred, pulling up the shoulder of his leather jacket. He bumped the record player in the process, making Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac skip.

“It’s Y/N’s birthday, Sirius,” Remus responded, his soft voice contrasting to his previously upbeat tone. Sirius slouched against the wall and slid down it until he hit the floor.

“Y/N’s birthday...Y/N’s birthday...Oh! Y/N’s birthday! Was that today?”

James was quick to jump into action. Propelling himself off of the couch, he took Sirius into his arms and brought him to a standing position. Sirius, of course, whined the entire way up, claiming that the floor wanted him to sit there. James responded with a small hum before peeling Sirius’ jacket off of his body and throwing it onto the kitchen counter. As Y/N watched, she couldn’t help but notice a bright pink smear on Sirius’ neck.

“Yes, it’s today, you big goof. Where have you been?”

Sirius went into a big flurry of words as James brought him towards the bedroom. Y/N thought she heard ‘And you should have seen her!’ amidst all the jumbled words, but she pied that off as her anxious imagination running awry. Lily’s hand found her back and she rubbed soothing circles on Y/N’s shoulder blades.

“He forgot,” Y/N said to no one in particular. “I can’t believe he actually forgot.”

“I’m sure he didn’t forget,” Lily soothed Y/N, rubbing circles into her shoulder blades. “He probably got carried away at happy hour, you know how he gets.”

“Happy hour on Y/N’s birthday though?” Peter shook his head. Something about his tone didn’t sit well with Y/N. Lily shot a glare his way.

The party did not last much longer; Remus said he had an interview with Dumbledore about a TA position at Hogwarts, Lily was tired, and Peter said that he was going on a mission tomorrow and needed rest. Y/N bid her friends farewell with large hugs and thank you’s.

It’s safe to say that Y/N slept on the couch that night.

Y/N awoke to sunlight in her eyes and a crick in her neck. The living room window wasn’t guarded with curtains, so even at the early hour of 4:30 AM, the room was illuminated with soft oranges, reds, and pinks. Y/N sat up and reached her hands above her head to stretch her back. She looks towards the bedroom door, listening for the soft snores of her boyfriend. Her neck screamed in agony, but she still stood and padded over to open the door.

Y/N twisted the doorknob with care, trying to be as silent as humanly possible. She needed to see Sirius, not have a conversation with him. Alas, in all his glory, Sirius lied on his stomach with his mouth hung open and drool oozing onto the pillow. The girl admired how he looked as he slept; the sharp jaw, the perfect skin, the messy hair, the peaceful look gracing his features. He still wore his skinny jeans from the day previous, but at some point during the night, he discarded his white dress shirt. Y/N’s gaze darted around the floor until it landed on the crumpled fabric.

Y/N glanced back at Sirius, admiring the artwork that filled his back. She remembered the day he got it; James cried when he first saw the gorgeous antlers. The low light highlighted the dark brown ink and seemed to make his skin appear airbrushed. Y/N smiled in spite of herself.

Closing the door softly, Y/N walks into their small kitchen to prepare some tea in order to calm her nerves. The apartment was rather messy from the ‘party’ and Y/N had to dig through endless dirty dishes to find a mug clean enough to use. Y/N finally found one, a lavender mug that Marlene had given her for her 17th birthday, and set it on the counter while she filled the kettle.

The kitchen wasn’t as dirty as Y/N previously thought. Sure, the sink was overflowing with dishes, but the kitchen itself was rather clean. And besides Sirius’ leather jacket, the counter was clear. The floor, though, was slightly sticky. Y/N sighs and flicks her wand; almost silently, the dishes start cleaning themselves.

Y/N reaches for Sirius’ jacket, only to have a squishy substance fall onto her feet. She jumps back in surprise and disgust of the weird texture. But, the real panic sets in when she notices a big red spot on not only the floor but the leather jacket. Upon further investigation, Y/N realizes it’s the frosting from the cupcake Remus had given her. Sirius was very protective of this jacket and if he saw this, Y/N would be a dead man. So, she did the only reasonable thing she could think of: scrub the material with a wet paper towel.

Thankfully, the frosting came off easily and didn’t stain the material. The only real obstacle was the sweet scent of the frosting lingering on the garment. Sirius had an insane sense of smell, so if he picked up even the slightest trail of sugar, Y/N would be busted. She delicately lifted the material to her nose.

The musky scent of Sirius filled her nose as normal; leather, smoke, cologne, and spearmint. Y/N grinned at the familiar scent until she noticed a strong rose perfume almost ingrained into the leather. Y/N’s perfume smelled of vanilla.

Y/N held her breath as she opened the door of the Silver Sickle, she was in no mood to see Vanessa again. All the same, Y/N put effort into her appearance just in case. She let out her breath when she noticed an old man behind the bar and Peter sitting in the corner.

“Hey,” Y/N said breathlessly as she pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat down. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little nervous meeting Peter alone; the two seemed to rekindle their friendship after he and Sirius fought. He promised that he was just drunk and not thinking, and Y/N not wanting to cause childish conflict within their friend group, had accepted his apology.

“Hey!” He squeaked. “I didn’t know if you wanted to day drink or not, so I just ordered you a water to start off with.”

Y/N laughed awkwardly. “Thanks, Wormy.” She took a long sip from her straw, trying to slow her nervous heart. “So, uh, how’s the academy? James said you are taking more and more missions with the order.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, it’s great! Being an Auror is really fun, you really get to show people who’s boss, ya know?”

“Um, I guess?”

“I think they’re gonna kick me out, though. I haven’t done the best job at catching who I’m pursuing.” Peter raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side.

“Oh? Why not?” Y/N glanced over the menu, only half listening to what her companion was saying.

“I just like to play with them a ‘lil, like a cat and mouse. Except this time, I’m not the mouse.”

Y/N looks at a delicious looking chicken sandwich on the menu and hums in response.

“So, how are you and Sirius doing? It seemed pretty rough last week.” Peter takes a chunk of ice from his drink and starts chewing it. “If you want to talk about it, I guess.”

This brings Y/N out of her sandwich-filled thoughts. “I don’t know, to be quite honest. We haven’t spoken much and I barely see him. He leaves early in the morning...comes home late at night…” Peter nods as if he was a therapist listening to a client. “I don’t want to assume the worst but he’s making it rather difficult.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you this, because it isn’t really my business, but…” He comps down on the ice cube. “I was coming home from a mission a few nights ago and I saw him with a girl. I’m not quite sure what they were doing but it sure as hell didn’t look platonic.”

Y/N felt her entire world shatter into her lap. “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. She was really short with long black hair and a skimpy cocktail dress. They were walking into that club off of Coventry Street. I almost beat the fuck out of him right then and there, but there were bouncers.”

Y/N bit her trembling lip and folded her hands in her lap. Rifling through her purse, she slammed the gift card down and stood.

“Thanks for the lunch date, Peter, but I don’t feel well. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Was it something I said?!” Peter yelled at Y/N’s retreating back as she left the bar.

“Are you going somewhere?” Sirius asked, gesturing to Y/N’s packed suitcases by the door.

“Yup, I’m going to France for a week to aid burn victims,” Y/N finished brushing her teeth before packing her toothbrush. “Didn’t think you’d care.”

“Well, I do. You could have told me.” He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms.

“I would have if I actually saw you.” Y/N wasn’t in the mood to argue; she had about an hour before she had to leave, and she planned on using that time to relax with a cup of herbal tea.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You see me plenty.”

“Yeah, when you’re sleeping or showering. There’s not exactly time to chat when you leave early in the morning and come home well past midnight.” Y/N walked into the kitchen and cut a slice of bread. “Oh, by the way, Caspar brought up some sourdough, if you actually want any.”

“Don’t change the subject like you always do, Y/N. I work hard to support us, you know that.”

“I work hard too. And I get home before 11 every night. I’m not exactly sure how being a healer gets you home earlier than a tattoo artist, but whatever.” Y/N buttered her now toasted sourdough.

“Sometimes a piece takes a long time, that’s not my fault! I’ve been getting big jobs recently! You should be happy for me!”

Y/N let out a harsh laugh as she poured water into the kettle. “Do you really think I’m that fucking stupid, Sirius? Really?”

“What do you mean? I think you’re rather smart.” Sirius followed Y/N into the kitchen and was leaning against the counter.

“Yeah? Then why have you been lying to me for the past, I don’t know, two months?”

“You can’t keep accusing me of things, Y/N. It’s not fucking fair!” Sirius stared holes into Y/N’s back. “For fucks sake! Look at me when I talk to you!”

Y/N whipped around, her hair fanning around her face as she spun. “You know what’s not fucking fair? Letting a girl feel you upright in front of me. Lying about going into work. Forgetting my birthday and coming home from who knows where drunk as fuck with lipstick smeared all over your neck. Coming home drenched in another girl’s perfume. Taking your fucking side chick to a strip bar while I’m sat at home wondering if you’re fucking dead because we’re in the middle of a fucking war! You don’t know the first thing about fucking unfair!”

“You’re not going to France, Y/N.” His jaw was clenched and his eyes held nothing but fire. The tone of his voice was like nothing she had ever heard before, at least not directed at her. He usually reserved it for people who yelled nasty things at her from the street, or when someone bad mouthed James. It felt foreign to hear him use it with her. Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. “You’re not fucking going, and that’s final.”

“What are you? My fucking mother? I’m going because I’m actually doing something good for the world, unlike your cheating ass.” Y/N pushed her way past her boyfriend and towards her luggage.

“Don’t walk away from me!” Sirius followed her strides. He stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. “Y/N, darling, we need to talk about this-” His tone was notably softer than before as if he was trying to glue together shards of glass.

“Talk about what, Sirius?! How you cheated on me and won’t even deny it? How you betrayed me in the worst way fucking possible? I’m not going to let you manipulate me into putting my career on the line to work out some issue you caused.”

“What, so now I’m not important? You’re a fucking hypocrite!”

“And how exactly am I a hypocrite, Sirius? You treat me like shit and whine that I’m done putting up with it? Gonna go cry to James about how you are so upset I wouldn’t hear you out after you cheat on me? Well, go the fuck ahead because James actually has a healthy relationship with a baby on the way. He won’t sympathize with you.” Y/N grabbed the handle of her suitcase and lifted her wand. “I’ll be back in a week and once we’ve had some time to cool off, we’ll talk about this like adults. I’ll see you soon.”

Just as Y/N apperated out of the room, the kettle whistled and Sirius noticed Y/N left her half-eaten toast on the counter.

It was near two in the morning when Y/N returned home from France the following week. The home was cold, dark, and vacant, and the entire appearance of the small flat had changed. In a week, Sirius had managed to completely trash the house. Even the smell of freshly baked goods was replaced with the sour smell of firewhisky and sex.

Y/N ventured into the kitchen first, where she observed the large stack of dishes in the sink. Everything from to-go packages to their fine china (normal glass plates from the thrift) were stacked as high as the eye can see. Some were starting to mold and produce the most horrid smell. The stove housed the kettle where Y/N had left it, but this time it was cold and empty. Another pot that contained crusty spaghetti sat next to the kettle, and Y/N cringed at the thought of scrapping it out. She moved to the counter where her toast, now stale, sat. Y/N picked it up between two fingers and threw it into the bin.

She carried on into the living room next. The couch cushions were tossed about the room and the small fur throw was draped across the back of the couch. The record player in the corner still held the Fleetwood Mac record Moony had chosen on her birthday as if it were a time capsule; Y/N couldn't help but reminisce about how happy she was with her friends that evening. Maybe that proved that she could be happy without Sirius in her life, or maybe it served as a constant reminder that he was woven into every aspect of it.

Again, the room was covered with food wrappers and alcohol bottles. Y/N feared the liquid that remained in the bottles would leak and stain the carpet, so before moving on to the bedroom, she set each one upright.

The bedroom was what Y/N feared the most; without her presence in the home, Sirius could have been intimate with an infinite amount of girls in her own bed. She shivered at the thought but pushed on and reached towards the icy doorknob.

The room was the cleanest out of the entire flat, just various clothes scattered around the floor and a messy bed. Y/N wanted nothing more but to curl up under her warm covers and press her face into the chest of the man she loved most, but that was an impossible task. He didn’t love her anymore and that was something she had to deal with, she just wished she had savored the last time he held her.

As Y/N explored further into the room, her feet found an article of clothing that neither Sirius nor Y/N owned. Bending at the hips to pick it up, Y/N held a red, lacy v neck bra in between her fingertips. Y/N fingered the material with teary eyes. Another step forward and her feet came into contact with the matching bottoms. Y/N laid the set out neatly on the bed and wallowed; it must have looked stunning on her.

Y/N walked to the desk, where an ink well was left open and a half-written letter laid face up on the surface. She capped the ink with a wet chuckle.

“You need to cap your ink, Sirius. If you don’t it’ll dry out. I won’t be there forever to do it for you.” Y/N said aloud, wiping her running nose. She picked up the letter against her better judgment and began to read.

Prongs,

I know you’re mad at me, but please just hear me out. Vanessa is gorgeous, mate. She’s sweet and nice, but at the same time she's so witty and smart-mouthed. She even listens to Queen and the Weird Sisters!

She made me believe in love at first sight, JP.

I’m going to marry her one day, mark my words!

The ink began to run as Y/N read and cried, making small blotches of black contrast against the stark white paper. Y/N placed it onto the table and gripped the edge to steady herself. Never in her 21 years on earth had she ever felt such pain, such sorrow. Her pains were usually cushioned by Sirius’ arms and sweet slurred language in the middle of the night, or by her friends’ loud cackles. But this time, this time was different; she was alone, completely and utterly alone.

Y/N looked to the wall in order to ground herself; a small sliver of silver moonlight slashed against the wall, illuminating the otherwise dark room. Y/N traced the line with her eyes until she landed on the wooden coo-coo clock.

The clock was one of Sirius’ most prized possessions; it was a gift from his Uncle Alphard that he received when he ran away from the Black family. Alphard was one of the few Sirius still kept in contact with, and he was a big role model to Sirius when he grew up. Debatably, Alphard was the one who taught Sirius how to be a man.

The present seemed lame on the surface, but that clock was one of Sirius’ favorite things when he was a child. Sirius had told stories of the long afternoons he would spend in front of the clock, waiting for the small, yellow bird to pop out of the top while Walburga and Orion fought in the background. Y/N respected Alphard with all of her being, but she wanted nothing more than to smash that godforsaken clock. She wanted to destroy everything that made Sirius happy, she wanted him to be under the same pain he was putting her through.

Y/N knew what she had to do at that very moment: she had to get out of London and move far, far away. So far away that no one would ever find her. So, she grabbed the extra suitcases in the flat and began to pack her things.

Starting at the record corner, she picked every single one of her belongings and shoved them into her suitcase. Y/N had to shrink a few of her belongings, such as the couch, in order to fit, but in a little less than an hour, every hint of Y/N was packed away in three large suitcases.

Y/N gave one last look at the apartment before apparating to Paris, where she knew she could start a better, more meaningful life. Maybe, she could even find a fresh bakery to supply her with warm loaves of sourdough bread.

When Sirius returned to the flat the following morning, the only remaining aspects of Y/N were a striped scarf and two galleons folded neatly on the bed next to Vanessa’s lingerie.

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starrysebastians · 3 years

Text

Tis the damn season

Summary : On the first post-blip Thanksgiving, you find yourself having to reunite with your parents and your heart is not in it — Sam persuades you to take Bucky with you, and this might be an opportunity for you two to get to know each other. I just heard a ten pound turkey hit the ground and also very strong words. Do you need help?

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count : 11k

Warnings : general sadness, mentions of death and strained family relationships, but holiday fluff to make up for it.

A/n : this was written for @wonderlandmind4's fall winter challenge, thank you for hosting this! (Got carried away with the word count while simultaneously having no inspiration and writing utter shit I'm genuinely sorry about this?????)

"God I hate this damn season and everything about it."

The sound of pebbles aggressively kicked by your foot is drowned out by the driver's door being slammed shut. It echoes around the empty street, morning fog still lingering in the air even in the early afternoon. A white cloud escapes your lips as you sigh, emptying all of your lungs' air before breathing in once again, and your eyes follow the shape — up, up, until it vanishes into the air and you are left staring at a familiar bay window. The curtain moves before you can even begin to turn your gaze away and a curse escapes your lips.

"Think they saw us?" His tone is dripping with irony.

Bucky is leaning against the car, arms crossed against his broad chest and his face as blank as your mind when you try to think about why you chose to do this. In the small moment of contemplation you were having, you didn't even notice him walk around the car and stand next to you.

"Nah, impossible," you say deadpan as a hand waves behind the glass. You stare at it silently before you talk again."We can still make a run for it."

You don't move as Bucky pushes himself off the car and opens the trunk, bags all held in his metal hand. The trunk slams shut and he is already crossing the road leading to the front lawn.

"I was being serious!" You call out, huffing when he turns around and glares at you.

Throwing up your arms and letting them fall back at your sides with a heavy sigh, you begrudgingly lock the car and walk towards the house — it seems so much smaller to you now.

"Of course they put Christmas decorations literally everywhere," you mutter under your breath, suddenly feeling a wave of holiday hatred hitting you at full speed.

Bucky eyes you for a second before knocking on the door, a horrified expression distorting your features when the word wait doesn't get to be voiced out loud. His eyes are more grey than usual, matching the sky, and they hold a twinkle of amusement at the sight of you, mouth open and eyes looking up at the sky as if some sort of alien could possibly appear and whisk you far away from here.

It's intriguing, seeing you this way — in your hometown, nervous about spending Thanksgiving with your parents. Nervous isn't the right word though, because he thinks he has never seen you nervous before ; there are actually a lot of emotions he hasn't seen you display yet. Not that he has a reason to, actually, because he only sees you when you are visiting Sam at their new headquarters, or when you are helping out on a mission. So really, he has only seen you laughing at Sam's jokes, or being angry at armed criminals. And what is left between those two extreme moods are mostly you being silent or passive-agressive — although the passive-aggressiveness is reserved for him, he has noticed.

"Y/N!" Your mother's voice makes you want to wince and you purse your lips, a poor attempt at smiling. Bucky had stepped behind you after having knocked on the door and you are at the forefront of every attack.

Arms feel strange and foreign around you, a warmth you are not used to anymore. You can't really feel your hands as you awkwardly reciprocate the gesture, patting your parents' back as your gaze rests upon the staircase, so many memories rushing to your mind at once.

"Hi," you say simply, taking a step back and crossing your arms. You clear your throat, leaning closer to Bucky, your arm brushing his. This is what a regular person would do, right? "This is James."

You don't really pay attention to the way your mother's arms engulf Bucky — poor guy. Their voices are just noise to you as you step around them and walk to the living room. We have been dying to meet you. Y/N has been keeping you hidden from us for so long. We are so glad to have you here, James. Slow and careful steps, eyes taking it all in — the green walls, the fireplace, the old rug and the stains you've made, the painting you've always found disturbing. It smells just the same. You run your hands across every surface, fingers lingering on cold wood.

"It's a good thing that you're here early. I'll show you to your room and you can settle in, rest a little." You turn around lazily, lids heavy with the weight of nostalgia and old visions. Your mother's hand is resting on Bucky's forearm, probably because his shoulder was out of reach, and he looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You wonder if he is uncomfortable being touched like this by your parents or if it is something else. "You must have had a long ride."

Bucky opens his mouth and you cut him off before he can even begin to utter a single word, eyes boring into his with a warning.

"We did. Exhausting. Lots of traffic." You have faked enough yawns in your life to fool even your own parents — then again, how long has it been since they last saw you? And it takes little effort to conclude that you and Bucky will rest in your room for a while before coming down and helping with dinner preparations.

The stairs creak under your feet and you smile a little at the sound. Your room smells like old wood, rays of light playing with dust particles around you. An old fluffy carpet, pastel tones and white walls, very few decoration. Some pictures — pictures of artists you used to like, empty postcards, not personal ones. These ones have been taken off the wall years and years ago.

The mattress dips under your weight as you slump down on your bed, fingers moving on their own to stroke a soft blanket. Bucky closes the door behind him, eyes lingering on the almost empty walls. The thought of you and him in your old room and sharing your bed finally crosses your mind.

"M’gonna go for a walk," you suddenly say, getting up from the bed in a swift movement. You don’t walk towards the door, but towards the window instead.

"O...kay," Bucky drawls out. He watches as you open the window, grunting as it requires some forceful pulling. "Is this a secret code for...I’m gonna jump out the window and die so I can avoid my parents?"

You snicker, closing your eyes and breathing in as the icy air finally hits your face. Tendrils of hair fly around your features and tickle your skin. You turn around, fingers putting your hair back into place, strands tucked behind your ears.

"I wish," you almost don’t add anything, but Bucky looks so utterly lost and confused as you throw a leg outside that you have to. "I used to sneak out of here all the time. It’s safe, there’s a big ledge and then I land on the guest room's balcony."

"When are you getting back?" He only asks, pushing his body off the wall and going to sit down on the spot you were occupying just a minute before.

"In time. Don’t worry," this time you’re fully out of the room, feet expertly walking on the ledge. "If they knock just say I’m asleep." You stop in your tracks, voice louder. "And don’t go through my stuff. I’ll know and I’ll kill you."

Bucky’s still sitting on the bed when you get back, your hair slightly damp and frizzy from the humidity and the small drizzle outside. Cheeks and nose reddened by the cold and eyes brighter now that you have breathed in some fresh air, that isn't the air from New-York, something purer with a familiar smell.

"I’ve been gone two hours. Please tell me you’ve got up at least once," you mock, bending down to untie your shoelaces and avoid making mud stains all over the carpet. This floor has suffered enough over the years.

"No. I’ve been sitting there waiting for you like the good dog that I am." His voice dripping with sarcasm, you roll your eyes. "Told them you were asleep and blocked the door in case they wanted to check on you."

You raise your head slowly, squinting at him.

"So...you talked to them?"

He stares back with a bored expression.

"Yes. I’ve talked to them. I'm spending Thanksgiving with them and sleeping in their house, so I figured maybe I could behave like a civilized person and say hi, you know." You blink. "Plus, I'm your boyfriend." You blink again.

"You didn't have to talk to them so soon. We've got all night," you mumble, now going for your socks.

"I've endured far worse than having a full conversation with someone's parents, Y/N," he chuckles and your smile doesn't reach your eyes.

"Right."

Bucky looks at you, really looks at you. Hands going through your hair and gripping it a little too tight as you try to weave your fingers through knots and tangled strands — wind still raging outside. Dark shadows under your lashes from having rubbed your eyes in exhaustion and forgetting you had mascara on. Jaw ticking every now and then as your eyes bore into an empty spot, and he doesn't know if you are staring at an actual object or at something that only exists in your mind.

"Have they asked anything about us?" You say, sitting down on the floor and next to your travel bag.

"The usual. How we met, how long we’ve been together…that sort of thing."

Your stomach twists and you look up, alarmed.

"Oh god. What did you tell them? I forgot to make something up. We should have discussed this in the car, I just forgot." You run your hands through your tangled hair, again. "Fuck."

"It’s okay," Bucky’s eyes follow your every move as you rummage through your bag to find another top, fingers pulling on a soft black fabric. "I told them we met through Sam. And obviously they knew who he was — who I was, so I assumed they knew about you too." There’s an interrogation in his voice and you simply nod in confirmation. "So we talked about our jobs, mostly."

"Exciting," you comment sardonically. "And how long have we been dating?"

"Told them we started dating before the snap."

You freeze, hands still resting on your black top, a slightly sheer and shiny material you thought would be more festive.

"So…definitely more than five years," you start, and he nods in response. "And...that means I visited Wakanda, right?"

He thinks for a second.

"Right. Yeah."

You hum again.

"Not very practical. I’ve never been to Wakanda."

"Now you have a problem with accuracy?"

You glare at him.

"No. Just saying. We could have met in New-York. Would have been simpler. That's all."

"Right. Two months ago and it was love at first sight so you’re already bringing me home to your parents — whom you haven’t seen in years. Makes sense." You clench your jaw and he raises a brow, sparkling blue eyes taunting you.

Glaring at him one last time, you turn around and face the wall.

"First of all, we didn’t meet two months ago," you start undoing the buttons of the cardigan you are wearing. "I'd definitely remember if I had only been enduring your presence for two months." He scoffs behind you.

You pull your cardigan over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room. Some deodorant and you grab the festive top. Bucky stares at your back for a second, soft skin covered in small beauty spots and old scars, defined muscles in action grabbing his full attention. Your neck, the way your hair brushes up your shoulders, the glimpse at your breasts and the curve of your waist — he focuses his gaze on the window instead. An afternoon sky blanketed by dark grey clouds, a promise of rain and a mirror of what he guesses is an internal turmoil.

"And?"

"And what?" You face him again, fitted dark fabric clinging to your body.

"You said first of all. I’m assuming there’s a second part." Brow quirked and smirk slowly lifting the left corner of his mouth, he watches your face fall.

"There isn’t," he nods, full mocking smile on his lips now. "I actually like using first of all knowing there’s nothing else I have to add. It’s a figure of speech."

He scoffs, shaking his head.

"It’s not."

"It is now," you stand up, brushing your hands against your thighs. You are now dressed in all black and it looks like you are going on a mission. You are, somehow. "Are you gonna change for tonight?"

"What, is it that ugly?" Bucky looks down at his outfit.

Fitted blue sweater and black jeans with dark combat boots. You know he had cut his hair right after...everything, but it has grown out again and you’re surprised to find curls. You don’t notice him looking up, instead keeping your eyes fixed upon the blue of his sweater and the way it hugs his chest. He clears his throat and you meet his gaze — curious.

"No, it’s not," you force a smile. "It’s very nice, actually. Brings out your eyes." You sigh, turning around and grabbing your toilet bag and makeup.

"I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not right now," Bucky frowns. Isn’t it part of the job description to know whether people are being genuine or not? Aren’t spies supposed to know that kind of thing? He never can tell with you. Everything you say has that kind of monotonous tone and it's either ironic or deadly serious.

You let out a light chuckle as you enter the bathroom. "I’m not making fun of you, Barnes. Blue looks good on you."

You stare at your reflection for a second. Pale skin and dark circles, the remnants of a fight barely visible because your hair is hiding the last remaining scar. The door to the bathroom was left open and you catch Bucky’s gaze in the mirror.

He busies himself with his bag, going through his stuff and deeming perfume to be the only necessary adjustment to his current state. Fingers scratching an unshaven throat, he calls out your name, meeting your eyes again in the mirror. You only hum.

"Should I call you babe for the weekend?"

Your hand halts mid-air, makeup brush just a few centimeters away from your skin.

"What?"

"Well. We’re selling this thing. What about PDA, that sort of thing?"

You laugh again, and this time it sounds really genuine to him. High and full of disbelief.

"Didn’t think you were familiar with the term PDA," you shake your head to yourself while he rolls his eyes. "But to answer your question — " you turn to look directly at him, complexion brighter and cheeks rosier. "— call me babe and you won't live to see another day. "

"Why have someone pretend to be your boyfriend if you're just gonna act like he's your friend?"

