#i know that james has some good ol' hips but let's pretend he is a bad dancer just for the sake of the beginning 🤭 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

httpiastri · 5 months

Note

Jackieeee my most favourite-est person ever <33333

i was having a look-see through your prompts for your 1.5k celly (ive forgotten if i’ve said congrats already but if i haven’t, CONGRATULATIONS MY LOVE YOU DESERVE IT SO SO MUCH) and i was wondering if you’d do a Santa Tell Me with Clement and a combination of “you don’t have to be so gentle. i won’t break, you know” and - moving hair away from their face.

i think it’d be really cute idk 🥰

MUAH<3

- shy little embrose from the discord lmao

embrose! my darling!! 🥺💘 thank you so much for your kind words, you're so sweet omg :(( and thank you for requesting! i altered the prompt a little, hope that's okay <3 have a good day sweetheart! and happy new year!!!

‎‎ ‎

‎‎ ‎

"i have never seen a worse dancer than marcus," lissie says from next to you, nodding off towards the dance floor. when your eyes follow hers, you can barely hold back the laughter that wants to slip past your lips. it's quite clear that marcus and clement are racing drivers, and james is an insurance broker, not professional dancers.

it's easy to tell that none of them are exactly sober, though you're not sure if their moves would've been that much better if they hadn't been as intoxicated. at least they're enjoying themselves, you think to yourself, taking a small sip out of the glass in your hand.

"i wouldn't say either one of them is better than the other," alice pipes up, nudging lissie's shoulder with her own. "doesn't marcus want to join dancing with the stars, though?"

"yeah, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't get voted off instantly."

as if they heard about your discussions, the boys soon stumble back to your table. they're all cackling about something james just said, and clement has a big grin plastered on his face when he flops down in the seat next to you. you cock a questioning eyebrow to him, but he merely shakes his head, one of his hands reaching down to take one of yours. he gives you a gentle squeeze, eyes shifting back to james who's suddenly in the middle of telling some kind of story about a guy on the dance floor.

clement's touch is innocent, and he means no harm. as always, he has good intentions; he wants you to feel comfortable at all times. the thing is, you do feel comfortable – but his soft touches and gentle caresses are not enough.

it's especially easy to feel jealous when his friends and their girlfriends are around, showing off how comfortable they are in public. james and alice have been going out for ages, so pda is never a big deal for them. even marcus and lissie will disappear into a dark corner of a club every once in a while, only to reappear with swollen lips and occasionally a few poorly covered lovebites on their skin.

but clement? always so soft, always so delicate. too soft, too delicate.

behind closed doors, it's a different story. when it's just him and you, he's got no problems being rougher and showing you just how much he wants you. but when you're out in public, even a tiny kiss on your lips is highly uncommon. it all originates in his need to take care of you, to make sure he never does anything wrong – he would hate himself if he ever did something you disapproved of in public. so instead, he always holds back, even though he sometimes wishes he didn't.

the thought is sweet, and you're so grateful to be dating a man who cares so much about your feelings. but you do wish he would... do more.

you aren't sure how to tell him about this, though. it's something you've thought about a lot, but a good time for the conversation just never seems to appear.

when clement looks over at you from james, he notices how your expression has changed. from the bubbly exterior you usually show off to a slightly more gloomy look, and he frowns. he leans down towards you, his mouth brushing your ear as he whispers. "everything okay?"

when he leans back and sees you nodding, a soft smile spreads over his lips. his hand reaches for your face, taking it in his palm and letting his thumb run over the skin of your cheek. his other hand brushes away a few stray hairs that have fallen into your face, and...

there it is again. that light touch, the gentleness.

now or never, you think to yourself.

"hey," you say, catching him off guard. he raises his eyebrows. "you don't have to be so gentle just because we're with friends, you know."

clement's mouth drops open, and then he closes it again. and then opens and drops again. his eyebrows furrow and he looks deep in thought, blinking a few times before finally speaking. "what?"

you let out a groan. "just kiss me properly, you muppet."

he doesn't need to hear anything else. he captures your lips instantly, kissing you like his life depends on it. the hand that was on your cheek just seconds ago has reached down to the back of your neck, pushing you further into him as his thumb runs along the front of your throat. a sound escapes from your mouth and he feels the vibrations as he swallows it, hearing it loud and clear in his head despite the loud music. it's like you're in your own bubble now, completely unknowing of the dancing and music around you, and of how your friends have all stopped to watch you with raised eyebrows.

it's nothing unique per se – you've gone much further than this before – but in this context, it's new. out in the wild, in front of strangers, right before your friends. it's strange, but exciting.

when you eventually pull away, your arms have draped over his shoulders and you've moved so close that your legs are practically on top of his. your eyes flutter closed again when clement's hot breath fans over your face, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

suddenly, a loud cheer erupts from your side as james starts hollering and clapping his hands. marcus soon joins in, his wolf-whistles loud enough to probably be heard all the way across the club, and you lean forward to hide your reddening face in clement's shoulder. you forgot that this would be the consequence of your actions...

but then again, it was worth it. definitely.

clement wraps his arms around your waist, chest bouncing with laughter. "good on you, mate," james yells, and you can practically hear the smirk on his lips. "is this the first time you guys have kissed, or-"

"shut up."

94 notes · View notes

dykeninthdoctor · 4 years

Text

“ironhusbands, pre relationship, focusing on them in their first year of college and being like rhodey really realizing how young tony is” and “sweater sharing”

“Have you heard–“

“Did you see–“

“He went to Rob’s party–“

The whispers are carried to him on the wind, full of rumors, sometimes lies, sometimes truths.

Jim doesn’t care. He knows Tony Stark–the heir to the Stark empire, son of the legend, Howard Stark–is on campus, but he doesn’t care.

There’s no reason for him to.

The kid is 16, apparently, a prodigy for his age, which Jim could’ve guessed, and he gives zero shits about his education.

Jim hasn’t heard anything about the kid going to classes; only about parties, and girls, and sometimes, the whispers mention boys, too. They call Stark a charmer, a slut, a flirt, and worse.

Maybe Jim cares a little bit.

Stark is 16, and he already has a reputation, one that scares Jim.

“Oh my God, did you see how much he drank last night?” a girl says, eyes wide in a mockery of surprise.

“He never seems like he’s drunk, though,” her friend says.

Jim frowns.

“Maybe it runs in the family,” the first girl teases, and then they’re both laughing, walking in the other direction.

Jim frowns harder.

He goes to a party the next chance he gets.

Stark is there, in the center of it all, holding court like a prince standing on the backs of his adoring subjects. He’s sprawled across a sofa, legs draped across the lap of a girl whose hand is resting on the inside of his thigh, head in the lap of another girl whose lips are staining marks of red across his jaw.

Stark’s eyes are glazed, the smile he wears is taped on, and Jim realizes with a sinking feeling that it’s all a mask. A mask hastily built, a mask with cracks that Stark uses alcohol to fill, so that no one can see the emotions behind it.

Jim doesn’t know how, or why, but he can.

“A toast,” Stark slurs, raising the plastic cup in his hand, “To dear ol’ dad, who sent me to this lovely institution.”

A cheer goes up around the room.

Stark drinks.

Jim’s moving before he realizes, shoving his way past people, fighting to get to Stark, snapping sharply, “C’mon, Tony, let’s go.”

To his surprise, and fear, Stark gets up and takes his hand without second thought. Jim tries not to think about why.

When he takes Stark outside, the kid–because God, he’s just a kid–looks up at him with a raised brow and a smirk made of plaster. “We’re gonna do it outside? You’re into exhibitionist shit, huh?”

And then he’s on his knees in front of Jim, and Jim’s trying not to throw up.

“No–shit, no, please stand up, Stark–“

“What?”

It’s the confusion in his voice that finally does it, and Jim’s retching into the bushes that line the house behind them, coughing up bile.

He hears the clumsy motions of Stark getting to his feet, feels a small but calloused hand on his back, sees Stark’s face–eyes wide, lips parted in a small o, the face of a kid–and then throws up more bile onto the leaves.

“I’m sorry?” Stark offers quietly, and it’s so different from the brassy, loud, slurred voice of the prince Jim saw only minutes ago.

“How old are you?” Jim asks. It’s not what he meant to say, but as Stark’s eyes go a little wider, he knows he needs to know the answer, because it’s not 16.

“I’m almost 15.”

Jim tries not to throw up again.

He takes Stark back to his dorm, with its single bed and tiny cork board with pictures of Momma Robbie and Jeanie tacked up, with the single poster of a galaxy taped to his wall and the precarious stack of textbooks on his desk.

Stark drowns in his clothes, the knitted sweatshirt hanging off his shoulder, revealing a collarbone littered with hickeys, the sweatpants hanging low on his hips, showing bruises the shape of fingers pressed into tan skin.

“Why?”

The question rings out in the silent room.

“Why what?”

“Why are you being…like this?”

“Because you need this,” Jim says.

Stark just looks at him, his chest rising and falling with exaggerated slow breaths, his eyes blinking slowly, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

“C’mon, get in bed.”

When Stark doesn’t move, Jim freezes.

“No, Stark–not like that. I’m not gonna do anything with you–to you. We’re not doing anything. You deserve a safe place to sleep. I’m gonna do homework, okay?”

“Okay,” Stark says quietly.

When he falls asleep, curled around the only pillow in Jim’s bed, he looks even younger.

Jim makes himself a promise.

A promise to protect Stark.

The next day, when he wakes up with his face pressed to the pages of his physics textbook, and his bed rumpled but empty, he realizes protection is not what Stark wants.

Too bad, Jim thinks. Too fucking bad.

It’s harder than he thinks to find Stark; even if the kid doesn’t attend classes, there aren’t parties during the day.

The whispers don’t tell him anything, and today, they’re about him.

“He went home with him, just like that–“

“Have you see him around before?”

“Stark just listened to him–“

Jim ignores them.

He goes to his classes, he takes notes, he tries to focus.

He also thinks about where Stark might be hiding.

He doesn’t have to think too hard; Stark’s sitting in his dorm when he gets back after his 5:00 lecture.

The door was locked, but Stark didn’t seem to have any difficulty with that.

“Hi,” Stark says.

“What the fuck,” Jim says back.

Stark shrugs. “You were nice to me. What do you want for it? Money? A reputation boost? We can pretend to fuck, if you don’t want to for real, just so that people think you got some.”

“What do I want for it?” Jim repeats.

“Yeah, payment.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“C’mon, everyone wants something,” Stark says, and the way his eyes avoid Jim’s, despite his casual pose and even more casual tone, tells Jim that he’s scared.

“I don’t want anything, Stark.”

It’s a lie; he wants to know who hurt Stark, he wants to give Stark a hug, he wants to protect Stark.

He also wants Stark to let him out of choice, rather than obligation.

“Okay,” Stark says.

Okay, Jim thinks.

What he says is, “You can stay while I do my homework, if you want.”

“I talk a lot,” Stark tells him. “I’ll bother you.”

“I have a little sister, you can’t be worse than her.”

“Oh.”

So Stark stays.

“What’s your name?”

“Jim.”

“Oh, that won’t do at all. What’s the rest of it?”

“James Rupert Rhodes?”

“Rupert?”

“Don’t start with me, Stark–“

“Tony. My name’s Tony.”

“And my name’s Jim.”

“Not anymore, it’s not. You’re Rhodey now.”

“What are you doing?”

“Physics.”

“No shit, Sherlock, I meant the equation. You calculated wrong.”

“I did not.”

“Put it in the calculator, it’s not 6.78, it’s 6.57.”

“You did that in your head?”

“I’m not just a pretty face.”

“How old’s your sister?”

“She’s 10, but she’s 7 in that picture.”

“That’s your mom?”

“Yeah, I took that picture of them at the lake near our house.”

“She…she looks nice.”

“She’d like you.”

“What’s your major?”

“Aerospace Engineering, so yeah, I’m a rocket scientist.”

“Damn, how’d you know what I was gonna say?”

“You’re predictable, Tones.”

“Tones?”

“Well, if you’re allowed to give me a nickname, shouldn’t the favor be returned?”

“I…yeah.”

So Jim becomes Rhodey, and Stark becomes Tony, and sometimes Tones.

Rhodey realizes a few months in that Tony doesn’t need protection.

Tony knows how to protect himself, with a sharp quip or an even sharper smile.

What Tony needs is love.

So Rhodey makes a new promise.

After Rhodey has to drag Tony out of another party, after slurred words become quiet apologies, after Tony falls asleep in his bed again, Rhodey calls his momma.

