#james was rendered speechless!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baby-jaguar · 6 months

Text

CoD Wedding Headcannons

Some sweet love for our boys, hoping to cheer anyone up after MW3. While the photos do have fem/wedding dresses in them, I tried to make it as gender neutral as possible!

I hope everyone can enjoy!

Price

Getting married to Price warrants an old Hollywood glamour, something more intimate and small for the people you both hold close, so you can make memories of the long-awaited night while being able to relax in good nature of the celebration.

You both decided to find a nice speakeasy for both the ceremony and reception, as Price had surprised you and rented out the entire venue. The soft and warm glow of candles and old lights casted a romantic light on you, showing the etheral glow to you.

Price is a traditional man, and decided to save his first look to seeing you walk down the aisle. As your eyes lock onto his, he sniffles and the distinct tell of his moustance twitching is what keys you in on him being able to feel comfortable showing his emotions as he hones his ice blue eyes on you.

He did in fact, make quite the show for your first kiss, taking you in his arms and giving you a gentle but deep dip, showing off the romantic (almost steamy) touch of your lips as you lock in your unity.

Your first dance is a slow sway in circles, focused on whispering sweet nothings to each other in between the kisses you reach up to give him. Saving the absolute last dance for both of you, as the clock strikes into midnight and the day is now Sunday, Etta James' Sunday Kind of Love plays out softly as you sway together before heading up to your honeymoon suite.

Vows:

"My angel, you have been everything I believed I never deserved. You have shown me what I have always been missing, the love that I never knew of. I know I will never be able to amount to the thankfulness of you sticking by me through and through, I will never stop thanking the heavens of the gold and glory that you are, as you run through my veins to find your home in my heart.

Just as I fought by your side on the field, I promise to fight for our love, to shield it from any harm that may come its way. Through the scars and wounds we bear, both seen and unseen, I vow to cherish every part of you. Your strength, your vulnerability, your laughter, and your tears - they are all precious to me. Our love is a force that any creature made by god would fear, as I know we are forever to be unstoppable together, through every small and great task.

Together, we will conquer any obstacle that stands in our way. I promise to never forget the sacrifices made; honoring our fallen, for they have paved and protected the way for our love. They watch over us, guiding us, and reminding us to cherish every moment we have. I love you, with every last being of myself, and even past my last breath. Forever and always, angel."

Gaz

Gaz has a flair for the dramatics and also loves a fairytale and nature aesthetic. He requested a fairytale wedding, and it was an extravagant night for the two of you. Gaz values some traditions but was ready to blow those to the wind for his excitement to celebrate your love. You did a first look, and he was rendered speechless as he took in your form, tears already pooling and beginning to stream down his face.

Gaz took the time with you to learn a ballroom dance for your first song, impressing your guests and even yourselves with how beautiful and magical the two of you are. Cutting the cake was a very sweet moment for the two of you, as you both happened to have the same thought and booped each other on the nose with icing at the same moment.

Your wedding was held in a mountaintop venue, the night sky showing all the stars that shined brightly and reflected on a lake, approving of your love as if the faries make an appearance for your royal court of a wedding. As you danced the night away, Kyle was sure to keep a mix of whispering the most heart warming sweet nothings, and making sure to catch your reaction by the photographers when he murmured sinfully sweet thoughts in your ear.

Vows:

"Through the chaos and uncertainty, you became my anchor, guiding me with your strength and infectious spirit. Together, we have faced the darkest of days, and it is in those moments that our love has grown stronger. When I look into your eyes, I see a reflection of my hopes, dreams, and desires.

Your love has breathed life into my soul, and I vow to nourish that love with tenderness and compassion. I promise to be your confidant, your partner, and your best friend, as your happiness is everything that can and will continue to let my heartbeat to our special song. I promise to be the keeper of your dreams, the one who will protect and nourish you from any challenges we face, always together.

You are my life; I will walk beside you, hand in hand, supporting you in every step. You are the greatest reward life has ever, granted me. With every beat of my heart, I will love you fiercely, unconditionally, and without reservation, for you are the missing piece that completes me."

Soap

Johnny was all for having a fun and colorful wedding, and a maximalist and retro decor was decided on. Because for a MacTavish? Go big or go home baby.

He never stopped smiling the day of your wedding, his astonishment at the environment and scene of your unity never leaving his face. You decided to read your vows privately to each other, holding hands and having your backs to each other while waiting to have your first look down the aisle. Under disco balls, your first dance felt like something out of a movie.

Johnny was one to always show off, and he was sure to spin and dip you around, his strength holding you as he even lifted you and twirled you around. Now as a real MacTavish, you both knew how to throw a party and made sure that your open bar helped your guests get as wild as you two are.

If you did decide to wear a garter, or simply put one on for the tradition, Johnny made a damn great show of taking it off; crawling underneath your dress/between your legs and made you squeak in embarrassment as his stuble tickled your thigh.

Vows:

"Today, I stand before you, to pledge my undying love. You, my little sparrow, have held my attention, obsession, and heart from the moment our eyes met. I promise to always have your back, whether we're dodging bullets or just trying to figure out what to have for dinner. With you, life is an adventure, and I can't wait to tackle it together.

I promise to be your partner in crime for life, always up for exploring new horizons and creating memories we’ll never live down, But as long as we're together, every moment will be an adventure worth cherishing.

You bring laughter and lightness to my life, even in the darkest of times. Your smile is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds. Life is too short to not enjoy the simple pleasures, and with you by my side, every moment is a treasure.

I vow to keep the flames of passion alive, As Our love is a fire that burns bright, even amidst the chaos. I promise to keep the spark alive, to always pursue you with the same determination and intensity that challenges the forces of this earth."

Ghost

Simon was enthusiastic to have a wedding that featured a dark and mystical aesthetic. He wanted something small and private, requesting that it be some of your closest friends and family to spend the special night together.

With a romantic and dark church, it was a powerful and mystical wedding that incorporates both of your energies. You both decided not to have groomsmen/bridesmaids and instead placed altars of your fallen teammates and loved ones under the arch with you two, feeling their love in your unity.

Simon waited for his first look down the aisle but began crying with a wavering voice during your vows. During the first dance, he lifted you to stand atop of his feet, holding you as he moved the both of you in a surprising fashion of a waltz, elegantly for the seasoned stealth veteran.

His eyes seemed to swim with tears, iris' almost as black as his pupils in the dark lit church and ballroom. His eyes were rarely straying from you, far to enamored with keeping every memory to be held in his soul- even in the next life.

Vows:

"From the darkness where death once consumed us, to the light that now shines through our love, I stand here today, my heart laid bare, to vow my eternal devotion to you. In the face of danger, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, our love has blossomed like a fragile flower, defying all odds. Today, I stand here, a silent guardian, to pledge my undying love and devotion to you. In our promise, my heart will always yearn for your touch, laughter, and the warmth of your presence.

Through the pain and loss we have endured, I promise to cherish every memory we share. Your laughter, your touch, your soul - they are etched into the very fabric of my existence. I will hold you as tenderly as the spirits did when creating you, as you are a gift that I will forever cherish. In this broken world, I vow to mend any pieces of your heart, to hold you close when the weight of the past becomes too heavy to bear.

I will be your strength when you feel weak, your rock when you need stability. With you, I have found a love that mends the scars of the past."

Graves

Phillip desired a venue within the wilderness and countryside, deciding that a farm with a Barn reception was perfect. His vows were as strong as his commands, his voice was deep and rich with honey, and maybe a few tears, as he spoke his heart out to you and let the crowd hear just how much you have changed him into a loving man.

You partook in “burying the bourbon,” planting a favorite bottle in the ground of your wedding venue, one month prior. Once dug out, you intertwined arms and took shots all night, the heat of the drink and your love enveloping you both. two-stepping through the night on the dance floor, he twirled you expertly and dipped you low to the ground before always leaving a kiss on your lips.

It was during the ceremony that he surprised you, having ordered a mechanical bull for you and the guests to ride. Taking you and himself on the first ride, you laughed so hard you cried at how silly, but fun it was.

Taking you to the airport after the wedding, he had a classic American car with a "Just Married" sign on the back. And of course, the Shadows were your escort to the airport.

Vows:

"My sweetheart, from the moment our stubborn hearts crossed paths, I sensed a connection deeper than what ties us to this life. I will be a guardian of our love, ensuring that it shines brightly in every step I take, and every breath I draw, as you are the whisper that breathes into my greatest devotion.

In the depths of my soul, and the depths of you, I promise to carry our love of shared laughter, whispered promises, and the unspoken bond that will forever be the piece that grounds me in this realm. I vow to live a life worthy of the love you bless me with, to carry forward the lessons you teach me, and to honor the sacrifices we have made to make it this far, together.

Your courage, compassion, and unwavering loyalty will forever inspire me, my angel, whom I vow to cherish and love and you beat your wings to the pulse of my heart.

As I walk this Earth with you by my side, I know that we will be forever united no matter the realm we are in. As our love knows no boundaries, and as we exchange these vows, we will be together, holding each other in a timeless embrace. To the moon and farther, you are my saving grace. ”

Alejandro

Alejandro was excited to celebrate your commitment and love to each other, already planning a massive celebration between each other's families, friends, and Los Vaqueros, who helped set up your beautiful wedding. In true Vaquero fashion, the Wedding Lasso Ceremony was incorporated.

By a thick cord of white rope, the priest tied it around you two in an infinity shape and blessed your unity to eternity. As he read his vows to you, Alejandro tried very hard to not cry but in the last paragraph (and from hearing his own mother’s soft sniffles in the crowd) he had a quiet sob while his eyes found yours, reciting the lines from his heart.

As the ceremony concluded, you and Alejandro rode your horses down the streets of the town, waving and smiling at all who had come out to shout and cheer for your parade of love in La Callejoneada, many throwing rice and flower petals towards you two in a token of celebration. Your wedding was held in an orchard of Mango trees, the meaning of affection and adoration not.

Vows:

"Mi Amor, as we stand together, I vow to be the person you deserve, to love you unconditionally, and to be a witness to your growth and transformation. Our love is a flame that burns brightly, illuminating the path before us, and I am grateful to walk it by your side.

In your eyes, I find the force that drives me to be what you deserve, as you are the most sacred thing to ever cross the path of my heart. Eres mi existencia, la luz que hace que mi sangre lata en mi corazón como siempre ha sido el tuyo. (You are my existence, the light that makes my blood beat into my heart as it has always been yours.)

Mi Vida, in you, I have found a sanctuary where I can be myself, unburdened by the weight of the world. I vow to be your shelter and support, and together, we will create a haven of love and understanding, where we can always find solace and rejuvenation.

Desde este día en adelante, caminaremos juntos por el sendero de la vida, enfrentando los desafíos con valentía y compartiendo las risas y los sueños. Mi amor por ti trasciende las palabras y se manifiesta en cada gesto, en cada mirada, y en cada latido de mi corazón."

(From this day forward, we will walk the path of life together, facing challenges with courage and sharing laughter and dreams. My love for you transcends words and is manifested in every gesture, in every look, and in every beat of my heart.)