"Barnes. You think you have to exchange saliva with me in front of my parents for them to believe we’re together? Me bringing you here is already huge, trust me."

He stares at your back. Dropping the subject.

"Should I shave?" You don't need to look at him to answer confidently.

"No. I love a man with a stubble."

You finish your makeup in silence as he lays on the bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the dinner that awaits him. He is curious about you and your family. Not a lot of people in this field still have their parents, or at least are being honest about what they do for a living. But mostly he is curious about you, someone he has been getting used to working or training with, but not holding casual conversations or doing simple things.

A week earlier

Bucky raises a brow as Sam answers his phone. It’s eight in the morning and they just returned from their morning job, among fog and drizzle, the sun slowly rising over New York City and filtering through Central Park's trees and half-empty branches. It is not as cold as it should be for this time of the year, but he can still feel the early morning air biting at his face, even inside the apartment. Sometimes after a run he has breakfast with Sam, when they haven’t bickered so much on the way over that Bucky decided to run home instead.

"I cannot deal with this amount of bad energy in the morning. Come over," Sam laughs and Bucky stares at his mug of coffee while his mind goes though every possibility.

And when Sam opens the door and you step in, he goes back to staring at his mug, only watching your every move from the corner of his eye. You do look agitated for someone who probably woke up less than an hour ago.

"I can’t." The new Captain America shakes his head and you grab him by the shoulders, hands looking so small.

"Sam. I wasn’t asking. This is not an option."

"We’re having a Thanksgiving dinner at the VA, I can’t ditch the guys," he says and you groan, head thrown back.

You plop down on a bar stool, the one across Bucky, and you only nod at him as a hello. He rolls his eyes — typical. He is hunched over the kitchen counter, plate of pancakes drowned in maple syrup placed in front of him. You stare as he picks up his fork and knife and starts eating, following every mouthful with empty eyes.

He almost opens his mouth to snap at you before you slightly shake your head and turn to the window to your left. The beginning of fall doesn't feel like it is supposed to — yellows and oranges and reds could be a palette of grey and you wouldn't even notice the difference. It's not the same anymore.

"Why do you absolutely have to bring someone anyway?" You sigh as Sam asks.

"They think I have a long-time partner."

"Why would they think you have a long-time partner when I've never even seen you hold a conversation with a guy?" Bucky comments.

"First of all, you've been gone five years. I'd shut up if I were you." You scowl, lips almost curling up in anger when you whirl around to glare at him. "Second of all, you're not exactly a god in that area either."

"Well I have been gone for five years, I've got an excuse," he shrugs with a smirk and you eye the table where they are sitting at, pastries and pancakes, fruits and hot beverages, full glasses. "Throw that glass of water at my face and I'll kill you."

You hold his gaze for a second and purse your lips, eyes turning away as you sit down and rest your elbows on the wooden surface, permanent frown etched on your face.

"They think they've missed five years of my life, I had a moment of…weakness. Didn't have the heart to tell them I was still single." You look out the window again. The wind howls loudly and a chill runs across your spine even though you're perfectly warm inside. "I think I'm gonna say he died."

You don't pay attention to the small beat of silence that follows your sentence — a silence that is interrupted by Bucky's fork scratching against his plate. You scowl at him.

"You're gonna say what now?"

You shrug at Sam.

"Then I don't have to explain why we broke up. And since I will spend years recovering my mom won't think of bothering me with boyfriend talk for a while." Which seems like a rather logical and practical plan to you, underserving of such funny looks.

"You can't just make up someone and then say they died, Y/N."

"I don't see why not. A lot of people have died recently, I can easily get away with it." The way you speak and shrug, it's all innocent and casual, but your words leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look and stare at each other for a second as if a simple blink was enough for them to communicate their exact thoughts. You almost feel jealous.

"Just take someone else. I’m sure some of your friends have nothing to do on Thanksgiving."

Something heavy settles on your chest as you think of the people you would have loved to take home to your parents. Tony would have been impressive — albeit older and, well, married with a child. But your parents would have been starstruck. And Natasha would have seduced them right away. One foot into the threshold and they would have swooned at her feet, hanging onto her every word. Steve would have made the perfect boyfriend — the ideal american sweetheart, thoughtful and selfless, not the kind of person who would let you down. Not the kind of person who would leave everything behind.

When your silence has stretched for a little too long, you clear your throat, tightening your hold around a steaming cup of tea that you assumed was meant for you. Sam is now sitting next to you and you hadn't even realized he had moved while contemplating how lonely your life was. Bucky is staring at you with an unreadable expression and you shrug, again.

"I don't really have anyone else to bring. But that's okay. I'll stick to my story," you give Sam a woeful smile. "They'll think I'm sad and avoid annoying me for the whole evening so really I couldn't ask for a better story."

You stretch your arm in order to reach the plate of pancakes, but your fingers barely graze it. Bucky silently pushes it towards you and you simply purse your lips. It looks like a smile, right? Drowning your pancakes in syrup just like he did five minutes ago, you sit up straighter and exhale. Then your tone changes. "Anyway."

Sam crosses his arms and nods at Bucky. Blue eyes fixed upon the dark-skinned man’s face, he already knows.

"Bucky doesn’t have anything planned for Thanksgiving," he starts and you keep chewing. "You should take him. I’m told he’s great boyfriend material."

You slowly look up, skeptic look on your face.

"I feel like you could sabotage me at dinner and I do not want that. The whole thing’s annoying enough as it is."

He shrugs. Too bad. Sam’s eyes are getting bigger and bigger and Bucky sighs, setting his fork on the counter and leaning back. The leather squeaks under his weight and he clears his throat. The noise makes you raise your head and you look at him curiously.

"I’ll behave."

You stay silent for a little while as Bucky raises his eyebrows expectantly. Is he better than making up someone and then saying they died? You think about it, and the chance of your mother not leaving you alone and looking at you with pity instead suddenly crosses your mind. Not good. Not your plan.

"Okay," you resign. Your pancakes don’t taste as good as they did before you said yes. Bucky and you have probably exchanged ten full sentences ever since you met, and they weren’t necessarily sweet. It is not that you don’t get along or fight — you work well together, actually. But he’s not your friend either. And sometimes, most of the time, you can’t help but feel something akin to anger build up in your chest when you look at him and see Steve instead.

The table is pretty. Red and green, matching the decorations hung upon the fireplace and all over the house. Candles and elegant wine glasses. Christmas tree already up in the back of the living room, which you can still see from your spot at the table. The flickering lights and glittering garlands are a welcomed distraction to the people actually sitting in front of you, and you can't even remember the last time you had dinner with your parents. So formal.

You notice your mother stealing a glance at you before she fully turns her body towards Bucky. Fuck. You try to shoot her a warning glance but her sweet smile is already into place and there is nothing you can do except watch. You knew appetizers and amuse-bouches and your comments about their incredible taste would not be enough to keep the conversation from turning more personal, but you didn't think it would be so soon.

"You know, this is the first Thanksgiving Y/N is spending with us." Bucky quirks a brow and you scoff in disbelief.

"This isn't true. I have distinct memories of yelling and burnt turkey. Where else would that be?" You deadpan, hand moving towards your glass before stopping mid-air, a single drop of red wine left starring back at you.

You hold back a groan, eyes flickering between the glass and the bottle. Should you maybe wait before getting a refill and not get any comments from your parents?

"I meant, this is the first Thanksgiving you're willingly spending with us. You were sixteen last time," your mother's voice holds the same irony, but hers is sad while yours sounds angry. Bucky steals a quick glance at you without ever moving his head, and smiles sweetly at your mother, as if trying to make up for your attitude. "Are you still in touch with your parents, James?"

"Oh god," you groan, hand on your forehead. "Mother."

You decide that possibly getting a comment about your drinking habits is worth it if drinking means not feeling this crushing weight of shame, embarrassment, and everything else. Bucky looks down at your arm as it emerges right in front of him — you don't spare him a glance, fingers curling up around the bottle and the sound of wine filling up your glass grows higher and higher until you stop. Even this can't drown out the conversation. Your dad's voice echoes from the other room, footsteps drawing closer.

"Sweetie, I think you're forgetting how old James is."

You don't watch as Bucky probably smiles softly at your dad, then at your mom, and says it's fine. Red wine is pretty when it is swirling in a moving glass — it reminds you of fall, leaves twirling in the wind, the red lipstick you're wearing, but mostly blood.

Your mother is babbling out apologies and reaching out for Bucky's hand across the table and he is being so gentle and patient it makes you want to shake him by the shoulders and yell at him for being so good to them.

"We only heard from Y/N six months ago, actually."

"Well, you were gone before, so," you mutter, regretting every single choice that has lead you to this moment. Bucky perks up, eyes going quickly between your closed face and your parents, eyebrows drawing in a compassionate frown. Man, is he good at this.

"Were you both…taken by the snap?"

You sigh, turning your head to look out the window while Bucky and your parents talk about their shared experience, finger tracing the rim of your glass over and over again. For some the light around them and their alternate universe was all blue, others say it was a sort of ethereal shade of green. Some have non memory whatsoever of the whole experience and you wonder what it would have been like for you. You think that a minute in a world on literal fire would have been better than five years in the real one.

Natasha's world is probably made out of purple and red — you hear this is how Vormir looked. Pretty.

The rain suddenly hitting the bay window snaps you out of your quiet moment of contemplation. It was left slightly open and the sound of the wind blowing through swaying trees lulls your for a second, eyes unfocused.

Your name echoes around the dining room again and your gaze snaps to that of your mother.

"What?" You say in a sigh.

"Nothing!" Her tone is unusually high. "I was just explaining to your boyfriend how we reunited. You visiting us when everyone came back." She looks at Bucky again. "It was a big surprise."

You don’t meet his gaze, instead resting your elbows on the table and nuzzling your face in the palms of your hands. You probably should have kept being a ghost.

"A good one, I bet?" He keeps his tone light.

Your mom goes on about how they have missed you all this time and you resume playing with your glass. And maybe refill it a few times.

"Oh. We saw the ceremony you had for Steve Rogers with Captain...Captain America. It was very moving." Your dad tells Bucky with a compassionate frown and you purse your lips. You almost want to put your hand on Bucky’s shoulder — his hand, his thigh, anything to give him some sort of comfort, but you can’t bring yourself to move your own hand. Everything feels really heavy.

In your opinion, it’s actually a good thing that Steve died so soon. He had first been a man out of time when he woke up in 2011, and managed to adapt. Even said he wouldn’t go back because the past was the past. Right. But coming back an old man, having lived another full life while your friends remain the same? This wasn’t right, for anyone. With Tony and Natasha gone, you would rather have Steve be gone as well. Can’t really move on if something is still holding you back — now they’re all definitely gone.

Your chair scratches the wooden floor as you stand up on almost-wobbly legs.

"M’gonna check on the turkey." Your voice doesn’t even sound like your own and your throat hurts.

Voices are drown out as you close the kitchen door, back resting against it for a moment. The room is hot even though the window has been left open. You breathe in and out slowly, taking in the smell of pies and spices. You walk towards the window, slowly, taking it all in as you calm down. Nothing is in its usual place. Scattered utensils over every surface, traces of flour and sugar on the table and bottles which haven't been closed. Something makes you jump and it's a pan is overflowing.

There are only a few seconds left on the oven's timer. Pan situation under control, oven gloves on both hands, you think maybe cooking more for yourself would take your mind off things. You almost sigh in contentment as the warmth from the plate spreads through your hands, arms and even radiates through your chest.

All sorts of pies litter the kitchen table, cinnamon, clove and ginger invading your senses. All of you is consumed by spices and sounds of domestic life and it looks so homey but you can't bring yourself to feel at home. This whole day has been like being in a dream, floating through life, childhood and Thanksgiving memories like an intruder. Seeing yourself move around but not being able to control or truly touch anything.

You see yourself with the turkey between your gloved-hand, red lipstick and pretty outfit hugging your body. You see yourself ten years ago, dressed in a red dress and hair cascading down your back, laughing hysterically as you set a turkey down on a large wooden table, candles lighting up your friends' eyes. Seven years ago, in that deep green jumpsuit — the color of Natasha's eyes, Tony had said all night. Six years ago, in that matching Christmas jumper and soft socks in which you kept slipping on the cabin's floor. Five years ago and the years following the snap when everything was dark and hopeless and you had lost so much but you still had Natasha and Tony and Steve.

Every single bittersweet Thanksgiving memory plays out right before your blurry eyes, like a film. A compilation of every celebration shared between loved ones, your chosen family. And it feels so lonely without your best friends and half of the team you used to be.

Your hands shake as you go to set the plate down on the kitchen table — it's greasy and slippery and your hands are starting to burn so you don't even feel the glove slowly slipping.

Fuck.

It takes a moment to be fully registered.

"Fuck!"

On the other side of the door, Bucky’s cough is enough to cover a string of colorful curses and the cracks and tears in your voice. Your hands are as wet as your cheeks and you drop to your knees, muttering shit shit and shit all over again under your breath.

The plate clatters against the floor as you set it beside the turkey. Too loud. The minute your mother enters this kitchen you are a dead woman. "Shit."

Footsteps draw closer and heavier and you curse again, hands greasy and knees hurting from hitting the tiles. Somehow your fingers won’t grasp the turkey’s correctly and it keeps slipping back to the floor.

The door creaks open and you whirl around, eyes wide open and a strings of excuses ready. But Bucky stands here, hands in his back closing the door behind him and keeping anyone from seeing what is happening inside the kitchen. Mouth agape and tear tracks probably visible on your face, you finally close your mouth to gulp, turning your back to him and breathing in and out as quietly as possible.

Which is probably not quiet enough for someone whose ears are more than human.

You sniffle. Bucky stares at your back, hand still securing the doorknob. He doesn’t really know how to proceed with you, so he takes a few quiet steps forward. He clears his throat.

"I just heard a ten pound turkey hit the ground and also very strong words. Do you need help?"

This is so stupid.

"Bucky. The turkey’s on the floor. Literally."

"Yeah. I can see that," he eyes you, gauging your expression. Your eyes are dead set on the animal and hands still hovering over it, not quite stable. "It’s okay. They won’t know. I made noise when you dropped it."

"You did?" Your voice is smaller than usual and he bats your hands away from the turkey, grabbing it with his metal hand.

"Yeah. Coughed so hard your mom almost stood up to keep me from choking." You gape at him. He smiles at your stunned expression and the turkey is back in its plate, looking perfectly normal. Your hands are still greasy and you don't know what to do with them.

"Hey," Bucky's voice is softer than it usually is. Or maybe you never really noticed it was soft in the first place. "Look at me."

You change positions and rest your back against a cupboard, closing your eyes for a second before re-opening them. Crouching down to your level, he studies your face as you wipe off remaining tears with your sleeve. Flushed cheeks and quivering lips, wet lashes and a crease between your eyebrows. You hold his gaze for what seems like an eternity. There is a kind of intensity, determination in his eyes as he searches into yours. You aren't sure what he is looking for — maybe he is trying to find the right words, but eventually he just sighs and fully sits down in front of you. He is probably annoyed.

You bite down on your lip as your throat swells again, sudden shame washing over you. Having a meltdown is not something you do. Not when you are on your own, not in front of your friends and certainly not in front of a friend of a friend, even when his presence has become something usual and almost comforting to you as you hide it between rolled eyes and silence. Sometimes it's nice to visit Sam and have a trio again, even if it is not the trio you are used to. When you close your eyes and listen to the voices around you or when your vision is hazy, the mere idea of feeling surrounded is already comforting.

"M'sorry, this is stupid," you mutter, throwing your head back to have it rest against the cupboard. The bang echoes in your ears and Bucky slides a bit closer.

"It's okay," he shrugs. "Take your time."

He is so gentle in everything that he does. It's in the way he looks at you, eyes searching into yours but never once displaying pity, as if everything was perfectly normal. It isn't to you, but he seems so relaxed and unbothered. The way he speaks softly and expresses nothing but patience and serenity, the way his flesh hand slowly moves closer to your leg and almost hovers above your skin.

You sigh, head banging against the cupboard again, and spread your legs a little bit further. The right one brushes against his limb and he hesitates for a moment. Another look at you and his hand is resting on your calf. The warmth seeps through your black jeans and at this particular moment it comes back to you that you used to love being touched.

"I can't believe I dropped the fucking turkey," you say flatly. Bucky blinks slowly at you, the only proof that he heard you. He doesn't think he should talk and break your train of thoughts right now. "This isn't…what I normally do. On Thanksgiving. I've never spent Thanksgiving here. I mean, after I moved out."

Bucky's fingers move slowly against your leg, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as you start talking. You purse your lips, somehow wanting to keep your mouth shut but feeling oddly relaxed to be sitting on the floor with his thumb brushing over your jeans-clad skin. You look down, eyes following his fingers before focusing on your own, still numbly resting at your side.

"Yeah, that's what your mom was saying earlier," Bucky nods, eying your hands as well.

On your left, there is this hook with towels hanging from it. His arm is long enough for him to grab one without having to get up. You don't respond, instead staring at the tiles and the space between your legs. You don't seem to notice when he hands you the towel, so he slowly moves his flesh hand towards yours. The loss of warmth makes you look down to your calf, stomach dropping a little when his fingers aren't dancing on your skin anymore.

"What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?"

You blink. He grabs your arms, hands sliding from your forearm to your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse point longer than he should. Then his hands are cupping yours, gently turning your palms upwards. There is this small beat of silence and tension where both of you are looking at your almost intertwined hands as if you were not their owners, as if they were moving on their own and you could only watch as this unfolded before your eyes.

Should he let go?

"I always spend it with Natasha." Your voice breaks the moment. His gaze snaps up but you're staring into the void again. "We have this tradition." You blink. Once, twice. Slowly, kind of like a cat. "Had. We used to rent a cabin, somewhere remote and snowy, and Tony used to come as well. Well, before he had Morgan. Then we used to come to his house and have this big dinner with him and Pepper, sometimes Clint and his family."

Your gaze drops to your hand in his, one holding it up and the other wiping the oily substance away. Every movement seems so soft and gentle it makes your brain go fuzzy for a second.

"That sounds really nice." Bucky comments softly, going for the other hand.

"Steve came sometimes," you add, and he quirks a brow in surprise. "When everyone was taken away. Sometimes he held a little something at the VA, but we had him over once or twice." You nod. "It was nice."

Bucky simply nods. Your hands don't shine with turkey grease anymore, and it physically pains him to let go of your hands. For a second he thinks you are about to hold his tighter and keep him from prying off his fingers, but his ears suddenly pick up movement, and the way his posture visibly changes makes you snap out of it. Back straighter, eyes wider, shoulders squared.

"Shit."

He is quicker than you and stands near the door to tell your mom that the turkey’s ready — you’re on your feet again even if you have to grip the counter’s edge for a second so your legs don't give out under your weight. His body is blocking your mother's view of the kitchen and you can only hear her voice.

"Look at her, making us Thanksgiving dinner with her boyfriend," she tells your dad and you snicker.

"Look at her making us eat a turkey she dropped on the floor!" You singsong, pressing the heel of your hands to your cheeks as you try to make the red disappear.

"Now this is girlfriend material," Bucky mocks. The door is closed again and he takes a few steps towards you, the turkey being right next to where your hand is set.

You laugh at the absurdity of the situation and he smiles. He is only a foot away from you and you wonder if the warmth you are feeling is real or if it is your imagination, your mind and chest aching for comfort again. Touch is a vicious and dangerous thing when you can still feel it linger on your skin well after it is gone.

Metal hand reaching for the plate and body almost trapping you against the counter while you fix your gaze on anything but him, Bucky freezes for a moment — he meant to grab the plate and turn around, but this does feel intimate.

"Hey," he breaks the silence and you have to look up. In this instant, you want to take a mental picture and remember exactly how he looks. Light shining into his eyes, illuminated the tip of his perfectly carved nose and cheekbones. Pink lips parted and tongue swiping over them. Could this be nervousness?

You raise your chin, biting the inside of your cheek and fighting to maintain eye-contact. He is so close that you cannot help but being distracted by his smell, the way your chests would touch if you just pushed yourself off the counter, the way you want to feel cornered and caged if it means resting your cheek against his chest and having his arms around you.

Fuck.

"You gonna be okay?"

You wonder if his senses can pick up your internal turmoil. If he can hear your heart hammering against your ribcage, the quickened and shaky breaths. You fold your arms and hug yourself, a poor attempt at gaining back some control over yourself.

"M'fine," you mutter. He doesn't look convinced and still hasn't moved. You lower your head, the remnants of previous haircut mistakes and bangs falling over your eyes. "Really."

"Yeah?"

You look up again, mustering up a smile.

"Yeah. A little meltdown can work wonders for a girl."

He chuckles and you have never wanted to kiss anyone this badly in your entire life, but you blame it on the emotional rollercoaster this day has been. You almost flinch as Bucky raises his hand but exhale as his fingers graze your cheeks, moving your hair out of your eyes.

Your mother calls your name and you sigh. Bucky brings out the turkey and you set the side dishes on the table, carefully avoiding the candles and almost squishing a green garland. It's a perfect picture, you and him stepping out of the kitchen in tandem and smiling down at your parents as they congratulate you on the turkey — this is probably a picture you had in mind as a child. Something out of a romantic comedy.

You sit down and Bucky's hands linger on your shoulders, thumbs stroking exposed skin and your neck. You raise your head, leaning back in your chair to meet his gaze. Should you put your hand on his? Should you smile and gaze lovingly at him — isn't that what you are already doing? He bents down, softly kissing your cheek, lips ghosting over your ear.

"Let's sell this thing, shall we?"

You step out of the bathroom, silky pajamas hugging your figure and wet hair sending shivers down your back. You sigh heavily, feeling the need to seek warmth but not having enough energy. Your arms are at your sides and your bare feet have a hard time moving.

Bucky stares at the carpet as drops of water trickle down your hair and slowly form a dark spot at your feet. His gaze travels back to your face, eyebrow quirked. You look absolutely drained, with your lips slightly parted and the way you blink slowly, as if your eyelids weighted tons.

"If they ask us to stay for lunch tomorrow," you begin, slowly approaching the bed. "Please say we have a mission."

Bucky gives you a small nod. You sit down on the bed or rather let your body drop unceremoniously and lay down, hands on your stomach and eyes glued to the white ceiling. The mattress moves with Bucky and you hear him rest his back on the bed's head. Creaky wood that won't stop making noise.

"Well," Bucky starts, looking down at your form. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

You slowly peel your gaze off the ceiling, body and face still as your gaze moves to his face, his eyes already on yours.

"I don't have the strength to answer you right now."

His shoulder shake and so does the bed. You groan.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"No."

"Why did you decide to contact your parents after all this time?"

"Did you hear me say no?"

He gives you a half shrug and you sigh, rolling so you are lying on your stomach, elbows propped up on the mattress. Bucky knows this means you are going to talk, and he sits up straighter, intrigued.

"Everyone was gone," you say simply, fingers drumming mindlessly on your cheek. "It was…utter and complete chaos everywhere. You're lucky you didn't get to see it. Just to go out in the streets, enter a coffee shop and see the look on people's faces…" You don't finish your sentence, eyes fixed upon Bucky's torso but mind miles away from your room. His shoulders sag as he takes in your expression. "And I felt lucky I still had Natasha, and Steve. And Tony. I was so lucky compared to others — sometimes I helped Steve out with his therapy meetings and I just…hearing about other people's loss…I wondered about my parents, somehow. I drove all the way up here and the house was so silent and empty, I just knew." You shrug, lowering your gaze to numbly observe the patterns on your sheets. "We've never been close, and I thought I didn't care about them the way I've always felt like they didn't care about me, but when I realized they weren't here anymore…they're still my parents, you know?" Not expecting you to look up at him, Bucky is at a loss for words when you bite your lip and go silent as if you were waiting for an answer.

You swallow thickly.

"So when everyone came back, I had this urge to make sure they did too. And now we're here," you purse your lips. "Not sure this was a good idea."

Sometimes you think contacting them was a mistake. Yes, you felt an incommensurable sense of loss, standing in this empty house with the wooden floor creaking underneath your feet, dust flying and twirling around you, your reflection staring mockingly at you whenever you passed a mirror. Too late. Visiting your childhood home was the moment it all came rushing back to you ; the moment your mind finally caught up with reality and you simply crumbled. Orphan, half of your friends turned into dust, a whole world of shades of grey and not an ounce of hope. But spending Thanksgiving here doesn't give you the comfort or closure you thought it would. Being here and feeling like a stranger in your own home, bringing a fake boyfriend, having to sit through celebrations when there is nothing left to celebrate on this earth for you.

"They looked happy to see you."

Your chest tightens for a moment. It's somewhere between guilt and longing.

"Yeah, I guess," you give him a half shrug. Your face is resting right next to his thighs and you stare for a moment. Another barely perceptible movement and the headboard squeaks again. You almost let your face fall on his thighs when heavily groaning. He laughs and it gets worse.

"Well at least it's gonna be easy to convince them we really are a couple, right babe?" He says, deadpan. You look up at him through your lashes, sly smile on your face, a force of habit. Striking blue eyes staring back at you, perfectly sculpted face and a smirk on his plump lips. It would be so easy to pretend this is a normal scene from a domestic life. The creases around your mouth disappears as you blink a sort of haze away.

The moment passes and you busy yourself with the laptop you brought, while Bucky stalks to the bathroom. The sound of water running manages to soothe you, weight on your chest slowly dwindling and breaths coming in lighter. It's a white noise lulling you to sleep. You lazily brush your hair and slide into bed, covers pulled to your chin and body stiff as the cold from the sheets seep into your bones for a long moment.

The shower curtain rattles, bottles clink against the sink and water runs again with the sound of a toothbrush. You turn on your side, chin tucked to your chest and arms under your pillows, scared to stretch out your legs and meet a biting cold again. The bathroom door opens and you relish the very small amount of warm steam reaching you.

The bed dips and you keep your eyes closed.

"You sure you don't want me out of your bed?" You don't know how many times he has asked this question. You only hum, too tired to voice your thoughts out loud. You feel the covers being lifted and shiver — could it be his thigh brushing against yours?

His mere nearness already warms the bed up and you silently thank a higher presence for the super soldier serum.

"God you're like a personal heater," you mutter, faced squished against your pillow, body moving closer to his on its own until warmth has engulfed you and you can finally extend your legs, feet reaching the end of the bed.

"Mh, I get that a lot," you feel his chest rumble next to you and you hum in response, something between contentment and an attempt to hide a blooming sensation in your chest.

You get closer again, face now pressed against his arm, cheek to warm and toned flesh. It doesn't take long for his arm to move, a frown etched on your features before they ease up again as he guides your face to his chest. An arm snaking around your shoulders and holding you closer, a chest rising and falling with deep and even breaths, a back and forth that rocks you.