She tells him to bring Tony home for Christmas break.

In Rhodey’s eyes, Tony’s never looked more alive than when Momma Robbie convinced him to play Scrabble with her and Jeanie.

“That boy needs love, James,” Momma Robbie tells him, a mug of tea cradled in her hands.

“I know, momma.”

“You gonna make sure he gets it?”

“Pretty sure I already am.”

When the clock strikes twelve on New Years, Tony tries to kiss him.

They’re on the roof, the stars above them reflecting in Tony’s eyes, and Tony tries to kiss him.

“No, Tones,” Rhodey says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love you.”

“Just not like that?”

Tony’s voice is broken glass, slowly tearing Rhodey’s heart to pieces.

The lie is a knife to the chest.

“Just not like that.”

Tony nods quietly.

They don’t share a bed that night.

When they get back from break, after a silent car ride, Tony asks suddenly, “Wanna see my workshop?”

It would’ve been simpler to ask if Rhodey wanted to see his heart.

There’s no other to answer to give than yes.

It’s a beautiful mess of chaos, the only description befitting the place where Tony breathes life into wires and gears and lines of numbers.

Rhodey doesn’t know what to say other than, “Thank you, Tones.”

Tony hugs him for an hour, and then spends three more showing him each idea, and then uses another two to get lost in a new project.

Rhodey realizes that this is where Tony truly comes alive.

He’s a kid in a candy store, a bird taking flight, a genius at work.

And he’s beautiful.

The knife, the lie, digs harder into Rhodey’s chest.

Tony has bad weeks, and worse weeks, where Rhodey doesn’t see him for days, but it’s okay.

It’s okay, because Tony always comes back.

Rhodey learns about Howard during a bad week, and about Jarvis on a good one.

He learns about Maria on a good week, and about Ana on a bad one.

Tony brings him pieces, and Rhodey starts to build the puzzle.

Some pieces are missing, and will probably always be missing, but it’s okay.

Rhodey will love him no matter what.

And slowly, Tony is starting to believe that. Rhodey can see it in his eyes, in the way his mask comes off, in the way the cracks become windows for Rhodey to look through.

The summer is long. Tony calls him some weeks, emails other weeks, doesn’t talk at all for most of them.

The worst part is not knowing if he’s okay.

But Rhodey takes what he can get, and gives as much as Tony will take.

When they get back to school, there are fresh bruises on Tony’s arms. Rhodey gives him a new sweater from Momma Robbie and Tony wears it like its armor.

They get a dorm together, officially, and most nights, Tony ends up in Rhodey’s bed, in Rhodey’s arms.

Watching him wake up is the best part of Rhodey’s day.

It’s hard, to keep lying, but Tony’s still just a kid, and Rhodey won’t be another person to use him.

So he loves him in the ways he can, and it’s enough, because it has to be.

The whispers are constant, always talking about them, but this time, Rhodey truly doesn’t care.

He knows better than the lies they spread.

“Rhodey–Rhodey, wake up,” Tony whispers against his chest.

Rhodey grunts. “‘m sleeping.”

“It’s raining.”

“So?”

“I wanna go outside.”

It’s the look in his eyes that does it, the wonder. Rhodey’s on his feet before he even realizes it. “Okay, Tones.”

They dance in the rain on the roof, and Tony laughs, and Rhodey looks at him, and sees nothing but happiness, and feels nothing but love.

Rhodey kisses Tony on his 18th birthday.

Maybe it’s wrong, but the way Tony laughs against his lips and twines his arms around his neck is nothing but right.

“I thought–“

“I lied, genius, I had to,” Rhodey whispers, ready to let go, but Tony just holds him tighter.

“Thank you.”

“For lying?”

“For loving me the way I needed.”

#uhhhh yeah this was WAY longer than i expected but.#tony being so so so young and rhodey REALIZING that? yeah. i went fucking rabid with this prompt oops #anyway i'm pretty proud of this :D #tony stark #james rhodey rhodes #iron man #war machine #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #ironhusbands drabble #tony stark drabble #i hATE tagging #mcu #marvel #aven.writing

455 notes · View notes

nothingbutfangirlsmut · 3 years

Text

The Girl Out of Time

Pairing: Bucky x Reader and Sam x Reader

Background: Willow Roffe was born and raised in Brooklyn. She lived her life as happily as she could with her two childhood best friends Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. When they both left her to join the military she tried to continue with life but that didn't get to happen for her for the simple fact that she meant something to James Buchanan Barnes.

Rating: Story will be overall MATURE but not every chapter. There will be strong language, talk of both mental and physical abuse, some good ole angst, and smut. There will be a warning at the beginning of the chapter when it includes smut.

WARNING! SMUT! RATED MATURE! 18+! UNPROTECTED SOFT SEX!

Chapter 35

The kiss turned heated quickly making my entire body burn. I wanted him. I needed him. My sudden craving was like nothing I'd ever experienced. James Buchanan Barnes is my drug. My addiction. The one thing in this world I can't live without.

I hummed happily against his lips as I moved my legs to completely straddle him. He groaned softly as I put the smallest bit of pressure against his groin. I pulled my lips away from his to shower his sharp jaw line and neck with soft kisses. His hands moved to my hips squeezing slightly in silent encouragement. I grazed my teeth softly against his collarbone.

"Oh hell doll" he groaned quietly.

I smiled against his skin. The sound of his voice directed the heat of my body to my core. I raised up putting more pressure against his groin making him suck in a sharp breath. I chuckled softly as I pulled my shirt over my head then tossed it to the side. James was sitting up the next second. A hungry look filled his eyes as he licked his lips. He used his flesh hand to grab the back of my neck as he crashed his lips back to mine.

His flesh fingers slowly traced down my spine barely touching the skin causing goosebumps. I moaned softly against his lips as his fingers moved to the clasp of my bra. He had it undone in a few seconds then tossed it aside with my shirt. I gasped as both his hands each grabbed a breast. The sensation made my head spin and my breath quicken. One hand was soft and warm while the other was hard and cold. I didn't mind it. I actually liked the contract of flesh and metal.

I gently pushed on his chest so he'd laid back down. I stood up then shimmied out of my pants quickly. When I turned back to James he was half way through removing the long one piece toga like outfit he had been given. I watched him with a smile until he was lying in only his underwear. I sat back on top of him instantly loosing my train of thought from how warm and inviting his skin felt. He pulled me against him so he could kiss me softly.

"Get rid of this damn thing." James said in amusement as he tugged at my panties.

I pulled them down my legs tossing them aside. I didn't give him a chance to move before I started removing his own underwear. I hissed as I sat down against his well endowed member. I kissed and nipped at his neck as I slowly rubbed myself against him. I didn't want to rush this. He groaned as his hands gripped my hips.

"Didn't know you'd be such a tease baby doll." He smirked.

"It's no fun otherwise." I joked softly.

He chuckled then flipped us over in the blink of an eye. He hovered over me with gleaming, amused filled eyes. How could anyone be so damn attractive?

"Is that so?" James questioned teasingly.

My eyes fluttered closed as he softly kissed up my neck to my lips. Just as our lips connected in a soft sensual kiss I felt him push himself inside me. I gasped against his lips. James took the opportunity to overtake my tongue with his.

His movements were slow but calculated. His hands gently held each side of my face as he showered every inch of my skin he could with soft kisses. My eyes closed as my head tilted back. My mind was clouded by James. His warm skin, his breath against my skin, his firm yet soft hands, his scent. Everything. Everything that is James Buchanan Barnes overtook all my senses.

His movements remained slow and steady but I'd never felt something so good. Something so sensual and passionate. I felt like I was one with this man.

"James" I whispered softly against his lips when I felt the slow build inside me.

He hummed against my skin. I felt myself slowly clenching around him as the most amazing mind blowing orgasm took me over. My back arched as I moaned softly. James groaned against my neck. His thrusts became sloppy then he stilled. His whole body went stiff for a few seconds before he collapsed beside me.

I was pulled against him the next second. Both of us laid there silently for a few moments as we caught our breath.

"I love you Willow." James whispered.

"I love you James." I replied softly.

*One Week Later*

James has been training with Okoye and letting Shuri do research with him and his arm. I hadn't seen him much in the past few days. I made my way into Shuri's insane lab. I could see her and James on the other side of the room having a hushed conversation. I slowly walked closer to them.

"Okoye is finishing things up. I put my brother to work too. I have a few finishing touches to do when we are done here but everything is going perfectly." Shuri said quietly.

"Perfect. It will all be ready tomorrow right?" James asked her.

"Of course it will!" Shuri chuckled.

"What will be ready tomorrow?" I asked to get both of their attentions.

I watched as they both jumped in shock at my sudden appearance. They shared a worried and fearful look then they both shook their head.

"Oh nothing" Shuri waved dismissively.

"I should really go check on things." She said awkwardly.

She gave James an apologetic look then hurried out of the lab. I crossed my arms over my chest as I raised a brow at him. He tried to ignore my gaze as he slid off the table he was sitting on. He looked everywhere but at me.

"Are you really going to pretend I'm an idiot?" I asked sharply.

His head snapped up to look at me instantly. His brows furrowed in confusion.

"No, of course not doll. It's nothing seriously. Don't worry that pretty little head about it. Just some big training exercise Okoye and I have been working on." James said softly as he stepped towards me.

I watched his face for a moment noting he looked slightly guilty ad unsure. He was lying to me. I just huffed then walked away. I wasn't fond of being lied to for any reason what so ever. I heard his heavy footsteps behind me.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked as we walked towards the exit.

"I'm not fond of being lied to." I said harshly.

I stopped in my tracks as James somehow got in front of me. He gently grabbed my biceps pulling me closer to him. I took a deep breath then smiled softly.

"Baby doll, you're right I was lying but I can't tell you what's really going on. Just trust me please. You'll find out what we are up to first thing in the morning. I promise." He said sincerely.

I studied his face for a moment before I felt my resolve melt away. I nodded. He hugged me tightly then kissed the top of my head.

"Don't ever lie to me again about anything Barnes." I chided him.

"Yes ma'am" he nodded with a smirk.

The whole walk back to our hut my head swam with the possibilities of tomorrow. What was he up to? What could he have Shuri, Okoye, and even T'challa doing? It must be something big for all of them to be helping but what could it be? I'm gonna loose my mind trying to figure this out.

I laid awake for a long time just staring up at the hut. I couldn't get my mind to shut off. Eventually I completely passed out. When I woke up around dawn I was alone. James was no where in sight. The soft pink hue of the rising sun peaked through the hut. I dressed myself quickly then stepped outside on the hunt for James. Instead I found Shuri and two of her maids standing a few feet away in a quiet conversation.

—

#nothingbutfangirlsmut #fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #the girl out of time #bucky imagine #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #james barnes #mature #soft sex #unprotected sex #smut

23 notes · View notes

rainandhotchocolate · 5 years

Text

Marbles - Part 6

A/N HEY I HAVE BEEN SICK AS BALLS so sorry that this took so long, but you’ll be happy to know that in my delirium I started multiple fics in my notebooks, so I should have a few things to upload this week ayay.

This is the last Marbles part btw ;) But send me a message if you want anything more from these fun ol’ characters, I really like this fic!

It’s also bloody long for one of my chapters so I hope you enjoy hehe

Part 6

Dear Y/N,

I know it’s been a weird year

I wanted to say that I’m really sorry for treating you

I don’t know how you could do something like that, what have you become

You know you haven’t sent me a single letter all year, what do you expect me to think? If you’d just

I miss you.