Rudy

Rodolfo was ready for a celebration but wanted to keep it intimate to your closest family and friends, and of course, Los Vaqueros as well. You both chose a beautiful wedding venue next to the beach, having the white decorations tied into the beautiful white sand and blue ocean water.

Exchanging Las Arras matrimoniales proved to be heartwarming as the priest and los padrinos y madrinas made sure you felt the love as you became a Parra, a member of their family. You were surprised as Rudy managed to only have his eyes water during his vows but his voice wavered, and he had to clear his throat multiple times while reading them aloud.

That didn’t stop his voice from showing his conviction and devotion; entering the reception, Rudy placed you on a lone chair in the middle of the dance floor and lined up with his men and a mariachi band. Under the sunset, he serenaded you. His voice rang out richly and perfectly, causing tears to stream down your face as your hand laid over your heart to try and keep it still.

Vows:

“Mi Cielo, your presence in my life has been like a symphony, each note perfectly harmonizing with the next. Together, we have created a melody that resonates deep within me. You have become my muse, my inspiration, and the beat of my soul.

Mi Corazón, prometo nutrir nuestro amor como una flor delicada, cuidándolo con cuidado y devoción. Así como un compositor cultiva su obra maestra, yo me haré cargo de nuestro amor, colmándolo de cariño, comprensión y respeto. Nuestro amor florecerá, irradiando su belleza al mundo. (My Heart, I promise to nourish our love like a delicate flower, tending to it with care and devotion. Just as a composer cultivates his masterpiece, I will take charge of our love, showering it with affection, understanding and respect. Our love will blossom, radiating its beauty to the world.)

Our love is a masterpiece, and I promise to protect it with all my being. As we embark on this journey together, I vow to always walk beside you, hand in hand, navigating the twists and turns that life may bring. Our love will be the melody that carries us through, and with you by my side, I am confident that we can conquer anything. En este día y todos los días venideros, me comprometo a amarte con cada fibra de mi ser. (On this day and every day to come, I commit to loving you with every fiber of my being.)

Our love is a melody that sings of devotion and commitment, and I am honored to be the one who shares this beautiful symphony with you.”

König

While planning your wedding, König asked for a deal between you two for the ceremony. If you granted him a private elopement, he would deliver the wedding of your dreams. Deliver he did, as he picked a literal castle for your venue. An enchanting and historic architecture with plants adding to the mystical feel, he made you feel as decadent as two rulers who are together forever more and uniting two kingdoms.

He chose to speak his vows privately to you, with a camera pointed towards you to watch as you both had tears running down your faces at the words spoken softer than any feeling your heart has ever felt before. However, he knew that a party was needed to celebrate your love, so the reception was held in a ballroom that overlooked the forest.

As a man who values his heritage, you and König had a private ‘Brautraub’ where you hid within the castle, waiting for him to figuratively seek and kidnap you as a symbol of starting a new portion of your life with him as he (literally) swept you off your feet and into his arms.

Vows:

"Mein Schätz, our love is vital as the bond between two rulers has created a kingdom of love and unity that reigns within our souls. You are the crown of my life, the sun that illuminates my kingdom. With you, I have experienced the true meaning of love and devotion as you have captured my heart, forever I will honor and protect you, as you are my guiding star that will lead me to my heaven.

Mein Liebling, ich gelobe, unsere Liebe wie ein kostbares Juwel zu hegen und sie mit Hingabe und Aufmerksamkeit zu pflegen. Ich gelobe, unsere Liebe immer zu nähren und sie stärker zu machen als einen funkelnden Diamanten, denn niemand wird jemals meine Hingabe an Dich schmälern. (My darling, I vow to cherish our love like a precious jewel and to nurture it with devotion and attention. I vow to always nourish our love and make it stronger than a sparkling diamond, for no one will ever diminish my devotion to you.)

Meine Sonne und Sterne, I vow to cherish and nurture our bond with tenderness and care. Like a king protects his kingdom, I will guard our love fiercely, shielding it from harm. Our love will stand as a beacon of hope, one that is a testament of royalty, radiating its warmth and beauty to all who witness its majestic journey. Ich liebe dich für immer.”

(Meine Sonne und Sterne = My Sun and my Stars. Ich liebe dich für immer = I love you, forever.)

773 notes · View notes

aislinrayne · 2 months

Text

[𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱]

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: After a particularly rough case, Reader starts acting distant. Lockwood thinks giving her space will help. When he's woken by the phone ringing, George doesn't need to know what happened to know it's probably Lockwood's fault.

ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: Mature/Explicit.

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Alcohol consumption, strong language, sexual content (second base with intent to go further), anxious avoidant Reader, Reader is shorter than Lockwood, drunk Reader, Reader is harassed at the bar, brief touch without consent, no use of y/n.

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Fuck I love playing with different kinds of dynamics. I've had this sitting partially drafted in my writing folder for a year now, and the brain-goblins wouldn't let me keep working on SM until this was done lmao Please let this be the year I finally get a handle on my creative flow fml

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 6.1k

The first time the phone rings, both inhabitants of 35 Portland Row manage to remain deep in a well earned slumber.

The second time the phone rings, it successfully rouses one George Karim. Muttering a string of colourful insults under his breath that - had he been in his family home - would have earned him a smack over the head with his mother’s slipper, he reluctantly drags himself from the warmth and comfort of his duvet. Letting out a long suffering sigh that lasts through the entire shuffle from his room to the phone on the floor below, he lifts it from the receiver and greets the caller with a noise somewhere between ‘hello’ and ‘fuck off’.

“Evening, sorry to wake you. This is James, calling from The Royal Oak. Is there a, uh-” Even over the numerous voices and the clinking of glass in the background, George can hear the gruff sounding man being interrupted by a woman’s voice mumbling incoherently before all sound is muffled by a palm being pressed over the mic on the other end, “-sorry, did you say…? Really, sweetheart? Alright, but don’t try to blame this on me tomorrow when you sober up.”

Then the phone is back to full volume. “Sorry about that, I’ve got a young lady here who says she lives at this address? She’s too drunk to get herself home and this is the number she gave for someone she trusts to come get her. But, uh, she-” James seems like he’d rather not say the next bit, “well, she just keeps asking for ‘that selfish wanker’? Won’t give me a name otherwise.”

There’s not a lot in this world capable of rendering George completely speechless, but that… That does it. He allows the phone to drop from his ear for a moment, resting it on his shoulder as he attempts to compose himself and reply to the nice man on the other end of the line.

“Uh… Yeah, she- she’s ours. Probably talking about our boss, then. I’ll, uh… I’ll go wake him. I’m sure he’ll be there very soon.” He has to speak up over the sound of James choking and sputtering in surprise to say a polite ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’, before slamming the phone down and jogging up the stairs to wake his friend.

He pauses for a moment halfway up, considering heading back downstairs to grab a boot to throw at the door. Unfortunately his need for immediate answers outweighs his urge to be petty, so he settles for pounding loudly on the door instead. There’s quiet rustling and not so quiet cursing on the other side before it’s ripped open.

“What?!” A dishevelled Anthony Lockwood snaps, blinking sleep from glaring eyes and leaning on the doorframe in an endeavour to keep himself upright.

“Just got a call from The Royal Oak, down on York Street? Turns out they have a resident of this address drunkenly calling for a ‘selfish wanker’ to come pick her up.” George crosses his arms, raising a challenging eyebrow at the taller man.

Lockwood’s expression shifts from its existing irritated frown into confusion, then straight to alarm. He wastes no time flipping the light switch beside the doorway, bathing the room in light as he crosses it to tug one of his dresser drawers open.

“Can you call me a Night Cab, please? Offer them double fare to prioritise.” He calls over his bare shoulder, searching for a t-shirt and hoodie to toss on. His researcher says nothing as he complies, deciding to save the interrogation for later.

Anthony is properly worried. Their third roommate had come back from their last job acting distant. They’d been separated by a pair of particularly nasty Spectre’s for close to an hour, but she’d succeeded in securing the Source’s and they’d all made it out in one piece. He’d been so caught up in pride for his team he hadn’t noticed the effect it had on her until days later. When he tried to approach her with his concerns, she clammed up and looked as though she was about to cry before excusing herself to her room. None of the members of his agency, himself included, had seen her exit her room for two days after that. He hadn’t asked about it since, and while giving her space seemed to be working by way of not making her cry, he was starting to wonder if it had been upsetting her in a different way. Even taking all of that into consideration, there’s still no way he could have seen a phone call like this coming at 2:56 AM on a Tuesday.

All he can find is a sleeveless black undershirt. With a huff of frustration he pulls it over his head, kicking the drawer closed simultaneously, then pulling open the one above it. The joggers he fell asleep in are fine enough, so after a fit of undignified hopping across the room to cover his feet with pink socks he grabs a random hoodie off of the armchair by the window, shrugs into it, and zips it on his way down the stairs.

George is waiting for him at the bottom, staring at his watch.

“Your cab should be here in three minutes, mine should be here in thirteen.” He looks up from his wrist, meeting his boss’s confused look with an exasperated one. “I’m heading to Flo’s for the night, so whatever you fucked up, mate? Fix it.” Karim claps him on the shoulder, walking past him to pack an overnight bag. It might not be conventional, but Anthony knows it’s the closest thing to encouragement he’s going to get.

The next several minutes pass in a blur of waiting and worrying, until finally it’s 3:14 AM and he’s slipping the cab driver an extra twenty quid to wait for them, swearing to be no longer than fifteen minutes. The ungodly-early morning air is sharp and cold, cutting to the bone as soon as he steps out of the comforting warmth of the vehicle. It’s plenty enough encouragement to hurry his way to the building, pulling the door open to slip into the soft golden warmth and loud ambiance of the pub.

He hesitates on the doormat, catching sight of the other patrons. Thankfully it isn’t a particularly highbrow establishment, but it's nice enough for him to feel noticeably underdressed in black joggers and a grey zip-up. And then he lays eyes on her, and all insecurities are immediately banished by the sharp knife of shock burying itself in his gut.

She’s balanced on a table, wearing a little black dress he’d never seen before. Her arms are raised above her head, fingers combing through her hair as her hips sway to the bass of the music in a way that probably would have had his mouth watering if it wasn’t for present circumstances. He isn’t the only one noticing her. There’s a group of men standing around the table, watching her with hungry eyes that make his skin crawl with disgust. A tall blonde man pushes his way past the rest of the crowd, deep set ice blue eyes chasing up her legs. She seems to either be unaware of his presence, or too lost in the music to care. Even from his position across the room he can see her eyes are out of focus, drifting away for split seconds every few beats from the speakers on the wall. The man raises a hand and grabs her thigh, using enough pressure to leave visible fingermarks.

Lockwood finds himself frozen in place, blood boiling as he mentally considers how challenging talking his way out of a murder charge could really be. Surely not that much harder than talking his way out of an arson charge, and he’d done that often enough to be confident in his abilities.