You can't even remember the last time you felt this at peace. This warm and safe, arms secured around you like a cocoon, the smell of your childhood and his cologne mixing together. And it hits your half-asleep brain that you had craved this all along, all those years of darkness and loss.

"M'sorry," you murmur, your lips moving against his chests and your words barely discernible. "Just really need this right now."

His fingers linger on your back, hand sliding down to rest on your waist. Squeezing, thumb stroking your skin, fingers tracing random shapes. You shift, your own arm laying on his stomach, almost hugging him like a pillow or a big stuffed animal. Fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt like a reflex, legs tangling with his.

"It's okay." His voice is smooth, quiet. "Me too."

Eyes bleary and squinting to adjust to the light, you hold on to the banister as you wobble down the stairs. Voices echo around the living room and you frown. It's only eight.

You still as Bucky's laugh reaches your ears and hurry down the remaining steps. The morning light shines through the windows, surprisingly blue and clear skies facing you. Red and green lights dance around the living room's walls, reflections from the Christmas Tree's decoration. Lips parted in awe, you linger for a moment. The atmosphere is different from last night, it feels lighter. It's not just that the downpour has been replaced by a blue sky and what seems to be a perfect fall day — ice cold but the sun still shining. You feel lighter.

"Hey." You whirl around. You didn't notice Bucky approaching you. Coking his head to the side, he looks at you with an unreadable expression. "You planning on spending the day standing here?"

"Tempting," you give him a half shrug, and he extends his flesh hand towards you, palm up and inviting.

"We made breakfast," he says as you rest you put your hand in his warily.

"We?"

The smell of bacon hits you when you enter the dining room, a table full of pancakes and pies greeting you. Steaming cups of coffee, a teapot — Bucky discreetly tugs you closer to him, hot breath on your cheek.

"You prefer tea in the morning, right?" It is whispered as not to draw suspicions towards the fact that he knows nothing about you, but it takes you a moment to recover from the initial surprise of the gesture. You nod numbly, eyes fixed upon your intertwined fingers. When did you say it was okay for PDA?

The conversation flows more easily in the morning, the sight of a table this impressive and Bucky's touch lifting your spirits. You think life could be this easy all the time. This tranquil and domestic, a good night's sleep with someone and pancakes waiting for you in the morning. You smile as you talk about some of your most confusing missions, as you and Bucky tell stories about Sam. Albeit a bit pained, but it's something.

Leaving your parents after breakfast isn't as satisfying as you thought it would be, and you give warmer hugs than what you gave last night.

You sigh when the driver's door closes, sinking into your seat and resting your forehead against the cool window. The landscape is an orange blur, the sound of the wind blowing around the car loud enough for the radio to be useless. When you are in the city again, the car slows down and you are stuck in traffic. Bucky's hand reaches out to switch the radio on and you turn slightly in your seat, body leaning towards his.

"I was a bitch to you," you state without any warning and he snorts, looking at you with a confused expression. "When we first met."

"Oh," his raises his brows high, as if in absolute agreement.

"You just reminded me of Steve," you say softly. "And I hated him for leaving. Still do, sometimes." you think, frown etched on your features. "Most of the time. But it wasn't fair to you and I'm sorry."

He turns his head towards you, a simple nod to you. You fold your hands on your lap, chest lighter now that you have said it out loud. He clears his throat and you look at him again. Sun reflecting on his sparkling eyes, a smile pushing its way onto his lips. Genuine, soft. You find yourself returning the gesture naturally — no pursed or tight lips, no physical pain in your cheeks.

"And this was nice," you add quietly.

"It's not that we haven't talked," you roll your eyes, nursing a drink of champagne and crossing the bal room with Sam at your side. Voice louder than usual, eyelids and lips glittering, your heels click against the floor and you side step dancing couples.

It's quieter near the Christmas Tree. Well, near the bar.

"So you have talked?" Sam sets his empty glass on the bar counter and asks for a refill with a simple tilt of the head. Perks of being Captain America, surely. You lean against the cold marble, in-between the stools, huffing.

"No, we didn't," you repeat for what is probably the third time.

"Man, this isn't going anywhere," Sam shakes his head, eyes skimming over the crowd. You do the same.

"That's what I told when you insisted on starting this conversation, Wilson."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," he grumbles before taking another sip of his drink. You give in with a half shrug and a sigh.

"We just haven't had a reason to, Sam, don't read too much into it," you say casually. "No missions, no meeting…"

"Right. And the fact that you haven't been to our headquarters in a month."

"Well, as I said. No mission, no meeting," you raise your eyebrows. "You think I'm gonna drive all the way up there to say hi and prove you that everything is fine?"

"I was expecting this kind of commitment to the team, yes," Sam sighs dramatically and you return to your bubbly drink.

The song switches to Mariah Carey and a chorus of cheers erupts from the room, almost making you physically wince. Hands in the air, feet jumping up and down and literally making the room shake, every vibration felt deep in your chest.

"Now this is a song I haven't heard today."

Sam snickers.

"Here we go. Was wondering when you were gonna ruin the mood."

"Hey!" You head whirls around, mouth open. Brown eyes twinkling with amusement, eyebrows barely raised, the kind of satisfaction you get when you want to say I told you so. "You have to admit that this is getting redundant." You are definitely not to blame here — surely more there are more than three Christmas songs in the world?

"It's Christmas."

"Yes, I'm painfully of aware." Someone falls on the dance floor and you judge them silently. You and Sam probably look intimidating as both of you are leaning against the bar, glass in hand and chins raised. "Plus it took me more than an hour to…" You trail off, a sudden glint drawing your attention to the entrance of the room, right across from the bar. "…get here."

Sam follows your line of sight. Through a flurry of red figures, glittery and twinkling dresses twirling around with every move and laughter mixed with animated chatter and pop songs, a dark figure parts the crowd and makes its way towards the bar. Something akin to slow-motion happens in your brain. Completely unprepared for something you had been thinking about for days. Not days. Weeks.

Your chest rumbles with the rhythm of the song, matching each beat of the drums. It helps you cover up the fact that your heart is violently pounding against your ribcage and that he can probably hear it. Hell, Steve could probably hear it from his grave — this thought makes you blink, a semblance of composure coming back to your face.

"Hey man!" Sam happily greets his friend, patting him on the back. "Happy Christmas Eve." His hand lingers, squeezing Bucky's shoulder. His gaze is warm and the silent eye-contact you two share when your eyes travel above Bucky's shoulder is a way of wishing you the same. Playful face merging into something sincere. Jolly songs contrasting with the sad look in your eyes and the woeful smiles you three have plastered on your face. Civilians like to call this night the first Christmas into a normal life again. Their old life.

"Hi," Bucky greets you, a little breathless, and you wonder if he took the stairs to get here.

Sam is whisked away by a politician and you remember that he is here as Captain America and therefore is on duty. Champagne has never looked prettier, swirling in your glass as you try to focus on anything else but the man ordering a drink beside you.

"How have you been?" He asks, mimicking your exact posture and taking a first sip of a scotch. You cast him a side glance. There's a scratch above his left eyebrow and you wonder why no one told you about this mission or called for backup.

"You mean, have I lost my goddamn mind in the kitchen again and thrown a poor animal on the floor?" He chuckles. Your eyes travel down his face and his midnight blue suit for a moment. Too long, and he notices. "Nope. I'm good."

He nods, then tilts his head to the side. His once-over is even less subtle than yours and you bury your face into your glass, not knowing where to look anymore. Shit. This was easier when you just bumped into him on your way to see Sam or simply shared missions with him — no small talk, no information on each other, nothing.

Thanksgiving was supposed to be unpleasant. And it was — bleak, gloomy, melancholic. But he wasn't.

"Care to dance?"

Your head snaps up towards him. You laugh, the rest of your drink downed in a second. Bucky stands up straighter — finishing a drink means being freeing oneself from having to hold a glass, right?

"I don't dance, Barnes."

"You don't?" You shake your head, already lifting a hand to motion for another drink. He steps around the bar stool that was previously keeping you apart, the smell of cologne and aftershave hitting your senses.

"I don't. Certainly not on Christmas songs."

He turns his head towards the crowd, chest rising as he breathes in deeply. The room does look pretty. Golden, red and green. Trees and fake wrapped gifts on the floor, fairy lights cascading down the windows and giving a kind of ethereal glow to everything and everyone standing here. It makes looks softer, eyes lighter. A couple captures everyone's attention ; skillfully dancing on every single song and adapting to every tempo. Their smiles are so bright that your lips quirk up a little without you even noticing it. It is radiant and contagious and for a moment they are all you can see.

A small gasp gets stuck in your throat when Bucky steps in front of you, breaking your focus on the dance floor. How did he get so close?

He offers you his hand, palms up and inviting. You remember how they felt on Thanksgiving.

"Bucky, I…really can't dance," you shake your head, lips parted.

"C'mon. No one cares."

He doesn't wait for you to place your hand in his, but simply grabs it, fingers naturally intertwining as if they had been designed to fit together. You open your mouth to argue, but all that escapes your mouth is a chuckle. An incredulous and surprised chuckle — almost a giggle but it hurts to admit it, eyes flitting over the crowd and the people surrounding you. Are they looking? Are they seeing what you are seeing?

He tugs on your hand and it is a slow song that echoes around the room, two bodies felling in step and gliding across the glittering floor. You hide your surprise at the way he leads you effortlessly — you had heard stories about his days in the forties and you suppose this is what he mastered to woo the dames. A warm hand in yours and the other firmly placed around your waist, drawing you close to his chest. You wrap an arm around his neck, fingernails tingling his skin.

"Is this Bing Crosby?" You ask lazily, body swaying slowly.

He hums.

"Uh. Better than Mariah Carey," you state quietly, almost in his ear. Hot breath on his skin. He huffs, quiet laughter and crinkles by his eyes. Out of all the things you could say to him right now, this is what you do.

"I'm glad you came," he says softly and you look at him curiously. He gives you a half shrug as you slowly twirl in his arms. "We haven't seen you in a while. Didn't want you to be alone today."

Your stomach twists when you are pulled into his arms again, your hand hesitantly cupping the back of his neck. You had indeed considered staying in bed and possibly crying in front of a romantic comedy, as cliché as it sounds. Completely immerse yourself in a universe that isn't yours and whose characters you do not have to grieve for. Vicariously feeling the Christmas Spirit of others.

But you wanted to be with your friends, as painful as it is to be reminded that your circle is half empty. Sam has poured his heart into this party — a tribute to Tony, a bit of giving after having taken so much, money raised for people in need and an opportunity to reunite and share something as a group again. You admire his strength and will and it is no surprise to you that he gets to carry the Captain America mantle. Someone whose heart knows no limit and who would do anything for his friends.

You smile wistfully.

"It's a nice party," is the only thing you say, small shrug accompanying a casual tone.

"It is," Bucky nods. Eyes going over every decoration again. It is a nice feeling — swaying in his arms, warmth and cologne engulfing you whole and caging you from the outside world. His skin is so soft against your fingers and you want to nuzzle your face into his neck, completely hide away and feel nothing but him.

You shouldn’t let yourself feel this way for someone you might lose, but you can’t help but relish the feeling of being held again. His hands cannot mend the pieces of your broken heart but they can contain them and keep you from crumbling down.

Disappointment probably shows on your face and your tired smile when the song ends and he steps away from you — hand still lingering on yours. As if reading your thoughts, Bucky casts a glance behind him and motions towards the exit with his chin. You follow his line of sight, then eye the crowd around you. He is right, no one cares.

Trailing behind him with flitting glances around you, hand grabbing a hold of his suit as if you could squeeze fabric tighter than flesh, you don’t notice when he stops and you bump into his back. The idea of leaving this party with him is taking up all your thoughts — no clear ideas but a definite feeling, an urge to find the comfort of his arms again.You almost don't look up as a string of cheers and laughter erupts around you. Way too close to you to be a simple coincidence. Bucky's hand tightens around yours. Green stares back at you.

Oh.

No.

Mistletoe.

Should you shake it off with a good laughter that makes it look like this is extremely funny but he is just a friend? Should you pretend not to see it even though your eyes are boring holes into it?

Bucky has already made up his mind.

Warm flesh squeezes your hand while cool metal rests on the small of your back, encircling your waist and pulling you close so unexpectedly that you almost stumble into his arms. The warmth emitted from his body is already melting away any smart quips or observations you had ready to get out of this. Completely shattering your resolve not to melt into his arms. You can only feel him. His arms around you, flesh hand moving up your arm, caressing and squeezing your shoulder until it is resting on your neck, fingers delicately holding your chin. You don't resist when he lifts it, eyes meeting his through your thick lashes.

This is the opposite of the quiet and intimate moment you were thinking about when leaving the room. Far from discreet touches but right among flashing lights, booming music and expectant stares. You’ve never had a kiss under the mistletoe and this is way too cheesy and holidays-like.

But he leans forward and his lips are on yours. Softly. Delicately. It lasts a split second. It satisfies the crowd and it seems like a peck that could happen to both lovers and friends but it leaves you aching for more.

You look up in a daze when he pulls away, lips parted and eyes wide. You blink it all away and plaster a tight-lipped smile on your face when you fake-bow to clapping strangers, and it takes all the willpower in the world to hold yourself upright.

The corridor is almost empty, save late-comers jogging towards where you are coming from or drunken people escaping the warm and almost suffocating air of the party. You have absolutely no idea where you are going, numb legs carrying you all the way to a remote corner. Your back hits the wall — his arm around you softens the impact.

Who instigated the second kiss? You feel like he met you halfway, or maybe you stayed rooted to your spot like a deer caught in headlights, pulse probably heard from a miles away. You can only focus on the softness of his lips on your skin, tender kisses on your neck and on the corner of your mouth. Eyes fluttering shut, fingers making their way through his hair and tugging, cheek to cheek and chest to chest — time has stopped.

You only open your eyes halfway when he pulls away for air, blurred vision and pounding heart. You feel his hot breath on your face when he chuckles breathlessly.

"Still hate this damn season?"

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #christmas one shot #Wonderland4SeasonalWC

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haravath0t · 3 years

Text

A Christmas Heist Pt. III - Digging Deeper

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: another immense word count, some fluff, tension, implied smut (if you wince), and Brock being an ass again

A/N: Hello, everyone! Sorry for the massive delay on this mini-series! School and family just has been making updating so much harder, but I am happy to be getting the mojo back even if it is little! I am trying to get myself to post on the weekends so that way I can keep up my motivation to remain active on tumblr. Since I am slowly getting used to school, I would like to play around with my schedule to see if anything will work! This part is starting to have some more tensions and the mission is slowly starting to escalate! I hope you all enjoy! Happy reading!

Main Masterlist

A Christmas Heist Masterlist

Request: “Bucky X reader where a Hydra agent dressed up as Santa and Bucky has to fight him, but the only way he can get close enough to “Santa” is dressing up as an elf. Thanks!”

You weren’t going to lie, this mission was a fun one to take part of. It’s been a couple of days, and it was quite funny to admit it was pretty fun and exhilarating. The places within the Apple Store that you three have rummaged through during these past few days are only making the options for where the hidden USB is more narrow. Besides the fact that you were after a hard drive that could possibly bring harm to many people if you didn’t retrieve it before the set date, you were happy that you were helping kids. However, this one would be a different one from the past few days. Your fellow co-worker, Daphne, brought in the next excited child to sit on Santa’s lap. It would be safe to say that from the viewpoint of the parent’s Mrs. Claus was doing most of the heavy lifting, for her husband was… focused on other things than Christmas.

“Alright. It’s break time for me. I’m going to the back. If we can’t find anything, I’ll see if I can get access to the lockers. Keep watch in case suspicious characters follow suit.” You hear Steve say into the comms. “You got it, punk. Be careful.” James responds back, eyeing Steve from his spot of the Toy Store. You and Steve make quick and subtle eye contact before he excuses himself.

“What’s your name?” You hear Brock say, unenthusiastically, forcing himself to rub the child’s back for comfort. “Brandon,” he replies, shyly biting down on his thumb. You tried hard to not let out a huff of frustration, for Brock clearly underestimated children and their ability to sense the energy of their surroundings. Like everyday you’ve worked here, you stepped in.

“Brandon! What do you want for Christmas?” You smile, reaching out your hand kindly as he shyly lets his small fingers wrap around your pointer finger. “Ummm… I want… I want a stuffed Mickey Mouse. Ummm… a puppy… and I… want… a big car! He finishes with growing excitement. “I want to drive in a car!” He giggles squeezing your finger as he starts to twist his upper body side to side. You couldn’t help the smile that grows on your face. “Oooh, just you wait, Brandon. You’ve been a good boy, I can tell.” An excited nod comes from the child. “Yes I am, Mrs. Claus! I’ve been nice this year!” You couldn’t help but laugh alongside the parents at the adorable nature of the kid. “He really has been. He’s been looking forward to seeing Santa and Mrs. Claus all year,” the mother remarks with a smile as she watches Brandon excitedly swing his arm with the hand that’s holding yours. “Ooh, then just you wait till you see the presents under the tree on Christmas, Brandon. I will make sure Santa puts a Mickey Mouse, puppy, and big car on his sleigh.” Brandon smiled from ear to ear, going up on his knees to reach over Santa’s seat to hug you. You gasped and giggled as you returned the hug, causing the parents to smile and take pictures of the lovely interaction. “Thank you, Mrs. Claus.” He replies with a cute smile before hugging Santa to thank him as well, only to receive a grunt from Santa’s end. “Time for pictures!” Daphne calls before she returns to the camera, counting down before the flash goes off, then another. The boy hops off excitedly, waving at you both as the parents whisk him away. Then you hear, “Rumlow, are you almost out yet? We have to discuss more of the Barracuda Project.” That wasn’t coming to your comm. “Yeah, yeah, in a bit, Agent Woodman. I’m still working.” You hear Rumlow grunt quietly into his comm. You had to do something. Steve was still in there.

“Thank you, Brandon!” you call out, nudging Brock slightly feigning innocence. Brock grunted from your nudge and followed suit. “Alright good job, guys. This was the last kid for the day. We’re free!” Daphne exclaims as she puts away the camera equipment. “Thank goodness, we’re done,” you smile, looking over at Rumlow, who was clearly in some hurry. You had to keep thinking fast. You watched Rumlow start to make his way towards the back of the bookstore. “State your status, Cap,” you say hurriedly into your comm.

“Still trying to look through the back room”

“How far back?”

“Quite far back.”

“Steve, you gotta get out of there ASAP. They’re planning to meet over there.”

“Stall Rumlow. I have to clean all this mess up.”

A groan leaves your lips as you swiftly walk towards the back, taking off your wig and glasses. You hated to do this. You plastered a smile to your face. “B-Brock?” You called innocently outside the employee’s men’s bathroom, causing Rumlow to open the door. Your eyes widened when you found him shirtless, still in his Santa slacks and boots. “O-oh, sorry. I-I’ll leave you-” You stutter, embarrassed, a bit of blush evident on your cheeks. A smug smirk starts to come on Brock’s face, cutting you off. “Oh, it’s not a problem, don’t worry, Mary or should I say…”

Oh no. Has he found out?

“Mrs. Claus?”

Phew.

You let out a bubbly giggle and a coy smile, waving your hand. “Oh, stop. It’s my job. Ummm. I don’t really know my locker in the back. I was wondering if you can… help me find it?” You ask in a coy manner, eyes purposely staring at Brock’s figure so he can catch you staring.

“Y/N, what-” Bucky whispers in the comm.

A smirk goes on Brock’s face once again, biting his lip. “Oh, yeah, no problem, Mary. Maybe I can show you a few more things, since you’re new. I can change into the rest of my clothing in the back anyways.” It worked. You let out another annoying bubbly giggle and nod. “I’d like that, Brock,” You respond back, innocently batting your eyelashes up at the burly man.

“Rumlow. Rumlow we are waiting-”

“Hold on, Mary, someone’s calling me.”

In no time, Rumlow closed the door and locked it. Allowing a breath that was held in to be held out.

“Status, Steve?” you whisper quietly, looking around to make sure no one was hearing you.

“Still cleaning. Keep stalling.” Fuck.

“Steve-”

“You kiddin’ me, punk? Hurry up. Y/N, sweetheart, what’s happening?”

“Buck, honey I got this, gotta go. Steve, I’ll try to give you 10 more minutes allowance max. You’re gonna pay for this.”

“Y/N-”

You yanked your comm and turned it off, placing it in one of the deeper pockets of your Mrs. Claus skirt, right on time when Rumlow walks out, still topless with a smug smile on his face. “Sorry about that, sweetheart (yuck). Here lemme show you what the back looks like.” He says, walking ahead as you follow behind in. You eye his pants, you heard a little jiggling from his pants. Keys. You peeped to the side to see that indeed, you were right. You had to keep this cover up to be able to get those keys without suspicion. You kept biting your lip for Brock to see your “interest”, taking your set of your fake set of keys from your duffle bag and swooshing them around. You passed a few shelves before landing on the lockers. “Here, Mary, is your locker. You can feel free to leave your costumes here and your stuff-” Yeah, that’s it keep talking. Just keep batting your eyelashes at him, Y/N. Steve better get out of there quickly. “And yeah. That’s it. You understood that?” Rumlow questions, taking you out of your thoughts. “O-Oh, thank you. I’m just going to put my bag up here, then.” You say, nodding. His eyes were still on you as you made your way in front of him.

“Scanning the back area to approve clearance of the meeting place.” Oh no, Steve.

If only you didn’t get to have such good hearing, the comm interactions between the Hydra agents wouldn’t worry you so much. You had to keep going. You dropped your duffle bag (rather loudly) on the floor. “Oops! Sorry, about that,” You say, bending down to retrieve your duffle, making it a point to put your hand on his thigh for stability. You knew this ought to have worked.

Brock couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to your hands and your bent figure. Oh, that comm was way past him now. You were so beautiful and attractive. It would be very nice to show off a girl like you next to a man like himself, right? Maybe, just maybe, he can get that asshole George to stay away from being the “defender of women”. No need to because you’re clearly attracted to him right? He might as well.

His hands slowly helped you back up and put the duffle in the locker, catching your eyes looking up at his. If only you knew how he loved the innocence radiating off of your face alone. “B-Brock?” You manage to choke out. “Back room is cl- wait. I think I’m seeing something,” Woodman says into Brock’s comm. Your trip on your own two feet and stumble a bit before Rumlow catches you, hands on your waist, face much closer to yours. “Rumlow. We may have an intru-”

“Mary!” This George the “woman’s defender” calls, footsteps approaching to where you are. He sees the elf at the corner of his eye. Oh this is sweet. Maybe George can leave his pursuit of you alone this time.

“There is an intruder. Checking to see-”

“Mary-”

SMACK. Brock pressed his lips to yours causing your eyes to widen in surprise. Think fast, Y/N. Think fast. You played with the game, letting yourself close your eyes as you kissed him back in feigned surprise. He did nothing but deepen this kiss, ignoring the messages going into his comms. You just knew your boyfriend looked like he was fuming. You allowed one of your hands to guide one of his hands from your waist, placing them on your hair, wrapping your leg around his waist. You can tell he was enjoying this. If you timed, this perfectly, you can be closer to completing this retrieval mission. You initiated a deeper kiss, satisfied when Brock follows suit.

3, 2, 1.

You let your set of keys drop from your hands to get a believable shock factor, letting the fall of the keys give you time allowance to quickly reach into his loose Santa pocket.

CLAM!

Your set of keys dropped on the floor, echoing the same time as you swiftly yank out Brock’s keys, tightly clenching them to prevent noises. Your hips start to buck, smirking as Brock let out a low groan and clinging onto your form and hair tighter. You allowed Rumlow to let his tongue dance in your mouth. You let him touch and kiss, for unknown to his knowledge, you extended your free hand, you and Bucky having a silent exchange before he leaves with a huff. Rumlow smirks and pulls away when he hears Bucky walk away, his want and lust evident in his eyes. “Didn’t know you wanted me in that way, Mary. Should have told me sooner so I could do more.”

“False alarm. Checked the suspect and saw it was just another Apple employee. Meeting will take place when you arrive.”

A smirk goes on your face as you unwrap your leg, bending down to pick up your keys. “Hmm, well maybe I like this game that we have here and we can see where we land. Say, why don’t I help you change, hm? So I can look at you a bit more before you leave your shift.” You suggest, brows raised with a sultry stare to feign infatuation. Brock was a busy man, but with what you had to offer? Maybe he can make some room.

———

A few minutes later, Rumlow walked out with his backpack in his casual clothes, sending a smirk to Bucky’s way as he fixed the toys on his shelf. Bucky scoffed, watching this good for nothing agent leave the facility. He saw you coming in another minute later, back in your Jovie get up with a smug smile on your face. His eyebrows furrowed and he huffed, at least satisfied that your comm was back again to your ear, hidden under your hair. “I hated going through that.” You groaned, helping him organize the toys. “Did you both do more than what I saw?” He asked in a low tone. “Other than taking off his Santa pants? Nothing really. I took it off so he wouldn’t know it’s missing. Made sure no suspicions were raised too.” You noticed Bucky quietly pouting as he attended to work. You would have laughed at his tight clad figure with his pointy shoes, but you genuinely felt bad. “What’s wrong Buck?” You ask a bit nervously. “Hated watching you get kissed by that guy. But you sure do know how to fool these guys,” He pouts, jiggling Rumlow’s keys that were in his pocket. You couldn’t help but smile and shake your head.

“Trust me, it wasn’t as disgusting as you think it was.”

“Nice thing to tell me Y/N as if I-”

“He’s way worse, Buck.” “...I’m still better?”

“Of course, he is out of the question when I have you.”

“I get that’s the usual tactic for most missions, but I still think you should owe me a bit of consolation for seeing that.”

“Maybe we can dedicate tonight to do whatever you’d like.”

A chuckle and smirk finally adorn Bucky’s face.

“Well best be prepared, sugar, because I’m taking full advantage of that.”

“Y/N, Buck, I’m in this comm too you know, geez let the old grandpa breathe.” Steve groans in disgust, causing you both to laugh as you finished your shifts.

Permanent Taglist: @world-of-aus @world-of-aus-reads @whew-oh-em-gee @tomholland-96 @lordyitsjordy @letstalkaboutsebbaby @thee-soom-soom @lookiamtrying @vesper852 @hailhydra920 @buckybarnesthehotshot @heyiamthatbitch @rodrikstark

(Let me know if you wanna be added to a tag list via ask or dm! ☺️)

Part 4: A Plan Unfolds

#bucky barnes #mcu #bucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes scenario #buckybarnesxreader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers x reader #mcu imagine #mcu scenario #a Christmas heist

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mockingjayne12 · 4 years

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Take Me Home - Chapter 3

(Jamie x Claire / Outlander Fic)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

CHAPTER THREE:

She can feel the spray of scalding hot drops hit her back, their rhythmic pounding against her flesh vibrate through her, seeping into her skin, the heat of water the only warmth she allows herself to feel. Her brown hair becomes blacker still, creating a shield, shrouding her in darkness.

“What are you, stalking me?” She hears herself say, the shock of seeing the red haired actor staring up at her with his impossibly blue eyes.