Sirius.

~~~~~~~

Sirius’ heart was pounding faster than he thought possible. It was like his life was flashing before his eyes, but instead, it was just moments with her. Laughing on the Hogwarts express as they hovered small green, fake, frogs down the hallway and heard the shrieking of the first years as they ran in the opposite direction. Hanging their legs out the side of the small window in Sirius’ bedroom at the Black household as they listened to the new Queen album on repeat on the lowest setting so that his parents wouldn’t hear it. Seeing that small smile play on her face as told her about his new room at James’ house that was covered in pictures of them all and had a brand-new record player.

The way his heart skipped a beat when she arrived at one of the pureblood balls in a bright red dress that hugged her figure, her hair curled and shining under the large chandelier.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N’s lips were red, cheeks looking like they had been pinched, and Sirius couldn’t help but stare, wanting to drink it all in so he could have another memory of her to hold onto.

Y/N’s sharp voice cut across his thoughts.

“What are you doing?”

Sirius wanted to think that he knew her expressions by now, but after being apart for so long he couldn’t help but think that perhaps he was imagining the way she seemed to be holding back a smile.

“I… I don’t know, I just wanted to and…” Sirius felt the surge of confidence he’d had moments before fall short. He hadn’t exactly thought this the whole way through.

“You can’t just do that! You can’t kiss me and think I’m going to melt in your arms and forget everything you did, everything you thought that I could have done,” Sirius felt a stab of pain in his chest when he heard Y/N’s voice break slightly.

“I didn’t mean that I wasn’t trying to force you to forgive me, I just ugh,” Sirius huffed, the swirling of thoughts going through his head making him want to just turn around and sprint away, not have to deal with any more confusion. But he wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t going to let the girl he’d been watching from the corners for seven years slip out of his fingers once more, “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.”

“I thought you hated me, Sirius,” She replied coolly, watching him with daggers for eyes.

“I don’t hate you! I could never, I – fuck I really messed things up between us didn’t I?” He groaned, leaning against one of the large stone pillars that seemed to grow out of the dungeon floors behind him, “I got scared, I didn’t know what to do with the idea of having… feelings for…”

“A pureblood Slytherin,” Y/N finished for him. Sirius wasn’t sure if there was more understanding or spite in her tone, but he pressed on all the same, determined to get this out.

“Yes. And then I saw you, well saw what I thought was you playing a cruel prank on those first-years and it just gave me the perfect excuse to run away.”

Sirius blew out a long breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, waiting for Y/N to react, to do anything. Instead, she stood perfectly still, her head cocked to one side as she watched him closely. Once upon a time this might have meant she was working on something, a new spell, a new trick, something she would have shared with Sirius.

“So, what you’re saying, is that you were a coward?” She continued to watch him with her now infuriatingly blasé expression, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you goading me?”

“Perhaps.”

“Does this mean that we are ok enough to be teasing each other?” Sirius teased, a little hope fluttering into his stomach. Y/N sighed and raised a hand to her hips, shaking her head.

“Sirius you badmouthed me to all of my Gryffindor friends for a year, cut me off, made me feel like dirt for doing nothing more than what you would have done.” She paused, not making eye contact with him, “I can’t just pretend you never did that, that you don’t have a deep-seated issue with who I am.”

“It’s not you, it’s never been you, it’s how I- we grew up. You know that, you know it was about Slytherin and what that meant to me. You were different than them, are different,” The moment the words left his mouth he knew they were the wrong ones. Y/N’s nostrils flared, her mouth curling into a tight frown as he pleaded with her.

“I am not different from them. Slytherin has been my home, my support system, a better support than you have been these past few years. I cannot be separated from where I belong, and I don’t want to be. Either you sort out your problems with Slytherin and purebloods from the assholes who defile our name, or you leave me alone.”

With that she turned on her heel and stormed away, no doubt towards the Slytherin common rooms. Sirius suddenly had a flash of a memory, of her bringing him down here under the invisibility cloak so he could see it, the excitement in her eyes at showing him her space, her home. You absolute prat.

Sirius wandered slowly back up to the Gryffindor common room, not really wanting to go back but unsure what he could possibly do out here in the dark that would make him feel any better. The castle was cool, the stone floors and wooden bannisters sharpening every noise he made as he made his way to the Seventh floor. Her words kept repeating themselves over and over in his head I’m no different from them.

He hadn’t really realised until she put it into words, that that was how he had justified their friendship. And not just to himself but to his friends, to anyone who questioned their unlikely relationship, the pureblood traitor and pureblood heir.

He’d made excuses for being with her told people she wasn’t like the rest of them, that she only hung out with the others from her house so she would fit in, so she wouldn’t be tortured in her sleep. He had never bothered to ask whether they could have really been her friends, been kind to her, given her solace when he was somewhere else because how could they? They were Slytherins, would do anything to get their way, were loyal to only themselves, just like what was said in the Sorting Ceremony every year and was whispered throughout the Gryffindor common rooms since he was a first year.

Had he ever bothered to get to know any of them? Even Regulus he had ignored, pushed away, his own brother.

Sirius shivered, feeling a cool breeze come down from one of the open windows in the Gryffindor common room. He’d barely remembered moving his way through the halls in silence and getting through the portrait hole, but the air froze him to his spot. I messed everything up, I’ve messed everything up. The words carried him up into his dorm room where the four other boys were sleeping, Remus and Peter snoring loudly in the corner and James locked in a battle with his be spread. They carried him to the windowsill where Sirius used to write letters to Y/N to send across the castle or to her home over Christmas break. He picked up his quill and a roll of parchment, his chest a little tight and began writing, Dear Regulus.

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

In the weeks that followed Sirius had only one thought in his head, win back Y/N. He would do whatever it takes to prove to her that he could get over this the ridiculous story he had made up in his head about Slytherin evil, which he knew was likely the result of attempting to push away everything that had reminded him of his childhood, and the people he believed to see true evil in.

“Oi, Sirius! James is looking for you,” Peter had poked his head through the portrait hole, getting pushed in by a bustle of students coming back from Hogsmeade with bags filled to the brim with fake wands from Zonkos or fizzing whizzbees from Honeydukes.

“Oh shoot, I forgot I was meant to meet him, is he mad?” Sirius felt like he’d been in a daze, stuck in books, planning.

“He’s ‘James’ mad, he’ll be fine soon enough,” Peter brushed the snow off his clothes and sat next to Sirius, “What are you working on?”

“I’m glad you asked Wormtail,” Sirius replied, his eyes flashing with a kind of mischievousness he usually had when he was planning another prank, “but we’re going to need the others help on this one, where are they?”

“They went straight to the Great Hall for lunch, I wanted to check-in.”

“Cheers Pete, let’s get some food, shall we?” He stood up quickly, heart pounding in excitement. He had a plan, a way to show Y/N he was changing, he could change. The boys hurried down the stairs, mostly due to Sirius’ fervour in wanting to meet the other two as soon as possible

Sirius dodged a group of girls who were watching him closely as he entered the Great Hall and headed straight towards the Gryffindor table, sliding in beside Remus and James who looked very startled at his reappearance.

“Ok boys, we’re throwing a party,” Sirius grinned widely at them all, pushing forward a large notebook full of his very messy handwriting and a couple of fun doodles. There was a pause wherein the three other marauders stared at him, James still slowly chewing a large bite of potato.

“Fuck it, I haven’t stopped studying for a month straight,” Remus nodded his head slowly, “There’s a full moon in two weeks and I’d prefer to get trashed before I get trashed.”

“Good, this one is going to be a little different.”

Before long, the boys had spread people across the three other tables in the Great Hall spreading whispers of a large party that was going to occur the next Friday in the Gryffindor common room, everyone invited. They’d made a big point of ensuring no one knew where the invite had come from, given that there were certain people… or houses that may not come if they knew the four very annoying boys who were throwing the party.

The week felt like the longest Sirius ever had to endure and had many more trips to the dungeon than he would have preferred in order to try and lure Regulus out to talk to him. He would be damned if the Slytherin’s were going to miss the party just because it was in the Gryffindor common room. They had wanted to have it next to the Black Lake, but there was much more room for error.

“Merlin’s Beard Sirius, what are you doing here?” Regulus’ voice had deepened since he last saw him, and Sirius felt an irritated pang that he’d missed his brother going through the funniest part of puberty.

“You weren’t responding to my letters,” Sirius replied, knowing that this response would annoy his little brother, but not able to come up with anything more interesting as he stood there, trying to take in all the differences. He looked distinctly older, and paler, though Sirius wasn’t surprised since he hardly saw him out of the castle, especially since he’d quit the Quidditch team. His hair seemed to be unwashed and a little matted, unheard of for the Black family as Walburga would beat you silly if you didn’t look presentable at all times.

Sirius wanted to ask about these things but stopped himself, knowing that Regulus would just shut the common room door in his face.

“Yes, I would have thought you’d got the message by now,” He spat, not looking him in the eye. Sirius wondered if it would be harder to be as stoic if he did.

“Well I thought I would ask you in person then, there’s a party in Gryffindor tower tomorrow, you should come – you and your friends.”

“What? You’d dare mix with my Slytherin friends? Is this the new and improved Sirius? The one that didn’t leave me to take over as the heir of the Black family. Left me behind for a better family, new brother?” Whilst he was clearly trying to keep his face calm, Regulus voice cracked mid-sentence and he’d gritted his teeth to avoid it happening again. Sirius had expected this, he’d seen Regulus’ face when he slammed the door on his family’s home in Grimmauld place.

“It’s just an invite, nothing more.”

“Well enjoy your party,” Regulus turned on his heel and slammed the door so hard Sirius felt a cool wind whip him. He cursed, but left anyway, heading back to his dorm room. Perhaps he would change his mind Sirius tried to convince himself but he knew it was useless. Perhaps you can’t save everyone.

Friday morning felt louder than usual, with groups of girls giggling about outfits, and boys trying to seem extra macho as they walked passed, chests puffed out, wondering who they might meet tonight. Sirius couldn’t pay attention in class, and was incredibly thankful that the teachers were focused entirely on revision for their NEWTs, most spells that he had already mastered.

“Looking very suave, Padfoot,” James winked at him as he pushed him out of the way to look at himself in the mirror instead. James was wearing a full suit and bow-tie that he had bought in a muggle vintage store with Sirius last summer, “Lily’s going to faint.”

“I’m thinking for other reasons than you’re thinking,” Remus rolled his eyes, tucking his brown belt into his jeans.

“Are we supposed to be more dressed up?” Peter squeaked, looking a little green, wearing a large knitted jumper and blue jeans, fiddling with his sleeve.

“No, James just likes being obnoxious, take no notice of him,” Sirius pushed James out of the way so he could take over the mirror again, tucking in the Led Zepplin t-shirt into his black jeans.

The common room bustling with people from every house and year when the Marauders made their way downstairs and towards the fire. The furniture had already been pushed to the side, a large table with drinks and an abundance of food placed under one of the windows.

“I think it’s time,” Remus nudged Sirius as they heard the Fat Lady begin to complain loudly about the number of people she’d had to let into the common room in the last hour.

“ALRIGHT EVERYONE LISTEN UP!” Sirius’ voice boomed across the common room as it had almost completely filled up. James was standing next to him shushing anyone that dared whisper as he began to speak, “As you know normally our parties have a no rules rule attached to them.”

A loud whoop went up from a group of boys all wearing Gryffindor colours, some of the girls giggling up at them as well.

“But this party is going to be a little different.”

“That’s right, Mr Black, we’ve been hearing that there have been some disappointing acts of prejudice between houses. And whilst we’re not going to name names,” James pointed over exaggeratedly at himself, earning a trickle of laughter across the room, “we can’t be fighting each other before we’re even out there in the midst of a war.”

“SO, this time you aren’t going to know who's from where or what family or all that nonsense,” The crowd looked thoroughly confused, many looking a little sceptical at their slightly ridiculous speech but Sirius waved his wand towards the crowd and saw a quick change in expression. The bright colours and emblems that the students had so proudly walked in with had vanished, leaving grey scarves, badges or anything else that they had been wearing over muggle clothes.