Before his sleep deprived mind can break free of its indecision, the girl spins around abruptly and slaps the lecherous limb away from her. The slime of a man attached to it is none too happy about that, making a move to grab for her arm. Her normally impeccable reflexes are slowed by the alcohol, she can’t move fast enough to avoid the attack. When his fingers close around her wrist, he pulls. Hard. She teeters on the edge of the table, her short cry of pain audible even over the music.

Huh. He’d always thought the whole ‘seeing red’ thing was entirely turn of phrase, but as it turns out, there’s actually a modicum of truth to it.

He’s halfway across the bar by the time he realises he’s in motion, but he’s not about to stop. Closing the remaining distance in a few purposeful strides, he grabs the creep’s arm in a vice grip. The blonde releases his hold on her immediately, instinctively trying to pull away from the pain. Lockwood lets him stumble away in surprise, wasting no time placing himself in between his friend and the threat to her safety. At first he’s optimistic he might have a chance to vent some anger when the wanker locks eyes with him, but whatever he’d seen in Anthony’s was enough to make him back down and stumble off with an insincere apology.

Reminding himself to focus his attention where it belongs, he turns to look up at the girl on the table. Her face lights up with delight when she recognizes him, then swiftly sours the longer she looks at him. He feels like an absolute prick for not noticing the dark circles around her eyes sooner. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he reaches up to offer her both of his hands, palms up. She sways in place for a moment, scowling pensively at the proffered appendages. He studies her face while he waits patiently, trying to find any hint of what could be bothering her enough to take this approach to forgetting.

With a tiny hiccup she finally caves, placing her hands in his and allowing him to help her to solid ground. Once both of her feet are securely on the sticky floor, he offers her his arm for support. She gives him another little glare, but just like before, she eventually accepts his help. Scanning the other tables and chairs around her makeshift stage, he sees no sign of a purse or jacket that he recognises in the slightest.

“Did you bring anything with you, sweetheart?” He asks her directly, leaning closer to her ear to be heard over the noise. If he didn’t know any better he’d say she looks almost flustered; eyes glazed, cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink, looking through him rather than at him as she tries to filter his words through the haze of liquor clouding her mind. Although he’s prepared to wait as long as it takes for her to answer, he can’t help but feel a touch relieved when the bartender waves him over holding a familiar leather clutch. Gently taking her by the arm, he guides her to a nearby chair to sit and wait for him to collect her belongings. Giving a final warning look to the remaining crowd for good measure, he leaves her side to approach the bar.

The man behind it is average height, with mid length dark hair as well kept as his perfectly trimmed goatee. He abandons the glass he’s polishing, tossing the white cloth he’d been using over his shoulder and offering Anthony a calloused hand. “I take it you must be-”

“‘That selfish wanker’? Present and accounted for, though I also answer to ‘Anthony’.” He replies, accepting the handshake.

The other man’s grip is firm but friendly, and he throws his head back in merriment at Lockwood’s unexpected introduction. “James, pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from your little Songbird over there.”

Lockwood winces. “Not all bad, hopefully.”

“No, not all bad.” James soothes before leaning in conspiratorially, “Just don’t tell her I said that.”

He shoots him a wink as he settles back, and now it’s Anthony’s turn to laugh. It’s decided then and there; they like each other.

He reaches behind the lip of the bar, grabbing the clutch he’d tucked out of sight until he could determine Lockwood’s identity. “This is all she brought with her. You’ve got a safe way home?”

Anthony takes it from him with a grateful smile. “Yeah, paid the driver to stick around. I consider myself pretty good at multitasking, just not ‘keeping her upright and not getting ghost-touched’ good.” James lets loose a hearty laugh in response.

The screech of wood against the floor draws their attention back to the woman formerly in the chair, now standing unsteadily a few feet away.

“And that’s my cue. Pleasure to meet you, James. And, uh-” He glances back at her involuntarily. “Thank you. For keeping an eye on her, calling us, the lot of it.”

The bartender smirks, quirking an eyebrow and giving him a knowing look. “It's what any decent person would do. Don’t be a stranger now, either of you.”

Lockwood departs the bar, clutch in hand, with a salute and a promise to be back another time. She seems confused at first when he tries to get her attention, switching to stare at him reproachfully when she recognises him again. He sighs, trying to tuck away his own feelings of exhaustion and defeat.

“Let's get you home, love.” He murmurs, offering his arm again. She takes it without hesitation this time, leaning heavily against him as they make their way to the exit. Pausing on the doormat, he carefully extracts his limb from her grip, soothing her little noise of protest by assuring she’d be using him as a crutch again momentarily. The metal of the zipper is cold against his bare arms as he shrugs his hoodie off, blatantly ignoring her attempts to argue with him and draping the grey fabric over her shoulders.

The cold breeze cuts into him once they’re outside, but he carefully schools his expression to avoid showing her it's affecting him at all. Despite having paid the man extra, he’s still pleasantly surprised to see the black cab still waiting at the curb. It’s easier than he’d expected to load her into the comfortable back seat. She doesn’t even try to swat his hand away when he places it on top of her head to prevent her bouncing it off the roof in her attempt to get in. Once she’s scooted to the far side, he climbs in after her. She seems lost in thought, staring absently at the headrest in front of her. He leans closer slowly, giving her ample time to move away if she doesn’t want him in her space. When she remains stationary, he reaches across her body to grab her seatbelt, gently buckling her in and tightening the belt over her hips.

She finally looks at him, expression blank as she studies his features. It’s clear her mind is elsewhere, and she returns to staring at the black leather so quickly he wonders if he’d imagined the whole thing. He gives their driver the all clear, directing him to drop them off where he’d first picked him up before slumping back into his seat for the uncomfortably quiet ride home.

They’re half-way there when he can stand to ignore the elephant in the room no longer. The words slip out before he can think of a more tactful way to ask; “What’s going on with you?”

She turns to look at him so slowly it’s almost unnerving. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She answers bitterly, her voice laced with the same steel as her eyes.

“That’s bloody horseshit!” He scoffs, far too tired to hold back. “If there was nothing wrong, I wouldn’t have gotten a call tonight.”

Her mouth opens and closes soundlessly for several seconds, seemingly overwhelmed by the number colourful insults she’d like to hurl at him.

“Like you care.” She finally mutters, shaking her head and turning away from him to stare pointedly out her window.

“...What?” He manages to put his frustration on hold for a moment, making room for his growing concern. “Of course I care, what makes you think I wouldn’t?”

She laughs darkly, shaking her head. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” He cries in exasperation.

She whips around to face him. “You knew I was struggling! You knew, and you ignored it because it was easier than dealing with me!” Her eyes are wild, chest heaving as she draws in air like she has to fight for every breath.

All hostility drains out of him in an instant, leaving him uncomfortably hollow in its absence. He’s intimately aware of her eyes searching his face, trying to gain some kind of insight into his mind. He feels like he’s just stumbled into a minefield, and in a way he has. If his next words aren’t carefully chosen, he could detonate one and destroy his friendship with someone he can’t live without.

Organising his thoughts and taking a deep breath, he plunges ahead.

“I’m sorry. I thought by giving you space I was giving you what you needed, but I should have just talked to you. And you’re right, I was being selfish, just… not in the way you’re thinking.” She looks like she’s about to interrupt, but he ploughs on. “I was afraid if I pushed too hard you’d shut me out. I thought it would be safer to stay silent and let you come to me when you were ready, but it was my responsibility to communicate that to you, and I failed.”

They sit in stillness for far longer than he’s comfortable with, his words hanging in the air between them.

When she finally puts him out of his misery, he has to strain to hear her over the rumble of the car. “It wasn’t two Spectres.”

It feels like someone’s poured ice down his back. “...What?”

“The last job? We thought it was just two Spectres, but it wasn’t. It-” Her voice shakes, then dies. She has to stop and breathe, looking like she’s about to be crushed by the weight of the words on her tongue. “One of them was a Fetch.”

Staring down at his hands, he searches for the right words to say. Is he supposed to say anything at all? If he interrupts now, will she shut him out? If he doesn’t, will she think he doesn’t care? A point of personal pride for him is being able to read people, to shape himself into whatever role they need him to fill, but… he has no idea who she needs him to be right now.

She hesitantly continues. “It was you.”

He looks up at her only to find her eyes already on him. “It wasn’t.”

She laughs sadly, but doesn’t look away. When she tips her head to concede the point, the light catches at the corner of her eye. “Right. It did use your face, though.”

“Whatever it said, it isn’t true.” He can’t resist the urge to reach across the seat between them, wiping the tear from her cheek and hoping she can feel the truth in his words when he says; “A Fetch will find your worst fear and exploit it. And I swear to you, I will never allow anything to make you feel afraid like this again.”

Silence stretches on between them, becoming heavier with every second passing them by. His thumb continues stroking her face slowly, absentmindedly. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think her eyes had drifted to his lips.

“Kiss me.”

His hand falls from her face. For a second, he thinks it’s him that’s said it. When he realises it wasn’t, the potential implications of her words make his heart stutter. There’s a chance this is just a drunken impulse, a need for comfort in a moment of vulnerability. If it is, what the hell is he supposed to do about it? If he gives in to her, will he be able to carry on working beside her once he’s had a taste of the life with her he doesn’t even allow himself to dream about? On the flip side, there’s a chance that this is an actual confession. The Fetch had chosen his face to torment her, and as horrifying as that had been to hear, it only would have done so if she felt something for him. Maybe she feels the same as he does. Maybe the reason he can never figure out what mask to put on for her, is that she’s only ever needed him to be himself. Hope fills every inch of him as he stares at her, enraptured.

Then, he realises he’s been quiet for long enough for panic to fill her eyes.

“Ask me in the morning.” He breathes, feeling as perplexed as she looks when the words come out of his mouth. She’s confused that he hasn’t directly shot her down. He’s confused that he’s capable of this kind of restraint while sleep deprived.

“What?” She frowns, blinking as her eyes lose focus for a split second in her bewilderment.

Feeling more confident in his decision, he smiles softly at her. “Ask me when you’re sober, and when we’re not in this nice man’s cab.”

The driver laughs, trying and failing to cover it with a guilty cough.

Once they reach 35 Portland Row, Anthony covers the fare and slips the man a generous tip for enduring their antics before exiting the cab. The emotional intensity of the ride home had been enough to partially sober up his companion, but he still isn’t sold on her ability to climb stairs without assistance. He keeps his arm wrapped tightly around her waist until they reach the door of her room - formerly Lucy’s - on the top level of the house before reluctantly removing it. She wobbles for a moment, but it seems to be more from her leaning to chase his touch than any serious instability. They stand there for a while, neither willing to walk away from the other, until a large yawn overtakes her.

He chuckles, suddenly remembering James’ nickname for her. “Goodnight, Songbird.”

“That’s a stupid nickname.” She complains, scrunching up her face in distaste. When all he does is laugh some more, she sighs and carries on. “Goodnight, Anthony. Sweet dreams.”

He disagrees completely, of course. From her lips, his name is the sweetest song he’s ever heard. Turning away from him, she places her hand on the doorknob but doesn’t make any move to twist it. He’s about to ask her if something is wrong when she turns back to him swiftly, closing the distance between them and standing on her toes to brace her hands on his shoulders as she presses the ghost of a kiss against his cheek. By the time he’s raised trembling fingers to the tingling skin, she’s already in her room with the door closed behind her.