Her music softly plays through the trickling of water, the kind Gillian refers to as “doom and gloom” but whose words touch her in a way she doesn’t permit others to attempt, making her feel that maybe she’s not so alone. She pulls her knees closer to her body, collapsed into a ball.

He nearly chokes on his laughter, her face turning red with an almost blush at her assumption.

“I dinna think it’s stalking, as ye say, if I was asked,” he teases, that grin she can’t wipe from her eyes playing on his lips.

“Asked?” She balks, and he points at Gillian, who’s not so subtly eavesdropping from her table behind them.

“I’m going kill her,” Claire mutters under her breath.

As if noticing that she was letting on that he’d thrown her off, she straightens, her long neck peeking from its collar, the tips of her eyes covered by fringe, leaving a narrowing effect down upon this man. She can feel her heart beating loudly against her ears.

“What can I get for you?”

“I dinna ken, what’s good?” He asks with a raise of his brow, and a grin that she can’t quite tell if he’s trying to be cute or just oblivious to her mood.

Her hands drop by her side, her pad hitting her apron with an exasperated sigh.

“I do have other tables to get to…” And she swears his grin falters a bit before perking back up with a shake of his head, his curls floating across his eyes, like fire threatening to be extinguished by the blue sea it hovers over.

“Two coffees,” he says, and she balks again, the thought of someone joining him having never crossed her mind. And she silently kicks herself for believing this was anything other than a coincidence, him being here. He certainly didn’t show up for her. Of course not. And she quickly turns to escape before her glass face gives away that she ever thought differently.

Heading to the back, she glances at the mirror that hangs above the employee sink, and sees her hair sticking out in all directions, her fringe curling at the ends, and she quickly sweeps them to the side. The stain on her shirt has set, a ring of embarrassment displayed for all, tie crooked, and the black of smudged makeup creasing in the crinkles her eyes give way to when she smiles, which isn’t too often these days. Turning on the faucet, she cups the water between her palms before splashing the liquid against her face, the droplets momentarily waking her, before she attempts to wipe away the black evidence of sadness with her finger.

Sitting in the bed of her tub, the shower pours down on her, and she looks up into the water, never quite drowning her in its wake, instead trickling against her, escaping from her presence the way she wishes she could do to herself.

“Here you go,” she says, placing one coffee in front of him, and the other on the other end of the table, likely for some blonde he’ll have meeting him. “Would you like to wait until the rest of your party gets here…” but her question trails off, as she sees him laugh just a bit to himself. “Is there something funny?”

“No,” he quickly says. “I’ll wait,” his tongue comes to lick his lips, and she swears if she had still been holding the coffee mugs, she’d have spilled them right into his lap.

“Hmph,” she says with a flick of her head, and nearly running right into Gillian carrying a tray of drinks.

“Careful, Sassenach,” she hears over her shoulder, tempted to turn towards him with her tongue stuck out like a two year old, as she slinks off to her other tables.

Claire shakes her head, sending water hitting the curtain, her hair refusing to relent, clinging to her, like soot against snow, polluting her mind with conversations she knows she needs to rid herself free of.

She finds herself peeking over at his table as the rush begins. A flurry of people begging for her attention, demands that have her questioning if they were this picky in their every day life or just when it came to food. Every time she’d head over to refill his coffee, which was beginning to become impressive he could consume so much (the second cup still sat full) she’d be beckoned over to one of her more demanding tables, which was okay by her, it gave her an excuse to avoid James. But her eyes refused to get the memo, constantly travelling over, raking over his strong back, to the red curls that gathered on his neck, the glint from the sun coming in through the window he sat by, striking the scar that rested on his cheekbone, and not for the first time, she finds herself wondering what it would feel like to run her finger over the mar of imperfection.

The water puddles in the bend of her arm, caught between her connecting flesh, with one movement she lets it go, splashing into to where her feet rest, and her toes curl at the sudden deluge.

“Get back to work, Beauchamp,” her manager’s voice grating on her nerves, interrupting her daydream. Gillian always claimed he had a crush on her, but Claire mostly found the man to be harmless. As long as she kept her head down and showed up for her shifts, he wasn’t too hard on her. But when he’d lean against the counter just a little too close, she’d find an excuse to be busy.

“Going, Christie,” her emphasis on his surname not unnoticed. But the rush had died down at this point, only a few patrons remained, one being James.

Sidling up to his table, she almost feels badly for the man who’d clearly been stood up. Almost.

“Hot date didn’t show up?” She asks with a raised brow, her finger idly tracing her own mar of imperfection.

“Verdict’s still out,” he says with a shrug.

“Maybe next time,” she offers, and then scrunches her face at the idea of acting hopeful for his love life.

“We’ll see,” he says with a glint in his eye, and then she hears the giggles from a few tables back. Glancing over she sees two women having clearly spotted James.

“Never short on admirers, I see,” she says as he stands, and Claire nearly stumbles backwards to get out of his way, his hands shooting out to steady her, briefly, before quickly letting go, her mouth hanging open as he makes his way towards the door, a quick nod and smile sent towards the two women who’d sent him fleeing.

“Hey, you forgot to…” she’s about to say, when he turns, his hand running through his hair, and then he’s off. “…pay.” She huffs, moving to clear the mugs, when she finds a bill tucked underneath the second cup of coffee.

Momentarily breaking from her sitting position, she reaches for the drain, stopping the water’s escape, left with no choice but to gather around her.

“Bitch, what was that for?” Gillian screeches, Claire’s hand having slapped her shoulder.

“You told him to come here?” She practically growls, her anger having stewed enough to skip a meal on her break.

“Told who?” Gillian says, voice going high, acting innocent, twisting a piece of her own red hair between her fingers.

“Fuck off, you told him to come here as some sort of pity date,” she argues, flopping back in her chair out back, the sun beating down on her pale face.

“Honey, if you think that was a date…” Gillian starts, tilting her head in horror at the thought.

“You know what I mean,” Claire’s words tinged in defeat.

“I simply suggested that if he wanted to see you again, he should stop by…that’s all,” her shrug acting as if it really was nothing to get angry about.

“Yeah, well, he clearly felt sorry for me, as he left me this,” she yanks a hundred dollar bill from her apron. “Like he can just…buy me off like that. I swear, they’re all the same.”

“At least he didn’t try to shove it into your shirt,” her friend counters with a sheepish grin.

“Yeah, well, I’m going to bloody shove this up his arse if he shows up again,” taking the money and putting it into a separate pocket.

“I love it when you get all British on me,” Gillian teases, causing Claire to roll her eyes.

There’s a break in the music as the song changes, a soft instrumental piece begins to play, the keys of a piano almost twinkle her vision with its sound, causing a settling feeling to manifest in her stomach. It’s a nostalgic piece, one she can’t place, but that builds within her, until she’s breathing heavily. The water climbing up above her ankles, just deep enough that she can easily lay down now.

She’s not sure why she’s surprised then the next day, as she’s pulling her mess of curls into a top knot, when Gillian runs up behind her with a beaming smile on her face.

“He’s back,” she practically sings.

“You’re kidding,” Claire says with an annoyed tone, but she can’t help the way her heart begins to beat just a little faster, as she quickly looks down to see that at least today she’s managed not to spill anything on herself. Yet.

Marching out onto the floor, she quickly arrives at his table, the same one he’d been at yesterday, and she nearly does a double take, the glasses he’s wearing today somehow making him even cuter than usual, but she shakes her head, her indignation back within a second, and slams the hundred dollar bill down on the table.

“I’m not a charity case, James,” she sneers, and his shocked face looks up at her as if she’d slapped him.

“Never thought ye were, Sassenach,” he tries, but she’s not buying it.

“Who gives this much for two cups of coffee? Do you think I’m that desperate for money?”

“No, I—“

“Because I’m not,” she says with a crossing of her arms.

“Wait, why didn’t ye use it to pay for my coffee?”

Her face begins to heat, her arms awkwardly adjusting, as she looks anywhere but him.

“You saved it just to make a point…”

“Yeah, so…”

“Stubborn,” he laughs.

“Stop, it’s not funny.”

“It’s a wee bit funny,” he says, making his accent thicker to drive the point across.

She narrows her eyes at him.

“Fine, consider it a downpayment.”

“For what?” Her hands come to rest on her hips, her mouth pursing, and she can see he’s fighting back a comment.

“For all the coffee I’m going to order,” he says matter of factly, a curl slipping underneath his lenses, and she has to dig her nails into her palm not to reach out and move it out of his eyes.

“I’m never going to get rid of you, am I?” She sighs, her annoyance rising at the same rate as her hope. He was persistent, she’d give him that. But it was only a matter of time until he got bored of whatever game he was playing and left.

“Not so long as ye’ll have me,” and there’s no hint of a grin with this, and she feels a warmth spread over her.

“Yeah, well…” she fumbles for words. “I’m not allowed to kick people out so…”

“So…I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” he says, pulling out a book, the cover having been removed, so she can’t see what it is he’s reading.

“Great,” her sarcasm out in full force with an obviously fake smile. “I’ll go get your coffee.”

“Jamie,” he says, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“You called me James, but my friends and family call me, Jamie,” he explains, licking his lips.

“Well, I am neither, James.”

And she swears she hears him mutter something in Gaelic as she walks away.

The music makes its way further and further from her as the water rises up against her ears, every subtle movement sending a wave crashing against her, a euphoric sensation trickles through her as the spray of the water beats down, slowly taking over her body.

Their routine becomes the same, every day James shows up, is seated at the exact same table in her section all the way in the back of the restaurant, with the same book, the same order of coffee. Some days he’ll come in with his glasses already on, other days, he’ll pull out the case he has tucked in his pocket before diving into his book, always pausing whenever she approaches the table.

He attempts to engage her in conversation, but she knows how this goes, it’s only a matter of time before he gets bored and moves on. So she carefully avoids answering anything about herself, the walls around her built high and sturdy.

She lets her hands rest on the surface, a delicate balance between rising to the top and pressuring herself to the bottom. Her eyelashes feel heavy against her, wet and clumped, she teeters on the verge of being fully submerged and choosing to let her lips peek just above the surface.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” She’d asked one day, and he’d laughed, claiming his film was still in pre-production. And for as much as she acted annoyed at his appearance every day, she found it oddly comforting to have something to look forward to, although she’d never admit as much to herself. She found she didn’t dread coming into work as much, waking up before Adso clawed her, a “bounce in her step” as Gillian had noticed, only to be quickly denied by Claire. The banter between her and James had become one of few interactions she had throughout the week that wasn’t with either a pet or a coworker. He was careful not to cross the invisible line she’d set for them, but he’d notice when she came to work one day with her hair braided, rather than it’s usual top knot or the bandage on her finger (from her cat) to which he’d perked up at getting a piece of information about her, and ever since had made it a point to ask how the “wee cheetie” was doing. She wasn’t used to people being interested in her life, and most of the time she found herself holding her breath when he’d ask, like she was being backed into a corner with questions, her first inclination to lie or shoot back a sarcastic remark, feeling he was getting too close. But she couldn’t deny there was a thrill there.

Plunging her head down, she imagines the struggle, how easily she could let it all go, the tiny beads of water creating tiny bursts in her ears as they spray down on the full tub she’s created. Her eyes wide awake, refusing to close, her body tempted to buoyantly make its way to life, but her will demanding she weightily suspend herself between the choice to sink or swim just a moment longer.

“Well, don’t you smell nice today,” Gillian teases Claire as she rushes to clock in.

Pulling on a loose curl, her friend refuses to let up.

“So you two married yet or what?”

“He’s just a customer, G,” the blush crawling on up her face, reaching for the light sprinkling of freckles giving way to the feelings she refused to admit even to herself.

“Yeah, a customer that just happens to be rich, famous, hot as fuck, and did I say rich?”

Claire rolls her eyes reaching to tie her apron on.

“Like you said, I’m not his type,” she reiterates, tossing a look that begs for the subject to be dropped.

“Fine, fine,” she backs off, holding up her hands in surrender. “But if you don’t make a move soon, I will,” she winks.

Making her way out onto the floor, she looks to see if James has been seated, only to find his table empty.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she attempts to distract herself with her other tables, her eyes always wandering over to where she’d become accustomed to him being, nearly snapping when the hostess seats a group at the table that’s usually reserved for the bookish redhead. She can feel the hurt rising in her chest as the hours tick by and he never shows, and with it, comes the anger at having let her feelings reach a point where she’s actually upset at his absence. Her mind reeling at having thought, just for a second, that maybe he could like her. Maybe someone could actually care. But she’d been wrong. They were all the same.

By the time her shift ends, she’s near tears. Beating herself up with self-loathing foolishness that has her stripping off her clothes and crawling into the shower, flicking on her music, as she settles back to her old routine, washing away James Fraser from her life.

Bursting upright, she lets the water slide from her along with her anxiety, threatening to pour over the tub and flood her floor, and that first breath, the one she found she’d been holding longer than before she’d sunk underneath, feels all too familiar, the moment she has to accept that she’s still here. Not clean, not healed, but still here. Another day ahead of her.

A day that didn’t include James Fraser.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire

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arrow-guy · 4 years

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Author and Auror (1/??)

Synopsis: Eleanore Vaughan has never been one for the spotlight. Her cousin, Rosaline, is the one best suited to the limelight, and is happier for the attention. Though Nora is most comfortable tucked away in her book shop, what happens when Grindelwald’s sudden takeover flips her world upside-down and thrusts her into the inner circle?

A/N: Alrighty, this is a fic that’s been in the works for nearly two years now, since Crimes of Grindelwald came out. This is the first chapter in my half of the collaborative story that I’ve written with @thorne93. I will not be adding anyone from my tag list to this story, but if you’d like to be tagged, just let me know!

Start here for Rosaline’s story!

Pairing: Theseus ScammanderxOFC

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: None

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

The door opens and the bell tinkles, welcoming in a new customer. I hear them wander through the shelves before pausing halfway through. I look to find the familiar combination of mousey brown hair and a sharp three-piece suit. My smile comes easily.

“Theseus,” I say.

He smiles. “Hello, Nora. Newt said you weren’t assisting him today.”

“He’s got Rosaline to help him now. Only needs me when there’s something especially big that needs socializing these days.”

“I see.” He raises his eyebrows and slips one hand into his pocket. “Never did understand why she left the ministry. She was moving up through the ranks pretty quickly, as I remember.”

“Mm, you say that every time.” I lean forward on the counter, my chin propped up on one hand. “Maybe she didn’t want you to have too much competition.”

He laughs and finally approaches the front desk. “No, that can’t be it. Otherwise, you would have stayed to help.”

“Oh, I think you overestimate me, Mr. Scamander. I was never cut out for ministry work. Too much running here and there and being bossed around. Books have always been my calling.”

“Speaking of…” He trails off and fishes a slip of parchment out of the breast pocket of his suit coat. “I was wondering if you carried any of these. Leta hasn’t been able to find them in Diagon Alley. Newt suggested we try your place.”

I take the parchment from him and plaster on a smile. “I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Theseus leans on the counter top as I move to the back to flip through my stock records.

“Newt says you haven’t been in for months.”

“As I said before, he’s got an assistant now. No need for me to bother him.”

“He also says you’ve been dating.”

“So what if I have been?” I ask coolly. I move out from behind the register to sift through the bookshelves. “I can’t wait around and hope that a spouse will drop into my lap.”

“I understand that, Nora. It just never seemed to be something you were interested in before now.”

I slam a heavy book down onto the counter.

“Merlin, Theseus, we are not in school anymore! I can do as I please. If that means saying yes when a bloke from down the street invites me out for dinner, who am I to say no?”

“Nora, that’s not what I meant, I just-I don’t know…” He trails off and looks at me helplessly.

I sigh and shake my head. I slip my wand from my sleeve and summon the other books from their shelves. They stack themselves perfectly one on top of the other.

“That’ll be forty-five Galleons.” I write up a receipt and lift the cover of the book at the top of the stack to place it inside. “Are you in need of a bag?”

“No.” He digs around in his pocket for the money. “No, I… No, I’ll be fine without it.”

I nod and hold out my hand for his coins. I sort the money into the till and push the books closer to him. I don’t look up. He shrinks the books and slips them into his jacket pocket and says goodbye. I wave to him and wait till the door closes to drag my eyes away from the register. I drop down onto my stool, head in hands.

“That the hell is wrong with you?! He hasn’t done anything to you! Not anything on purpose, at least…” I shake my head. “Why did I snap at him?”

The store kneazle wanders over and sits beside my feet. He looks up at me and yowls to get my attention. I reach down and scratch him behind the ears. He pushes against my leg and purrs loudly. I laugh and bend down to pick him up. He curls up in my lap and I comb my fingers through his long fur.

“I’m fine,” I tell myself. “Things are fine. I’ll run the shop and work on my novel. I’ll be just fine.”

“Theseus came by the shop the other day.”

“I’m sorry, Nora,” Newt says. His voice crackles through the floo. “Had I known, I would have warned you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Newt. It’s not your job to protect me. He did, however, mention that you told him I’ve been dating.”

He frowns. “Was I not supposed to tell him that?”

“No, it’s fine that you did. I suppose I just wasn’t expecting you to.” I shake my head. “I don’t even know why he brought it up, honestly.”

“Maybe he’s trying to figure out whether or not you’ll be bringing a date to the wedding.”

I roll my eyes. “They haven’t even set a date yet. And who knows! Leta might not let Theseus invite me.”

“Is that really something you want to worry about right now?”

“I genuinely have no clue.” I let myself fall back against the carpet. “I don’t even know what I’ll say if he asks me what was wrong with me today.”

“I can’t see you anymore, Nora.”

I raise one hand and wave it around. “I’m on the floor.”

“Sounds uncomfortable.”

“Oh, believe me, it is,” I say, opening and closing my hand like a mouth. I can hear Newt laugh so I continue the game. “Is this helping the situation? Is this making things better?”

He laughs harder. “It is, actually, I-” He stops in the middle of his sentence and I sit up, thinking the connection’s been lost. His face is still in the fireplace.

“Newt? What’s wrong?”

“There’s someone here,” he says. “I’m going to find out who.”

“Be careful!” I call out. He nods once and pulls his head from the floo.

I don’t hear from Newt for hours and I take to pacing around my flat. I’m worried about him. He’s a brilliant wizard and can protect himself, but still. I’m starting to think about contacting Theseus when there’s a knock at the door. I immediately fling the door open and Newt is standing there, creature case in hand, a plump man standing just behind him.

“Who’s this?” I ask.

“Nora, this is Jacob Kowalski,” Newt says, stepping to the side and gesturing between the two of us. “Jacob, this is Nora.”

“Nice t’meetcha.”

I stare at Jacob for a moment before turning to Newt. “A muggle?”

“In New York, they’d call me a no-mag,” Jacob says. He almost sounds proud of himself.

“That’s great. Get inside.” I wave them through the doorway and look up and down the street before closing the door. “Why did you bring a muggle to my home, Newt?”

“We have to get to Paris and I need your help.”

“Why?”

Jacob answers. “See, my girl Queenie and I got into a fight and she ran off to go find her sister Tina in Paris.”

“Tina, huh?” Newt blushes.

“You know about her?” Jacob asks.

“Yes, I know about her. Newt’s been quite taken with her since coming back from his trip to the states. But why are you here?”

“Queenie enchanted him,” Newt says.

“She wants to get married real bad, but we can’t back home. It’s dangerous for the two of us to be together and she figured we’d be able to get married here,” Jacob explains. “Thing is, when Newt took the spell off me or whatever, I figured out what happened and Queenie ran off and I thought somethin’ I shouldn't have and she got even madder and then she just, poof! Vanished!”

I look to Newt for an explanation. “She’s a very powerful legilimens.”

“Oh,” I nod. “So why do you need me to get to Paris?”

“I’m still banned from Travelling, so we’ll have to go illegally. I’ve asked your cousin to come along as well.”

I deadpan. “She’s in the case, isn’t she.”

“She is.”

“Fantastic. When do we leave?”

Newt blinks, taken aback. “You’ll actually come?”

“You and I both know I need to get out of England for a while. I have a couple of employees I trust to run the shop while I’m gone.”

“And if Theseus shows up?”

I shrug. “Then he shows up.” I look between Newt and Jacob. “You can stay here tonight. We should leave as early as possible tomorrow morning.”

Jacob reaches out and vigorously shakes my hand. “Thank you so much!”

I nod and smile and lead them towards the dining room. I reheat leftovers from a couple of nights before and serve it to Newt, Jacob, and my cousin, Rosaline. Rosaline speaks calmly with Jacob and I’m able to pull Newt away from the table for a moment.

“This isn’t just about getting Tina and Queenie back,” I say. “Is this Dumbledore?”

He nods hesitantly. “Credence is in Paris and looking for his family. Grindelwald wants to use Credence for his own gain, and there are those who would rather he be dead than anything else.”

“And you need to help him.” Newt shrugs and bobs his head from side to side, signaling a “yes”. I sigh and fold my arms over my chest. “I’m going to write James and Tessa, let them know they’ll have to take over the shop for a while.”

“My brother may try to stop us.”

“Believe me, Newt. If I couldn’t handle your brother, I’d be much worse for wear by now.” I jerk my chin toward the dining room. “Get back in there. Keep them company. I have beds to make and letters to write.”

“If anyone stops by looking for me, don’t tell them where I’ve gone.”

“How can we? You haven’t told us where you’re going or why you’re leaving!” James cries.

“That’s the point. If someone tries to use veritaserum on you, then it won’t work.”

“Why would anyone want to use veritaserum on us? Are you in some sort of trouble?” Tessa asks.

I shake my head. “No, but I worry that someone from the Ministry might feel differently. If that happens, I don’t want to drag you two down with me.”

James frowns and Tessa throws her arms around me and hugs me tightly. I sigh and hug her back. There’s a tapping on the window. Rosaline is rapping one knuckle against the glass on the door and I wave her off. She shakes her head and turns back to Jacob and Newt.

“I have to go. I’ve got a portkey to catch.” Tessa nods against my shoulder and I reach out and muss James’ hair. “I’ll write when it’s safe, okay?”

James nods. “Okay. Please be careful.”

“We will be, don’t worry too much.”

I leave them to tend the shop and head out to meet Newt, Jacob, and Rosaline.

“They’re an emotional bunch, aren’t they,” Rosaline says.

I shrug. “They’ve been working for me since they were sixteen. They’re allowed to be emotional.”

“Did you at least get the money?”

“Of course I got the money.” I glance around and grab Rosaline’s hand. “Come on, we should go.”

Newt grabs Jacob’s hand and reaches out for mine. As soon as our hands touch we apparate to the cliffs we were told to meet our contact. Jacob stumbles when we arrive and Newt and I each grab one of his arms to keep him from toppling over. When we’re sure he’s steady, Newt places his case on the ground and opens it for Rosaline and I to climb in. Rosaline goes first and before I follow I hand Newt an extra twenty Galleons.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“Whoever it is we’re meeting will probably raise their price.” Newt raises his eyebrows. “It’s just a precaution.”

“Thank you, Nora,” he says.

I smile and nod to him and step into the case. I allow myself to slide down the ladder into Newt’s workshop. Rosaline is tidying things up and I move past her to lay in the grass in the grove just outside. Faeries dance through the trees above my head and I silently watch their movements with my hands pillowed beneath my head.

“Newt said Theseus stopped by yesterday.”

“Does everyone know about this?” I ask.

“He didn't tell Jacob.”

“Oh, well thank Merlin he didn't tell Jacob.”

“I just want to know if you're alright.”

“I'm fine. Genuinely, there's nothing wrong. He just overstepped, is all.”

“Overstepped?”

“Started asking about me dating.” I snort. “As if it’s any of his business.”

“Since when has he shown any interest in your love life?”

“That's what I'd like to know!” I cry. “Up until Newt told him I started dating, there was nothing! Newt thinks he was trying to figure out whether or not I’d be bringing someone to his wedding.”

“You’ve never talked about it this much.”

“I’ll be honest, I’ve never been this frustrated.” I sit up and lean back on my elbows. “I’m sorry about snapping at you last time. I know you were only trying to help.”

“Nothing to apologize for, cousin, I know I went a little too far.” She sits beside me and picks at the grass. “You were right. I haven’t told Newt how I feel. Every time I think about it, I remember Tina. If I keep putting it off, how can I expect you to confess to a man who’s engaged?”

I snort. “Our lives each present their own unique challenges. We’ll deal with the consequences as they arise, yeah?”

Rosaline opens her mouth to answer, but a firm rapping coming from the workshop pulls her attention away.

“That’ll be Newt,” she says.

I shove myself to my feet and brush off the seat of my trousers before offering Rosaline and hand up. I haul her up and we head back up through the case. Jacob offers me his hand and pulls me from the case. Newt grabs Rosaline’s hand and helps her out before stooping down and closing up his case. He leads us down the street and begins looking for any trace of Tina. He mutters a spell and a fine golden dust settles on the street. Rosaline and I step to the side and I pull Jacob out of the way when he tries to get a closer look. Newt releases his niffler and they set to work sorting out what happened the night before. When he pauses to lick the ground, Rosaline shakes her head and I rub my temples. Jacob just watches, completely transfixed.

“He wasn’t this weird in New York,” he says.

“You truly haven’t seen Newt in his element then, Mr. Kowalski,” I watch the niffler roll around in the gold as Newt holds his wand to his ear, searching through the noise from last night. “He’s brilliant, but he certainly is an odd man.”

“He’s a genius,” Rosaline says.

I laugh and gently shove her. She catches herself on the frame of a nearby window and comes back to glare at me halfheartedly. Jacob shoots me a knowing look and I just shrug and shake my head.

“You find anything, Newt?” I call.

He grabs the niffler and tucks it under his arm before plucking a feather out of the air. “She met a man,” he announces. “Also a zouwu got loose.”

“It has to be halfway across Paris by now!”

He grins. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Newt, we have to find it,” Rosaline says.

“I figure we’ll find it wherever we might find the man to whom this feather belongs.”

Rosaline shakes her head and I have to press my fist to my mouth to keep from saying anything. Jacob sighs and straightens the collar of his suit coat.

“Fine, but we’re gonna need to stop for something to eat.”

“I agree with Jacob,” I say. “We need food that wasn’t meant to feed baby nifflers.”

Newt laughs. “What, not good enough for you, is it?”

“Funnily enough, it isn’t!”

Everyone laughs and the sound attracts the attention of several passers by. I press my lips together to suppress another giggle.

“We’ve been sitting here for hours, Newt,” Jacob says, his voice edging into a whine.

“We’ve been here for half an hour,” Newt shoots back. He leans forward and rests his chin on his folded arms.

“Are you sure this guy is here?”

“Feather says so,” I mumble out. “Newt’s tracking magic doesn’t often steer us wrong.”

Newt lifts the glass bowl and the feather floats through the air, slotting itself into the ribbon a hat on a man passing by. Newt jumps to his feet and hurries after him, quickly followed by Jacob. Rosaline and I hang back a ways, careful to stay out of the man’s line of sight. I grip Rosaline’s arm as we watch Newt whisper something to the man who nods and mutters back.