“And so you don’t get all smart on us and just ask each other, we’ve put a tongue-tie curse on this room that will stop you from saying what house you’re in or family you’re from,” James added with a wink, “So make sure you know who your family members are before you go shacking up in the broom closets.”

“Alright, get cosy with some people you’ve never bothered to meet, drink our secretly spiked punch and please dance in ways that would annoy a significant other,” James waved his wand again and golden streamers flew around the room, hanging across the fireplace and windows and music began to blast loudly from the record player in the middle of the room.

They jumped down from the table, grinning widely at each other.

“A success!”

“Truly our finest hour.”

“Even I have to admit it was a pretty good trick,” Sirius whirled around to see Y/N leaning on the side of the table, a smile playing on her face.

“You came,” Was all he could think to say, and he wanted to hit himself for it.

“Of course, I did, I received at least 10 letters about it,” Y/N snorted, moving into the room and taking a look around.

“I sent one letter thanks, let’s not overexaggerate my commitment,” but he winked at her as they moved towards the windowsill and out of the way of anyone who had the potential to elbow them or pull them into a dance. They sat on the pillows lined across the windows, watching the party unfurl in silence for a moment.

Sirius pulled out a small package from his pocket, fingering it in his palm, unsure whether or not he should give it to her. Y/N seemed to make up his mind for him, taking it out of his hands and turning it over in her hands.

“What’s this?” She looked up at him curiously, obviously trying to feel what it was in her hand.

“It’s… well it’s for you,” Sirius admitted a little awkwardly, looking down at it in her palm. He wasn’t just working on the party this week, he’d also been fiddling with a small present for Y/N, something he’d thought about getting for her seventeenth birthday before they’d fallen out.

“You got me a present?” Y/N’s tone was confused but she was smiling, her cheeks flushing a little.

“Just open it,” Sirius nudged her shoulder playfully and she pulled apart the wrapping quickly. It revealed a dark green, little silk bag with a string tying it together at the top. Y/N opened the bag and felt inside, her eyes wide as she realised what was there. She turned it over and poured the deep green and white marbles into her other hand, smiling up at Sirius.

“Marbles, really?”

“Slytherin coloured marbles of course,” Sirius winked at her and she laughed, moving them swiftly between her fingers. Suddenly they rose above her hand and began moving on their own, dancing in the air in different formations.

“What’s happening? I’m not doing this.”

“Just watch,” Sirius was still smiling at the very confused Y/N, and she turned back to watch the marbles as they became brighter and brighter until they seemed to fizzle in the air. After a second Y/N leaned closer, realising that they were spelling out letters in the air, fizzing in the same green and white the marbles had held within them.

‘I’m very sorry, Y/N’

“Couldn’t seem to say that yourself?”

“Well I figured I would probably need to say it again at some point so it might be easier to have something on hand.”

“Ahh so you’re sticking around huh?”

“Well, that’s if you want me to,” Sirius watched her closely. He wanted to know what she was thinking as she looked up at him, placing the marbles back into the little bag. She leaned in a little closer to him, her hair falling across her cheek as she became so close that he could smell the shampoo on her hair and almost feel her lips across his and-

“If you don’t, I’ll kick your ass.”

“That is a very fair call,” Sirius breathed in response. Y/N closed the distance between them and kissed him. It felt different to the other kisses he had remembered, or daydreamed about constantly, it was calm and soft, her hand brushing against his cheek as if she had all the time in the world to be doing this with him.

“I do want to be better, Y/N, honestly I know I’ve been an absolute twat when it comes to Slytherins.”

Y/N smiled at him but said nothing in return. Finally, she stood up and turned to face him, holding out a hand.

“Let’s dance.”

Sirius took her hand and took lead, bringing her into the middle of the dance floor where the crowd was louder and distinctly wilder. He held her close, moving her around the room with ease and spinning her around every few moments, mostly because of the way she laughed every time he did. Whilst the music had continued to pound loudly with 70s muggle disco music, he pulled her in close, wrapping an arm around her waist so that he could feel her pressed up against him, feel her heartbeat increase slowly as they danced out of beat across the room.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“You know I… I love you,” He mumbled, feeling a little silly as he spoke into her hair.

“Well, Remus may have shown me some of your attempts at letters,” Sirius was grateful that she’d had the courtesy to sound abashed.

“Bloody prat,” He cursed, but she just laughed in return.

“I love you too.”

It took three hours for McGonagall to storm in and demand they turn the lights out and go to bed, but Sirius had a sneaking suspicion that she’d caught on earlier and given them a little extra time. Y/N had stayed behind, leaning her head on Sirius’ shoulder as they sat wrapped together on the couch.

“Are you ok?” Y/N murmured to him, looking up at him with sleepy eyes. Sirius had obviously not done a great job at hiding his disappointment and sighed.

“Yes, sorry,” He paused for a moment before ploughing on, “He didn’t come.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sirius.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N sat up and moved over so that she was sitting in his lap, arms curling around his shoulders and neck.

“He’ll come around,” She spoke softer this time, it reminded Sirius of when she would whisper in his ear at functions, making him laugh and sending a shiver down his spine. Today it was just the latter.

“I don’t know if he will.”

“We’ll make him.”

Sirius’ hearted jumped at her use of ‘we’, but he hid it well.

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

She leaned in again but this time Sirius moved to meet her lips first so he could pull his hand up against her neck and feel the pressure of her whole body pushed up against his own. He wanted to get lost in her body, ignore the little thought that swirled around his head telling him lies about what Regulus was up to, why he looked so tired. But then she flicked her tongue into his mouth and he forgot, leaning back so she could push him up against the edge of the couch.

He was right where he always wanted to be, and nothing else mattered.

Taglist: @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco @sly-vixen-up2nogood @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad @evyiione @minerva26love @aikeia @gollyderek @greatwombatblaze @songforhema @your-typical-giggle @1800-fight-me

@sophisticatedslytherin @takemetoneverland420 @hufflepeople @cosmiclunas @nadinissavage @sad-slytherinbitch @localserpent @dangerouskawaiiharrypotter @kneazlesgetitdone @oliolioxiclean @sister-stop @mcu-potter-pirate @kath0098 @jeowjungkook @oh-so-twisted @ashkuuuu @unique05sstuff @green-lxght @xsuperwholockaddictx-blog @introvertedmegalomaniac @marlenemckinnontrash @shrekstolemytoes @slytherin-batbitch @wittysidecharacter @siriuswitches @thatawesomeweirdo00 @maralisa124 @your-typical-giggle

#rainandhotchocolate #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius x reader #sirius x you #sirius x y/n #marauders #sirius black x reader #marauders x reader #marauders era x reader #marauders era #sirius fic #sirius #marauders fanfiction #marauders imagine

119 notes · View notes

tcswritings · 5 years

Text

Random untitled draft - I

It’s an unusually slow Friday evening at the Dirty Deed.

(Just a little somethin’ featuring Mick, Rosamund and good ol’ Father Moore. For fun only, not to go anywhere in particular… it’s just me messing around with my beloved peeps and their everyday behaviour, don’t mind me. :D)

***

“Here y’go, handsome. Cheers.”

Rosamund placed a large glass in front of her young regular, smiling sweetly, but Mick merely gave her an uncomprehending look when he saw that the glass did not contain the familiar golden liquid he expected but a weird pale pink brew instead.

“That’s, uh, no beer.”

“Well spotted. Eyes like an eagle.”

“Pf, I wish.” Mick mumbled. “I ordered beer, Rose.”

“Ah well, and now you get this. Life’s full of surprises. Enjoy.”

“I dun’ want this. What is it even?” Cocking his head a little, Mick took the glass rim between his thumb and finger, gingerly turning it on the spot and wrinkling his nose at the ominous beverage before he eventually looked back at the woman behind the bar.

“Y’know, it’s a bit like apple cider… well, uhm, with the little twist that it’s pink grapefruit flavoured. It’s called Sweet Sin. It’s grand, just try it already!”

Mick kept looking at her, never changing his mildly disgusted expression. Apparently he wasn’t keen on trying the drink and the look on his face clearly told Rosamund that he demanded an explanation.

“My supplier fucked up, okay?” she groaned and dropped her shoulders. “He left me with a dozen boxes of this” - she gestured at the drink - “instead of apple cider and for some weird reason they won’t take the supply back since I already opened three of the boxes before I realised I got the wrong stuff.”

“What? I mean, I’m no expert but since when is that a problem?”

“Beats me. Probably had an intern on the hotline or somethin’. Anyway, apparently I can only get a discount on my next supply of cider and until then, I must get rid of all the Sweet Sins and somehow not make a loss.”

“How can y’ not notice that ya got this shit instead of apple cider anyway? It’s pink, it doesn‘t look anythin’ like apple cider!”

Rosamund put her hands to her hips. “Ha! Aren’t you a little smartarse?” she scoffed. “Drink up, laddie, and when you leave later, you better tell all your little friends how amazing this stuff is and my little problem will be solved in a heartbeat.”

“That’s grave coercion, Rose.”

“Nah, come on, it’s just your favourite bartender asking a little favour from you. C’mon.”

Mick didn’t move.

“C’mon, give it a shot! You might be surprised!”

When Mick still didn’t touch the drink and merely raised an eyebrow at her, Rosamund groaned again. “What is it?”

“Don’t I get a straw?”

“Aaah. As many as you want, handsome.” Rosamund winked, pulling a little box with straws from under the counter and handing it to Mick. He bit his lip in concentration and eventually picked a pink one.

Rosamund nodded approvingly. “Goes well with the drink.”

Mick merely clicked his tongue and smiled at her. Just as he did, the front door opened and a tall man clad in black entered. At some point it had started raining - the man shuddered and let out a disgruntled little noise before he took off his wet coat, trying to find a good spot on the wall where he could hang it up.

“C’mon in, Elias, just take the coat with you.” Rosamund called at her new guest.

“Ah, but it’s dripping wet, dear, that’s hardly a good idea.” Father Moore replied as he eventually hung up his coat. “Unless you want to provoke some serious injuries caused by people slipping, that is.” he added, brushing off some last drops from his neck and shoulders before he entered the main room.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ on his holy bog, that shit’s disgusting!” Mick cried out only a moment later, swiftly putting a hand to his mouth and glaring at the drink in front of him.

“It’s good to see you, too, Michael. I’m relieved to see you never lose your spirit.” the pries sighed as he sat down next to the younger man, moving his bar stool a little closer to the counter.

“Evenin’, Padre. Uhm, sorry ‘bout, y’know. What I just said.”

“It’s alright, son, heaven knows you’re a good one deep down inside.” The older man now looked at Rosamund who did her best to suppress an amused grin but failed horribly. “ I’ll have the usual, dear.”

“Don’t even bother, you won’t get what you want anyway.” Mick now glared at the bartender as if she had meant to poison him.

“Is that so?” Father Moore raised an eyebrow when he eventually spotted the pink drink. “That’s a rather unusual colour for a beer.”

“Beer me arse, here, want a sip?” Mick pushed his glass over to the priest who backed away a bit at the unexpected action.

“Ah come on now, laddie, have some respect for our good Father. Here’s your Guinness, you earned it.” Rosamund laughed as she finally handed Mick the nice cold pint he had ordered about fifteen minutes ago. A few moments later, she handed Father Moore the very same.

“What? Why does he get what he wants?”

“Isn’t that obvious? I can hardly expect our Father to have a drink called Sweet Sin. You, however, look like you’d enjoy one every once in a while.”

“That is the worst bullshit I’ve-”

“Alright, alright!” Father Moore interrupted, apparently not keen on listening to another one of Mick’s tirades of foul words. “Let’s just move on to lighter subjects now. How’s the family doin’, Michael?”

“How’s that a lighter subject?”

“Just answer my question, son.”

Mick took a sip from his beer and sighed. “Well, we pretend that Ma’s better than she actually is and I think that kinda does make ‘er feel better in the end.”

“So, her arthritis is acting up again?” The priest sounded concerned.

“Aye.”

“I see. Well, it has been a while since I last visited your parents. I should stop by and have a chat again soon.”

“Aye, I guess she’d like that.” Mick nodded and took another sip.

“Any news from the road from Declan and the Australian? What is his name again?”

“James. And no. No news. I mean, I dunno. Ya might wanna ask Orla or Sarah or Sean next time ya see ‘em.”

Father Moore let out a little sigh and Mick couldn’t help but think that he sounded disappointed.

“I take it that you and Declan are still fighting?”

“Nah, not really. Just, y’know, not talkin’.”

“Yeah and that’s because the two of you are daft as heck.” Rosamund interfered in the middle of her way back from the other end of the bar where she had just handed one of the other few guests a new drink.

“Rosamund.” Father Moore warned and shot the bartender a stern look.

“What? Like it ain’t true? You said it yourself!”

“Oh, did ya?” Mick turned around on his bar stool so he could face the Father who merely pressed his lips into a thin line, looking at Rosamund as if to say something along the lines of “Did you have to?”. She merely shrugged and proceeded to wash some of the glasses.