He spends his early morning dreaming of the flutter of wings, and birds gently pecking him on the cheek.

When he’s woken by persistent knocking on his door once more, Anthony Lockwood finds himself wondering what precisely he had done to piss off Hypnos in a past life.

Still on high alert from his unusual evening, he’s out of bed and across the room without a second thought. When he pulls the door open he’s entirely expecting another emergency, not to find the girl of his dreams standing there staring steadfast at her feet.

“I am so sorry about last night, I should have told you what was going on instead of going on a bloody bender. That was incredibly immature and irresponsible of me and I completely understand if you want to fire me.” She starts slow, but by the end of her apology the words are flying out of her mouth. Despite her best efforts, the misery in her voice as she says the last bit is tangible.

Why would he want that? Still not entirely awake, the first thing out of his mouth is the first thought in his mind. “Please don’t leave.”

“...What?” Not even remotely prepared for that response, she finally looks up at him. As their eyes meet, reality sets in and time seems to slow.

When he takes a proper look at her, he completely forgets the entirety of the English language. Her hair is mussed from sleep, remnants of last night's makeup smudged under her eyes. She’d apparently had the mental faculties to change into her pyjamas the night previous, and while he’d seen her in those shorts often enough to control the urge to stare, something about her wearing his hoodie zipped over them was making him feel like a moron. He’d never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. On the other side of the doorway, she’s having a very similar crisis. His sleep tousled hair only doubled her ever present urge to rake her fingers through it. And not only had he been in such a hurry to answer the door he hadn’t bothered to slip on a shirt, his joggers were also sitting dangerously low on his hips. Their eyes snap back to each other's faces in tandem, both flushing almost comical shades of red.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” He asks hurriedly, heart pounding in his throat.

“I said a lot of things.” She wraps her arms around herself, laughing nervously. “Which part?”

He keeps his eyes fixed on hers, searching them for some clue to tell him what comes next.

Mustering more courage than she thought she was capable of, she answers honestly. “Yeah, I did. Every word.”

Mimicking his actions from the night before he extends both of his hands towards her, palms up. She tilts her head quizzically, but places her hands in his. He uses them to pull her close enough their bodies are almost touching, guiding her arms to rest on his shoulders, releasing them to place one hand on her waist and the other on the side of her neck. She inhales sharply when he leans in, his thumb lightly stroking her jaw while her gaze flickers between his eyes and lips. He’s studying her face like he never wants to forget a single detail, but he doesn’t get any closer. She’s lightheaded and pretty sure she’s going to die if he doesn’t kiss her soon, which is probably why it’s not until she sees the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile that she realises what he’s waiting for.

“Kiss me.” She breathes.

He doesn’t need to be told a third time. He leans down and kisses her like he’ll never get the chance to do so again, like the world is falling to pieces around them and the only thing that can save them is the feeling of her lips against his. The hand on the side of her throat slides back to bury itself in her hair, cradling the back of her head to take the strain off her neck from their notable difference in height. Her hands wander the expanse of bare skin across his back, mapping every muscle and scar like it’s the braille translation of his life story. He shivers under her touch, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her body tight to his in a desperate attempt to fill the yawning pit within him that had grown larger with every day he believed he’d never get to hold her like this.

As she runs her hands down his sides to his hips he gasps involuntarily, deepening their kiss with enthusiasm. Driven by curiosity, she lets her nails graze his skin as she retraces her previous path. The noise he makes in response is downright sinful, but so is the feeling of his rapier-calloused skin against her back as he slips his hand under the hem of his hoodie. Her breath catches as his fingers trace featherlight patterns up and down her spine, feeling him grinning between kisses when he notices she’s not wearing anything beneath the grey material. When he nips at her lower lip, she drags her nails down his back, and the last of his restraint abandons him.

Both of his hands drop, fingers dimpling the flesh of her upper thighs. As in sync as they are in the field he’d never dared to imagine the same would apply to the bedroom, so he’s a little blown away when she understands his intentions immediately, jumping as he lifts her up to wrap her legs around his hips without breaking from each other. Now he’s the one craning his neck to capture her lips, the floor creaking beneath his feet as he crosses the short distance to the wall, pressing her back against it and groaning at the restrained whimper that slips free from her.

“Please don’t hold back. I want to hear you sing for me, my little Songbird.” He urges, adjusting his grip to slide his hands up her sides under his hoodie, palming one of her breasts and swiping a thumb experimentally across her skin to carefully catch one of her nipples between his thumb and the side of his forefinger. She finally breaks, back arching away from the wall, head falling back against it as she moans unabashedly. All of his strength threatens to leave him when she rolls her hips against his, dropping his free hand to grab at the plush of her ass and pull her impossibly closer as he whispers praise between frenzied kisses pressed to her throat. She buries her hands in his hair, gasping for air as his ministrations travel to her collarbones then slowly down the centre of her chest, placing an open-mouthed kiss to swell of her breast-

The front door slams open, startling them apart. There’s the sound of shuffling beneath them as someone kicks off their shoes.

“OI, MATE!” George’s voice calls from the base of the stairs, “Did you fix it?”

They look at each other, dazed and drunk off each other. A confused frown decorates her features, mouth falling open to ask him what the hell their other roommate is talking about. He shakes his head in exasperation, shooting her a look that reads ‘I’ll fill you in later’ and dropping his head to rest on her chest. They take as many seconds as they dare like that, her fingers combing through his hair soothingly as he wraps his arms around her back, basking in the warmth of her body against his. Reluctantly, he lifts his head and steps away from the wall, gently setting her back on her feet and pressing a kiss to her temple. She seems hesitant to move away from him at all, back to staring at her feet instead of looking at him. He’s known her for long enough to know she’s overthinking.

“Hey, look at me.” He slips his fingers beneath her chin, gently lifting her face to meet his concerned gaze. “What’s on your mind, darling?”

“I don’t-” She starts strong but stops suddenly, shifting anxiously. “I really don’t want this to be a one time thing, or - or just a way to blow off steam-”

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, cradling her face and pressing a brief but searing kiss against her lips. She softens, melting into his touch.

“Good,” He murmurs as he pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ear and giving her a peck on the cheek like the one she’d given him the night before, “because I don’t think I can survive another day of not being able to kiss you.”

George chooses that moment to begin his ascent of the stairs. They break away from each other, struggling to make themselves presentable before he makes it to the landing. Anthony rushes to grab a shirt from the foot of the bed, throwing it over his head haphazardly She squeaks when she finds the zipper of his hoodie down to her navel, shooting him a teasingly chastising look when he snickers and crosses past her to greet their researcher in the hall, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it. She yanks the zip as high as it will go, trying to smooth her own hair as she approaches the bookshelf and grabs something at random. She throws herself into the armchair in the corner of his room just in time, flipping the book open to roughly the halfway point and staring intently at the page as George reaches the top step.

“Good morning!” Anthony greets him far too cheerfully, leaning against the doorframe in an attempt to obscure the other man’s view of his room.

“...Morning.” George replies, not even trying to disguise his attempts to peer around his boss. “How’d it go last night?”

“Um - fine! Yeah, just fine. Perfectly fine. Everything is… fine.” She closes her eyes, letting out a slow quiet sigh at his obvious nerves.

Adjusting the book to make sure it’s in his line of sight, she grits her teeth and bites the bullet. “Morning, Georgie!”

Lockwood looks over his shoulder at her in alarm, but at her reassuring nod he steps hesitantly out of the way so she’s in clear view.

George inspects her with narrowed eyes. “You are significantly less hungover than I’d expected.”

She winces, not able to fault him in the slightest for the disappointment in his voice. “Yeah, pretty sure it just hasn’t hit me yet. Sorry about that. It won’t happen again, Scouts Honour.”

“Why are you in Lockwood’s room?” His brow furrows almost imperceptibly.

She doesn’t miss a beat. “I was so drunk last night he was worried I was going to fall asleep on my back and choke on my own vomit, so he made me sleep in this ridiculously uncomfortable chair.”

Both men fix their eyes on her. Anthony looks horrified, while George looks strangely impressed. The bespectacled man studies her for another moment and she holds her breath, hoping he’d bought it. Shrugging a ‘fair enough’, he bids them a temporary farewell and walks into his own room, closing the door behind him.

She huffs a sigh of relief, closing her eyes and slumping back in the chair as the tension drains from her body. When she cracks an eye a few long moments later, Anthony is still standing in the doorway with the same look of horror plastered across his face.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, worry laced in every syllable.

“I didn’t even think of that! I could have let you die!” He seethes, throwing his hands up in annoyance at himself.

She has to fight the urge to laugh at him, focusing instead on gathering her strength to stand and walk over to take his hands in her own.

“I appreciate the concern, my love, but I wasn’t that drunk by the time you got me home.” She smiles fondly at him, lifting his hands to press soft kisses to each knuckle. When she glances up at him even his ears are flushed pink, looking at her with a lovesick smile.

“Call me that again?” He implores, pulling her against him.

With a quiet laugh, she drapes her arms over his shoulders before replying. “My love.”

They lose themselves in each other for another several minutes, only parting grudgingly at the rumble of his stomach and the threat of another interruption.

George waits until later that morning when Lucy, Kipps, and Holly have joined them and they’re all in the kitchen eating breakfast to comment on Anthony’s inside out shirt, and how impressed he is that the sixth member of their agency has learned to read upside down. As Lucy slowly turns to look at them, eyes wide and jaw seemingly aiming to touch the floor, Anthony lets the red-faced young woman beside him hide her blush in his shoulder. For some reason, he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed. Grinning proudly, he winks at the Listener, causing her to shriek loudly and demand to know the full story.

When his girlfriend looks up to shoot him a warning look, he mimics zipping his lips. “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, Luce.”

Lucy’s demands are finally met five years later when James taps the side of his champagne flute with his knife, drawing the attention of the room full of guests to tell his favourite story about the bride and groom.

⤛⊹ 𝔣𝔦𝔫 ⊹⤜

taglist: @tessas4 @chloejaniceeee @shakespearseclipse @ettadear @kassandra1000

𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔱𝔞𝔭 [𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢]

#aislin writes #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #x reader #reader insert #x female reader

189 notes · View notes

theemporium · 11 months

Note

omg i need to get this thought out to someone!! bestie what abt poly!marauders with a famous!gf and she’s in a music video and dresses rlly hot so they react to the music video at home and are like 😻 and basically she’s so embarrassed but they keep telling her to replay the video

thank you for requesting!🖤i made it a bit more modern!marauders but enjoy!!

“You have got to be kidding me.”

There had been a handful of ways you expected to come from the studio, and another handful that you would have liked to have walked in on. Maybe your boys having already made dinner, ready and plated so you could enjoy a meal with them. Maybe all of them cuddled up on the couch so you could curl up between them. Maybe even your boys getting ready for bed, sweatpants loose on their hips and chests bare.

There were so many ways except for the one in front of you. And if anything, it was your fault for not expecting it.