“Can you see what they’re saying?” Rosaline asks.

I shake my head. “No, their mouths are half blocked and they’re talking too fast.” I scowl. “Dammit, Newt, this would have been a wonderful time for you to remember I read lips.”

Rosaline moves to stand up and I tighten my grip on her arm, pulling her back down into her seat.

“What?”

“Wait till they walk away. We’ll follow them from there.” I look at her, head tilted to the side. “I thought you were supposed to be the hit witch.”

“It’s been a few years, alright? Fallen out of practice and all that.”

“Mhm, sure.”

Rosaline smacks my arm and points to the place where Jacob and Newt had been standing just a moment before. We shove our chairs back from the table and immediately start off in the direction Rosaline saw them go. We follow them to what looks to be an entrance to the sewers. Once the man who had been leading them there steps inside the door, we creep up and position ourselves out of sight on either side of the doorway. When we see a flash of light Rosaline races in and I duck through the door after her. She’s got the man stunned on the floor, one foot on his chest. Newt’s wand lays several feet away along with one that I don’t recognize. I stoop down to pick both up and nearly topple over when someone shouts my name. I manage to catch myself before I fall. When I look over my shoulder, Jacob, Newt, and a woman I don't recognize peer through the bars of an iron gate.

“Locked in?” Newt nods and I point my wand at the lock. “Alohamora.”

The latch pings open and Jacob shoves the gate away from him and shuffles out. He throws his arms around me in a huge hug, throwing me off balance.

“Whoa there, Kowalski,” I warn.

“Right, sorry.” He peels himself away and reaches out to straighten my tie. I laugh and he grins.

Rosaline still has her wand trained on the man on the floor. The woman with Newt steps forward.

“Don’t hurt him,” she says. “We need him.”

“You mean you need him,” Rosaline snaps. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Rosaline, this is Tina,” Newt says.

I watch as her eye twitches and I reach out and place one hand on her arm. Her back stiffens, but she removes her foot from the stunned man’s chest. A deep roar shakes the room and I immediately look to Newt.

“Looks like your little friend has shown up,” I say. “Shall we catch it now, or should we wait till it’s gone on a violent rampage and destroyed half the city?”

“Perhaps it is time.”

Rosaline follows Newt back up to the street and I watch as Jacob and Tina struggle to drag the man on the floor to the stairs. I sigh and cast a weak levicorpus and float him up to the street with Tina and Jacob following along behind me. I leave Tina and Jacob to take care of our mystery man while I run off to help Newt and Rosaline with the zouwu. Rosaline and I leave Newt to take care of and subdue the creature while we keep bystanders out of the line of attack. We push the cars that skitter across the street away and cast a widespread protego charm over the crowd. I hear a jingle and look over my shoulder to find that Newt has entranced the zouwu with a toy. Newt wiggles the toy again, the bell tinkles, and he slowly lowers the toy to his case. The zouwu follows the toy with it’s entire body and dives after it into the case when Newt drops it.

“Newt,” Tina calls. “We need to leave!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I say.

A card emerges from Newt’s coat pocket and I grab his arm and hustle back to the rest of the group. We each grab hold of one another and Newt reaches out for the card.

“Wait!” Tina says. “Where is this taking us?”

“Is this really the time to be asking this?” I hiss. “We’ve just captured a zouwu the size of a small house, and you’re worried about an address that was given to him by Dumbledore?”

“I-I...”

“Newt, get us out of here!”

He doesn’t leave her any time to respond and we disappear with a loud pop.

-----------

Part 2

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, please reblog, comment, and/or shoot me ask! Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

#theseus scamanderxreader #readerxtheseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #reader x theseus scamander #theseus scamander #newt scamander

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dragonologist-in-the-making · 4 years

Text

I’ve Got You

Pairing: James x reader

Summary: When the reader goes way overboard to study for an upcoming test, James is there to comfort her and make sure she stays healthy.

A/N: I feel like I’ve read a fic similar to this concept so all credits to them, although I can’t remember who it is, sorry (please let me know if you do!)! Hopefully this is different enough to still keep it interesting. Also I’m sorry for the ending, wasn’t quite sure how to finish it.

Wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings: the reader is making very irresponsible choices, this is not a healthy study routine, make sure you take regular breaks and that you eat please!

“We’ll be having a test in a fortnight on everything we’ve learned so far this term.” Flitwick told the class as they began to pack away, and (y/n) groaned internally, knowing how much work she would have to put in to do well in this test. The N.E.W.T charms were extremely difficult, and she had been struggling with the workload she had already too much to go back and practise old lessons too, but she knew that had to be a priority now.

She walked back up to the common room for her free period, dropping her textbooks off in her dorm and taking all of her charms work downstairs to start the mountain of work she knew she had to do, the familiar mixture of stress and panic already rising in her chest.

Once she was downstairs she was greeted cheerily by her boyfriend, James Potter, who also had this period free, and you always spent the time studying together. “I thought we could work on the Transfiguration homework today?” He suggested, gesturing down to the books he had brought with him.

“I’m really sorry, Jamesy, Flitwick just told us about this test we have in two weeks, and I really need to study for it.” She told him, heading over to the sofa and setting all her notes down in front of her. The raven-haired boy came and sat next to her, reassuring her that it was okay and he was there to help if she needed it. “Thank you, you’re the best.” She grinned, leaning in and planting a quick kiss on his lips, before settling in and studying with extreme intensity. For the hour, the only sounds that could be heard were the scrapings of quills on parchment and the mutterings of incantations under her breath, along with the huffs of frustration as the spells didn’t work as well as they should.

She was only broken out of her concentration when James placed a hand on her shoulder, reminding her of the time and that they needed to head to their lesson. She nodded, running back up to her dorm to grab what she needed for the rest of her lessons that day, but taking all her charms work with her too, planning on reviewing her notes in every spare second she had.

The days had been going much too fast for (y/n)’s liking, and she was no where near ready to take this test. She could tell that James was growing increasingly worried for her, calmly taking her hands in the corridors to stop them from practising wand movements beneath the sleeves of her robes, and would poke her when she started whispering incantations under her breath.

“(y/n?)” He asked, trying to get her attention. They were all sat in the Great Hall for dinner, and she was sat with her head buried in a book, feverishly soaking in the words on the page, trying to absorb all the information. Upon complete silence from her, no sign that she had even heard her name being called, he sighed, moving to pull the book from her hands.

This she did notice, and quickly snatched it back, holding it close to her chest defensively. “What?” She asked, clearly irritated, although James knew this was because of how stressed she was.

“You have to eat something, love.” He told her, voice gentle as he pointed to the completely empty plate in front of her, having not even bothered to put food on her plate. Sighing, knowing that she wouldn’t win this argument, (y/n) started piling food on to her plate, anything closest to her, not caring what it was and ate quickly, hoping to get back to her book before long. Once James seemed satisfied and had turned to answer a question of Remus’, she quickly slipped a flask out from the inside of her robes and took a swig of the potion inside, immediately feeling the sluggishness clear from her brain, and she returned to her work.

Her habits continued in much the same fashion, progressively worsening over the course of the next week, until it was three days from the test and no one even tried to take the books away from her anymore, wanting to keep their heads on their necks. She was in her usual spot in the common room, neck aching from bending over the books for hours. “(y/n), darling, come to bed.” James cooed, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pressing a soft kiss into her neck. She leaned back, allowing herself the short break to just feel happy in James’ arms before she pouted, remembering how far behind she was.

“I wish I could, James, but I’ve still got so much to learn.” She complained, gesturing to all the notes in front of her. James broke away from the kisses he was trailing up and down her jaw, pulling her closer to him as he whined.

“But I haven’t seen you in weeks. Plus, I know you’re going to ace this test, I saw you cast a perfect Protean Charm yesterday. You need to believe in yourself because I know you can do it.”

“Let me just finish this last section, and then I’ll meet you upstairs. I love you.” She proposed, satisfied when she heard him hum in agreement, return her sentiment, and felt the coldness on her back as he moved away from her. He walked towards the boys dorms, turning around to give her one last brilliant smile. She knew that as soon as his head hit the pillow he would be asleep, and wouldn’t notice that she had carried on studying much later than promised. Feeling a slight tinge of guilt at her broken promise, she took another swig from the potion she kept on her person at all times now, working into the early hours of the morning.

She met James at the bottom of the stairs in the morning, he was waiting for her like he always had. She was tired from the little sleep she had managed to get, and even that was restless, so she had made sure to drink more of her potion before meeting him, to get her through her first classes.

“Are you okay?” He asked, bringing a hand to her cheek in concern. “You look awful.”

“Gee, thanks, boyfriend.” (y/n) laughed, trying to distract him from the way he was studying her.

“No, really.” He insisted. “You’re awfully pale, your eyes are bloodshot, you’re completely restless.” He noted, pointing at where her fingers were tapping against her thigh, which she tried to stop once he had pointed it out but found that the second she did, another part of her body insisted on moving in some way instead.

“I think I’m just coming down with a cold.” She insisted, beginning their walk to Transfiguration, the first class of the day. “You know, Alice had one not too long ago, I’m sure I just caught it from her.” Unconvinced, James followed her, noting how her steps wobbled and she seemed to stumble too often for it to be put down to clumsiness.

He wasn’t really worried, though, until they had walked into McGonagall’s classroom and she had promptly collapsed into his arms.

Within minutes he had carried her to the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey had been hovering over her, casting various spells and asking James questions to see what was wrong with her to be able to fix her. It wasn’t until one of her spells made a small vial fly into her hands from the inside pocket of (y/n)’s robes that Madam Pomfrey tutted, a dismayed expression on her face.

“Test coming up?” She asked, looking at James.

“Yes, she has a charms one, she’s been studying a lot but I think this is more than that.” He told her, looking down at your unconscious form.

“You’re right.” She affirmed, holding up the vial she had pulled from his girlfriend’s robes. “She’s been abusing potions to help her study for it.” James blanched, looking down at (y/n) and wondered how he hadn’t seen her taking something she shouldn’t have, to keep her studying. How could he have been so careless? “Now Potter, don’t go blaming yourself. She didn’t want you to see it, so you wouldn’t have. But this stuff is dangerous, taken once, possibly twice and it’ll just enhance your concentration and help you focus for a few hours, but taken routinely, as it looks like Miss (y/l/n) here has been doing, and it can begin to have much more long-lasting effects. She may have been having trouble settling into a sleep, and her body may have been twitching. If this carried on, there could have been irreversible effects. The mind needs to slow down sometimes, you know, and there have certainly been cases from this potion, that not letting it do just that has simply driven them to insanity. I suspect her passing out was a way of her body trying to get some much needed rest.” Madam Pomfrey finished, taking the vial with her as she went to collect some medicine to help you return to your normal state quickly, as James quickly sat next to you on the bed, heavy with the information he had just received.

Slowly, her eyes began to open as James traced his thumb in circles on her palm, quickly pressing her shoulders down as she tried to sit up in bed.

“(y/n)” he started, feeling a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t see.” He settled on saying, voice cracking on the last word. She quickly realised what was happening, and was quick to squeeze James’ hand.

“You weren’t supposed to, Jamesy. I wasn’t thinking straight, I was in a one-track mindset. It was so stupid, I’m so sorry.” She cried, tears falling over her cheeks as she realised the gravity of what she had been doing, and how it had affected the people around her as well as herself.

“Hey, we all do things we’re not proud of, but you’re okay and that’s what matters.” He reassured her, lying down and pulling her into his arms as the sobs continued to wrack through her body. “I’ve got you, (y/n), and I’m never going to let you go.”

#harry potter #harry potter fic #james potter #james potter x reader #james x reader #potter x reader #prongs x reader #prongs #marauders #marauders era #marauders fic

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sweetlittlegingy · 4 years

Text

Just Chris

One-shot

|Dad!Chris Evans x pregnant reader|Dad!Chris Evans x Evans kids|

Summary:

You and Chris had been married for 4 years now, prior to that you had dated for 2. You had met on a vacation to Disneyworld, your little boy had disappeared from your sight and caused you to have a near mental breakdown. In the moment you didn't know it but he would become your whole world. Gaining not only his affection but also his unwavering commitment and love for the both of you. 6 years in and you couldn't be happier. With 3 wonderful kids and another on the way you had everything a girl could ask for. Together you made the choice to not make your relationship public, for the kids sake, your own and Chris as well. He had always wanted to have a family, a safe place where he could be known just as a husband and father. He made sure that you never felt lonely and tried to be there for every milestone.

Word count: 3,900

6 years ago: Orlando Florida

It was a big step, I knew that. Deciding to come to Disneyworld with just James and I. But he who shall not be named doesn't care about us anymore and James deserves some small amount of happiness in this dark time. Taking a deep breath I grabbed our park tickets, thanking the park member and head towards the entrance.

"Momma are we gonna see Mickey and his puppy." I hear James ask as he tugs me forward.

"Yes! Are you super excited? We can go on any ride you want bubba." We moved through the entrance line fairly quickly heading straight for fantasy land.

4 hours later

I haven't seen him smile this big in forever. He might be little but he knows something is going on and a big change has happened in our lives. I can't wait to share the pictures with my parents that I got of James and Mickey and Minnie.

"James, buddy what do you wanna do now? More rides or are you hungry?" I ask as we walk towards Cinderella's castle.

"Momma can we go get a Mickey balloon pretty please? You said we could later and it's later." He replies like the sassy little stinker he is. It's kinda terrifying how much he is like me. He is definitely gonna be my karma for all the headaches a gave my parents.

"I guess I did say that. Come on let's go, I think there was someone selling them in front of Main Street." Together we walk hand in hand finding the cart easily. "Ok bubba what color do you want?" I ask patiently waiting for him to look over every color and choose.

"Can I have the blue one please momma?" He asks after barely looking them over. I should have known, blue is our favourite color currently. Turning back to the man selling them I ask for a blue balloon and get cash out of my wallet to pay for it.

"Here you go ma'am, have a good day now." He tells me. Wishing him a good day as well I turn around ready to see the biggest smile on my munchkins face and he's gone. I look around quickly but there's so many people and I can't see him. Spinning around to see if he's with the balloon man, but he's not. I can feel my heart speeding up, I feel like I can't breathe.

"James baby!" I call frantically. I feel tears welling up in my eyes. My baby's gone, I just had him here with me. How could he disappear that fast, what if someone took him. I feel a panic attack coming on, my world feels like it's caving in on me. Then I hear it. His little voice shouting about superheroes and Toy Story. Rushing forward I break through a group of people and see him in a man's arms.

"Momma!! You got my balloon" he yells launching himself into my arms. Catching him I hold on to him for dear life hold back the tears because I have him back in my arms.

"James you can't do that ok. Never walk away from mommy, I thought I lost you baby." I tell him while stroking his head.

"I made a friend though momma, he likes superheroes too!" He tells me not understanding that I almost just had a mental breakdown.

Looking up I see my saviour staring back at me sheepishly, unsure of how to approach me. I probably look like an absolute mess right now, but completely overwhelmed I can't stop myself from hugging him. Holding James with one arm, I wrap my other around the man and rest against his chest. He must have been completely blown away because he doesn't react at all. Then all of the sudden he wraps his arms around the both of us and in that moment I couldn't handle life anymore. I completely break down in tears, while he just holds me tighter and whispers that it's ok now to me. Through everything that happened recently I've had no one. I was alone in this divorce, sure I hand my parents but they weren't there to hold me and make me feel safe. To tell me that every choice I had made was ok, that I wasn't wrong in wanting a better life for James and myself. But this angel of a man, that knows nothing about me at all. He knew somehow exactly what I needed. Pulling back after I've stopped the tears I can't help but to feel so embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what even came over me. I just… thank you. I don't know what I would have done if you didn't have him." I quickly speak trying not to look like a complete idiot but I can feel my cheeks heating up.

"Don't worry it's no problem at all. We were having a great time weren't we buddy." He replies winking at James.

"Yeah momma. Me and Chris were talking about heroes and Woody to! I told him you were getting me a balloon ." James replies like it's the most obvious thing on the planet. It's at that moment you realise I never told him my name.

"I'm y/n by the way. Though with his guy it seems my only name is mommy. Which I definitely can't complain about." I say in laugh while tickling James.

"Oh right yeah. I'm Chris, but he already told you that." He chuckles reaching to shake your hand. God he has an amazing smile. I can't remember the last time I had this many butterflies in my stomach just from someone smiling at me.

"You wouldn't wanna maybe come get a Mickey ice cream bar with us? That was our plan before everything happened." I ask hopefully but then realise he might be here with family and I don't want to interrupt. "Unless of course you're busy. In that case just thank you."

Chris laughs a little. "Well I am here with family.." before he can even finish, another guy interrupts him.

"Hi I'm Scott, Chris brother. He's got no plans, we were all just gonna head back to the hotel and rest for a bit. Chris would love to come with you." He smiles sweetly at me, then turns to Chris giving him the eyes that can only describe as don't fuck this up eyes.

"Yeah I would love that. Plus me and this little guy have lots to talk about. Especially the fact that he thinks Spiderman is the best superhero! I mean buddy what about Captain America?" Chris beams at James playfully. It's in that moment though I realise who exactly I've been talking to. But none of that matters because as far as I'm concerned he's just Chris. I don't want him to be anyone else because so far he's been absolutely perfect.

Present: Concord Massachusetts

I think I've made it through the worst. I woke up feeling amazing with no nausea. It's a winning kinda day, it's been too long that I haven't had a day that I feel like dying and I'm just over 30 weeks. Thankfully Lisa took James and the girls today so I could have some time to rest. But like always I can't seem to relax so here I am cleaning. Bending down to pick up one of the girls barbies and her dream car I hear a low whistle come from behind me.

"Now if that isn't the perfect view to come home to, I don't know what is." Spinning around I see him, my Chris.

"It's that view that got us in this situation in the first place Christopher." I say gesturing to my belly.

"The best situation baby. Now come here so I can kiss my favourite girl and tell my little princess hello." He tells me pulling me in for the sweetest kiss. I missed this so much, the feel of his lips on mine. Being able to feel his unconditional love from one kiss. As soon as he pulls away he gives me a quick peck on the nose making me giggle. Then he's down on his knees pulling my top up so he can see my belly. "And how are you doing my sweet angel? Have you been good for momma?" He asks my belly then presses his ear against me, because apparently they can talk to each other through the womb. Running my fingers through his hair I feel like I can officially relax now. He's been on the go so much after promoting Kives Out. Then going to award shows left and right, but now he's home for the rest of the pregnancy.

"She's missed you baby. So has James, Eleanor and Adeline."

"Oh really, only the kids have missed me? You sure you haven't missed me even a little bit?" He says while standing up to look me in the eyes. "I hope you missed me baby, cuz I know I missed you too damn much. It was hell not having you in my arms everyday. Especially with you being pregnant. It killed me knowing I wasn't here to take care of you."

"I missed you more than anything. You should know that though from the amount of times I called you crying in the middle of the night." I whisper into his neck. I feel horrible that I called so many times and made him feel bad. But we made a promise that we would always share every single emotion we were feeling with each other. "I love you Christopher so much. I feel whole again with you back."

"I love you more baby. I'm home now ok and will be for as long as you need me. There's no way in hell that someone could pull me away from you and the kids now. Especially since little miss Everly will be showing up soon enough." He tells me while rubbing my belly. I look up at the clock on the wall and see that it's almost 2. Lisa was gonna bring the kids back around 3.

"The kids should be home in an hour or so. Your mother, bless her heart for taking the kids this morning. She is truly a God sent." I pull away from him putting the barbie and her dream car in the girls toy box.

"You know she loves you and the kids so much. I think she might love you more than she loves me." He chuckles. "How are they doing anyway? Anything new that I need to be made aware of?"

"Why do you say it like that?" I ask with a hint of disbelief in my tone.

"Because you my darling are always up to something? Are the girls still taking ballet or have we changed our minds to something else? What about James, baseball should be starting soon."

"Excuse you but I have been on my best behaviour thank you very much. Ell is loving ballet. Addie is still not sure. But then again her attention span is horrible, I'm gonna keep her in it though. They are both doing wonderfully when they want to, I'm sure you will get to have your own private show. Yes baseball starts next month, I've already got him signed up. He's gonna be so happy that you're gonna be home to practice with him." I pause then for a minute because I hate to bring it up when he's just home. "Babe. James asked again last night."

"What's he asking you about this time, that you can't handle." Chris asks, with an amusing smile on his face. He quickly understands though when I glare at him. "I'm sorry babe, all jokes aside. How'd he bring it up this time?"

"Apparently he saw Robert and Susan promoting Dolittle. I guess they were talking about finally doing a film that all the kids could go to. I don't even know how to go about it anymore, he completely broke my heart hunny. He asked if you were ashamed of us baby. I of course told him no, that you love them more than anything. It's just getting really difficult now. I mean we are gonna be a pretty big family soon, it's getting harder to hide."

"I know. God I know, I've been thinking about it alot. I just love how with you guys I'm just Chris or daddy. Are you even ready for that baby? I don't even know if I'm ready, I love having you all to myself." He states while rubbing the back of his neck. "How would we even reveal that to the world? I don't want any backlash coming on you and the kids. Fucking hell." Walking over I wrap my arms around him. I can see how much this stresses him out and we just need to get it out of the way, face it head on.

"Hey look at me." I state lifting his face so he looks me in the eyes. "We will be fine as long as we stick together. I don't care about anything the press might say. So long as you and our babies are safe and happy. Nothings gonna scare me off babe, you're stuck with me forever."

"Ok I guess we're doing this. How do we wanna go about it? We could go live on Twitter or just make a video and share it on my page. I think making a video would be best though so we can make sure that we have it perfect." He states calmly.

"I think that's an absolutely perfect way to introduce our family to the world baby. I think we should do something silly though and not make it so much like 'Hey look I have a family' just an easy going playful video with a witty caption 'Quick catch up on the last 6 years' don't you think?"

Hearing a knock one the door, then the door opening. You hear little feet running down the hall giggling. "Momma we're home!" Both girls yell out to you.

"Come here guys, I'm in the kitchen. I've got a surprise for you." You call back while quickly pushing Chris into the pantry. Just as the door closes you see the girls rounding the corner. Heading straight to hug your legs, with Lisa and James coming behind them. "Hello my babies. How are you both doing?" You say kisses each of the girls on the head. Looking up after they tell you that they're great you smile, having a hard time not telling them then that daddy's home. "How are you doing buddy, did you have a good time with grandma?" You ask James.

"Yeah. Grandma and grandpa were great." He says softly while Lisa wraps her arms around him giving him a soft hug and kiss on the top of his head.

"James, sweetheart what's wrong?" You question trying to figure out what could have happened in the short time he was gone.

You see him turn more into Lisa. "He's just missing dad today, Scott was helping him practice throwing today." She tells you with a sad smile.

"Well it's a good thing I came home early then. Can't be missing baseball practice with my best bud." At the sound of Chris's voice James head pops up, letting go of Lisa he runs for Chris. Soon after the girls follow squealing, running right for his legs.

"Surprise!" You say with a laugh looking at Lisa then the kids and Chris. He's got the girls in one arm, both of them kissing his cheeks. James is tucked in his chest holding onto him tightly. You knew he missed Chris, being the only guy in the house was tough. They were inseparable from the beginning of your relationship and everytime Chris left it got a little harder for the pair. You saw him whispering something in each of their ears. Both girls giggling and James burying himself farther into Chris chest. Setting the girls down Chris wrapped both arms around James.

Knowing they needed this time together, you walked over to the girls. "Why don't we take grandma to the living room and show her your new barbie dolls we got yesterday?" You asked the girls who happily ran for Lisa, grabbing her hands and skipping to the living room. Looking back over your shoulder you wink at Chris as you see him mouth 'Thank you' to you. With a smile you mouth back 'I love you' and head in to be with Lisa and the girls.

Sometime later the boys come into the living room, both smiling. Lisa had left 10 minutes before saying she wanted you to have family time and that she would see Chris tomorrow to give him a proper hello.

"So what's everyone thinking for dinner? I was thinking instead of having momma cook, we order pizza. Hmm… how's that sound?" Chris says.

"Yes!" All three of the kids cheer. We don't get pizza too often, so I knew it was gonna be a unanimous decision. Deciding on a Meat Lovers and a Cheese pizza I get the phone to call it in. Hanging up the phone I go and tell everyone it should be here in about 45 minutes. Settling back on the couch to cuddle with Chris while the kids play with Dodger, I breathe a sigh of relief rubbing my bump. At this little miss Everly starts moving around. Stretching her little body out. Grabbing Chris's hands I place them on my tummy so he can feel her.

"She's sure is active tonight. I'm so ready to meet her and to be a family of 6." He whispers softly into my ear before kissing my temple. Our relaxing cuddle is soon interrupted though. When the girls come bouncing on their toes over to us.

"Can we have a dance party before dinner? Pretty please?" They ask with the sweetest smiles. They already know that it's gonna be a yes. After giving that face to their daddy, he's so wrapped around their fingers.

"Of course we can. Why don't you take mommy upstairs to get your tutus on. While you get ready, me and bubba will set up the speakers." Chris tells the girls. With smiles they start up the stairs giggling while I follow after them making sure nobody falls. Picking out which tutu each of them was gonna wear was easy. Pink and purple with sparkles for Ell and rainbow for Addie. But they couldn't just have their tutus we had to get in their leotards too. As well as princess crowns had to be added, finally we were ready to go back downstairs. Chris of course didn't miss the fact that I have a crown on. If the girls could get my tummy in a tutu, I would be in one all the time. I'm just happy that they didn't make me try and put it in this time. They must have learned after I got stuck last time when I was just 25 weeks and momma's belly almost broke the tutu.

"Don't you two just look beautiful." He says to them. "Don't think I forgot you. I love the crown babe." He says before giving me a quick peck on the lips. He walks away to press play on the speakers and all of the sudden I hear Under the Sea from the Little Mermaid coming through the speakers. Both girls happily jump and squeal at their father's choice. Excited because it's their favourite movie at the moment, completely oblivious to the fact that it's also their dads. Laughing at their wild moves I see them grab James making him dance as well.

"Momma come on dance. Everly loves this song!" Ell tells me point blank

"How would you know that Ell? Everly isn't even here yet to know what music she loves." I tell her.

"Because we are her sissies and she loves anything we love." Addie then says coming to her twins aid. Standing up I grab both girls hands twirling them while they hold my fingers. Looking up at Chris I see him laughing holding up his phone.

"Looking good momma!" He tells me with a laugh.

"Daddy look at us spin!" Addie says before they both grab hands spinning in circles. James comes to stand by me cuddling up to my side as we sway back and forth. With the song change I start laughing as Truth Hurts by Lizzo comes on. Only Chris would have those two songs on the same playlist. The girls don't mind the change and pull James to dance more with them. Walking over to Chris singing the song, doing a little dance. I gotta say mommas got moves still. Laughing at myself Chris calls at me to smile, facing the camera at me. Smiling sweetly at the most amazing man in the world, how did I get so lucky.