“Of course I did not use those words.” Father Moore insisted. “However, son, I asked myself a while ago if there really isn’t any way for the two of you to eventually resolve that unfortunate situation you’re in?”

“I dunno.”

“Well, perhaps he will have made up his mind by the time he comes back?”

“I dunno. Dun’ think so.” Another sip.

“Michael, I may be mistaken but I am getting the impression that you are no longer concerned about how things will play out for the two of you which I find, well, a little alarming, to be quite honest.”

“Look, I appreciate that concern but maybe it is for the better, okay? I dunno. I dun’ care.”

“Psh, yeah, sure, you don’t care.” Rosamund chimed in.

“What? What are you on about now?” Mick was no longer able to hide his irritation.

“Just like you don’t care about Orla and her new beau. You’re so bad at pretending to not care, kid, it’s ridiculous.” Rosamund scoffed.

Father Moore closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation. “Rosamund, please.”

Mick bit his lip, looking back and forth between the priest and the bartender for a few moments. “I think I’m gonna leave.” he said curtly, reaching for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Oh no, sweetheart, please, there’s no need to leave, I’m just messin with you-” Rosamund began but Mick had already gotten up and interrupted her.

“Nah, y’know what, I should be goin’ home anyway.” He dug a few coins out of his wallet and gave the two a faint smile. “Thanks for the pink-shit-experience, Rose, that was life-changin’. See ya guys around, eh?” With a swift movement, Mick took his jacket from the back of his bar stool, put the money on the counter and hurried outside the room.

Father Moore and Rosamund looked after him for a few moments.

“I don’t believe this, Rosamund.” the priest chided once Mick was out of sight. “Why would you unsettle the poor lad like that?”

“Because I’m right and you know it and it’s about time someone tells these little idiots that they’re being, well. Idiots.” Rosamund crossed her arms and the posture as well as her defiant expression once again made her look like a stubborn teenager.

Father Moore merely raised an eyebrow.

“Besides, I love the look of terror on his face when someone mentions Orla to him in a possible romantic context. I haven’t done that in a while, y’know.” she added.

“I highly doubt that strategy of dealing with your customers is good for your business in the long run, dear.”

“Ah.” Rosamund dismissed the sentiment with a little wave of her hand. “He always comes back after all!”

“I am- I don’t know what to say.”

“Whatever you say, Elias, you won’t be able to deny that I’m right.”

“Why don’t you just leave these kids alone, dear?”

“Excuse me? Wasn’t it you who just voiced their concern about the situation? That’s not exactly ‘leavin’ someone alone’ either. Besides, they’re no longer kids, Elias.”

“Well, they sure act like kids at times.”

"True.” Rosamund chuckled.

“I’ve known them all for so long. It’s just really painful to watch them running into all these walls over and over. One would assume that they all have severe headaches by now but-”

“They’re thickheads! My point exactly!” Rosamund exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

“Ah, please don’t say that.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I am not.”

“You are so smiling, Elias. I’m right and you know it.”

Elias now laughed and shook his head a little. “You’re really one of a kind, Rosamund.”

“And don’t you forget that.”

(… to be continued… probably.)

#mick #rosamund #father moore

1 note · View note

lavender-lotion · 5 years

Text

And I Will Always Remember (The Way We Fit Together)

Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | M/M | Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America (Movies) | James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers | james "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers | Pre-War, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Confessions, Slow Dancing, Steve Rogers has a small dick, Making Out, Hickies, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time, Anal Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Bottom Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes, Fluff and Smut

***

Read chapter one here on AO3 or read all three chapters on Patreon!

***

Steve is...worried isn’t the right word, because he’s not at that point yet. It’s not uncommon for Bucky to be getting in late. Sometimes, work at the Dock runs till dark, and Bucky always stays so the men with children can get home on time. Steve doesn’t mind, really, he just wishes there was a way for Bucky to let him know, so he wouldn’t worry.

Not that he needs to worry about Bucky, or that there is any reason for him to worry about Bucky. Nope. Because Buck is his best pal, and that is all they’re gonna be. It doesn’t matter what Steve’s heart wants. They...it isn’t done, not that. It doesn’t matter what they’ve done with their bodies, Steve knows that a—a relationship, ain’t gonna happen.

It doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t worry, no matter how much he tells himself to stop. He’s keeping the stew on the stove, stirrin’ it around the pot slowly to keep it warm. Steve hadn’t had anywhere else to go after his Ma passed, and Bucky had a spare room he gave to Steve—not that it gets much use, though. Making dinner and doing the chores wasn’t a condition for Steve moving in, but if he was gonna sit at home like Bucky’s wife while he worked for both of ‘em, he was gonna do what he could.

Steve lets out a relieved sigh when keys jingle in the door, and he listens to Bucky let himself into their apartment. He doesn’t even try to lift the pot of their dinner off the stove, not when it’s so full. He’ll have Bucky do it later, after they’ve eaten and talked some. Steve might even work on a few sketches he has going while Bucky reads.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky says, coming up behind Steve and pressing in close, winding his arms around Steve’s small waist. Bucky presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, and he can hear Bucky breathe in deeply.

“I ain't no dame, Buck,” Steve snaps, but he doesn’t step out of Bucky’s arms. This isn’t something Bucky’s done before, and Steve doesn’t know how to react.

“Don’t be like that, Stevie,” Bucky breathes against his neck, his lips grazing the skin and Steve shudders. He always does, when Bucky touches him like this. “I don’t wanna be fightin’ with my best guy right now.”

“M’not your best guy,” Steve grumbles, though he knows it’s weak. This is everything he’s ever wanted, and he can’t even pretend to be upset. He takes a deep breath, mostly to build courage. “If I’m your best guy, it’d make you my best man, y’know.”

“Of course I know that, Stevie,” Bucky says, his voice dropping lower as he brings his hips flush to Steve’s ass. God, it feels better than it should, such a simple touch.

“Is that what’s got you all sour?” Bucky asks, easily hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder as he slips his hands under the hem of Steve’s t-shirt to splay out over his bare belly. “I know we ain’t never talked about it, but I thought you knew I was all yours, Stevie.”

Steve turns in Bucky’s arms, then, and he can’t keep the shock from showing on his face. Bucky gives him a lopsided smile, his flirting smile, and Steve rolls his eyes, even though his heart feels fit to burst. The words themselves are enough to make Steve’s whole world feel brighter, and the way Bucky has begun to sway them back and forth makes Steve’s chest warm.

“All mine, huh? And how’d lil’ ole me land such a stud like you?” Steve asks, and even though his face must be red with his blush, he presses a long kiss to Bucky’s chin, his stubble catching on Steve’s lip.

“You never had to land me, Stevie. You’ve always had me.”

“Gah, you’re such a charmer, Buck,” Steve jokes even as his cheeks get warmer, and he presses closer when Bucky grabs his ass, his smile turning filthy.

“I thought you knew,” Bucky tells him with a shrug. “I don’t wake up with just anyone.”

“Oh, ‘course. Silly me, should’a known all along,” Steve says, and he lets Bucky dance them around the kitchen. He rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder, wrapping his own arms around his neck to tangle in the hair along Bucky’s nape. Steve settles into the comforting rocking, letting Bucky lead.

Steve’s never danced with no one, not with the gal’s at parties and certainly never with Bucky. There’s no tune, but that doesn’t matter to either of them. He likes it. He likes how close Bucky is holding him. His head fits neatly under Buck’s chin, and Steve closes his eyes, his chest feeling warm and his heart feeling full.

“Why don’t you go wait for me in our bed?” Bucky asks after a few more minutes of them swaying around. Steve doesn’t miss the use of the “our”. It makes him smile, and he gives Bucky a slow kiss, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue until Buck groans real low.

“Don’t keep me waiting long,” Steve teases, practically running off to what has been their bedroom since he first moved in.

It had taken him a while to get over the insecurities he had regarding his body. He knew he was nothing special, hell, was the complete opposite of what the dames wanted but...Bucky had never looked at him with anything other than heat in his eyes. It was heady, for Steve, to know someone as handsome as Bucky was attracted to him.

Steve wastes no time in stripping down, and he lays himself out on their—their—bed as he waits. He’s already hard, his cock standing against his belly. He doesn’t touch it—he’s always been sensitive, and if he gets himself going now, he won’t last a minute once Bucky joins him. So, he closes his eyes as he waits, and he can’t quite stop his lips from shaping up into a smile at the memory of Bucky’s words.

Bucky’s voice startles him from his thoughts when he says, “So pretty for me, Stevie.” His voice is dropped low, more of a growl than anything else, and Steve whines in response.

He’s always been loud when they’re together like this, and tonight he’s even louder than usual. It feels like he can let go in a way he never has before, because now Bucky is his, and Steve is Bucky’s, and he doesn’t have to hide how much he wants this. He makes grabby hands, and the laugh Bucky lets out is pure joy.

Steve watches, eyes hungry, as Bucky strips down, revealing long lines of muscled skin. Steve’s always been attracted to Bucky, to his crooked grin and his bright eyes. It’s no different now. Now, he gets to see all of Bucky, have all of Bucky, apparently, and it makes Steve’s dick leak as Bucky climbs onto the bed.

“C’mere,” Steve whines, knowing Bucky likes the noises he makes.

Bucky only takes one of his outstretched hands, though Steve can’t complain when the other trails up his thigh. Bucky rubs along the crease of his hip before he starts to play with Steve’s balls and god, god, Buck’s hands have always felt so good. Steve’s own are smooth, as small as the rest of his body is, but Bucky’s are big and rough. The texture of them has always felt so good against Steve’s skin, against his dick, and the roughened texture is the main reason Steve never lasts very long.

Finally, finally, Bucky leans down for a kiss, coming to a stop with his entire body blanketing Steve’s. Steve spreads his legs wider so Bucky can settle between them easier, and Bucky keeps himself supported where his elbows are rested on the bed beside Steve’s ribs, careful to never press down with his full weight. Steve leans into the kiss, sucking Bucky’s bottom lip into his mouth like he knows Bucky likes. He palms Bucky’s arms, making an appreciative noise as he squeezes the flexed muscle.

Bucky is so big and he is so, so strong. He is so many things that Steve is not and will never be, but the contrast is part of what he likes so much. Bucky is grinding into the crease of his hip when Steve manages to get his legs wrapped around Bucky’s waist, twisting his ankles together at the small of Bucky’s back. He uses the leverage to grind upwards, the sensitive head of his cock scratching against the rough hair of Bucky’s crotch.

Unlike Steve, Bucky is hairy everywhere, and he loves it. Loves to run his hands over the soft hair along Bucky’s thighs, cuddle into the thick patch on Bucky’s chest. Steve isn’t very hairy, all pale, smooth skin and bones. But Bucky likes it, likes him, in ways Steve hadn’t thought possible.

It makes it all better, and Steve has to stop the kiss because he’s panting so hard, though Bucky doesn’t really pull back, only shifts so he can press their foreheads together. This is Steve’s favourite thing to do, just rubbing together, their bodies pressed so, so close, like if they tried hard enough they could become one.

Steve scratches his nails down Bucky’s back, digging deep enough to leave marks. Bucky curses, his back arching and Steve grins. He had no idea if Bucky was going to like it, but the thought of leaving marks was enough to have him try, anyway.

“So good, Stevie,” Bucky moans, and he leans down to attack Steve’s collarbone. They’ve never done this before, but Bucky’s teeth feel so good biting into his skin. It gets even better when Bucky sucks, and Steve makes an embarrassing noise even as his balls get tighter.

“Buck,” Steve moans out loudly when Bucky wraps a hand around both their cocks.

“Look at us, Stevie,” Bucky says into his ear, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin and it pulls a moan from them both.

Steve looks down, of course he does, and nearly loses it all right there. Bucky has them both in his hand, and while Steve had felt it, seeing it is so much better. Bucky moves his head down to continue sucking at Steve’s neck, somehow managing to keep a steady rhythm as he strokes them together. Steve’s brain feels like mush, heat licking up his spine and settling low in his belly.

“Look how small ya are, Stevie.” There’s a rough edge to Bucky’s voice, and it makes Steve whine again. He’s right, though, and just the sight of their cocks pressed together is one Steve will never get tired of.

Steve is small all over, another reason he ain’t ever tried with dames, but Bucky loves it. He’s never made Steve feel ashamed about his lack of size, not like the lads used to do in school. The first time they had been together like this, naked, Steve had been so worried. They were so young, just figuring out their bodies, but Steve already knew he didn’t look like he should.