You had barely pushed the door open to your place when the sound of your recent single echoed through the house. It wasn’t unusual for the boys to be playing your music when you were gone. If anything, it was sweet that they were such big fans of you regardless of your relationship.

However, your most recent single had been released with a music video—one that your boyfriends were unaware of—and it had become their new obsession.

“Go back, you missed the best part!”

“Fuck off, Pads, this is the best part!”

“You are both wrong!”

You dumped your bag by the front door, quickly kicking off your shoes before you made your way to the living room where three grown men were huddled around a laptop, eager eyes watching the screen as though they hadn’t watched the video multiple times in a row.

“This is getting ridiculous,” you spoke up and watched as all three heads swivelled around to you.

“Baby!” James jumped up from his seat without a moment of heistance, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his chest. “How was the studio?”

“Good,” you murmured, pressing your cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt with a sigh. “What are you up to?”

“We missed you,” Sirius spoke up, his head leaning on the back of the couch as he looked up at you with wide eyes. “Wanted to see our sexy girl.”

“Like you need an excuse to watch that video,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you caught a glimpse of where they had paused.

The music video had been a last minute addition to the release of your single, which meant that it was essentially recorded in one day. Your team had to get creative on what they could use and it just so happened that Sirius’ motorcycle made it into the cut. And you knew your boy loved nothing more than seeing you clad in some borderline leather lingerie, straddling his bike with your lips painted a sinful red.

“Can you blame a guy?” Sirius smirked, biting on his lower lip. “I’ve got a hot girlfriend. Just like to remind myself how hot she is.”

“Ugh,” you grumbled, nuzzling yourself further into James’ chest. You could perform for thousands, act unbothered on camera and yet it was compliments from your own boyfriends’ that rendered you flustered and speechless.

“Don’t be like that,” Remus’ voice sounded from his spot on the couch, and you lifted your head to catch him nodding you towards him.

“It’s just weird,” you said with a shrug as you made your way over to him, settling down on his lap without a second thought. “You guys see me like this, not that,” you continued as you waved over at the screen.

“And both are fucking gorgeous,” Remus told you, his hand coming to engulf the side of your face as his thumb brushed over your lips. “You oughta remember that, doll.”

Your lips parted as Remus’ thumb pushed past them, his digit resting against your tongue as your lips wrapped around him.

“But we will happily remind you if you forget,” he added, his eyes darkening as he watched your eyes flutter shut as Sirius lightly tugged your head back by your hair.

“Happily, baby,” James agreed, the laptop playing the music video now abandoned as your boys’ attention was fully on you—the real you.

876 notes · View notes

littleliterarylesbian · 3 months

Text

Dear James - 3

| part 1 part 2

(cw for: accidental misgendering, prob the last part that will include this)

Hatred fills every part of him for almost no reason most times. He looks at James, his best friend in the whole world, and sees the last person who saw his sister alive. The person who she reached out to before she died and he didn't respond. And Sirius hates that. Hates him.

Sirius looks at Moony, the love of his life, and can't help the rage that bubbles up in him and he has no idea why. Maybe it's because Sirius doesn't understand how someone can love him after everything he's done, the words he's said, maybe it's because Remus was simply just a friend of hers once upon a time ago.

Sirius just hates Peter in general. How dare that man breathe in this universe after what he's done, after the friends he's killed. Sirius and Peter used to be close, but now every time Sirius sees him, in the newspaper, in old pictures of them, he wants to claw Peter's eyes out before shoving them so far up his arse they reach his intestines.

Sirius doesn't say anything though, he keeps it bottled up, it's better this way. He only unscrews the cap slightly with Remus, during sex mainly, when he can claw and scratch and bite without worry.

He doesn't tell anyone of the dreams, the dreams of a little boy with his sisters eyes and sharp angles and James' hair and smile, a boy that grows up happy and loved.

Sirius still remembers how the face became prominent in his dreams.

Sirius and Remus got into a row again, Sirius stomping out of the flat with harsh words and a 'don't wait up.'

He huffed down the street and does what he does every time he storms out. He stops at the local park. Sitting on a bench and watching children play, like he does so often; too often.

Sirius had always wished that he could be here with another purpose for once, maybe if his sister were still alive he would be here as an uncle, watching a little sprong run around with a big smile and a loud laugh.

He was lost in his day dreams when a body slammed into his leg.

Sirius blinked in shock when small arms wound around him and a small voice, one that clearly has a smile, spoke and Sirius was rendered speechless as he looked down. Dark skin and messy brown hair.

"Papa!" The little voice was French, or at least had a slight accent and Sirius' heart squeezed, "You're back early! How did you-" The little body looked up finally and froze.

Sirius' breath left him. Those eyes were so similar, eyes that Sirius had always hoped to see again.

The boy stepped away with a small frown, one that looked so cute with the baby fat on his face, round cheeks that made Sirius just want the small boy to continue hugging his legs because he wanted to bottle up those eyes, those familiar features, forever.

"You're not Papa." When the boy furrowed his eyebrows in an act that so reminiscent of the dead he once cared for so much he felt like screaming.

He tried to keep it together.

"Who is your Papa?" Sirius asked, and he pretended that his voice didn't crack. The boy didn't notice, or if he did he didn't say anything.

Instead, the boy squinted at him, tilting his head like a dog, like James, "I dunno if I should tell you." the boy said, "Papa isn't very pop-u-lar."

Sirius still couldn't stop looking. Looking at the grey eyes that seemed a bit too big for his face, and the baby fat covering what seemed to be pointed features, and messy hair in a familiar dark brown, and dark skin that seemed to be only slightly lighter then James'. Though it was a cloudy day, so what did Sirius know. It could all just be his mind, playing dirty tricks on him like it always does.

But Sirius still forced a smile, he thinks he was too shocked- haunted maybe- to cry.

"That's alright." Sirius shrugged, "I'm not too popular either."

The boy shook his head, "I dunno. Papa doesn't want strangers to know."

Sirius felt like his skin was crawling. An itch he couldn't escape, because now he has to know.

"How about I tell you my name, then you tell me yours. Then we won't be strangers."

The boy thought about it, but clearly didn't see a problem with Sirius' logic when he puffed up his cheeks and nodded.

"My name is Harry"

Sirius smiled, it was wobbly and his face felt heavy, but now he had a name to attach to the boy's face, a face that he knew he will use in daydreams and sleepless nights.

Sirius is aware of how weird that sounds.

"My name is Sirius."

He watched as the boy's toothy smile turned into a frown, Sirius watched as the boy looked him over before Harry's eyes widened and he took a step back.

Sirius watched as the boy looked to the sidewalk, almost in fear, and Sirius doesn't know what he did wrong.

Harry looked back, "Oh, um, I-" His eyes flicked back to the sidewalk and he cut himself off, eyes widening further and Sirius couldn't look away when the smile bloomed on Harry's face again. The boy started to run away, vaguely shouting back an apology. Sirius was sure he was already forgotten in the boy's mind.

Sirius watched him go. He watched as the small body slammed into a short man, he watched as the man looked down before he leaned down and picked the boy up.

Sirius was too far away to see the man properly, and even if he moved closer all he would see was a vague side profile, but he couldn't help but watch.

Sirius still couldn't be sure as he walked a few steps forward anyway, but the nose looked similar. Like the one he saw every day in the mirror, like the one he saw in memories.

Sirius watched the man walk away with Harry and he felt crushed. Like something was taken from him with no reason for why.

He went home to Remus that day stumbling through the door, alcohol on his breath, and holding back tears.

James looks similar now, as he trips out of the floo, clutching a now wrinkled letter in his hand.

#its been how many months since i updated this au???#whoopsies my bad #anyway part three :]#marauders era #marauders #harry potter #hp marauders #dead wizards from the 70s #dead gay wizards #harry potter marauders #black brothers #regulus black #sirius black #james potter #jegulus #wolfstar #trans regulus black #dear james au #.twrites

101 notes · View notes

sagesskies · 4 months

Text

ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ I

✒ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴᴇʀ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴍ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ, ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴄᴜᴏᴜꜱ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ), ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴀᴘᴀᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ

You always loved a good romance.

Sure, it was looked down upon for a man such as yourself to be reading a novel instead of a thesis, or helping your family manage the estate, but you never cared. Your siblings all begged you to do your job as the first born, and take charge, especially now with your parents growing old, but again, you never cared.

Currently, the book you were reading was one with a most interesting premise. A young noblewoman is mugged by a dashing thief, and instead of punishing him, orders for him to be made her guard. Between the two, a beautiful romance blossoms. And to think their first meeting the thief thought to steal from her.

You chuckle, “The only thing he managed to steal from her was her heart,”

Before you could turn to another page, you hear the sound of heavy footsteps marching to your room.

You sigh, it’s probably one of your siblings. What would they complain about now? Perhaps your laziness, perhaps your waste of intelligence, maybe this time they’ll complain about your lack of a wife.

When the footsteps stop outside your door, you brace yourself for whatever nonsense they’ll be bringing to you today.

“I cannot believe this- [Name], have you heard?” Your brother burst into your room, looking dishevelled, and clutching a piece of parchment tightly.

You set down your novel, “Heard what exactly?”

James slams the piece of paper down on your table, “Your loverboy,” He sits down on the leather armchair across from you, “He’s back in town, and he’s apparently come to ask for your hand in marriage!”

You blink, not many things can render you speechless, but this is certainly not what you expected to hear today.

What did James mean, your loverboy? No matter how good your looks are, and no matter how many people you’ve slept with in the court, you don’t have a loverboy. Hell, you’ve made sure that none of your family ever found out about your various affairs.

“What, who-” You shake your head, “James, what exactly are you on about?”

James simply taps the paper, “Just read it, [Name].”

Sighing, you pick the letter up and do as you're told.

—

To my dearest, [Name]

Good day to you, my love. I am writing this to inform you of my return to the estate. I apologize for my sudden departure all those years ago, I assure you that I will never leave you again.

You may be wondering where I’ve been all this time. Well, I anticipate that you’ll be pleased to learn that I’ve been studying under the esteemed lawyer Maxwell Yates, you may remember him from multiple cases such as that of Nathan Lynch, Carol Wolf, and Jonah Hewitt. According to him I am the best student he’s ever had.

But enough about me, I’ve heard you are still yet to wed. Though it is no good for a man such as yourself to remain a bachelor, especially at your age, I cannot express to you enough my happiness that you’ve remembered our promise and saved yourself for me.

Despite the distance these past years, I promise to you I have not strayed away from you. You are the only one who understands me, who accepts me, and sees me for who I am, my dearest [Name]. You are the only one for me, and that will never change.

We may still be separated for now, but I promise you, we will not be apart for long my love.

Best regards, your future husband,

Glenn Alston

—

You set the paper down, and you bury your face in your hands.

You can hear the pity in James’ voice without even looking at him, “I know that you and Glenn were close, and had a special relationship, but you cannot marry him-”

You raise a single hand, and he stops speaking. You sigh, and sit up straight, “I won’t marry him, James,” You smirk when James looks visibly relieved, “Same sex marriage may be legalized, but I won’t dishonor the family name by engaging in sodomy.”