"Now let me see Everly babe!" He tells me while doing a spinning motion with his finger. Stepping back I give him a side view of my bump laughing at how cute he's being. He quickly pulls me to him. Flipping the camera to the front he gives me the biggest kiss, making my toes curl. "I love you Mrs. Evans." He says resting his forehead on mine.

"I love you so much more Christopher."

Later that night

After finally getting done with dinner. I was able to get the girls in the bath and in jammies without much hassle. James was already in bed so I gave him a kiss goodnight as Chris read to the girls. Heading to our room I see Dodger already up on the bed with his lion.

"Hi bubba. I know you didn't like all the dancing tonight. Have you been up here sleeping the whole time? Such a good boy. Just let mom get changed and then we can cuddle. Sound good." I ask Dodg as I head to the bathroom. After washing my face and brushing my teeth I head out to get changed.

"Hey baby I'm just gonna get ready then I'll be in bed." Chris says as he kisses me on the cheek. Nodding my head I crawl in bed getting tucked under the covers. Not long later Chris comes back in getting under the covers with me. Pulling me to his chest I relax into him as we caress my bump.

"How did the girls like the story?" I ask

"Oh they loved it, even added their own little bits to it." He tells me softly kissing my head. "You know the video I took of you all dancing?" He questions. Nodding in a response already drifting off. "I posted it baby." He says hesitantly.

"Ok. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you Christopher. I love you and our family more than anything in the world." I tell him softly.

"How did I get so lucky? I love you baby." He says as he wraps me up tightly both of us falling asleep. The last thought I have before falling into the darkness is how I couldn't have asked for a better man to live this wonderful crazy experience we call life with.

Taglist: @icanfeelastormbrewing

A/N: I've never wrote for Chris. Let alone I have written in like a year and a half. I dont even know what my opinion on it is yet, so let me know what you think of it! Also if you have any requests inbox me or ask. Why not have some fun with this. Much love xx

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans one shot #dad!chris #dad!chris evans #domesticChris #chris evans smut #chris evans oneshot #daddy chris evans #dad chris evans #one shot Chris Evans #Chris Evans #chris evans fluff #chris evans fandom #chris evans fic #Chris Evans dad #chris evans drabble

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tepre · 5 years

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I want an 8th year fic where Harry is a really bad kisser. like. REALLY bad. Like, no coordination, spit all over the place, no-idea-where-he’s-going-with-this bad. And it makes sense because he’s never quite had the emotional education that makes him super attuned to other people’s needs? anYWAY when he and ginny break up they have a bit of a row and she wants to throw something at him just to THROW SOMETHING AT HIM because it’s hard to accuse the actual puppy dog who saved the goddamn world of anything -- ESPECIALLY WHEN HE’S SO WEEPY -- and so she just says it. She just says it, You are a bad kisser, Harry. You are a very, very, very, very bad kisser.

AND at first of course Harry is like how dARE YOU, and no YOU are, but then it gets stuck in his head and he starts asking around. First of all, do people even like kissing? It is a thing people like? It’s always felt kind of off and gross to him and cut to Hermione talking a million miles an hour, confiscating an empty classroom to draw out a full chart on a blackboard about the benefits/social history/beauty of make outs -- IF you want them. Harry nods furiously and is taking notes.

From there the research expands into a full-scale survey amongst the 7th and 8th years about the best snogger on Hogwarts grounds [on a scale from 0 to 10, 0 being ‘like being slapped about by the giant squid’ and 10 being ‘like a veela caressing the inside of your mouth but also you’re in fire’]. Entirely unexpectedly, WHAT A SURPRISE TO EVERYONE INVOLVED, Draco Ambrosius Giselda Anne Paulus Fucking Malfoy (named after all of his auntie’s favourite corgies) ends up the UNANIMOUS nr 1. Harry and Hermione, main conductors of said research, are appalled. Especially when subject #18 (Hannah Abbott) goes all glassy-eyed staring at the survey parchment and whispers “that mouth tho”, seemingly to herself.

Cut to Harry and Hermione holed up in the classroom with pictures of everyone from 7th & 8th year hanging on the walls with bits of red thread connecting them. Malfoy’s is in the middle, circled several times and surrounded by question marks. Harry looks frazzled, tie undone, and he’s reading through the case again. “It can’t be!” he says, incredulous, while Hermione laughs a little crazed and disbelieving. “It has to be,” she says, shaking her head. “By Jobe, it has to be.”

CUT TO HARRY inviting Draco A. G. A. P. F. Malfoy to an official interview where he shakily reads a pre-prepared statement off a paper while Hermione stands behind him and mouths with cuz she wrote it. And Draco’s like, “Ok let me get this straight. You want me to kiss you. To teach you how to kiss.”

“For science!” say Harry and Hermione at once.

Draco complies on a curriculum of 10 weeks ON the condition of the final result being conducted in the middle of the great hall -- DURING DINNER! -- in full view of the whole school. “I’m rehabilitating my image,” he says, picking a piece of lint off his robes. “It would be beneficial.”

Harry says “DEAL” and Hermione says “Uh” and they shake on it and so it happens that Draco and Harry set off on a vigorous 10 week curriculum starting off with lesson nr 1, peppermint spells. This is quickly followed by lesson the second, which is basically Draco pushing Harry up against a wall and hovering close without actually touching him. Almost brushing their lips, then not. Breathing against his neck, his jaw, the corner of his mouth -- then leaning away again, all until Harry is a frustrated shaking mess, trying to chase after Draco’s mouth if only to JUST GET IT OVER WITH. But it’s a no-go, it’s just Draco’s hand to his chest to hold him back saying, “Not yet.”

Lesson nr 3 is Draco’s fingers tracing the shape of his lips and hovering close and Harry opening his mouth and Draco putting the pad of a long finger to the flat of Harry’s tongue and watching, quiet, when Harry sucks at it. Lesson 4 is cancelled ‘cuz Draco is “BETTER THINGS TO GO GOODBYE” (announced by way of a howler), lesson 5 is the two of them in a broom closet and Draco’s hands like fists in his robs, brushing his lips to Harry’s, just brushing them, a total of five exCRUCIATING minutes and then leaning down to bite at his neck, which Harry needs a full hour after Draco leaves to recover from (”calm down calm down what is wrong with you Harry Potter CALM YOURSELF DOWN”). Lesson 6 Draco has him on his back in the grass behind the lake and licks the corner of his mouth, nips at his bottom lip, ignores it when Harry’s fingers slip between the buttons of his shirt to touch the skin of his stomach. Lesson 7 begins with Harry already wrecked and they haven’t even STARTED -- on the stairs to the owlery, Harry one step higher than Draco, Draco’s teeth hard the fading hickey from last time, Harry’s hands in Draco’s hair -- babbling, saying, “You’re never gonna kiss me, are you, God, you’re never gonna--”

And then Draco leans up, aligns, sucks Harry’s bottom lip into his mouth. Licks up, sucks the top lip, and has to catch what is BASICALLY a swooning Harry James Fucking Potter and they stand like that for a second, swaying, breathing hot and wet against each other’s mouths.

Lesson 8 Harry has had ENOUGH, goddamn it, and there are only two to go and they’re not nearly advanced enough and also SCIENCE, and so Saturday afternoon in the alleyway behind Puddifoots -- between a trashcan full of half-eaten cupcakes and a soggy cardboard box -- Harry has Draco up against a wall, opening his hot maddening (horrible, good-for-nothing) mouth with a shudder and a moan. It’s all tongue, at first, and Draco has to tell him to slow down, has to put his fingers to Harry’s lips, cradle his face, tilt it, show him how to pace it, how to breathe through it, how to suck on his tongue. How to start slow and end hot and heavy and shivering and being unable to pull away to cast a simple charm against the drizzle or even move the godDAMN inch it would take to take cover under the awning. Idiots. Now you’re wet. Now you’re soaking wet and still making out and it’s been a literal two hours. Great. Wonderful. Don’t come crying to me when you catch your death of cold, I swear.

Lesson 9 in the changing rooms after Quidditch practice, this time Harry’s back against the tiled shower wall, mouth swollen and skin tender from Draco’s stubble and his hands in Draco’s hair -- Draco’s gloved hands under his shirt, fingers shaky, palming his ribs. Harry whispering “God,” and “Fuck,” and “Come here,” even though Draco’s already there, as close as he can get.

Lesson 10 Draco spends sucking at Harry’s pulse point. Pulling at the skin, soothing it with his tongue, breathing over it -- first hot, then cold. They’re in the empty classroom, door locked, Harry up on one of the desks and Draco’s legs slotted between his. Harry rides his thigh, doesn’t mean to, can’t quite help himself, is embarrassed and bothered and hot and comes like that, with Draco’s lips wet to the shell of his ear.

The next day Harry’s showered for the occasion. He’s showered and shaved and conducts himself a little bit like a robot on his first day out saying things like, “Hermione, could you be so kind to pass the butter” in a flat and shaky voice. Hermione is, in fact, so kind as to pass the butter, which Harry immediately drops when Draco enters the great hall. Robot Harry stands and walks to face him, and says Hello and Okay and Okay (again) and Now? Shall we do it now? And Draco clears his throat like 30 times before he can say yes okay fine now.

And then they kiss. And Harry has come to know those lips better than he knows his own, and has come to like holding on by the small gap between the two buttons of Draco’s shirt -- right over his stomach -- and has come to anticipate the small gust of air that leaves Draco after that first press of lips. After they move to settle into place, cock their heads, slides their tongues together. Draco is the one who rushes into it now, and Harry is the one who gets to smile into it, gets to tell him to slow it down, gets to relax them into it.

Somewhere in the distance some silverware clatters. Three Hufflepuffs walk into each other. A 4th-year Ravenclaw drops the two glasses of juice she’d had in her hands, one of which was for her friend. It’s okay, because her friend was about bring a potato to her mouth, but that’s fallen off the fork anyway. Nearly Headless Nick gasps a quiet good lord and McGonnagal puts a hand over Mme Hooch’s eyes. Hermione is furiously taking notes.

Draco murmurs something into the kiss, something about having given them enough of a show, and Harry laughs, nips at his lips, at his chin, his jaw. “Hold on tight,” he says, and slips a hand around Draco’s waist. Dips him, dramatically, holds him in the cradle of his arm -- bends to kiss him again. Draco laughs against his mouth, only a little outraged, and Hermione adds some arrows to her chart.

Somewhere nearby Ginny mumbles a quiet damn, and, that’s one steep learning curve.

“It’s a steep something, alright,” is what Hannah Abbott has to say about that, glassy-eyed again.

Hermione’s now fanning herself with her notebook. “Good science,” she says, nodding quickly. “Very good science.”

#drarry #Drabble????#or whatever this is #a lot of words about boys necking #anyway SO I WANT THIS FIC #this is not the fic #this is just a tribute #m for making out #and maybe someone jazzing in their pantfs #MAYBE #really don't ask me I have NO IDEA what this is #Draco #Draco Ambrosius Giselda Anne Paulus Fucking Malfoy #(named after all of his auntie’s favourite corgies)

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haveanotherfandomblog · 4 years

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Avenger’s Preferences

How You Meet Pt. 2

A/N: Someone in my family works in the V.A. so yes, I know what I’m talking about.

Peter-

Switching schools was never something you liked. Always being the new kid and having to recreate a whole new life was always so hard and frustrating. You tried to be a lone wolf, but your bubbly and friendly personality just wouldn’t let you. So when you inevitably moved, it was always full of tears.

This time was no different. Your family had relocated to New York City for your father’s business. You were in a new school surrounded by people you didn’t know. While their faces all blurred together, you stuck out like a sore thumb. You knew everyone was staring at you as you made your way to your new locker. Once you found it, you found that it did not want to cooperate and open.

“Son of a bitch,” you mumbled, shaking the lock. You rested your head against the cool metal.

“Need some help with that?” A tall girl with dark skin, black, frizzy hair, and glasses stood a little down the way. She was leaning against another locker, her arms crossed over her chest. You stood up straight, pulling your mouth into a thin line.

“That’d be great, thanks,” you said. She pushed herself off the locker. She came over to your locker, jiggling the lock before hitting it with her elbow. It swung open with complete ease.

“These things suck,” she told you. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Uh, no. I’m new. My name’s Y/N. Y/N L/N.” You stuck your hand out, a smile on your face. She took your hand hesitantly.

“Hey, I’m--”

“MJ!” Behind you, two boys were waving at the girl, MJ. One was on the heavier side with tan skin and dark hair. The other one was a slim, fit guy with pale skin and light brown hair.

“MJ! We’ve been looking for you,” the first guy said.

“Guys. This is Y/N. She’s new,” MJ said. “Y/N, this is Ned and Peter--a couple of losers.” You giggled, holding out your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you guys,” you said. Ned shook your hand with a big smile. Peter gave your hand a shake, a tight-lipped smile on his face. “As wonderful as it’s been meeting you all, I should head to class. See you guys!” You skipped off down the hall, searching for your first class.

Sam-

When you had returned from Iraq, you were so happy to be home. Your family had thrown a small get-together to celebrate your safe return. Everyone was so proud of you for serving your country. Your parents had offered to let you stay with them until you found yourself a job and an apartment. With a good record, and an honorable discharge, it shouldn’t be hard.

It was two months before you landed a job as a receptionist at the V. A. Center in D.C. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but you made decent money. However, living in D.C. was expensive. Finding a place seemed almost impossible, even with a job. Luckily your parents were extremely understanding.

After about three months at the V. A., you had your job down pretty well. Most of the time you were answering calls from local and nationwide veterans. Most were nice, inquiring about certain medical options and wanting help through the transition back into normal society. Some veterans weren’t as friendly and called to complain about how the government treated them or simply to yell.

You had finished another call and were logging it when someone cleared their throat. You tapped on the board that was in front of you. You listened as the pen scratched across the paper for the visitor. Once you finished your log you glanced up.

A handsome stranger stood in front of your desk, a half-smile on his face. You smiled back, heat rising up your neck.

“Welcome to the V. A. Center, how can I help you?” you asked, fidgeting with your hands.

“I’m Sam Wilson. I have an interview in about twenty-minutes,” he told you. You nodded, sliding down a bit to the other phone. You picked it up, dialing the three numbers to your boss’ office.

“Sir, there’s a Sam Wilson here to see you,” you informed him. “Yes sir.” You slid back down to Mr. Wilson. “He’ll be here shortly, he’s finishing up a meeting.”

Mr. Wilson nodded, sitting down in one of the chairs. You tried your best to not stare, but not staring was never your strong suit. Mr. Wilson was tall, dark, and handsome, how could you not stare? He was sitting back in the chair, his ankle resting on his knee. His arm was thrown over the back of the chair as he stared down the hall.

“Can I ask you something Mr. Wilson?” you inquired, pretending to type on the computer as if you hadn’t spent the last five minutes staring at him.

“Please, Sam is fine,” he said.

“Okay, Sam, can I ask you something?” He nodded. “What branch did you serve?”

“Army,” he replied. You nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“So when they do a men of the Army calendar, is it just twelve months of you?” He paused for a moment before laughing. “What? Don’t like it?” You shot him a wink, a smirk on your face.

“I like it quite a lot, actually… what’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

Bucky-

It took years and years of studying and hard work, but becoming the leading psychiatrist in dealing and helping soldiers with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSS), formerly PTSD. You never experienced it personally, but you had neighbors and friends who suffered from it growing up. You wanted to do something helpful in the world, something good, so you dedicated your life to finding ways to work through what others had experienced. Your reputation began to precede you, and that was how you were flown across the world to help one of the worst cases you’d ever seen.

The patient was a Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He served in World War I where he was presumed KIA, Killed In Action. That was until about four years ago when he resurfaced as an assassin for an organization that was almost gone. The more you read, the wilder his story seemed to get. Reading his file, which was quite extensive, covered almost the entire flight to Wakanda.

King T’Challa stood ready to greet you when your plane landed. You bowed your head respectively, taking in the empty fields that surrounded you. He shook your hand firmly, offering you a warm smile.

“Welcome to Wakanda Dr. L/N,” he greeted.

“Thank you for having me, Your Majesty,” you said. “You have beautiful, open lands.”

“You’re much too kind. If you would follow me this way.” He held his hand out and began guiding you across one of the fields. Birds chirped above you as you made your trek over the verdant hills.

Just over the last hill was a single hut. Goats roamed around freely, munching on grass and bleating. King T’Challa gestured to the hut, staring at it solemnly.

“White Wolf lives there. He lives happily in solitude, but human interaction is important. The world says you are the best in your field. Please, help him,” the King said. You nodded your head.

“Nothing is guaranteed,” you reminded him. “My methods aren’t a one-hundred percent success, but I will do my best.”

“That is all we ask.”

You nodded one more time before resuming your walk to the small hut, this time alone. The goats were curious about you, pausing their lunch to stare at you. One particularly small one ran to you, nudging its head against your leg.

“Steve, be nice.”

A new voice caught your attention. His hair was longer and his beard was fuller, but you recognized the man as Sergeant Barnes. He stood in the doorway of the hut, staring down at the tiny goat that was now nibbling at the bottom of your pants. He wore white, traditional, Wakanda clothing. A white bandage covered the stub where his arm once was. He would have seemed peaceful were it not for the dark, solemn gaze in his eyes.

“Sergeant Barnes?” you called, bending down to pick up the goat. He looked up at you. “Sergeant Barnes my name is Dr. Y/N L/N. King T’Challa asked me to help you transition back into civilian society.” He nodded his head slowly. The goat, Steve, nestled into your chest, nibbling your shirt. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Of course,” he said, moving aside so you could enter his hut. Setting the goat down, you stepped inside the small hut. It was bare for the most part, only the necessities were present. You took a seat on a nearby chair, watching him carefully. He took a seat across from you, awkwardly shifting in his seat.

“Sergeant Barnes, I would like to preface this by saying I am here to help you, and if what we do isn’t helping, it’s okay to say that,” you said.

“Bucky.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My name… it’s Bucky.” You smiled.

“It’s nice to meet you Bucky. I’m Y/N.”

Loki-

Rehabilitation, patience, and forgiveness were some of your core beliefs. You also believed that good was in everyone, no matter what bad deeds they did, no matter how lost they seemed, with the right guidance and a voice of encouragement, you truly believed that anyone could redeem themselves. Because of this firm belief, you started a rehabilitation center in your kingdom which grew into the biggest and most successful rehabilitation center in the world.

Being the princess of a small country was hard, but this success gave your country exactly what it needed--money. Which sounded worse than it actually was. The world runs on money and your people weren’t exactly millionaires, but being paid to rehabilitate both petty and hardened criminals was surprisingly a great way to make money.

So much so that King T’Challa of Wakanda, an old childhood friend of yours, asked a favor from an American aquanitice of his. Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries and Avenger, had been asked by his fellow Avenger, Thor to seek a place for his trickster brother. You had heard all about New York in the news, but you never expected that to have an affect on your country. You weren’t so sure until Thor offered to pay in pure gold. That, you simply couldn’t refuse.

You stood on the runway, watching as the plane carrying your latest case began to touch down. The wind whipped your hair around your face, but your sunglasses protected your eyes. The wind settled once the plane came to a stop. The door opened and the first to exit was King T’Challa.

“Your Majesty,” you called. He smiled at you as he descended the stairs.

“Your Highness,” he greeted. He jogged over to you, skipping all formalities to give you a heartfelt hug. “It has been too long, old friend.”

“Much too long,” you agreed. A posse of people had followed him. Guards from Wakanda, Tony Stark, Thor, and his brother, Loki.

“Princess Y/N, this is my American acquaintance, Tony Stark.”

“Yes, Stark Industries precedes you.” He bowed to you respectfully.

“Your Highness, this is Thor and his troublesome brother Loki,” Stark said, gesturing to the two giant men beside him. Loki was bound in unique chains and had his face covered so you could only see his eyes.

“Welcome, gentlemen. We are happy to welcome you to our small corner of the world. If you all would follow me,” you said. You looped your arm through T’Challa’s, leading them to the facilities where Loki would be kept. “While your brother is a rather unique guest, we will be treating him like we treat everyone else here. Because of his abilities, he will be placed in a special room designed specifically for him.”

“How do you know it will hold Reindeer Games over here?” Stark asked, sending a pointed look to Loki. You smiled.

“I had a top engineer design it using advanced technologies that could put your entire company to shame,” you said. A smirk pulled at T’Challa’s mouth at the mention of his sister.

“You are very kind for doing this Princess Y/N,” Thor said. “I know with the right guidance, my brother will come back to who he used to be. Loki rolled his eyes at that, opting to look out the window. From the corner of your eye, you could see him staging at your reflection through the glass.

“It’s my pleasure.”

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gingerwritess · 5 years

Note

How about Elliot asking for a sibling? And Loki is all cocky "What do you think dear?" Obviously sexual innuendos throughout. 😂😂

sorryyyyyy i left again. have some family fluff. i missed dad!loki and elliot our son gahhhh and this is kind of big in the progression of our lil family ;))

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“I’m lonely…” Elliot sighs, throwing his arms around your knees and dropping his head against the back of your legs. “I’m lonely, mom. When’s dad gonna be home?”

“Any minute now, hopefully. Do you want to invite a friend over tomorrow?” You reach behind you and lightly tap the top of his head with your oven mitt.

He groans and hits his head against your legs. “Nooo…Dad’s my only friend.”

“What?! What about me?”

“Nah. You’re my mom.” Elliot sighs again, dramatic and just like his goddamn father when he’s craving attention. “That’s like…better than a friend.”

Good save, buster.

Turning off the fire under the bubbling pot on the stove, you turn around and kneel down to eye level with the little boy. “You have other friends, kiddo,” you assure him with a smile. “What about James? And Oliver? Oh, and Morgan?”

“Ew, no.” He blanches and shakes his head. “Morgan’s not my friend, she has cooties.”

“That’s funny. Your mother had cooties, too.”

“DADDY!!”

Elliot jumps up and runs over to where Loki is leaning in the doorway with a soft smile on his face—and with what appears to be the remains of a birds nest in his mess of hair.

“What happened to you?” You laugh and follow Elliot over to him, slinging an arm around Loki’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

“Well…you know how you joke about us Avengers ‘saving cats from trees’ and such?” He grimaces and bends down to pick up Elliot, swinging him into his arms with a groan. “You’re getting too big for this, Elli.”

“That’s not my name,” the kid giggles, throwing his arms around Loki’s neck. “It’s E-double-L-I-O-T. Need me to spell it slower?”

“Watch it, you little silvertongue.”

Elliot just sticks out his tongue and laughs.

Rolling his eyes at the little smart-mouth in his arms, Loki waves a tired hand at his hair and makes a cat-like hissing noise at Elliot. “Anyways…guess who’s now just the friendly neighbourhood Avenger.”

“You’re kidding,” you laugh and drag him over to the sink, picking leaves out of his hair with Elliot’s help. “Well, screw that, you’ll always be a king to us.”

He chuckles tiredly, dropping the squirming kid in his arms to the floor. “Stark swore it would never happen again…he clearly just wanted to laugh at me—Elliot, what?”

Ignoring the story his dad is trying to tell, Elliot’s busy poking Loki in the thigh with one little finger, over and over and over until he gets his attention. “Come play with me. Please?”

Loki pauses for a minute and glances from his son to you, opening his mouth to say something and shutting it right after. “Would you mind giving your mother and I just a few more seconds before stealing me for the night? Don’t worry,” he quickly adds when Elliot’s face falls, “I know I’m a precious commodity. Five more minutes and I’m all yours.”

“Fine,” Elliot huffs, his shoulders dropping as he sulks out of the little kitchen, head hanging to his chest and dragging his feet. “Five minutes, dad! I’m timing you!”

Loki narrows his eyes and shoots his retreating son a strange look; “You don’t know how to tell time yet, Elliot.”

“I’ll figure it out! M’still timing you!”

“Little monster.” Loki shakes his head and turns back to you, an amused smile playing at his lips.

“I wonder who he gets that from…” you wind your arms around his neck, gently swaying side to side.

“Certainly not me.”

“Right. Cause you’re just a perfect little angel.”

He chuckles and pecks a quick bite of a kiss on your lips, gently squeezing your waist. “We both know you prefer me to be a devil.”

“Damn right.” You pull him down with a grin to meet your lips again for a proper greeting kiss. “I missed you,” you mumble after a moment, not wanting to leave his lips just yet. “Not as much as Elliot did, but I missed you a whole lot.”

Days off work without Loki by your side just seem...incomplete.

“Is that why you’re cooking, my queen?” He pushes you up against the counter, the marble digging into your back, leaning in for a kiss as your heart rate speeds up—but he just reaches around you to peek inside a pot on the stove. “This looks…dangerous.”

“Hey!” You smack his chest with the back of your hand. “That’s what I get for trying to treat my husband?”

“You’re endangering the both of us and our son with your hospitality, darling.” He grins at you and waves a hand over the pot, and right away the bubbling stops, the strange smell emitting from the pot disappearing. “Much better. You’re welcome.”

“I’m offended.”

Cool hands slip under your thighs and hoist you onto the counter, and Loki takes his place between your knees, already dragging his lips down the curve of your neck. “Let me make it up to you,” he purrs in your ear, slipping his hands under your shirt to dig into your waist. “We’ve still got a few minutes left on our Elliot timer…”

“Okay, I didn’t figure out time—what’re you doin’, dad?”

God damn it. This kid needs to learn to knock.

Elliot stops behind Loki, tapping him on the leg as Loki resurfaces from his spot happily nipping along the underside of your jaw. “I’m helping your mother cook dinner,” he sighs, stepping away from you and pushing your knees closed. “Are our five minutes up already?”

The little kid sighs too, holding up his hands with a shrug. “I dunno. I just had an idea, that’s all.” He pauses and thinks for a minute, trying to remember something. “A…a prop-uh-sition for you.”

“A proposition?” You laugh, a distracted hand running across Loki’s shoulders to curl in the hair at the nape of his neck. “By all means, good sir, do tell us.”

Loki’s eyes flutter closed when you lightly scratch at his scalp and he nearly sighs aloud—what do you think are you doing, being so absentmindedly gentle with him?

Not that you even realise. It’s just second nature, to touch him, to somehow let him know that you’re there with him. And Loki practically purrs when you play with his hair, so that makes it ten times better.

“I was thinkin’ that since I’m, ya know, lonely all the time,” Elliot starts, glancing down at his hands. “I should have a best friend. That way I don’t have to take yours, mom.”

“And who is that, Elliot?”

“Dad.” He’s avoiding your gazes for some reason and picking at the palm of one hand now—oh no.

That nervous tick looks a little too familiar.

“Oh, Elliot, you wouldn’t be taking us from each other—”

“I want a baby brother!” Elliot blurts, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth once he says it. “Sorry. Um…could I—could I get a baby brother?”