But Bucky had loved it, had nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get closer, to get a better look. Steve hadn’t even had to touch him before Bucky was spilling, come messily shooting between them. Steve had followed, of course, and he hasn’t felt shy since.

“So much bigger than ya,” Bucky groans, speeding up his hand, and that’s it, all it takes for Steve to come, spilling between them as he cries out. He drags his hands down Bucky’s back, digging his fingers into his skin and holds on for all his worth as the world seems to explode out of his dick.

Bucky uses the wetness to slick his own cock, and his hand goes even faster. Steve’s mind has left his body, but he has enough sense left to catch Bucky’s earlobe between his teeth and tease it, just to help Bucky along a little. It works as Steve planned, and Bucky follows him over the edge, covering Steve’s belly in his spunk.

He doesn’t flop down onto Steve, never does, and instead falls to the side. They’re still all pressed together, both of them panting through the bliss. Steve feels his face slip back into a smile, happy and satisfied. He feels good, loose and pleased, and he hums with contentment.

“C’mere,” Bucky says through a mumble, and he pulls Steve onto his body, rolling onto his back so Steve has no choice but to follow and starfish over Bucky’s chest.

“Buck,” he complains, since their mess is gonna dry between them and they’ll have to peel themselves apart in the morning. Still, it’s only half hearted, and he doesn't protest further when Bucky’s arms tighten around him.

“Go t’sleep, darlin’,” Bucky tells him, his voice hardly more than a whisper—Bucky always falls right into sleep after he comes—and tonight Steve is thankful for that. He doesn’t need Bucky to see his blush, or the smile that threatens to split his face open at the endearment. Bucky’s never called him nothin’ like darling before.

He presses his smile into Bucky’s chest, and he doesn’t fight sleep when it pulls him down.

#lavenderlotion #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #fanfiction #my writing #mcu #marvel #steve rogers has a small dick

1 note · View note

the-truth-will-light-the-sky · 6 years

Text

Music Headcanon Part One

The Chocobros listening to music feat. Insomnia and Leide Crew

The Chocobros feat. Veritas (OC)

Music would be something like: Ice Ice Baby, Manolo and U Can’t Touch This, No Sleep ’til Brooklyn, WTF, Sabotage, etc.

All the bros would bob their heads to and fro to the sound of the beat.

Their feet would tap and stomp to the music unconsciously and quite uncontrollably so.

Noctis would sometimes do the ‘bad boy’ pout accidentally to which the bros would tease him incessantly, much to his embarrassment, but does it anyway.

Prompto would unashamedly sing to the music with Noct as his back up singer. He can actually sing, this dude. But he’d rather just blend in.

Gladio would look out into the distance as they’re driving in the car, pretending that they were making a music video of his ‘bad-assery’.

The bros and V would lip sync to No Sleep ’til Brooklyn. Every one is assigned their own parts and would try their best to sing in character. Ignis got carried away as he drummed his hands on the steering wheel. Prompto and Noctis would even stand on the car as they sang the lyrics to one another, both in their rocker state.

Ignis would deny it, but he absolutely love music like these that always get his blood pumping as effectively as Ebony can. He’d sip a can of it while chilling to the beats yoh

When in their own private company, the bros would goof around with dance moves they see from music videos. Noct would goof around but deep inside he really wanted to dance like a cool back street guy.

Prompto would be the most competitive — he’d do really sick moves and would even pose at the right moment in the song, entertaining the whole gang up to the late hours of the night.

Gladio would criticize Noct’s trying hard moves and would often tease Ignis to drop the act and just let loose; of course he doesn’t.

Ignis would be in the kitchen baking or cooking to his heart’s desire, only to sing to the lyrics all by his lonesome and ultimately busting some moves of his own while holding his spatula. V walks in and walks back out again once she sees Ignis shaking them hips as the kitchen smelled of vanilla. *I found a silly gif of Iggy dancing...but I suppose I’d leave the vision of him dancing to our imaginations. Haha!*

V likes some of the old music from ancient Eos and would often revel in the music as it was being played all around Lucis. She would dance the traditional steps and would often take Ignis’ hands and dance with him, their arms hooked around each other’s, his feet shuffling as best as he can. He let loose for a bit. It’s the wine, he’d say. But we drank root beer, Noctis said to which Prompto snickered and took a shot of a rather competitive Iggy.

Gladio’s playlist includes not just ‘bad-ass’ music but also love songs, like tons of it. He’d be bursting his lungs out, complete with emotions nobody thought they’d see on Gladio’s eyes. Then after a particularly sappy song he’d pipe down and keep to himself, just absorbing the raw emotions. Iggy sheds a tear in secret.

Noct would HATE it once V puts in her OLD MAN playlist. She likes to listen to lots of genre, but when she’s particularly vexed or just missing Ravus, she’d sneak in a short valse in the completely varied playlist. Ignis approves of this.

Hammerhead

In Hammerhead, Cid would listen to his so-called ‘ swamp and cowboy tunes’ all day, erryday as Noctis would say. Sometimes he’d sing the wrong lines or miss the timing in the lyrics and would speed his singing up once he realizes he was out of sync. Noctis and the bros would hide beside the garage, laughing their brains out as Ignis records Cid’s singing. They would replay it every damn time as the opportunity arises. Even a stick in the mud like Cor would *giggle* each time he hears this.

Cor Leonis finds out in Leide that Dave the hunter shares the same damn good taste in music. So every night, they’d light up the camp fire and tune those guitars and blow on those harmonicas so they’d commence their good ol’ dirt road singing. Nothing like two deep voices singing gritty music while chugging a cold mug of liquor.

Cid’s playlist: Anything from Hank Williams. Hands down his favorite.

Cor’s playlist would have a variety of genre, but these songs pop into my head each time I see the marshal : Old Before Your Time by Ray LaMontagne, Sitting on the Dock of The Bay by Otis Redding, Universal Soldier by Donovan, Sheena-Na-Gig by PJ Harvey, Capsize by Black Delta, Through the Valley by Shawn James, etc. Basically anything that has that vintage old vibes and missing home feels and some moody ones as well.

Insomnia

If back in Insomnia, Cor would open the door and ask them all to keep it down. Back in his room he’d take up his guitar and sing some of his ‘cowboy’ music. Shh nobody knows.

The hall in Insomnia is vast and music echoed all over the walls each time there was a celebration or a performance by the Royal Symphony. One day, completely bored to death, Prompto and Noctis used a small audio system to start rapping in the hall, the amplifier making their voices ring all around. They sang in the silliest way possible or would imitate any person’s voice and would comment on any topic like radio DJs. Monica wasn’t pleased when she heard how Prompto imitated her voice — he got an especially grueling training in firearms the next day.

King Regis would ask any close female friend to dance with him during a celebration and would be rather dashing. Veritas noted that he’s still quite the dancer thirty years ago, much to his satisfaction.

As a young man, King Regis loves to listen to instrumental compositions. He’s not into the whole modern music of his age, moreover the ones his son loves to blast out during the mornings and midnights. He prefers the calm he gets when he listens to instrumental music and yet, despite the fast beats, he likes to listen to samba music, too. Oh dear, Queen Aulea used to tease him about it. And it was only her who got the killjoy prince to dance to it…and his lover was only too pleased with herself for coaxing him to uhh, shake those hips. If only she had taken a photo of him!

After seeing Lunafreya on television and newspaper coverage as well as hearing about her on the radio, Nyx Ulric finds himself absolutely smitten with the Oracle. Of course he denies it. There’s no way he can crush on the most loved woman of Eos. She’s way up there and he’s like, a dude who lives in a slightly shabby apartment in a not-so flashy neighborhood in Insomnia, a guy who likes dirt roads and road trips while she’s probably into posh Altissian dinners, high end hotel rooms and a mansion that smells like sylleblossoms that probably practically grows in every corner. His list goes on and on. His friends, particularly Libertus and Crowe both find it hilarious that the hero and not so innocent friend of theirs is in ‘lurve’ with the purest human being. Of course it’s a contradiction, but what’s not to love about such a tragic infatuation story? They’d tease him during their breaks or whenever she appears on the media. Their go to song to push their lovestruck friend’s buttons is ‘Uptown Girl’ from a vintage band. And boy would Nyx’s ears turn red as the two would sing along, pushing an article of newspaper with Lunafreya’s face. The song stuck and unfortunately for Nyx, it’ll play in his head even until the moment he suddenly meets the Oracle herself. Poor guy.

26 notes · View notes

blahblahwritings · 7 years

Text

Cancelled Plans Means Cuddling and Blanket Forts

A/N: Requested by @radxxregs . Really sorry if this isn’t how you wanted it to be. I tried to make it fluffy and cute and I love the idea of blanket forts with Bucky so I thought I would incorporate that into this haha. I hope you like it c:

Warnings: None just fluff.

Words: 1634

Being an Avenger had its perks. For example, the Stark tower had luxuries such as a swimming pool, gym facilities, a small spa and several well-stocked bars which had accommodated your drunken self maybe just one too many times. Your favourite room, however, was the recreation room. It wasn’t so much of a room as it was an entire floor of the building but it had everything. From bar games like pool, darts and poker tables to consoles, a giant HD TV and arcade games, this place had it all.

More often than not, Clint could be found whooping Tony’s ass at darts which Tony would then return in equal measure by beating Barton at poker. Pietro preferred the retro arcade games because they were probably the only thing that could keep him entertained for long enough while Wanda sat quietly on the sofa reading a book from the giant bookcase that took up half a wall. All of the Avengers came here to unwind and to have a good time, sometimes even with a few drinks.

You, on the other hand, had taken to the built-in movie theatre through a set of double doors on the far right of the room. It was much smaller than the previous area but had an oversized couch which took up half the space accompanied by dozens of plush cushions. After moving into the tower, you stocked the cupboards above the sofa with large fluffy blankets for movie nights or even just to binge watch your new favourite TV show. Everyone knew to find you there, curled up in a nest of blankets and a pile of junk food nearby, it might as well have been your bedroom considering how many times you had slept there.

Today was no different. After cancelling your plans for a night out because of the rain, you found yourself wandering towards the theatre with a bag of your typical junk such as Doritos, chocolate brownie ice cream and a variety of biscuits. Walking through the door, you threw the bag on the sofa and immediately began rummaging through the cabinets for your favourite fluffy grey blanket. Bucky had bought you it as a thank you for being so understanding and not pushing him into opening up too quickly so naturally, it became the most precious thing you owned.

Whilst trying to find said blanket, your foot slipped in between two of the couch cushions causing you to lose balance and start toppling oh so gracefully to the floor. Though, you never actually hit the floor because two strong arms wrapped around your waist before you could fall. You instantly knew that it was Bucky just from the slightly cooler touch of his metal arm and his long hair tickling your neck. With a kiss on the cheek, he placed you down on the sofa, his left arm whirring almost silently through the movements.

“I still don’t understand how you can sneak up on people like that. You’re practically soundless, kind of like a cat.” You jest with a smirk pretending like you weren’t about to end up in the infirmary if he hadn’t caught you. He stood on the sofa next to you, fishing in the cabinets and quickly pulling out the one blanket you were looking for.

“Yeah well, that’s what years of rigorous assassin training does to you, doll.” He half-joked, covering you in the fluffy grey cloud. The smirk on his sinful lips matched with the playful glint in his eyes made your chest swell. How could one man be so disgustingly handsome? “What were you planning on watching?” He continued, changing the conversation topic as well as knowingly snapping you out of your daze. His gaze travelled to the DVD player which was hooked up to the projector before opening the disc drive to see what was inside.

“Honestly, I have no idea, I haven’t chosen yet.” You answered truthfully. With your previous plans out the window, you really didn’t have much time to decide. “Why don’t you pick something, Bucky Bear?” You suggested, using the teasing nickname you chose for him. Most people would take one look at Bucky and assume he was cold or distant but really, once you get to know him he’s like a big ol’ teddy bear. He always clung to you at night and would often wrap his arms around you from behind when cooking breakfast. Being in physical contact with you has always grounded and calmed him, so usually, you two could be found doing completely separate activities but in one way or another, you would be touching. He liked letting others know that you belonged to one another whether it was through hand holding, hugging or even simply pecking you on the cheek.

At the mention of your nickname for him, he let out a small chuckle which to you, was the most amazing sound you’ll have the pleasure of hearing. He slowly strutted over to the large shelves of DVDs and box sets, carefully considering his choices and your tastes. His stormy eyes browsed several rows before settling on a collection of dark cases. They had been on his watch list for a while but he hadn’t had the time to actually watch them. Picking them up he turned to you, a sheepish smile on his face which made your heart melt and showed you the boxes.