James groans, “You know that’s not why we’re against it,” Your family may have high standards for you and never failed to express their disappointment, but they weren’t narrowminded, god imagine how horrible they’d be if they were.

You chuckle, “Yeah yeah, he’s still the gardener’s son even if he’s some sort of bigshot lawyer now.”

"And you won't authorize his entry into the estate, right?"

That makes you wonder if you should. Regardless of how you feel, Glenn's father would still like to see him again, even if the man ran away. And Glenn would be a useful asset to the estate, considering how your other lawyer was already getting old.

You shrug in response, "Probably not." You say that to only appease your younger brother, who'd surely throw a fit if you said otherwise.

James nods, clearly satisfied, “Well then, I’ll be going now,” He glares at the romance novel, “And please stop reading that senseless drivel, [Name].”

You roll your eyes, and ignore his protests as you push him towards the door, “This ‘senseless drivel’, is what your fiance reads in her pastime,” You raise a brow at him, “I’m sure you don’t want her to hear what you said about her hobby.”

James sputters and tries to find the right words for a decent comeback, but clenches his fists and huffs in frustration, “Fine! Keep reading then,” He turns to leave, but then stops, and turns his head to look at you, “Wait, what did Glenn mean by you remembering your promise?”

“Aaaaand that’s my cue to close the door,” You grin at him, though it’s strained, “This was fun, bye bye Jamie!”

“I told you to stop calling me that-” The door closes, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Your gaze settles back on the piece of parchment. You walk over to it, and pick the letter up.

“When did his penmanship get so neat…” You can’t help but feel a twinge of envy, writing was never your strong suit. Well, you never really had a strong suit. No matter how hard you tried, your performance would be mediocre at best. No amount of sucking up from your instructors would change that.

Despite the bitterness you feel, your eyes soften as you trace Glenn’s elegant strokes. Your mind can’t help but wander to when he first asked you to teach him how to write…

—

Rarely did you ever willingly go to the library, much to your parent’s chagrin. The entire atmosphere was so stuffy, and you hated how quiet it was. It felt dead, and the old lady who worked as the librarian didn’t help. You swear, one day she’ll fall off the stepladder and her ghost is going to haunt the library for eternity.

Today was a special occasion however, it was Glenn’s twelfth birthday, and because you forgot to get him a gift he got to request something from you. He didn’t tell you exactly what he wanted, all he told you was to meet him at the library.

You sigh as you walk inside, ignoring the librarian’s glare when you don’t bother to minimise the sound of your footsteps.

Sometimes you wished Glenn could be a normal kid, and ask for something like a sword, or a new kite, or something else dumb kids liked to play with. But then again, if he was anything normal then you wouldn’t like him very much.

The library was a large room, with various shelves all arranged according to genre, like an actual public library. Your mother told you there were many ancient books and tomes within the shelves, all brought here by your ancestors. You tuned out most of what she said if you were being honest, the only other thing you remembered her saying about it was that there was a book that could make a mini explosion happen.

You wandered through the room, looking for Glenn. It didn’t take you long to find him, the dark-haired boy was carrying a stack of books in his arms and set it down on one of the tables. You waved over to Glenn, and sat beside him.

“Why are-” Before you could finish your sentence, Glenn, very rudely, placed a finger to your lips and his hazel eyes hardened into a glare.

“Lower your voice, [Name]!” He whispered, “We’re in the library.”

You glared back at him, and licked his finger. Glenn yelped, and immediately pulled back quickly, nearly toppling out of his chair. The noise he created earned him a stern: “Shhhh!” from the librarian.

Glenn pouted, his cheeks flushed and his ears red. You smirked. It was so easy to fluster him.

“Anyways, before you oh-so rudely interrupted me,” You spoke softer now, “Why are we here?”

Glenn was still clutching the finger you licked, and he avoided your gaze, and muttered something under his breath.

You rolled your eyes, “Geez man, I only licked your finger.” He was acting like you bit him instead, or something else weird. Sighing, you grabbed his chin and turned his face towards you, “Seriously, speak up.”

Glenn gently pulled away, having learned his lesson now, and then cleared his throat, “I, uh… I wanted to ask…” He took in a deep breath, “Couldyouteachmehowtowrite?”

“Uh, what?”

Glenn sighed, “Could you teach me how to write?”

“Oh,” You blinked, and then furrowed your brow, “That’s it?” You expected him to ask you to read him some big boring book about history or something, this was way more manageable.

“Yeah, I don’t want to keep asking you to read for me anymore,” He pushed a pad of paper towards you, and handed you a pencil, “It’s embarrassing.”

That was true, at his age usually he should be the one reading to others, but people from Glenn’s social class never learned how to read unless they were being sponsored by a noble family. But Glenn never seemed to mind before, what changed?

“Did Emil tease you again?” Emil was the asshole son of the captain of the guard, your presence always warded him off from picking on Glenn, but you couldn’t always be there for him.

When Glenn didn’t respond, you sighed. Glenn had some weird complex about being seen as capable and dependable in your eyes, but you could care less about whether or not he could handle himself. Unfortunately, you were never the best at expressing your emotions.

“Emil’s a little prick,” You ignored Glenn’s soft gasp, and started to write the alphabet on the pad of paper, “Guys like him are everywhere, Glenn. Stop caring about what he’s saying, his words don’t matter.”

Glenn muttered, “But they still hurt.”

Glenn, for how much he tried to look tough, was always so sensitive to what others thought about him. It was another way you two were so different from each other, he could never stop caring, while you just didn’t.

You set the pen down after finishing the letter z, “Yeah, that’s because you let them.” You glanced at Glenn, since he was shorter than you, all you could see was the top of his dark hair. You wondered what the expression on his face looked like.

Glenn remained silent, and so you sighed, “Anyways…” You handed the pencil to Glenn, “Copy this.”

When Glenn finished, you took a piece of empty paper from the pad, and handed it to Glenn, “Now do it again, this time without the reference.”

You weren’t a good student, in fact you were a terrible one. You never did your homework, you barely showed up to class, and whenever you did you never paid attention. Glenn was unfortunate to be stuck with such a lousy person for a teacher.

When Glenn handed the paper back to you, you hummed, “Well, it could be worse.” That was being generous. Glenn managed to remember A, B, and C, but completely skipped D and E, somehow messed up G, and seemed to have merged I and L. However, it was… okay. Considering how this was his first attempt.

Glenn frowned, “It’s terrible isn’t it?”

You ruffled his hair, “It’s not bad for a first try man, hand me the pencil,” You take it from his outstretched hand, “So, this is not how you write G, this is how you actually do it..”

You and Glenn stayed in that library till it was five pm, and you were both being shooed out of the library by the old hag, and then separated when Curtis took you to get ready for supper.

Perhaps you weren’t such a lousy teacher after all when Glenn was able to write properly only three weeks later. You still remember his smile when you read the letter he wrote to you for your birthday, and you still remember the immeasurable feeling of pride you had for him.

You can still remember the letter he left for you, the day he disappeared. The warm, wet tears that fell onto the parchment, as you struggled to read through Glenn’s handwriting. The emptiness in your chest, like Glenn ripped your heart out and took it with him when he left.

—

How things have changed.

You wonder who taught him to write cursive, was it Maxwell Yates? A fellow student? Perhaps it was a young woman, who fell in love with him like you did, and wanted to have his heart like he had stolen hers.

You let out a shaky breath, and place the letter in the same drawer as the other one. When you open the drawer, and see the weathered parchment, the tear stains, and the childlike scrawl, you feel your chest clench.

“You’re over this, [Name],” You remind yourself, “You’re over him.”

You fold the paper, and set it down with more care than you should’ve given. You close the drawer, and lock it.

You look at your novel, and realise that you’re not really in the mood for romance anymore. You pick it up, and set it back on the shelf.

#yandere oc #yandere male #yandere male x reader #Glenn Alston #angst #x reader #male reader

120 notes · View notes

moonbreezes · 2 months

Text

if I were to pick my favourite scene from the entire show this takes the crown easily. It is just so James, I have no words to describe it. I was rendered speechless the first time I have heard this monologue. It was also the only time I became emotional, sad even because of this entire show. It made me feel the heartbreak and grief and the inability to process those feelings. The questioning of what love is. the metaphor of love as a tempest that is so apt; it does not only reflect the relationship between Anne and James, the genesis of their first meeting, but also it represents this entire show.

#mary & george #king james vi and i #tony curran #george villiers #nicholas galitzine #i love this scene #even if the rest of the show was dogshit it would be worth it #literally all of my favourite scnes are those with james or james with george #i scarcely get emotional while watching anything but this made me feel feelingsTM #tony i could kiss you for this james

95 notes · View notes

sxriusblxck · 2 years

Text

flustered

thank you to the lovely, @unlust-fvck for requesting this <3

summary: sirius just about kills you

warnings: kissing, PDA, established relationship, too much fluff

word count: 260 (i know, very short)

Something had gotten-into Sirius today, and nobody was quite sure what it was.

James speculated it was a mutant virus, Remus proposed a poison, Peter said; love.

The five of you were sat in the common room, and Sirius couldn't take his hands off of you.

You were on his lap, comfortably placed on his thigh with his strong arms keeping you against him. His face was nuzzled into your warm neck, kissing at your pulse point. He was mumbling sweet praises under his breath, spoken quietly for your ears only.

No one was really paying attention, the excitement of Sirius's newfound neediness having died-down.

But you couldn't focus on anything.

His lips were so soft, kissing at the spot he knew you loved. You doubt he was trying to work you up in front of your friends, but it sure as hell felt that way. With his lips, his words, his hand placement, you were melting into a puddle on his lap.

"My sweetheart." He sighs. "Love you s'much."

"Love you too, Siri." It comes out as nearly a whimper, your cheeks blazing at his relentless praise.

"Got me absolutely whipped for you."

"You're too kind." Your school-girl giggle embarrasses you, but you can't help it, not when he's being so sweet on you.

"Can never be too kind to you." Like a man after your own heart, he continues to render you speechless.

"C'mon man, you're gonna kill them!" Remus hoots teasingly from his seat.

"Oh be quiet, Moony."

You wouldn't say it aloud, but Remus was right.

#sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x female reader #marauders era #marauders fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

cosmal · 2 years

Note

can i request a james potter fic where he’s really clingy cus james is my babyyy 😩

okay this was actually fun 2 write so thank u!! i live for clingy james!! warnings/tags :: mentions of alcohol, no prns used though reader is wearing a skirt

James Potter thinks he knows how much he loves you. He thinks it’s not possible for it to ever change or waver because all he knows is you and how endearing it is to love you. He thinks he’s very good at showing it too. He does it every day and would probably say he’s gotten it down to a T.

But, then, sometimes it hits him so hard in the chest it almost knocks the air from his lungs. A feeling so white-hot it renders him speechless. Because, trust him, he loves to show you how much he loves you. He’d spend every last moment of his ever-fleeting existence on this Earth loving you if he could.

But, he loves it, even more, when you show him how much you love him as well.

Because how could he not? With you sat on one of Sirius’s couches, his head in your lap, the skin of his cheek sticking to your thigh. He suddenly realises that he’s exactly where he wants to be.