Loki’s jaw has practically fallen to the floor, and your hand freezes with fingers curled tight in his hair. “A…baby? Another one?” He stutters, turning to you with a growing grin.

“It doesn’t have to be a brother!” Elliot cuts in, trying to press his case as best he can. “A sister would be awesome too, I just…kinda want a brother. But I love sisters too.”

“What do you think, darling wife of mine?” Loki smiles at you with a gleam in his eye, reaching up to brush his fingers along your cheek. “Another baby? Give Elliot some company in our dreary home?”

He’s taking the idea better than you thought. One kid had been a big enough step in the right direction for him, but now two?? You can only hope he’s as relaxed and open to this idea on the inside as much as he shows on the outside.

“I don’t know…” you pretend to think, starting to calmly run your fingers through Loki’s hair again. “It takes a lot of hard work to get a baby.”

“Right…” Loki leans back against the counter between your knees, resting his hands on your thighs. “A lot of hard work. First there’s the request form you have to fill out, the parenting applications, then you have to wait for packaging and shipping…”

“Pay extra for shipping if you want the baby quicker,” you chime in, resting your chin on the top of Loki’s head with a smile.

Elliot nods seriously, hanging onto your every word. “I’ll help you get the baby,” he promises, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a little gold coin—one he had brought back from the last time you were all in Asgard. “Here, I’ll start saving my money. Then we can get the baby quicker.”

He presses the coin into Loki’s hand and runs off to go find the jar he keeps the rest of his coins in. “Let’s get the baby as fast as we can!” He shouts as he dashes away. “Order the baby right now!”

You can’t help but burst out laughing now that the kid is out of the room, wrapping your arms around Loki’s neck. “Right now?” You repeat between giggles. “I mean…in the kitchen? Really?”

“How about we eat dinner first,” he laughs, tipping his head back to look up at you. “Get Elliot all tucked in bed, then you and I can get to work ordering this new baby.”

He’s beaming up at you, that boyish glint in his eye, you’d almost call it excitement. You instinctively dip your head down to plant an upside-down kiss on his laughing lips, your hands cradling the sides of his face. “You’re okay with this, Loki? You really want another kid?”

His smile falters for just a moment and he keeps his eyes closed when you pull away, running your thumb over his cheekbones. “I think so,” he answers quietly, a hand coming up to rest over yours. “Yes, I-I have my fears, my doubts…but Elliot is the second greatest addition to my sorry excuse of a life.”

“Aw, snowflake,” you grin and peck another kiss on his lips. “That’s uncharacteristically sweet of you to say.”

“…the first greatest addition being my gold helmet, of course.” He licks his smirking lips and steps away from you, running a hand through his hair. “I think it truly brings out the green in my eyes, wouldn’t you agree? Makes me look exceptionally tempting—”

“Oh, shut it.” Laughing, you backhand his chest and hop off the counter, shoving him out of the way to get to the pot on the stove. “You know, we don’t have to decide tonight,” you remind him, sending him a small smile. “If you have any doubts at all then we can always wait and talk about it more, really make sure that’s what we’re gonna do.”

Loki’s smirk fades into a genuine smile when you turn your head to him, and he comes up behind you at the stove to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Elliot has made his opinion on the matter clear. What of you, my love?”

You stop stirring as you think for a moment, a trillion thoughts ricocheting around your mind. Another baby…hell yes. Another mini-Loki…hell yes. But double the chaos, double the expenses, double the lack of sleep…?

Cool lips trace up the curve of your neck, across your jaw to rest against your cheek as Loki wraps his arms tightly around your waist. “Double the gentle moments around the dinner table,” he murmurs, lightly kissing your cheek after each statement, “double the laughter in our home, double the little hands to hold, double the beautiful, bright eyes seeing for the first time, double the entertaining chaos of bath time…”

“Okay, okay, you convinced me,” you laugh and reach up to hold Loki’s face, turning your head to plant a firm kiss on his lips. “I want another baby, Loki. If you honestly do, too.”

“My wife wants another baby, my son wants another baby…” his arms squeeze tighter around your waist. “Who am I to not make that happen?”

“Are you sure?”

“As long as I have you by my side the entire way, there’s nothing two children can throw at us that we can’t handle.”

You huff a disbelieving laugh—Elliot causes enough trouble by himself, once he has a partner in crime? Yikes. But Loki’s right: you can handle it.

“…so that’s it then?” You spin around to face Loki, the gentle smile on his face melting your heart as you wave your wooden spoon at him. “You want another baby?”

“Absolutely, if you do.” He grins and leans in for another kiss.

“I want one if you do, so…do you?”

“Do you?”

Loki throws his head back with a laugh, then shakes his head at you. “I do.”

A smile cracks across your face and you hold his head in both hands, pointing the dirty spoon away from his cheek. “Say it,” you ask gently, pulling him in for a kiss. “I want to hear you say it, Loki, so I know you mean it.”

His smile brushes against your lips with every heartfelt word that he spouts with a surprising amount of ease: this is not the same god you married.

This is a man with a changed heart.

“I want another baby, with you.”

You kiss him hard, your eyes screwed shut as your fingers curl around his cheek and jaw, trying to memorise how those words felt coming out of his mouth onto your lips—he means it.

“Okay, I got the money, I got the plan—hey, stop that kissin’ already.” Elliot’s back in the kitchen and tapping your thigh, a jar of coins in one hand and a paper in the other.

Loki just grins into your lips and holds you tighter in his arms, dipping you down to kiss you even harder.

“I said stop that! Stop it, stop it!” Elliot pushes between you both, trying to pry his dad’s hands off of you.

“Excuse us, Elliot,” Loki finally gasps, pulling away from your lips with an over-exaggerated smack. “We were busy. How may we help you?”

“Here’s the money for the baby.” Elliot hands you the jar of coins and starts unfolding the paper in his other hand. “And this is the kinda baby I want, so you make sure you order the right kind.”

He thrusts the paper into Loki’s hand, stepping back as you both look at it, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

It’s a drawing, a crude sketch with scraggly arms and colours escaping the lines, but you can make out two little people sitting one in front of the other in a box that you guess is supposed to be a plane. The littler of the two stick figure kids has their crooked arms spread wide as wings, soaring through the unevenly drawn stars on the paper, around the moon in the corner.

“Me ‘n my baby are gonna go to space all the time,” Elliot explains, eagerly clasping his hands in front of his chin. “Just like you, daddy.”

“Is that so?”

You swear you can hear the fullness of Loki’s heart at that exact moment.

Loki smiles at you, putting a hand on the side of your face and pulling you towards him to press a kiss to your temple, then kneels down in front of Elliot. “We’ll get you this baby,” he promises, taking his head in both hands and placing a kiss on the kid’s forehead. “As soon as possible.”

“Can you order my baby right now?” Elliot asks, looking up at Loki as he takes the little boy’s hand, walking over to the fridge together. Loki takes one of the plastic letter magnets, the letter E, and sticks Elliot’s beautiful drawing on the door of the refrigerator.

“We’ll order it tonight,” Loki assures him, picking him up with a smile and ruffling his curly hair. “Won’t we, darling?”

You step over to join the two of them, wrapping your arms around them and tugging Loki in for a kiss. “We’re gonna order the heck out of your baby, okay?”

Elliot’s face bursts into a wide, obliviously innocent grin and he throws his arms around both of your necks. “Okay,” he giggles, squeezing you both tightly. “Okay, okay. Thank you!!”

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hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettrosella @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina

1K notes · View notes

marvel-redemption-omega · 4 years

Text

Of Outlaws and Family

Chapter Six: Off to Saint Denis

A/N: This’ll be the last one for the night! I’m already up past when I should be... Oops. Yay body and mind not bein able to shut down! Anyway...Things get a lil saucy with Scarlet and Arthur. All the jokes, comments, innuendos, etc are wearing down on them. Plus our dear Arthur boah has opened up to our dear Scarlet! More teasing and sweet moments between the dummy duo, everyone sees they’re sweet on the other but them (they refuse to accept the truth). Scarlet drops some insight to James’ father, clearin some stuff up for Arthur. Also features one anxious Momma (Scarlet) who has to deal with her son gone for like three weeks visiting his father. She doesn’t fare too well, someone might die if she doesn’t get him back. Also featuring the aftermath of drunk!Arthur and drunk!Lenny! Some angst? Fluff? Yessir. Next chapter gets real good!

Warnings: Cursing, typical gang violence, drinking, sexual references/innuendos, emotional drunk (Scarlet), violence (Scarlet), threats, character slander

Start here: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620167374619951104/of-outlaws-and-family-chapter-one-new-beginnings

Last Chapter: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620344446321672192/of-outlaws-and-family

Please enjoy! Hearts and repubs are appreciated!

My work is not to be posted elsewhere; I will post it to my AO3 and dA if I so choose.

Word Count: 9,500

Scarlet is in the middle of unsaddling Fancy when James appears beside her. She glances at him and waits for his question; she knows all his antics and she knows he’s waiting to ask her something.

“What? What happened?”

“Nothing happened! I was just- are you going somewhere, Momma?” He asks, shyly looking up at her. She shakes her head and puts the saddle on the hitching post.

“No, I didn’t plan on it. Why? What do you want?” She raises a brow, leaning back on the post, arms crossed over her chest. James smiles and ducks his head, staring at Fancy as he moves from her neck to her side.

“Mister Arthur asked if I wanna go fishin with him. I asked if you could come too an he said to ask if you wanna go,” he sheepishly replies, moving to the other side of Fancy to finish brushing her out.

“He did, did he? Well, you finish up with Fancy here an I’ll go talk to Mr. Morgan,” she says, pushing off the post and heading towards Arthur’s wagon to look for the man in question.

He’s sitting at the table by the food wagon, playing poker with Pearson, Lenny, and Bill. Scarlet scoffs and walks up behind him, leaning over him, her arms on either side of him as she leans down by his ear. The other three stare at her, wondering just what she’s about to do. “What’s this bout you promisin my boy to fish an askin me to tag along?” He shivers subtly as her breath rolls down the side of his neck, her eyes mischievously watching his reaction. He gulps and flashes her his cards. She smirks and tucks her chin in a little so her lips are closer to his neck, still whispering. “When ya plan on takin us?”

“Ahh hell, I’ll go all in,” Arthur pushes his chips to the middle, cards in his left hand. Pearson and Bill go all in too, Lenny opting to fold. The cards on the table are: King of Hearts, Queen of Clubs, and Ten of Diamonds.

“Go ahead and show ‘em,” Pearson says as he lays down his two cards; the ace of spades and Jack of Spades. Bill curses as he shows his hand; the King of Spades and King of Clubs. Arthur laughs as he lays his cards down face-up; the Queen of Hearts and the Ten of Spades. Scarlet snorts a laugh as she leans close to him again.

“Did you really just lose that hand?” She whispers and watches as Pearson takes the pot. Bill grumbles but buys back in, Lenny joining the new game.

“Maybe I’s tryna lose so I can leave with you; the best way to do that by goin all in an losin it all,” he replies, leaning back to mumble into her neck as she’s been doing to him. She startles back, a squeak leaving her lips as his stubble tickles her neck,

“Jaysus! Will you two get tagether or knock it off a’ready?” Sean calls to the duo. Arthur and Scarlet look at each other before looking over to Sean, both grinning.

“Why, whatever do you mean, Sean? I’m just bein myself with him, like I am witchu an the rest of this fine gang,” she feigns innocence as she pushes back from Arthur, nodding to the horses as she waves bye to the group of men.

Scarlet helps James onto Shamrock’s saddle, untying him from the hitching post. Kieran and Sadie are both brushing the horses, they’re currently working on Branwen and the blood bay. Scarlet lets James holds the reins as she glances at them, chewing the inside of her cheek a moment as she and James wait for Arthur. She steps over to them, knowing Shamrock wouldn’t go anywhere with only James on his back.

“Hey, Sadie. How bout you look after that one for me? I’ve got three already an you ain’t got one. Give him a good name; I know you’ll take good care of ‘im,” she offers, smiling at her friend. Sadie’s hand freezes, her eyes quickly darting to meet Scarlet’s gaze.

“You sure? I know you broke him an all. He’s a good horse, rides well an likes to run. He’s got a good spirit,” Sadie comments as the stallion nickers at her praise. She pets his neck, then his side.

“Yeah. We can go get you a saddle when I come back. I guess Arthur promised this one a fishin trip when we were in Rhodes once we got back. An since we’re back, I reckon Arthur is makin good on his promise,” she explains, gesturing to her son. Sadie blinks at her, a smirk slowly spreading on her face. “I know that look, Sadie Adler. Nothing’s goin on.”

“Why do you two keep dancin round one another? It’s not like James scares him off, that much is obvious. He wouldn’t’ve agreed to go with you to the rodeo if that were the case. Or stay in your room as I’ve heard?” Kieran pipes up, not bothering to look up from his horse. Scarlet’s cheeks tinge pink at his words, shaking her head.

“Nothin happened. We talked’s’all. Then he went back to his tent,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she feels the heat of embarrassment creep up her neck and down to her chest.

“I’m sure that’s all that happened, only cause James was there,” Sadie sasses and scratches the blood bay’s neck. “I think I’m gonna name him Buckeye.”

“Buckeye?” Scarlet reaches out to the stallion as he tosses his head. “You like that boy? You look like a Buckeye,” she coos. He paws the ground and stretches his neck to nuzzle each female, earning laughs from them. “Good boy.”

“Thank you, Scarlet. I’ll take good care of him,” Sadie promises as she puts the brush down. Scarlet nods and heads back to Shamrock, pulling herself up behind James.

“I know you will. He’s a good horse for you,” she waves as Arthur rides Smoke over to them. They start to walk out of camp, both stallions nickering to each other.

“Ma?”

“Yes, James?”

“Can I ride with Arthur? Please?”

Both adults look at each other and Scarlet shrugs at Arthur, tilting her head in question for an answer. He nods and holds an arm out to them. Shamrock and Smoke move a little closer, Scarlet having Shamrock speed up just a hair to make it easier for Arthur to grab James and pull him over to Smoke. James pushes to a half crouched position on the saddle and half jumps and is half pulled by Arthur over to Smoke’s saddle where he gets situated with Arthur.

“Better?”

“Yes. Thank you!” The boy cheers, leaning up to pet Smoke. “Good boy, Smoke.”

Arthur smiles down at the boy, memories of taking Isaac fishing flashing threw his mind. He swallows back the lump in his throat and clears it, coughing into his elbow.

“You good, Arthur?” Scarlet asks, brushing her boot against his, her feet out of the stirrups. He smiles small at her and nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, uhh, just rememb’rin…” he trails off, casting his glance to the path. Scarlet immediately nods in understanding, reaching over and gently grabbing his leg, squeezing.

“It’s alright. I understand. Let’s just go fish?” She suggests and let’s go of him. He swears there’s fire in her touch, missing the warmth her hand brought, even through his jeans. He knocks his knee into hers, grinning at her. She raises a brow.

“Hey, James, wanna race your Ma?”

“Yeah!”

“Hey! Wait! No-” Scarlet yells as Arthur kicks Smoke and the blue-ish gray thoroughbred takes off down the dirt path. “Fuck me. Shamrock, hyah!” She kicks the golden chestnut stallion and he whinnies, running after Smoke.

Shamrock rounds the bend and sees Smoke; he neighs and picks up his pace as Scarlet shifts her feet and gives him the reins to move. They catch up quick and Shamrock matches Smoke’s pace, ears flicking about.

“That was a cheap shot,” she yells to Arthur. Both he and James are laughing, James holding tight to the horn with one hand, the other in Smoke’s mane as he posts.

“You’re just mad we won, Ma!” James laughs, Smoke tosses his head and nickers as well.

“Great, even the horse is mocking me,” she sourly pouts, rubbing down Shamrock’s neck. “You’d never laugh at me, woulda ya boy?” Shamrock shakes his head no and nickers at her as he slows to a trot, Smoke following his lead.

“Aww come now, we’re laughin with ya, not at ya,” Arthur soothes. They slow to a walk when Arthur points out the fishing spot in the river. Scarlet slides from the saddle and walks over to the river. She hums and walks the bank, Shamrock following behind her before venturing out a little to wade in the water. She hears Smoke’s shoes on the gravel and watches as his shadow casts over her. “Aww come now, Darlin’, you ain’t mad is you?”

She ignores his call, seeing James drop from Smoke and Arthur follows soon after, letting his horse roam like Shamrock. She feels him before she sees him, his arms are around her torso and he pulls her back to him, breath on her neck.

“I don’t much like bein ignored, Little Lady,” he mumbles against her neck, gently dragging his fine scruff on his chin down her neck. She giggles and squirms in his grasp, her boots kicking up gravel.

“An I don’t listen to you...Mister Morgan.” She gasps as she turns in his arms, staring into his blue-green eyes. She’s left speechless for a moment, mouth slightly agape, lost in his eyes. He smiles and holds her close, tilting his head as they slowly lean into each other.

“Ma!” James calls, startling the two from their trance. They clear their throats and step away from one another, Scarlet meeting James farther inland of the river.

“What is it, Baby?”

“I forgot my pole,” he whines. Scarlet smiles and whistles for Shamrock. She pulls her pole from the saddlebag and hands it to him with some bait.

“Here. Use mine but be careful when baiting it, alright?”

“Thanks, Momma!” He smiles giddily as he takes the pole and bait over to the water, setting it up.

“He’s sure somethin, ain’t he?”

“Yeah...he’s not much like his father. Sometimes in personality, but mainly it’s just his charm that James inherited. Thankfully,” she admits and turns to Arthur, arms crossed like she’s uncomfortable with the subject. He steps closer, his hands rubbing from her elbows up to her shoulders.

“Wanna talk bout it?” He asks, voice quiet as he watches her facial expression. She glances at James then back to Arthur, nodding slightly.

“James… like I said before when I first got here…I still talk to his Pa, but we ain’t together. It won’t ever work out. He lets his family sway his actions an decisions; make him believe that they’re always right,” Scarlet sighs, turning to face her son. “He couldn’t even tell’em he was havin a son, or wouldn’t. Probably both. He always makes somethin up. We fought once, a couple years back. Real nasty. James was six or seven. He said he wanted James to live with him. I asked if his parents finally knew bout us an he said no; he planned to get a place an have James livin with him, leavin me to my own devices.

“I told him if he wanted James round more, he could live with us, not worry bout buyin a place cause I already had a small homestead. He told me he wouldn’t live with me even if it meant James was round all the time. Said he wanted James to live with him an him alone, he could visit me. I told him that would never happen; he could live with me an our son or he could stay livin with his family an see his son on occasion or not at all.

“He chose his family over his own son. So I allow him to spend time with James but when James wants to come home, he sends me a letter if I’m not there with him. Jessie still hasn’t told his family bout James. It’s been that way for years now; nine years actually. We can get along just fine when James is with us, but if it’s just me an him? We start arguin. There’s...we used to be real sweet on one another…but that just didn’t work out. He got over us, honestly round bout the time I found I’s pregnant,” she sighs, turning back to Arthur. Her nose burns as tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She covers her mouth as a small whine of frustration leaves her, her hands shaking slightly.

“Hey hey! Easy, whoa, Scarlet,” Arthur hushes her, pulling her to his chest. She clutches his shirt tight, burying her face in his chest, sobs wracking her body. Arthur holds her as she cries, rubbing up and down her back, occasionally rubbing circles on her shoulders. She eventually pulls back, thanking him as they sit on some big rocks on the bank, watching James catch Bluegill and small Rock Bass.

The next few days are a whirlwind for Scarlet; everything settling when she takes a trip to town with James, finding she has a letter from Jessie, asking to see James. She heads back to camp to pack a bag for him and heads off to Valentine’s train station on Shasta, waving goodbye to camp as they ride out.

She drops James off once she’s sure his father has him, she rides the train back to Valentine. Scarlet doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she wakes up lying on the train bench seat. It’s cold, so she pulls her jacket around her as she gets up and moves towards the exit. The conductor tips his hat to her as she steps onto the platform and makes her way into the small town, intent on getting a beer or something to help warm her up.

It’s early morning from what she can tell, probably too early to be drinking for most but she doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. She needs it after the confrontation with Jessie, asking if James could come live with him for awhile. Luckily James had told him he didn’t want to leave Scarlet and be away from his friend Jack. Thankfully Jessie just thought they were new neighbors and didn’t ask too much about it, instead trying to tell James how many more friends he could have in Saint Denis. James wanted nothing to do with it, much to Scarlet’s delighted amusement.

She glances at the saloon then to the hotel, biting her lip. She opts for the hotel at least for a bath and change of clothes from her bag even if they don’t have a room available. She’s in luck as the man tells her there is one room left. He lets her know he’ll have someone start a bath for her if she wishes to put her things in the room; she accepts and heads upstairs to check out the room. She tosses the bag in the chest at the foot of the bed after searching for her night gown and outfit for later. Once she’s settled, she heads back downstairs to the bath room.

“Did you hear about the two boys the Sheriff picked up?”

“I heard bout two drunken idiots, why?”

“I hear they’re both in jail right now.”

“Wait, you talkin bout that little black boy that was with that gruff lookin buffoon?”

Scarlet is just heading out of the hotel when she overhears a few townsfolk gossiping. She heads towards them with interest. She approaches the four men who are leaning on the general store railing.

“What was that yous fellers heard bout some big, dumb cowboy and his friend?”

“Why? You shouldn’t associate yourself with the likes of them...derelicts, Ma’am,” one of them suggests, all standing a little straighter.

“Well, unfortunately, I believe those two idiots belong to me,” she sighs heavily and nods to them. “You said they were in the cells down at the Sheriff’s?”

“Uhh, yes that’s right. They got picked up earlier this morning for disturbing the peace,” another replies and gestures to the sheriff’s office just down the road.

“Thank ya kindly, gentlemen,” she smiles and stalks down across the wooden walkway from the store to the sheriff’s office, recognizing Maggie and Smoke grazing by the gun store. She knocks gently before pushing the door open and shaking her head at the sight of Lenny and Arthur in the cells. They don’t notice her.

“Yeah, well….I don’t remember,” Arthur grumbles the last half under his breath, walking away from the bars.

“Sir? How much for idiot one and two in those cells there?” Scarlet asks, startling the three men. Lenny calls her name, smiling bright as he recognizes her. Arthur also says her name, though it’s a lot quieter.

“Oh, uh, well, ten dollars to get them released into your custody,” the sheriff offers, giving a final glare to the two men and tipping his hat to Scarlet. She nods and thanks him, handing over the money. The sheriff gestures to the cell doors and hands her the keys.

“You know, I should let the two of you rot in here for awhile. Ya wanna tell me exactly what happened while I was gone? I can’t believe it, I leave for two days and y’all go an get yourselves so drunk you don’t remember nothin,” she rambles as she stands in front of Arthur, the bars separating them. She sighs and goes to unlock both of their cells, letting them out. “Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll get these two boys home. I’m sorry for any trouble they mighta caused last night an this mornin,” she apologizes and shoves them both towards the door when they try to stop and turn to her.

Scarlet whistles and Smoke lifts his head, neighing happily when he sees her, nudging Maggie as he passes her to meet them. He nuzzles Scarlet’s chest, snorting and pawing the ground excitedly as he puts his head over her shoulder and tucks his chin to her back in a hug. She laughs and pats his neck, cooing to him. Maggie joins in, nuzzling Scarlet and nickering thankfully to her.

“Oh, so you listen to her,” Arthur scoffs playfully at his horse. Smoke flattens his ears for a moment before tossing his head in a yes answer. Maggie joins him, pawing the ground.

“Well, come on. I told him I’d get y’all home, so best to do it. Let’s get goin,” she grabs Maggie’s reins and ties them to Smoke’s saddle horn, gesturing for Lenny to climb on. He does so without protest. She waits for Arthur to climb up before she pulls herself into the saddle in front of him, taking the reins from Arthur.

“Hey, I can steer,” he argues.

“Yeah? And you can go enjoy that cell too if you’d like,” she snips at him, turning to look over her shoulder at him. He shuts his mouth and wraps his arms about her waist, opting to keep quiet for now and keep from angering her further. She smirks in victory, shaking her head at him.

She unties Maggie and lets Lenny take her over to the other horses to hitch her, turning Smoke so he’s closer to The Count and Silver Dollar. She goes to climb off but Arthur tightens his grip on her, leaning into her as he holds her hips in place.

“Thank you,” he whispers against her neck.

“For what?” Her breath hitches at the thoughts running through her mind.

“For savin our sorry asses,” he chuckles and presses a kiss to her shoulder, releasing his hold on her. She remains in his lap on the saddle for a moment before silently slipping from Smoke, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“Anytime. I kinda enjoyed saving your sorry ass,” she winks and heads to her wagon.

Arthur watches her around camp. She helps with the chores, even trying her hand at chopping wood, which Charles steps in and shows her how to properly swing the axe so it’ll cut straight through, for the most part. When they’re done, she goes and speaks with Kieran, who’s brushing Old Boy. They talk for a moment before Dutch approaches Arthur.

“You going to go get Micah?” Dutch asks, leaning on Scarlet’s wagon, following Arthur’s line of sight. He’s got his journal out and is either writing or sketching, Dutch isn’t sure which. “Why don’t you just talk to her already? It ain’t like it’s a secret you’re both sweet on one another. Hell, you just had your arms wrapped around her when you walked up this morning.”

“Is not that easy, Dutch. I don’t even think she knows who we really are. I can’t get her involved with us,” Arthur sighs and closes his journal.

“Far as I’m concerned, she’s already involved. Whether you like it or not, I think she’s starting to put down roots with us. And I’m pretty sure she’s got a well enough idea of who we are. Don’t forget, she hates the O’Driscolls too. I’m sure she’s heard about us from any of them she’s had run-ins with,” the man states, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. “Don’t forget to go get Micah.”

“Yeah yeah. I’ll get to it,” Arthur grumbles, getting up from his cot and stashing his journal in his side bag. “Damn Micah, why’s Dutch so worried bout you. I should just let you rot.”

“Hey, Arthur!” Scarlet smiles as he greets her and Kieran, grabbing Smoke’s reins. “Arthur? Somethin wrong? You look upset?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just gotta go get Micah’s dumbass out of jail in Strawberry,” he grouches, sighing when she rests her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. Want me to come with ya?”

“Nah, s’alright. I will take you back into Valentine if you wanna grab one of your horses from the stables. I know you said you were having the stable hand meet you at the station so you could have Shasta stabled when you left the other day.”

“Sure. Yeah, I’ll ride with you into town,” she agrees, gruntled with his suggestion. He steps into the stirrup and slings his leg over the saddle, holding his hand down to her. “Such a gentleman,” she coos.

“Hm, only for you, just don’t tell nobody. Don’t wanna ruin my reputation as an outlaw,” he jests, pulling her into his lap again.

“Right, cause anyone’s gon’ believe I ‘tamed’ the wild Dutch’s Boy, Arthur,” she scoffs and leans back into him, relaxing as he turns Smoke and gently kicks him.

“Huh, so you know about our past then?”