“Harry Potter...not bad” You smiled. Swiftly, he placed the first DVD in the player and grabbed the remote. You opened up the blanket, signalling for him to climb in. As he did, he wrapped an arm around your waist and grabbed your hand, lacing his metal fingers with yours. The cool touch sent small shivers through your body but you hoped he didn’t notice. However, judging by the stupid grin on his face he did. “Shut up.” You moaned.

“Didn’t say a word, Doll.” He laughed, the feeling vibrating on your back. Settling down, he pressed play and snuggled up to you as you both watched the TV.

…

About halfway through the third movie, you began to get restless. First, your legs were uncomfortable, then you couldn’t feel the arm you were leaning on and you had been lying in the same position for damn near six and a half hours. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you sat up causing Bucky to pause the TV and glance at you questioningly.

“I can’t stay like that it’s making me sore. Do you want a drink or anything? I’m making myself a coffee.” You stated, standing and stretching which revealed a small strip of skin above your pyjama shorts. Bucky stared at it before averting his gaze to your eyes as you waited for an answer. A smug grin found its way onto your face.

“Shut up” He mumbled with a small smile on his lips.

“Didn’t say a word” You mocked, turning and swaying your hips as you walked out the room to grab a drink.

Walking to the small kitchen in the corner, you began to fix yourself and Bucky some coffee. Two sugars for you, three for him. You remember being surprised when you found out that Buck had a sweet tooth, you had just baked a batch of blueberry muffins leaving them to cool on the counter. Ten minutes later you had come back to half a batch and a rather embarrassed super soldier with a fifth muffin in his hand. You smiled fondly at the memory. You didn’t really know him back then but since that moment you two had grown closer until he finally asked you out. Six months later here you are.

Finishing up with the drinks, you glance at the clock and realise you’ve been in the kitchen for twenty minutes so you rush back with the two cups and enter the room. At first, you hadn’t realised and simply placed the coffees on the table in front of the sofa, but then, as you swirled to apologise for taking so long you saw what Bucky had done. He had made a fort and a rather impressive one at that. The cushions were moved so that they created wall-like structures around the edges of the couch and all the blankets had been used to create either a roof or a nest inside. It looked ridiculously cosy. A small gasp escaped your lips as you took in the sight. Bucky was sat in the middle with your blanket, waiting for you to join him.

“James, this is..” You trailed off trying to think of the right word but your brain failed you. He patted the spot next to him and opened the grey blanket for you to lie in. As you made your way over to him you placed a slow, gentle kiss to his lips before he enveloped you in a hug, pulling you onto his lap. His body leant back and sunk into the sofa allowing you to lie down on him with your head on his firm chest. Only then did you realise how tired you were. Kissing the top of your head, he pressed play but your focus wasn’t on the TV.

Your ear was directly over his heart, allowing you to listen to the steady thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat. It helped you realise this was all real, that he was real. The rise and fall of his chest rocked you gently. His flesh hand made its way to rest on the small of your back, absentmindedly tracing small patterns on your skin where your shirt had ridden up. The simple repeating gestures and the rhythmic pumping of his heart caused your eyes to flutter shut, making you forget the coffee and instead lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

#Bucky Barnes #Avengers #james buchanon barnes #The Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Requested #Hope you like it my dear #Marvel Imagines #Marvel #Cuddling #Avengers Imagines

189 notes · View notes

themaraudersmapforpranks · 7 years

Text

Can you write a story where sirius has a huge crush on James's twin sister bit couldn't say because she is James sister. But latter both of them find out and the hilarity that happens coz even she likes Sirius( can I have ben barnes for sirius 😉)

*A/N: An AU where James has a twin sister named Elizabeth. Part Two.

Read Part One Here.

Feeling confident now that he had James’ almost-sort-of-blessing, Sirius resolved to ask Elizabeth out on a date the next day. But then classes got in the way, and they had Quidditch practice later that night, and she still seemed upset with James, so he thought it’d be best if he waited for another day or two.

Besides, he told Remus, he’d already waited this long, it didn’t hurt to wait a few days more.

Remus merely called him a coward.

Sirius argued he was being strategic.

Those days turned into a week, which turned into two, and the game in between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor was started and finished in a handful of minutes.

When the game was over, Sirius went down to finally ask Liz to join him at Hogsmeade for a celebratory drink – only to find her snogging Anthony Stephens.

It turned out that small little date they’d had the week before had gone really well and now the two were dating. Sirius suspected that part of it had to do with what James had told Liz beforehand.

James shrugged apologetically when he found out, defending his self by saying that Liz had caught the snitch in record time, just as he predicted.

Remus assured Sirius that the relationship would likely fizzle out soon anyway, and he’d have a chance to ask her then.

Only it didn’t fizzle out.

Months passed and the two were still together.

Sirius tried to move on, dating other girls to distract himself, but his mind always wandered back to Liz.

What was she doing right now? What was she wearing? Who was she with?

One Friday night, Sirius volunteered to go to the library to do a bit of research for the map they were making.

Okay, he didn’t so much as volunteer as more was told to get out of Remus’ space while he was hard at work. James was permitted to stay as he was giving Remus the layout of the third floor and Peter was sent to the kitchens to get food for the boys since the house elves tended to favor him over the others.

Sirius read, and then re-read, the passage he was staring at about placing tracking charms on people. He’d decided that it’d be cool if they could track the location of different people in the school, especially the teachers, to make sure they could move around without getting caught.

He jumped slightly when a book dropped loudly against the table and a figure sat down in the seat next to him.

“I wouldn’t have expected to see you here on a Friday night,” Liz said, opening her own book.

Tired, Sirius asked, “Why’s that?”

Liz shot a confused look over at Sirius, clearly wondering why he wasn’t rising to her banter and awkwardly replied, “I would expect you to be off with Marlene. Heard you two were shacking it up recently.”

Sirius scrunched his nose, “I went out with Marlene once a few months ago. But, no, we’re not together.”

Liz froze in her spot, her mouth forming a small ‘o’ before she sighed, “Oh. I thought – never mind. I must have been misinformed.”

Sirius shook his head, forcing himself to ask, “Where’s Stephens tonight?”

Liz licked her lips, her eyes never straying from the page she had randomly turned to, “I don’t know. Said he was busy. Thought I’d come start on some homework due next week.”

Sirius frowned, “Busy? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What are you working on?” Liz asked, pointedly ignoring his question as she leaned over to read the title of the page Sirius was on, “tracking spells? What class is that for?”

“It’s not for a class,” Sirius dismissed, turning in his seat so he was looking fully at the other girl, “And what kind of idiot skips out on spending Friday night with his girlfriend?”

“Anthony’s not an idiot,” Liz automatically defended, her lips curling as though the words left an unpleasant taste on her tongue, “He’s probably just spending the night with the boys.”

Sirius snorted, “Probably. That’s reassuring.”

“Why does it matter?” Liz asked exasperatedly, throwing her hands into the air.

Sirius deflated, his shoulders dropping low as he turned back to sulkily look at his page, “It doesn’t matter.”

Scrunching up her nose, Liz asked concerned, “Are you okay?”

“It’s for a prank.”

“What?” Liz asked confused.

“The tracking spell,” Sirius said, ignoring her question and nodding down to his book, “I’m doing research for a prank.”

“Huh,” Liz said, “I always assumed that Remus did most of the research for the group.”

“Nah,” Sirius answered unconcerned, “He’s too busy with prefect duties and pretending like he’s a good kid. James is too obsessed with Quidditch and Peter’s in charge of the snacks. So, that leaves little-‘ol-me.”

He turned a flashed a charming smile and a wink at Liz who smiled back.

“I guess there’s a lot more to you than I thought,” she admitted, pushing aside her book so she could lean forward a little closer.

“Oh, no. Definitely not,” Sirius assured her, “I’m very shallow. This is actually the first time I’ve ever been to the library. I had to bribe a first year to show me the way.”

“Uh huh,” she replied with a knowing smile, “Sure.”

Sirius turned, momentarily distracted by how bright Liz’s smile was, longing to memorize the sight so he’d never forget. He rarely got a smile from her direction, so to have one now was amazing.

“Why anyone would turn down a night with you is beyond me,” Sirius admitted softly.

He watched Liz’s eyes widened as the words registered in his mind for what he’d just said. He coughed awkwardly, turning his eyes away immediately, grateful that he didn’t blush easily or his secret would be given away for sure.

“Why would you say that?” Liz whispered, not willing to let the topic of conversation go.

“Because it’s true,” Sirius mumbled, refusing to look up.

“But, why?” Liz asked softly, her voice riddled with confusion and vulnerability.

Sirius forced himself to look up, only to gulp when he realized that Liz was right there.

He whispered, “Because you are smart and funny and gorgeous and any guy would be lucky to have you.”

“Really?” She asked licking her lips as her eyes flickered down to look at Sirius’, “Any guy?”

Understanding what she was hinting at, Sirius gulped nervously but nodded, “Yes.”

His body was completely frozen as Liz leaned forward the rest of the distance and placed her soft lips onto his. It took a moment to register the feel of her lips against his, but he quickly retaliated, leaning forward into the kiss, reaching up to grab a handful of her hair to hold her close.

Their lips moved together, almost as if they were made to form perfectly against each other’s mouths, as time seemed to stop and the world stood still.

Then a book went crashing to the floor, causing a loud sound, that broke the two apart immediately.

They both stared at each other, eyes wide and blinking as they realized what had just happened.

Liz stammered as she jumped up from her seat, grabbing her books and papers haphazardly, mumbling beneath her breath, “I have to go.”

Within a blink, Liz was gone.

Sirius sat there, his mouth slightly agape, staring at the empty chair Liz had sat in just a few moments earlier, his fingers unconsciously reaching up to touch his lips.

What the crap just happened?

A week passed by and nothing happened.

Sirius tried to push down the disappointment in his chest every time he saw Liz, wishing that he could relive that moment in the library once more.

He’d confessed to the boys what had happened as soon as he came back to the dorm that night.

He never was good at keeping secrets from them and they could tell that something was wrong with just one look.

The other three had sympathized with him, assuring him that it would all work out.

James even offered to go talk to his sister to set her straight because even though she was family, Sirius was family too and he’d do anything to make sure he was okay.

Sirius appreciated the sentiment, but firmly told James no. The last thing he needed was James to sort out his needlessly complicated love life in between him and his twin sister.

That was just weird.

It was Saturday morning, another opportunity to go to Hogsmeade. Sirius had debated on whether or not he wanted to go with the boys before telling them to go without him.

They’d all given him looks of pity, and then made him promise he’d meet up with them later for a drink at the Three Broomsticks. He’d given them a noncommittal nod and watched them leave.

When he was sure everyone was gone, he went down to the common room and plopped down onto the armchair closest to the fire.

His silence was undisturbed for a few short minutes.

“What are you still doing here?”

Sirius looked up, surprised to see Liz standing above him with her hands on her hips and a cross look on her face.

“Where am I supposed to be?” he asked dumbly.

“Hogsmeade?” she answered slowly.

Sirius shrugged, “I decided not to go.”

“Well why not?” she demanded to know.

“Because I – I wanted to – I didn’t – Why are you still here?” He stammered, turning the question back onto her.

“Because I didn’t have anyone to go with,” she answered honestly.

“You didn’t have – “ Sirius squinted his eyes in confusion, “What about Stephens?”

“What about – ?” Liz stopped, her eyes widening slightly as her stance shifted to a less hostile one.

“Anthony and I broke up. A week ago,” she answered shortly, “You didn’t know?”

Sirius heart hammered in his chest, “No? Was I supposed to?”

“I thought – “ Liz’ head looked down as her voice trailed off, clearly deep in thought.

Determined, she looked up with a fierce look on her face, “Look, do you want to go to Hogsmeade?”

Sirius blinked once, his mind trying to race to catch up with Liz in this conversation, “What, like right now?”

“Yes, right now,” she answered, “With me. Like, on a date.”

“You’re,” Sirius mind came to a complete halt, “You’re asking me out on a date?”

“Yes,” Liz said decisively.

“But,” Sirius couldn’t figure out how their conversation had led to this, “But I was going to ask you out.”

“And I’ve been waiting all week for you to,” she said annoyed, “But you didn’t, so I figured I might as well be the one to do it.”

“I thought you still had a boyfriend!” Sirius defended himself incredulously.

“Well, I didn’t. I don’t. At least, not at the moment,” she sent a pointed look in Sirius’ direction that caused his body to heat up.

Boyfriend.

Suddenly, he really liked that word.