Your fingers card through his hair, stopping to scratch his scalp every few moments when there’s a lull in your conversation with Mary. He thinks you’re not really paying attention to him, too engrossed in whatever it is you’re laughing about. But when your laugh fizzes down into a sigh, he can sense you staring at the side of his face.

The pretty heart locket he gifted you years ago when you were still only friends, is cold when it lands on his cheek as you lean over him to speak in his ear. “You okay, Jamie?” Your voice is considerably quieter when you speak and it has the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

He pushes further into your lap, a ruffle of your cotton skirt bunches underneath his cheek and he can smell your detergent. And then he can smell your body lotion. It’s an overwhelming wave of frangipani, and then coconut and vanilla and it has his head reeling.

“Mhm.” He can’t really find it in him to say anything else. Eyes fluttering, a dark wave of his eyelashes kissing the freckles under his glasses.

You move your hand to then trace the lines of freckles, moving over to his nose, nudging over the bump of the hook you always find yourself smoothing over when he was so close. “You sure?”

He pushes further, between the crease of your torso and the top of your thigh, “Yeah.” He wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn't hear what he’d said, words mumbled through the material of your clothes. But you push the arm of his glasses back over his ear and hum a noise that sounds like you understand.

“You drunk?” You question and he turns back out to stare up at you. At this angle, he can see the beauty mark under your chin. He reaches up to touch it, pushing into the skin of your throat. Not cruelly, but he smiles when you swallow.

“Not sure.” He knows he’s not. But he’s curious about what you’d do if you thought he was. He selfishly thinks you might treat him with even more care. That later you might help him up and out into your car to take him home. Maybe even cuddle him in bed until he falls asleep. Not that you didn’t already do that, he thinks. You always treat him like that.

“How much did you drink?”

He lowers his hand and wrinkles his nose, “A few beers.”

“Yeah?”

He knows you can tell there’s more, “And whatever Sirius was shotting.”

“Was it sambuca?” You question, squeezing his bicep, fingers tickling the vein on the underside of his arm. You trace it mindlessly, the pattern one you’ve memorised despite not even being able to see it. James shivers under his touch and then almost lets out an audible whine when you stop. He reddens.

“How’d you know?”

“Sambuca makes you tired.” You giggle. “Plus, your tongue’s blue.”

“‘M not tired.” He frowns. He doesn’t know how to say that he’s not tired. He’s just really loving the attention you’re giving him.

“I can see the Z’s in your eyes.”

“You’re dramatic.” Then he yawns.

“Hey, Marls?” You avert your attention to the blonde in front of you, tapping her on the shoulder. James immediately misses the attention you’d been doting him with and it had only been five seconds. He thinks he’s going crazy. “I think you parked me in, you okay to move your car?”

She frowns. “You’re leaving?”

“It’s way past his bedtime.” You poke James in the cheek and he pouts.

“Is not!” He guffaws.

You ignore him and nudge him so he lifts his head. He does and you stand, James makes no effort to get up, letting his head fall back down into the stiff leather of the lounge.

“C’mon, honey.” You smile, hands outstretched in front of you, “Up.”

Honey, he thinks. How could he not get up when you’re using that name?

It’s later in the night now, after you’d driven back to his flat. The both of you now sat in the calm of his kitchen. You’re standing at the door of the refrigerator, the ivory of the light swallowing you whole. Socked feet twisting into the grey tiles, wondering what to eat.

“You hungry hungry?” You lean your weight against the door as it swings, “Or just got the munchies because you’ve been drinking?”

You turn over your shoulder to look at him where he’s standing, leaning against the counter. Arms bulging over the hem of his white shirt where they’re crossed over his chest.

“Because there’s that pasta I can do.” You hold the pasta sauce jar over your shoulder to show him but you quickly sit it back in the fridge where it clinks against the glass shelf. “Or there’s leftover pizza from Thursday? Did you have dinner? Because there’s other…” You stop speaking when you realise he hasn’t said anything since you actually opened the fridge.

"James?"

He straightens up against the counter and outstretches his arms in front of him, "C'mere." It's more of a light demand than it is a question. But he can't feel it in him to care to ask.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He nods. And then, when you don't move, "Just c'mere, sweetheart. Please?" He sounds desperately whiny though he knows you don't mind. You don't, obviously.

You move to close the space between the two of you, and he holds his breath until you fall into his arms. He wraps them around you, deflating when he leans his elbows into the tops of your shoulders.

"Feeling okay?" You mumble into his chest, probably dampening his clothes. You grip his shirt where it sits around the sides of his hips when he presses further into you.

"What?" He questions, resting his chin atop your head, and you repeat yourself. "Oh, yeah, all good. Just really needed a hug."

He leans down to kiss the bare skin of your shoulder, a wet sound left in its wake when he lifts his mouth. He nudges it with his nose before he spins you around, you now pressed into the bench. You giggle, an airy and light sound that makes James look down at you with glassy eyes.

"You're very touchy today." You smile.

But James only pouts, "Is that okay?"

"What?" You huff a laugh from your nose, "Of course it is."

"I'm not being annoying?" His grip loosens though yours only tightens, the edges of his ribs pressing into the flesh of your arms.

"You'd never annoy me." You deter, "Hug me all you want."

Which he does, burying his face in the junction of your shoulder and his breath tickles your skin. He squeezes you harder and for a moment the air is stripped from you when he leans back and you're standing on your tip toes. Your shirt rides up where it's pinned between your bodies and he can feel the heat from your body seeping through him.

He sits you back down and turns to brush his nose against yours. You press your lips against his, a light push with no actual force. But when he huffs an airy whine out his nose, you lean in further. You don't lead for more than two seconds when he pushes a hand up to cup your cheek, fingers parting over your ear where he cranes your jaw to slot his lips further against yours. He slips his tongue past your lips, pressing into your own. Searching like it was the first time he's ever kissed you. Fingers pressing into the flesh of your hip cruelly where his arm is wrapped around your back.

You pull away, chests heaving through pants. His eyes are misty where they dance over your face, lips and cheeks red under the light of his breakfast bar. He kisses you once more above your lips, atop your cupid's bow and grins.

"I love you." He murmurs, a sound you can barely hear over the hum of the fridge.

"I love you too."

Then he's giggling, a boyish laugh when he unwraps his arms from you. "Your tongue is blue." He smiles.

"Bloody Sambuca."

#james potter imagine #james potter #marauders #marauders fic #harry potter #james potter x reader #james potter drabble #james potter fanfiction #james potter fan fic #james potter x gn!reader #james potterequest

1K notes · View notes

rustingcat · 7 months

Text

Lavender

"I feel like I'm more surprised than I should've been," Alex said as she took another swing from her beer.

"What do you mean?" Kara asked, taking a fistful of popcorn from the bowl.

Kara was at Alex's place for their weekly sister's night. Kelly and Esme were visiting James out of town while Alex had to stay for work. Kara used that opportunity to come out to her sister, telling her about her newly discovered feelings for Lena.

"I mean, well. Kara, you decided to have babies with her." Alex pointed out.

"Yes, but as friends." She explained.

"You moved in together!"

"It would be easier with the kids–"

"Do you hear yourself?"

"I–" saying all of that out loud did sound a bit weird. "Okay, so what does it mean? Did I like her like that before I knew I liked her like that?"

"Yes. Probably." Alex nodded and took another sip.

"How would I not know such a big thing about myself?" It didn't make sense.

"I mean, I didn't come out until a few years ago, it's a very normal thing to happen. Feelings are complicated." Alex said. She seemed a bit nervous, as she had much more to say.

"But it's not like I was against the idea, it wasn't really an issue on Krypton and you know that it was never a problem with you. It just didn't cross my mind!" She had nothing about the idea of being queer, she just didn't think about it much.

"Well you did act a bit weird when I first told you about it." Alex leaned forward, studying Kara's face as if she was looking for a reaction.

"What? No, I didn't! I was just a bit surprised. I just didn't think you'd be gay." She quickly explained, putting the popcorn down back on the table.

Alex took another swing from her beer and studied Kara for a moment. There was something in her eyes that Kara couldn't discern.

"You started dressing differently recently." Alex said, catching Kara off guard.

"What?"

"You're back to slacks and button downs, though you still have some tank tops and better fitting shirts."

"What does that have to do with anything?" She inquired.

"It's just, you seem more comfortable with your clothes."

"Um.. yes?" Kara wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"It wasn't until recently I think that I finally got it."

"Got what, Alex?"

"It was thanks to Esme. We talked about it briefly after I first adopted her. She had a lot of trouble fitting in even after a while. She's been through so much and was forced to hide her powers since she was born. You know, she's a very opinionated kid, yet I started to notice that she was holding herself back, she was so afraid to pick the stuff she wanted sometimes, it was heartbreaking to see. It made me think about you."

Kara swallowed hard. She wanted to say; how so? But found she couldn't bring herself to do it. As if she wasn't sure what Alex was getting to, but also part of her felt it deep in her bones. She was rendered speechless.

"Since you landed on earth, since your whole world fell apart, you were drilled how much you needed to suppress yourself. Instead of exploring yourself and finding new ways to express yourself in different ways, you spent your teenage years forced to swallow down everything that made you unique, everything that made you you. And even after you came out as Supergirl you started to slowly suppress yourself more as Kara, and I still just–" Alex took a moment to breathe, she seemed to have struggled with tears.

Alex wasn't one to cry. Even when Jeremiayah was pressumed dead she barely saw her cry, she did hear her sobs when she was hiding in a corner of the house and thought no one could see. Kara didn't know how to react back then, but she was closer with her sister now and didn't hesitate to scoot over on the couch and put a hand around her as she continued to talk. A talk Kara was still trying to process herself.

"It's not just the clothes, you started to walk differently, carried yourself more lightly in some sense. I really started to notice the change after you decided to fully come out and made the step to let yourself really be yourself. And–" she closed her eyes trying to blink away a tear. "I'm so sorry about everything I did, or said that ever made you hide yourself."

"Alex you have nothing to apologise for." She put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Yes I do. Kara, I said some terrible things to you. Things that I regret so much and I want you to know how sorry I am. You deserve this apology. "

This chapter ended up being longer than usual so the rest of this chapter is on AO3

#was waiting to write this one for a while #supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorptober #supercorptober2023 #my art #my fic

146 notes · View notes

marinawolf · 11 months

Text

Part 2- You're Mine (Supercorp)

by marinawolf

You guys wanted a part 2! So here it is. Be warned, it's pure smut. NSFW.

(part 1 here)

Kara stood outside Lena's apartment, her heart pounding with a potent mix of anger, confusion, and a hint of something else she couldn't quite define. How could Lena, her friend, just kiss her like that and then vanish into a meeting without a word? It was completely unacceptable, and Kara was determined to demand an explanation.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked on the door. Her knuckles rapped against the wood, each knock echoing in her ears like the resounding beats of her own unsettled heart. Seconds ticked by, stretching into an eternity, until finally, the door swung open, revealing Lena Luthor herself.