“Don’t believe everythin you read, Morgan. It’s a bad thing if you do. Papers lie, people do too but not as often as I’ve read,” she explains; he nods behind her. “Besides, you think I wouldn’t have heard of the infamous gang that’s been in a royal blood feud with the O’Driscolls for years? Colm’s dumbass men get caught all the time and loiter around Valentine, drunkenly spewing hate about someone named Dutch and how “Dutch’s Boys” always ruin their fun and such,” she shrugs and tips her head back to look up at him, her hat left with Shasta in the saddle bag.

“Is that so? Well, now that makes me wonder just why you agreed to join us,” he chuckles as she sits up. His laughter dies down quickly at her silence. When she turns in the saddle, straddling him, he startles and stares down at her, blinking. “What are you doing? Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“I agreed because Dutch gave me a chance to live with my son without havin to keep runnin every few weeks; tryna find work, burnin down another home, an a whole buncha other reasons I shouldn’t have to list. I’m here by choice an if I didn’t trust any of y’all, I wouldn’t hesitate to leave here,” she says with conviction, her green eyes meeting Arthur’s blue ringed ones. “And whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me, Cowboy.”

Scarlet heads back to the camp, a bit disheartened about riding alone. James was with Jessie, his father, out in Saint Denis, and now Arthur was off running errands for Dutch. She lets Shasta turn their slow walk into a gallop as she gets lost in her thoughts on the ride back.

Dutch greets her as she’s tying Shasta’s reins to the hitching post. She tilts her head up at him in silent question as he rests his arm across her shoulders, leading her into the camp. She purses her lips in thought before he stops by the campfire where everyone else is gathering.

“Where’s James? Is he a’right? You’re not plannin on leavin us, are ya’s?” Sean speaks up from the group, eyes sad as he tries to plead with her. Scarlet lets out a laugh and shakes her head, realizing why everybody was now staring at her. Dutch squeezes her shoulders and gently pushes her onto one of the seats.

“Heavens, no! I just took him to go see his Pa who lives way out east in Saint Denis. I took the train instead of ridin, faster with James and his bag. He’ll be back in a few weeks. My Loves, surely you didn’t think you were gettin rid of me that easy?” She turns to Dutch, feigning hurt they actually thought she was running.

“We wasn’t sure. Arthur doesn’t usually leave without you so when we saw you ride back in alone, well we thought maybe y’all had a fight and you came back,” Karen says, tossing a stick into the fire.

“What? No. He was headed to get Micah out of Strawberry’s Jail. Didn’t want me ridin with, but that’s alright. I don’t care too much for Micah anyway,” she explains, watching as nearly everyone visibly relaxes. Jack runs up to her and jumps into her lap; she lets out a surprised grunt, arms wrapping around his back and cradling his legs as he sits on her lap sideways.

“Does that mean you’re stayin with us? With Uncle Arthur? He smiles more when you’re around!” The boy giggles as she tickles him for a moment, squirming in her hold. She nods and rocks the boy, humming for a few minutes, drinking in the relief and love she’s feeling from everyone.

“Yeah, Jack, I’m stayin. You think I’d leave you?” She gasps and lets him crawl from her lap, walking back to Abigail. The mothers share a look and each nod to one another, small smiles exchanged.

Arthur returns the next morning, Micah nowhere to be seen. When Dutch asks, Arthur tells him that he said something about not coming back without a peace offering. He finds Scarlet and Sadie saddling up, the latter finally getting her own saddle and bridle. Buckeye and Shasta playfully nip at each other, Shasta snorting when the thoroughbred nips his mane.

“Look at y’all, gettin along so well!” Sadie praises the duo. The two females were worried that they might fight since neither are gelded, but they quickly bonded and are always seen around the other in camp.

“An we thought they’d kill each other,” Scarlet laughs as she pulls herself into the saddle. “Ready to go hunting?”

“Sure. Can’t say I ain’t done it before, I’m just not that great.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll help ya get to be one of the best,” Scarlet promises as they turn from the hitching posts towards the trees.

“You ladies have room for one more?” Arthur calls after them, walking over from Dutch’s tent. Scarlet looks to Sadie, having said she would spend the day with her.

“Your call, Sade,” she nods and shifts in her saddle. Sadie shakes her head but smiles.

“Not right now, Arthur. This is my time with Scarlet. You’ll have to get in line,” she sasses and kicks Buckeye, galloping into the trees out of camp. Shasta whinnies and prances as Scarlet holds him back.

“Sorry, I promised. You weren’t here. We’ll just be down the way….if we’re not back before sundown,” she reassures the cowboy, waving as she kicks Shasta. The standardbred snorts and follows Buckeye’s path.

The sun’s just starting to set, Scarlet and Sadie aren’t back yet and it has Arthur pacing, all the worst case scenarios running through his mind. Branches crunching under hooves catches his attention. He stops his manic pacing and heads towards the horses, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees Sadie on Buckeye, a buck on the back of her horse. She’s also got two turkeys too. Shasta follows her at a slow walk, a buck on his back too and four rabbits attached to his saddle. He scans the woods for signs of Scarlet, wondering why she wasn’t in the saddle.

“Don’t worry, she’s comin. She dropped another one just before we came back. She was pickin it up, but told me to come on back with what we had,” Sadie startles him as she dismounts, hitching Buckeye to get the animals off him. Shasta snorts and stands beside Buckeye, waiting for the extra weight to be offloaded of him too. Arthur moves to the Buckskin and pulls the buck off him, taking it over to Pearson.

“Scarlet and Sadie brought a good bit of food back,” he states as he drops the golden buck on the table. Pearson gapes at the antlers and nods, getting to work on skinning and cleaning it. Sadie passes him the rabbits from Shasta when he gets back over to her while she grabs the turkeys. They drop them off and head back to Buckeye to get the other buck.

“Hey! Can I get some help? This one’s huge!” Scarlet hollers, heaving a breath as she drags the buck by its back legs. Charles heads over to her as Sadie helps Arthur get her buck.

“Jesus, where did you find this?” Charles asks, helping her pick the large animal up, both of them struggling to carry it even between them. She just laughs.

“Out in the fields! He was with the other two. Told Sadie to use a bow and go for the neck or head since it’s the cleanest and easiest kill. Silent too. Plus now the pelts will be worth even more. Especially if we get the antlers off these three. They’re nice,” she grunts as she drops her end when it slips from her hands. “Fuck, sorry, Charles.”

They manage to get the buck over to Pearson’s wagon; Scarlet lets Arthur and Charles lift the deer onto the table though. Sadie smacks Scarlet on the back, hugging her.

“Thanks for taking me huntin, and teachin me to use the bow,” she thanks and lets the red head go, eyes bright and happy.

“Anytime. You’re a natural. Now there’s no excuse why you can’t leave the camp on your own. You got a horse an can hunt,” Scarlet teases, jumping back when Sadie throws a fake punch.

The three weeks seem to drag on for Scarlet without James. She’s restless and everyone seems to feel it. She’s snapped on almost everyone, threatening Micah and Bill with gelding them with Kieran and Sean’s help. Arthur is Dutch’s last hope to settle her down.

“Abigail, where’s Arthur?” Dutch asks, stopping by her tent. She looks up from the book she’s helping Jack read and tells her son to hold on a minute.

“Susan told him that Mary girl was sniffing for him in Valentine, last I heard. I guess she sent him a letter. I reckon he went to see what she wanted,” she replies, petting Jack’s hair. “Why?”

“Scarlet,” it’s the only thing Dutch has to say. Abigail laughs and shakes her head, waving him off.

“That’s a mother without her child, Dutch. You think she was just gon’ sit and do chores all day everyday? That woman’s more of an outlaw than most men we run across. She’s restless,” she smiles at him.

“I know. That’s the problem! I need Arthur to help calm her. I have a feeling the threat to geld Micah and Bill were serious. She’s been on edge the last week,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He points at her, “You see him before I do, you tell him to go take her out to drink or something.”

“Sure,” she easily agrees, though she’s found Scarlet’s new temperament to be a riot.

Scarlet continues with the chores, even going so far as to grab anything of James’ she thinks might need washing. She’s sitting with Tilly, washing the clothes when Mary-Beth and Karen come over and join them. Scarlet glances up, nods and smiles small at them, before going back to scrubbing the shirt in hand.

“Have either of y’all seen Arthur?” Mary-Beth asks, looking up from her notebook. Scarlet pauses and shakes her head. Tilly nods and sets the shirt in her hand off to the side to dry.

“He said he was goin into town. Grimshaw an I heard Mary was sniffin bout for him after hearin someone like him was seen in town. Reckon he went to see her,” Tilly replies and reaches for another shirt.

“He was readin a letter earlier. Maybe it was from her? Who is she anyway?” Scarlet asks, interest piqued at this Mary person. Just who was she, and why was she writing Arthur?

“Oh, just some prominent, rich hussy that Arthur was engaged to awhile back. He wasn’t good enough for her family, or at least not her father. So they split. Why she’s askin for him now is beyond me,” Karen sneers at the thought of her. She makes a face that makes Scarlet chuckle, the first she’s given in the last couple of weeks since James has been gone.

“She kept trying to get Arthur to leave Dutch and the rest of us, saying it was what she deserved if I remember right,” Mary-Beth adds, setting her book aside.

“So what? She’s finally realized that it don’t matter what he does or has done an wants him to come runnin back ta her like some trained puppy?” Scarlet spits, not even trying to mask the jealousy in her tone. The three females look at each other before turning back to her and shrugging.

“Honestly, we don’t like her. She left; broke Arthur’s heart, claimin it was all his fault an sayin he’d never change an she couldn’t deal with that, with this life of his,” Tilly states with a sigh.

“So she left cause she couldn’t or wouldn’t accept him for who an what he was? Sounds like horse shit to me. If you really love someone you don’t try to change them, you build and grow with them. You don’t just drop everythin an run back to someone you left stranded, not unless you want somethin,” Scarlet furrows her brow, curiosity about this mysterious Mary nearly overwhelming her. She sets James’ shirt on the wagon wheel to dry. “Thank you, Ladies. I think I’m gonna go get a bowl of Pearson’s stew,” she excuses herself.

She grabs a bowl and sits at the poker table, propping her feet up, the bowl on her chest. Susan comes over and smacks her boot gently, gesturing for her to sit up as well as asking for her to talk. Scarlet complies and puts her feet down, setting her bowl on the table.

“I heard you know about Mary Gillis,” Susan starts, setting her own bowl on the table, taking the seat to Scarlet’s left. The red head nods.

“Somethin like that.”

“Well, if you wanna know anythin ‘bout her, let me know.”

“Sure. All the others said was that she was engaged to Arthur at one point, but then realized she didn’t want nothin to do with him,” Scarlet offered what little information she had. Sean joins them, sitting to her right, and offers her a bottle of whisky, which she accepts.

“That’s about right. There’s a bit more to it though. Mary Gillis let her little brother, Jaime I think, help pull Arthur in, you know how it goes. Get the kid invested an then usually they’re done for.

“Anyway, she up an left him without so much as a warnin, sayin she didn’t want to be with him anymore, couldn’t deal with him bein an outlaw. Least that was her excuse. If you ask me, she just wanted a good ride an when she grew bored she ditched him for the next popular breed. Instead of outlaws it was doctors, bankers, the like,” Susan curls her lip at the memory. Scarlet nods along, slipping some oregano into her bowl, offering some to Susan and Sean, who happily take it.

“Honestly sounds like someone I’d fight or shoot. I can’t stand people like that. Especially not after goin through somethin vaguely similar with James’ father, Jessie.

“He was just a ‘drunken mistake’ as Jessie’s referred to him several times when he was younger. A lot younger. We’re not together cause he knows his family don’t like me, cause I’m not an islander who moved to the mainland, like them,” she grounds out, chugging the whisky in anger. Sean gets up and passes her another one, bringing a box to the table.

“I’ll never forget his words to me bout three years ago, he said he’d get James from me, no matter how long it takes. Said he’d make sure that I have little contact with him if I continue to keep the boy from ‘im. I ain’t never kept James from his father. I only take him when one of them asks. Sometimes James doesn’t want to go. Says he hears stories about his grandparents on his Pa’s side but he can’t meet them or his cousins, aunts, uncles….all cause Jessie don’t want them to know bout our child.” Scarlet bites out, popping the top off another bottle of whisky. She downs that one too. Sean is impressed, Susan a little worried.

“He’s a right bastard, ‘e is. Don’t wanna claim his own son cause his family’d be ashamed of ‘im fer havin a kid wit’ the likes-a me! The fockin bastard. I wish I had the heart to tell him he won’t be seein James anymore, but I can’t. I don’t have anythin right now since I burned my last house an joined you lot.

“The funny thing is? Y’all’re more family than Jessie ever was. He likes to sweet talk ya then strike, he knows how to play me an I just fockin let him...every god damned time,” she’s starting to slur, being four bottles of whisky in, and her Irish accent is starting to reveal itself. Susan makes sure she doesn’t drink anything else unless it’s water or coffee.

“Here, c’mon lets get you to bed,” Susan suggests, giving Sean a glare when he goes to offer another bottle of whisky to her. He grins sheepishly and nods, putting the bottles away. It’s only midday but Susan knows Scarlet needs to sober up before Arthur gets back, whenever he plans on it.

Scarlet nods and follows Miss Grimshaw to her wagon. She stops by Arthur’s, hand tracing over his cot. Without a thought, she swipes his pillow and tosses it into the back of her wagon where she climbs in, burrowing under her and James’ blankets. Susan makes sure she’s good before headed back to her stew.

Arthur’s gone for the rest of that day and until noon the following. Scarlet’s taken up holing herself up in the back of her wagon, cloth top up as shelter since her talk with Susan and Sean. She still has Arthur’s pillow hostage, sleeping curled up with it for comfort.

When Arthur steps back into camp, he doesn’t expect the looks a couple of people give him. He raises a brow but makes his way to his wagon, pausing when he sees the missing pillow. Soft humming catches his ear and he follows it to Scarlet’s wagon. She’s humming to herself as she stares at the canvas, lying on her the bedrolls, blankets tucked under her for additional comfort, cuddling Arthur’s pillow. He knocks on the side of the wagon and she flinches slightly at the noise.

“Knock knock,” he says, grabbing hold of the side, pulling himself up. Scarlet shifts over, rolling so her back is to him, pulling his pillow over her head as she lets out a groan. She curls her knees to her chest as she feels him sit behind her, his hand gentle on her elbow. He turns her and raises a brow, searching her green eyes, concern reflecting in his green-flecked blue ones. She blinks up at him, squinting as the afternoon sun filters in. She stretches back out and rubs her eyes, yawning.

“Hmm?” She manages to mumble out as a rough acknowledgment and question to him. He chuckles and shakes his head, leaning back against the side, stretching his legs across the wagon beside her.

“What are you doin in here? I thought you’d be out huntin or fishin or even harassin Bill, somethin. What’s got you mopin ‘bout in here?” He ask quietly.

“Why didn’t you ask me to go with you?” Her voice is soft, cracked, and sounds slightly strained to him. He hovers over her, searching her for any physical bruising and injury until she pushes him back by his chest.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you marry Mary?” She changes her question, avoiding his eyes as she closes hers, inhaling deeply. Several moments of silence pass between them, Arthur not really sure how to respond.

“You weren’t here. I think you an Kieran went fishin. So I headed to Valentine. It’s been years since we were together, Scarlet. Her letter was askin if I could help her, her brother really. The poor idiot ran off to join those turtle crazed lunatics, the Chelonians. She just wanted my help in bringin him back to her s’all. I had to go find him up in the Cumberland Forest an then chase his dumbass half way back to Valentine. Poor boy was so fed up of his father’s shitty attitude that he wanted to kill himself,” he explains, cupping her cheek and brushing away the stray tear that falls from Scarlet’s eye. “Darlin’,” he sighs, pulling her onto his chest, earning a grunt from her.

“Why didn’t ya marry her, Arthur? she was yer way out. You wouldn’t be here with me if you’da left...You could have had a good life...Why didn’t you leave then?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

“How she holdin up, Arthur?” Sean peeks into the back of the wagon, hands up when she glares at him. He chuckles as Arthur looks between them.

“She’s fine...I think? Am I missing’ somethin here? Did you do somethin to her while I’s gone?” Arthur accuses, starting to get up. He stops when a black boot with silver spurs passes in front of his face and hits Sean in the chest. He hadn’t even felt Scarlet move.

“Oi! Bloody woman! I’s just tryna see if you’s a’right after drinkin damn near five bottles a Whisky. Jaysus,” Sean curses under his breath as he walks away after putting the boot on the back of the wagon. She curls back up against Arthur, head on his chest with her eyes closed as he strokes her back.

“You’re hungover,” it’s not a question, but a statement. It’s making a bit more sense to Arthur now. He shakes his head and presses a kiss to her hair. “Is this why you don’t drink with us? I know you had a beer at the rodeo, but that’s all you had. I remember you distinctly turning down more, from Sean specifically.”

He’s not expecting an answer, not really. He’s just rambling to himself, hoping his voice is soothing and not adding to her probable headache. She shifts and he glances down, meeting her green eyes as she looks up at him, her eyes glassy and slightly glazed over, confirming his suspicions of her being hungover.

“Want me to get you some coffee? Water?”

She shakes her head and lays it on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. She feels it slowly come down, matching her own, even one as she drifts off to sleep, cuddled warm into his side, half on his chest. He sighs and strokes her hair, letting his hand continue down her lower back before starting back at the top of her head.

“Didn’t take you for the jealous drunk,” he murmurs when he’s sure she’s asleep. He adjusts their position so he’s lying down more and Scarlet immediately cuddles back up to him in her sleep, sighing contentedly when his arm wraps around her waist. He drops his hat on his face and tries to nap with her, his body and mind finally relaxing now that he’s back with her.

Scarlet wakes to cheering from the campfire. She rubs her eyes and groans, cursing herself for drinking and also Sean for giving her the whisky. She sees Arthur’s hat hung up next to hers on the back of the wagon, taking note of his absent pillow. She smirks and pushes herself to crawl out of the back, despite the dull ache in the back of her head from the evening light.

“What’s with the cheering?” She asks as she joins the gang, covering her mouth as she yawns. Dutch claps his hands, smiling bright at her.

“Scarlet, my dear girl, John might have a lead for some money. Not only that, things are lookin up for us. There’s also talk of a few other leads,” Van der Linde answers, walking with her until she’s joined the group at the campfire.

“Oh good! You’re awake! We were worried that you’d overdone it with the Whisky!” Susan gets up from the log and ushers Scarlet to sit down, not taking no for an answer. Once seated, she is handed a cup of water. “Drink,” Susan orders. The red head replies and nods, holding one hand up in surrender as she does as told.

Arthur sits by her with two bowls, passing her one. She thanks him and they move to the poker table, listening to Pearson and Bill talk of their time in the Navy and Army respectively. She tilts her head, nodding along to their crazy stories.

“I didn’t know you two were in the military,” she speaks up, setting her bowl and cup to the side and pulls out a deck of cards.

“Oh yeah, I used to be a cook in the navy, it’s why I’m such a great one now!” Pearson proclaims as he motions for her to pass the cards. She shuffles them twice then hands them across the table.

“Army was okay, I like this life better though,” Bill comments, nodding to Pearson. Scarlet gets up and clears all their dishes, taking them behind Pearson’s wagon. Lenny’s occupying her seat when she walks back over. Arthur notices and goes to get up, but she shakes her head, sliding into his lap sideways.

Bill goes to say something until Scarlet draws her hunting knife, running her thumb gently along the blade to test its sharpness; he closes his mouth. Lenny and Arthur chuckle, the latter wrapping his left arm around her waist, securing her against him.

She knocks once on the table to signal she wants to be dealt into the hand. Pearson obliges and sets up chips for everyone before shuffling the deck and dealing. Arthur holds the cards as Scarlet looks at them, biting her bottom lip.

They play several rounds, Scarlet and Arthur working as a pair against the others. After the fifth round, Lenny folds and takes what’s left of what he got back. Bill does the same after the seventh. Pearson offers the other seats to Scarlet but both she and Arthur decline.

His left hand is gently stroking her thigh as he looks at their hand, squeezing her leg for her opinion. She leans down as he pulls them up a little to show her. She nods and looks at the cards on the table, glancing up to Pearson who is smiling at her. She shrugs and wraps her right arm around his neck.

“Your call,” she whispers in his ear, right hand tangling in his hair at the nape of his neck, nails scratching his scalp nicely. He smacks her thigh before rubbing the slight sting away. He lets his hand wander her leg; rolling over her hip, down the side of her thigh, over the top of her thigh, and finally down to her ass where he squeezes. She gasps, jumping slightly at the feel.

“You good there, Scarlet?” Pearson asks, quirking a brow at them. She nods and smiles, readjusting herself in Arthur’s lap to sit with her back to his chest.

“We’ll go all in,” Arthur pushes his chips into the middle; Pearson laughs, doing the same. Scarlet smiles as she uses her left hand to pick up the cards and nods at them. She gestures for Pearson to show his hand. He’s got a three of a kind; a Queen and five in hand, two queens on the table with a King.

“Shite,” Scarlet swears, flipping their cards to reveal two kings in hand. “Full. House. That’s three Kings and double queens.” Pearson gapes at them, throwing his cards and pushing up from the table in frustration. Arthur and Scarlet laugh in amusement as they take the pot.

“I guess we do make a good team, you an me, Miss O’Hara,” Arthur puts his hands on her hips, pulling her back flush against him. “What say you?”

“I say you’re tryna sweet talk me after our conversation earlier; hungover as I was, I do remember it,” she sets the chips aside and gathers the money before turning in his hold so she can straddle him. “Here, you’ve earned this.” She tucks the money into the front of his jeans, patting it for good measure.

“Yeah? What do you remember bout it, Darlin’?”

“I remember askin why you never got out; why you left me here when you went to see her,” there’s the hint of jealousy from earlier dripping from the word as she shifts somewhat restlessly on his lap. He groans and holds her hips so she stills.

“Quit that, chrissakes woman!” He huffs as he moves one hand to grip her chin, turning her face to meet his gaze. “You’re headed down a dangerous road if you continue, you sure you’re okay with that?”

“I haven’t been this sure bout anythin since becomin a mother, Arthur. I know what’s at stake, an I know that the road will sometimes be rough an long, but that’s all part of the journey. The experience is precious,” she rests her forehead on his, her hands laced on the back of his neck. “Just havin you back makes me calmer. I’ve been riled up for the last few weeks, thankfully I go get James in a day or two,” she smiles, getting up from his lap reluctantly, making her way over to her wagon. “The wagon has plenty of space, you’re welcome to join me if you want,” she throws over her shoulder with a wink before disappearing around Dutch’s tent towards their wagons.

Arhurt sighs and goes to his bed to change into something more comfortable after putting the poker winnings away. He finds Scarlet in the back of her wagon. He knocks once and she looks up at him, smiling that he’s shown up. She pats the bedrolls and tosses the blankets back. He tosses his pillow at her and climbs up into the back. They talk about the passed few days and how everything seems to be working itself out slowly, Arthur’s voice combined with the way he’s rubbing her back has Scarlet fighting to stay awake. She mumbles against his chest and he chuckles, kissing her head.

“Get some rest. We have more errands to do tomorrow. Me an you, Cowgirl,” he chuckles into her hair. She nods and tightens her arm over his chest, gripping his shirt at the shoulder.

“You ain’t plannin on leavin me again, are ya?” Scarlet states, startling Arthur. Smoke nickers and paws the ground, swishing his tail at her. She laughs and pats his rear. “Good boy.”

“Now why would I go an do a thing like that?”

“Cause I’m leavin you to go pick up James today. Got a letter last night askin if I would come get him. Not sure if he had his dad write it or if he did, but figured I’d go get him regardless who wrote it. Jessie woulda had to have gone with him to post it anyway. Wanna ride?”

“Can’t. John thinks he’s got a good lead for money,” Arthur sighs. Scarlet nods and grabs the horn and back of her saddle, pulling herself onto Shasta’s back.

“Well, if you do change your mind, head East. Go as far as you can, you won’t be able to miss it. Gotta go through Lagras from here,” she gestures to the East, shaking her head. “Gotta take Fancy and Shamrock cause Shasta spooks at the Gators.”

“Gators?”

“Yeah. Yanno, alligators? Mean son’s-a bitches. Good eatin though,” she shrugs. “Ride with me to the stables at least?” She pouts and puts her hat on, tipped back so he can see the playful gleam in her eyes.

“How bout I ride with you to the stables and see you out to Emerald Ranch?” He offers, climbing onto Smoke, and swatting her hat down. She yells at him, being temporarily blinded by her hat until she adjusts it.

“Alright. I can deal with that,” she agrees and kicks Shasta to get him trotting. “C’mon then.”

“How long will this take by horse?”

“To Saint Denis and back again?” Scarlet glances from Shamrock to Arthur, biting her cheek. “Bout a day and a half? If I don’t stop to sleep tonight, probably a day? Depends on if Jessie’s gon throw a fit that I’m lettin James ride a horse by himself or not. I’m hoping we can catch a train back if I get there early enough, send these two back by whistle. Fancy already knows where the command ‘go home’ means, and Shamrock will follow his momma anywhere cause he’s a big mama’s boy,” she admits and pats the golden chestnut’s neck as he nickers and tosses his head.

“Just be careful, okay? I don’t wanna have to shoot someone full of holes cause they picked the wrong family to mess with,” Arthur replies, promising the threat if anything were to happen to her. She smiles and leans over Shamrock to kiss his cheek, hand on his thigh.

“Careful? Me? Always, Cowboy. You forget who you’re talkin to? I just don’t always stay out of trouble,” she jokes and leans back in her saddle. Smoke, Shamrock, and Fancy all come to a stop at Emerald Ranch’s train station. Scarlet frowns and lets out a dejected sigh. “Alright. I’ll see you as soon as I can, Cowboy. You best behave while I’m gone,” she warns.

“Or what?” He challenges.

“I’ll just have to teach you how to,” she taunts, giving him a once over. He barks out a laugh and points at her, shaking his head.

“Chrissakes, Scarlet, you can’t just be sayin things like that out in the open,” he chuckles, feelin his face heat up slightly. Her cheeks are rosy, almost matching her hair as she giggles behind her hand, pulling her foot from the stirrup to nudge his own.

“I only dish what I know you can handle, Cowboy,” she winks and puts her foot back in the stirrup. “Promise I’ll be as safe as I can when travelin. I’ll hopefully be back with James tomorrow,” she bids her final farewells to him and turns her stallion to the right. “Bye, Arthur. I’ll be expectin you to greet me proper when we get back,” she calls as she kicks Shamrock’s sides.

Arthur shakes his head and rolls his eyes at her, but he can’t help but feel a tug in his chest as she rides away from him. A feeling of butterflies fluttering in his stomach, something he hasn’t felt since Mary and Eliza. He sighs, knowing he’s probably in over his head. He turns Smoke back the way they came and kicks him. “Hyah!”

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