“So Hogsmeade?” he clarified.

“Yeah?” Liz answered.

Sirius shrugged, a smile twitching at his lips, “I’m gonna have to check my calendar, make sure I’m free.”

Liz rolled her eyes, sighing in exasperation as she raised her hands in the air as though she’d given up.

As she turned out to walk away, Sirius jumped up from his seat and placed his arm over Liz’s shoulder, placing a kiss on her cheek and whispering in her ear, “Nothing would delight me more.”

#gayatri #prompt #the marauders #the marauders map for pranks #part two #original work #fan fiction #original character #elizabeth potter #James Potter #Sirius Black #james has a twin sister #alternate universe

86 notes · View notes

star-nova · 5 years

Text

The Lives of the RiffRaff: Arthur Ratliff-Fight Club

Previous chapters here.

“Everybody here?”

James takes a mental headcount of everyone huddled in a circle around the room. Yep, that's everybody except for Gil, who'll be by after he closes up his truck for the night. James throws us two thumbs up.

“And the door?”

“I'll get it!” I hop the stairs two at a time and crack the door open just enough to stick my head out. If anyone's around, we gotta pretend to play board games and bop around to the rave music that's playing. If another RiffRaff passes by, I have to throw up the signal—two fingers and a thumb—and they'll throw it right back, letting us know that they know what's going on down here but would rather stay away. But there's no one out there but a crow trying to pick off some dropped funnel cake. We're a food cart, a Frog Bog, and two porta-potties away from the rest of the fair.

“We're good,” I say, shutting and bolting the door and going down two stairs at a time. We can start this shit up.

Talia's first, as is traditional. She is the one who rents us this place, after all. She clasps her hands behind her back and makes her way around the circle, her roving eyes seeking out her first victim; you can't fight Talia and not be a victim. On the outside, she's Talia Isadora Santiago. In here, she's Death Warrant. Nobody ever actually beats her unless there's a glitch in the system, but that doesn't make her any less of a good time to fight. Me! Me! I try to telepathically will her. Pick me, dammit! I'm about to holler, but before I get a chance to a hand shoots up in the very back of the room. “I'll go.”

We all turn our heads and crane our necks to see who dares. “Oh shit!” I yell out when I get a look at the owner of the hand. The whole room erupts all at once. It's Clara Sanchez. Big Clara. Forty-five years and five-feet-ten-inches of pushing cinderblock and driving forklifts and hauling heavy metal beams. The woman is a unicorn, a female construction worker in a world where women are still expected to wait tables and clean floors and make babies but please don't abort them. And she is built as hell.

She might beat anyone who isn't Talia. But she won't beat Talia.

Clara weaves her way through the restless crowd and stands with her arms crossed at the edge of the circle. She's close enough for me to stick a finger in the hem of her jeans, so she hops aside and gives me a deadly look. “Hands to yourself, Ratliff,” she says. I just grin.

Clara says, “Come here, Talia.”

Oooooooh! What did this bitch just say? “'Scuse me?” Talia says, without moving.

Clara crooks her finger at her. “C'mere.”

Aw shit. This puts Talia in one hell of a position, and it's going to piss her right off. On one hand, you don't show up in her world and start acting like you can call the shots. On the other, if she refused to obey, it might look to the ordinary observer like she was backing down. Talia Santiago doesn't back down. She isn't afraid of a damn thing.

With her hands jammed in her pockets, Death Warrant stalks across the room, head held high and eyes firmly locked onto the stony face of Big Clara. She is every inch a dangerous threat, the deadliest thing to enter this room. “I'd back the fuck up if I were you!” I holler to Clara, hoping to rile the both of them up. This is going to be lovely to behold. That big bitch will topple like a sycamore tree, landing with an unceremonious thud against the ground. Tim-berrrr! I crack myself the hell up.

Talia stops a mere three inches away from Clara's nose. At six feet, she's taller even than that tower. I go up on my knees and crane my neck out real far and yeah, she's got her fists clenched tight and quivering in those pockets. In a flash, she slips them out. I let out a whoop. I know exactly what she's about to do. She's gonna take that bitch right out before she even gets a chance to do anything about it. Big Clara may be impressive, but you gotta be an idiot to call Talia out in her own territory.

And then I blink, and the tables turn. Clara tackles her, and in another blink the two are tangled up like two cockroaches trying to make love. The crowd roars. Beside me, James bounces up and down like a Mexican jumping bean on crack. Talia's fists are in shackles, but Talia don't need fists. She thrusts her knee upward and jams it in Big Clara's stomach hard enough to make an “oof,” and then she's on top of her.

“Yeeeees!” I cry out as Talia starts to pound the shit out of that big bitch's face. But on about the fourth swing, Clara grabs both of her wrists and thrusts herself upward, busting free of the pin and forcing Talia back. She gives her a taste of her own medicine—a knee to the stomach—but Talia holds her ground. The whole thing becomes a wrestling match.

For the next two and a half glorious minutes, I get to watch these two very large, very built, very sweaty Latina women roll around all tangled up in one another, while Cobra Starship plays in the background. I've got a boner as monumental as the fucking Space Needle.

In the end, it's Talia's dirty moves that bring the fight to a close. Up until then, Big Clara's managed to convince me that she can stay locked up in this two-woman war forever. But then Talia goes for the throat.

“Whoohoo!” I holler over the cries of the restless crowd. “Ye-e-eah! Choke that big bitch out, Death Warrant! Choke! Her! Out!” It would be enough to keep Talia going if James hadn't blared the whistle. Unfortunately, he has to; there's some honor in our secret underground fighting ring. There are rules. Talia lets go and Clara coughs as she stumbles to her feet. Bex and Paige rush to her side to catch her hands and make sure she isn't dying.

“Talia,” she chokes out once she's got her voice back, “you're a damned monster.”

A reaper smile crosses Talia's face. It's as good as a victory for the mighty Death Warrant! Around the room, the shouts and murmurs only serve to power her up. “Can't hold back...dirty bitch...gonna kill someone someday.” She tosses her ponytail back and laughs. She is the Queen of the Monsters on her throne, and oh man is she ever getting me fired up.

Without any further ado, I bolt into the ring and stand at attention before the champ. “Death Warrant,” I declare, “I challenge you to mortal combat!” I'm itching to make a real speech out of it, to say something long and grandiose for the ages, but I learned the hard way that Talia has no patience for that shit. With her, you gotta be on guard the very instant you set foot in the ring.

The crowd erupts into one big ol' “ooooooh.” I overhear Elijah say something about showing off.

“If he wins,” Bex calls out, “I'll take him!”

“He ain't gonna win,” Craig assures her. He's probably right, but if I do, I'm guaranteed a fight with an Amazon. Either way, I'm gonna have fun.

“Well then,” Talia says with her hands on her hips, “come at me, Joker.”

It's a front. You never come at Talia first. You let her come at you, so you get somewhat of an idea of how she's going to come at you. Clara understood this, and that's how she was able to last so long.

So I jam my hands in my pockets and wait.

“Come on, man!” Ramona hollers. “Somebody do something!” I lock eyes with Talia through the slits of my half-mask. Still, she won't move.

Then I rip the mask off, and my gaze shifts to her boobs.

Aw yeah, that does it! She charges me, and I drop to the ground and roll out of the way. “Nyeh, nyeh, nyeh!” I stick my tongue out and my middle finger up, living up to my fighter's name in every way. Within a second, she's got that finger in her grip and she bends my wrist back. “O-o-oof!” I yell, just to fake her out enough to nail her right in the abdomen. I grab her by her shoulders and nail her two more times.

James claps in tune to the two syllables of both my names: Jo-ker, Jo-ker, Jo-ker or Ar-thur, Ar-thur, Ar-thur! The rest of the crowd, on the other hand, doesn't seem to know who to root for. They don't want to cheer for Death Warrant since she's probably going to win anyway, but they also don't like me enough to root for me. Oh well, James is still my man.

Talia strikes me in the chest and then sails in with a left cross. I duck out of the way and make a flying leap across the room. “Missed me, missed me!” I taunt her. In the crowd, Elijah calls out, “You're a fucking coward, Arthur!”

She comes at me again, and this time I let her get me with her right hook. Who's a coward now, asswipe? She comes back in, but I slip out of the way and sock her full force right in the gut.

“Shit!” Clara cries out as Talia stumbles back. While she's impaired, I go for an upper to the chin. What else can I do? What else is there? If I kick her, it'll be an invitation to floor me. I got three seconds to think of something, and I do. I pin her against the wall.

I'm in a dangerous place. Boxing Talia in a corner is the same as boxing myself in a corner with her. She can do anything she wants to and so can I, but I know she won't screw herself out of a true victory by going for the throat again. In a flash, I nail her in the gut with my knee, but when I come back a second time, she catches it. Damn.

Before she can pull me under, I sock her hard on the nose. She's stunned! Now for another jab, a right cross...holy shit, could I actually win this thing? If I can just hold her off for as long as possible, then I'm good. Fighting Talia is all about holding her off. The woman is an automaton, but everybody has a breaking point. I just gotta hope that she reaches hers before I reach mine.

To win a fight against the legendary Death Warrant would make me a legend among the RiffRaff. If I win this fight, I can be something, something other than “Crazy Arthur Ratliff” and “that piece of shit who lives down the road.” The former is my RiffRaff name, the latter is the title so lovingly bestowed upon me by the Others. I wear them with pride, but would wear “Arthur 'The Joker' Ratliff, Slayer of the Mighty Death Warrant” like a king wears his crown.

By now, I've lasted longer than Big Clara. Talia's got something like respect for me that holds her back from trying any dirty tactics. My balls are right there (and quite swollen in the heat of the moment), but she won't go for them. Clara Sanchez was nothing to her but an unruly nuisance that needed to know its place. But me, I'm her equal. She's fighting me like I'm her equal. Something about that makes me want to stick my tongue in her mouth after this fight, but if I do that, I can count on a knife in my throat in the morning.

I've just gotta wear her out befoe she runs me down. Really, it's more of a dance than a fight. I shuffle around and throw a punch when she gets too close, then slip away and make her come at me from across the room. This works three times, but then Craig—that dick!--has to go and rile her up: “Is this a fight, or are ya playin' tag?”

It's enough to piss her off. She charges at me, and before I can react, I'm on the ground. I'm not gonna win this. I'm not gonna be a legend. I grab one wrist before she can cuff me, but she doesn't let me grab the other one. Come on, Arthur, bust out! If I can't break free, it's over. But she's strong as hell. It's like being pinned under a big ol' oak tree that's socking you in the gut over and over again.

Then I notice her weak spot. Her ponytail's slipped out from under her cap. I throw aside her caught arm and reach for it.

She realizes her mistake and slips backwards.

I cuff her right on the ear.

She's stunned! I can pull back. I can roll away. I can get on my feet. I can charge her!

The Joker has pinned Death Warrant to the ground! The crowd can barely contain themselves. History is being made right now. I sink my knees into her ribs until I can feel them poking me in the caps. My hands curl into two claws, digging their way into her shoulders. She ain't gonna get up, not if I have anything to say about it. She can have all the fight in the world left in her, and she probably does, but I ain't gonna let her use it.

“He-ey, Joker!”

Holy shit, that's James. That's James' voice hollering out like that. So this it, then. History is being made. Instantly, all the attention in the room shifts to James, which is exactly why the poor guy doesn't like to talk in the first place. But now here he is, throwing aside his principles—his self-imposed vow of silence—all for his good buddy. As the crowd gets itself riled up, he claps so loud that I'm almost afraid we're gonna be found out. “Take the bitch down, Joker! Take her down! Take her down!” James Weaver is too damn good for this shitty world.

Talia's whole body is shaking with the rage she's holding up in there. She's gonna do something if I give her any opportunity at all. So I don't. I spread my body out and press myself down on her as hard as I can.

“I give.”

I don't move. “What was that?”

“I said I give.”

I never, ever thought I'd hear those words from the mouth of Talia Santiago. “No bullshit?” I ask, just for clarification.

“I fucking give, Arthur!”

I slide to my feet as cautiously as if the floor's covered in broken glass. The room is creepy silent. I brace myself for an attack, but there isn't one. Talia walks away!

“He won!” Elijah calls out in utter disbelief. “He...Arthur won!”

Arthur 'The Joker' Ratliff is the first to slay the mighty Death Warrant! I laugh, but I don't know why. James raises my hand way up in the air. I'm crying, but I don't know why. Nothing will ever be the same again.

“Jo-ker! Jo-ker! Jo-ker!” That sound is gonna show up in my dreams for the next year. I live for it. This is my birthday and Christmas and I've been elected President all at once. This morning I was still Crazy Arthur, the piece of shit from down the road, to RiffRaff and Others alike. The faces looking back at me, whooping out my name like I'm Alexander the Great, wouldn't have given me the time of day just two hours ago. But now I'm their hero. Now I'm a legend.

Now I'm something, in a world where somebody like me can actually be something.

#Fiction by Me #The Lives of the RiffRaff #writing #work in progress

0 notes