Kara's breath caught in her throat at the sight of her friend. Lena looked breathtakingly beautiful, her hair cascading in gentle waves down her shoulders, framing her face like a soft, dark halo. She wore a cozy, cream-colored sweater that hugged her figure in all the right places, emphasizing the curves that Kara had never been able to stop herself from noticing. Her blue-green eyes shimmered with a mix of emotions—regret, uncertainty, and something deeper, something that made Kara's pulse quicken.

Lena's lips curved into a smile as she looked at Kara, her eyes tracing over her friend's form. "Kara, hi," she greeted, her voice soft and tinged with a touch of nervousness.

Kara tried to speak, to demand answers, but her voice caught in her throat. The sight of Lena, looking so undeniably alluring, rendered her momentarily speechless. She found herself gazing at those lips, those lips that had pressed against her own so passionately earlier, igniting a fire within her that she had never expected.

Lena's lips were perfection, soft and inviting. Kara couldn't help but remember how they had felt against her own, the electric surge that had coursed through her body, leaving her breathless and craving more.

Shaking herself out of the reverie, Kara stepped forward into Lena's apartment, her determination returning as anger mingled with desire. She had to confront Lena about what had happened, about how she had dared to kiss her and then disappear without a trace.

"What the hell was that, Lena?" Kara finally managed to say, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and longing. "You can't just kiss me like that and then act as if nothing happened!"

Lena sighed, her gaze shifting from Kara to the floor. She closed the door behind them, creating an intimate space where their conversation could unfold. "I know, Kara. I know it was wrong of me, and I'm sorry. I should have explained myself before I acted impulsively. But please, let me explain now."

Kara crossed her arms, her anger still simmering beneath the surface, but her curiosity demanding answers. "Fine, Lena. Explain. I want to know why you thought it was appropriate to kiss me and then disappear into a meeting."

Lena took a deep breath. "Because I was jealous, Kara. Jealous of you and James, of the way you two were interacting at work. I couldn't bear the thought of someone else having your attention, of anyone else touching what's mine."

Kara's eyes widened in surprise, her anger momentarily forgotten as she absorbed Lena's words. "Yours?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lena took a step closer, her gaze intense. "I'm in love with you, Kara. I've been in love with you for a while now, but I couldn't bring myself to admit it. I tried to hide it from myself, but seeing you with James today… it made me realize that I can't hide it anymore. I can't pretend anymore."

Kara's heart skipped a beat, the weight of Lena's confession sinking in. She had spent countless nights grappling with her own feelings, pushing them aside for fear of ruining their friendship or being rejected. And now, standing there in Lena's apartment, with the truth finally laid bare, it was overwhelming.

A mix of shock, elation, and a flood of long-repressed emotions swirled within Kara. Her mind raced, struggling to process the magnitude of Lena's words. She had never allowed herself to imagine that Lena felt the same way, that they could be more than friends. But here she stood, confronted with the undeniable truth.

"You're in love with me?" Kara echoed, her voice trembling with disbelief and hope.

Lena's eyes searched Kara's face, her vulnerability laid bare. "Yes, Kara. I am. I've tried to deny it, to hide it even from myself, but I can't bear the thought of someone else having you. You're mine."

As Lena spoke those words, a surge of longing washed over Kara, erasing any lingering traces of anger. The unspoken tension between them crackled in the air, a palpable magnetism drawing them closer. Kara's resolve wavered as her own hidden desires surged to the surface, urging her to surrender to the inevitable.

Closing the distance between them, Kara reached out, her hand gently cupping Lena's cheek. Lena's eyes fluttered closed, her body instinctively leaning into Kara's touch, savoring the warmth and tenderness of the connection. Their gazes locked, their unspoken desires now tangible, their hearts beating in synchrony.

And then their lips met once more, but this time the kiss held the weight of their shared confession. It was a kiss filled with years of longing, unspoken words, and the promise of a love waiting to be fully explored. Their lips moved against each other with a newfound urgency, their tongues dancing in a passionate, intoxicating rhythm.

Lost in the depth of their kiss, Kara felt the curves of Lena's body pressed against her own, and it drove her crazy. Their hands roamed, memorizing the contours of each other's bodies, fueling the flame of desire that had been smoldering for far too long.

Between breathless kisses, Lena whispered, her voice a breathy plea, "You are mine, Kara. Say it. Say you're mine."

Kara's voice was husky with need as she responded, her words laced with a fervor she had kept hidden for far too long. "I'm yours, Lena. I've always been yours."

Lena's touch sent shivers down Kara's spine, and she couldn't help but lean into it, basking in the tenderness that emanated from every caress. She gazed into Lena's eyes, her heart swelling with a newfound certainty.

Their lips collided once again in a fervent clash, their tongues intertwining in a dance as old as time. Kara's hands instinctively tangled in Lena's hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss with a desperate hunger. The taste of Lena was intoxicating, a heady blend of sweetness and whiskey that consumed her senses. Lena's teeth grazed Kara's lower lip, teasing and inviting, eliciting a low moan from deep within Kara's throat. Their lips broke apart momentarily, leaving them both breathless and wanting, their foreheads resting against each other.

Kara's voice was husky with need as she whispered, "I love you, too," before crashing her lips against Lena's again.

Lena's hands instinctively found their way to Kara's waist, pulling her closer, their bodies pressing against each other with an undeniable magnetic force. Kara's hands roamed freely over Lena's back, her fingers tracing the curves and contours that had haunted her dreams for so long. Kara felt the heat of Lena's body pressed against her own, their closeness stirring a wildfire within her.

Lena's lips trailed a blazing path down Kara's neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses and nips, marking her as her own. Kara arched into the touch, her senses overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure that crashed through her body. She surrendered herself completely, her trust in Lena unyielding.

As they kissed, Kara's mind filled with vivid memories of every stolen glance, every lingering touch, and every moment that had led them to this precipice of desire. She could almost taste the bittersweetness of their missed opportunities and the longing that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long. But now, everything was different.

Lena guided her to the couch, and Kara tumbled onto the soft cushions, pulling Lena down on top of her, unwilling to let go. Kara's senses were on fire as she continued to explore Lena's lips with a searing intensity. Lena's hands roamed Kara's body with purpose, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her fingertips traced the curves of Kara's back, the gentle dip of her waist, and the swell of her breasts, igniting sparks of electricity in their wake. Kara's body responded eagerly, arching into the touch, aching for more of Lena's caress. Suddenly, Kara felt Lena's fingers fumble with the buttons of her shirt, one by one until it was open, exposing Kara's bare skin. Lena's hand moved with a desperate urgency as she reached for the clasp of Kara's bra, and let the material fall away and Kara gasped as she felt Lena's hands on her waist, tracing the curves of her body with her fingertips.

Desperately, Kara tugged at Lena's sweater, and Lena relented. She sat up, knees on either side of Kara's legs, and pulled the garment over her head before discarding it on the floor. Kara suddenly forgot how to breathe, transfixed by the sight of Lena, her smooth skin glowing in the soft light. Her eyes traced the curves and contours of Lena's form, drinking in the raw beauty that seemed to radiate from her very core. Kara was enraptured by the elegant slope of Lena's collarbones, the subtle dip between them, leading to the the most mesmerising sight of Lena's breasts. The absence of a shirt allowed Kara to appreciate the natural grace of Lena's frame, each subtle muscle visible.

Lena's hands moved down to the waistband of Kara's pants and the touch jolted Kara from her reverie, her gaze shifting from Lena's alluring bareness to the connection they shared in that moment. She watched with desperate anticipation as Lena undid the button of her jeans, slowly pulling down the zipper. Kara moaned softly as Lena's fingers brushed against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

Kara closed her eyes as Lena placed searing kisses on her neck, her collarbone and then on the swell of her breasts. The desire coursing through her was something she had never felt before, something entirely new and uninhibited. Lena grabbed Kara's wrists, placing them above her head and holding them there as she lowered her head to Kara's chest, capturing a pink bud between her lips, flicking her tongue over it. Kara gasped, and Lena switched to the other breast, softly licking and biting, causing fireworks to erupt behind Kara's eyelids. When she stopped after a few minutes, Kara almost whimpered, the slickness between her legs a testament to her desperation.

She was appeased when Lena brought her lips to her body body once again. Letting go of Kara's wrists, Lena's lips once again found their way to Kara's skin, kissing below Kara's breast, down her stomach. Her deft hands found Kara's waistband again and Kara instinctively raised her hips as Lena slowly her pants and underwear down her legs.

She felt Lena's breath on her most intimate parts and held her own breath, her pulse quickening. Kara's breath hitched as she looked down at Lena, captivated by the darkening intensity in Lena's blue-green eyes.

She let out a gasp the second Lena's mouth, hot and wet, pressed into her and moaned as Lena's tongue slid along the length of her centre. Her hands tangled in Lena's hair, gasping Lena's name in desperate, breathless whispers. Her tongue teased Kara's entrance, eliciting a soft moan from Kara. Lena swept her tongue upwards, across the bundle of nerves and Kara moaned, loudly this time.

Lena closed her lips around the bundle and mercilessly licked it, turning Kara into an incoherent mess, before swiftly letting go, moving up Kara's body to crash her lips against Kara's. Kara groaned as she tasted herself on Lena's lips, but she was desperate for Lena's touch.

Lena reached down, her fingers finding Kara's entrance, her other hand once again gripping Kara's wrists above her head. She paused, her molten gaze on Kara's face, as if waiting for permission that Kara had already given the moment Lena touched her. Kara whimpered softly, needing to feel Lena, her desperation overtaking every thought in her mind. In that moment, she belonged to Lena, mind, body and soul. Suddenly, Lena pressed her lips against Kara's once more and slid two fingers into Kara, thrusting hard and fast, setting an unforgiving pace. When Lena curled her fingers, Kara gasped, lost to all coherent thought. The only discernible word she uttered was Lena's name, which fell from her lips like a prayer.

"You're mine," Lena whispered in Kara's ear, her fingers keeping up an unrelenting pace, "Say it."

Kara couldn't help but wonder why Lena wanted her to say it again when it was so obvious. How could she ever belong to anyone else? How could her body ever respond like this to anyone else?

Every touch, every stroke, sent ripples of pleasure coursing through Kara's veins and so, she whispered, "I'm yours."

Lena responded by picking up her pace, placing fiery kisses on Kara's neck as her fingers continued their delicious assault. Kara moaned, unable to silence herself.

"Let go for me," Lena whispered against Kara's neck, biting down slightly, letting go of Kara's wrists.

Almost as if asceding to Lena's demands, Kara reached her highest point with a gasp. Her back arched and she clenched around Lena's fingers, coming undone in a way she never felt before. In that electrifying moment, she understood with absolute clarity that Lena had claimed her- heart, body, and soul.

She looked up at Lena, smiling tiredly,

"My turn," she whispered, before pulling Lena to her once more, capturing her lips in another searing kiss.

#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #fanfic #kara zor el #kara x lena #supercorp first kiss #archive of our own #supercorp smut #kara danvers x lena luthor #kara zor el x lena luthor #possessive lena

234 notes · View notes