UGH

good lORD I —

SEBASTIAN STAN ENDINGS, BEGINNINGS

adding to my favorites for sure ♥️

I. "Do You Trust Me?"

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

A slight against one of your dearest friends causes you to act wildly out of character, and Bucky finds himself stepping up to save you as he realizes just what you mean to him after months of seemingly innocuous encounters.

Warnings: Language, Period Typical Sexism, References to Cheating, Reader Knees a Man in the Groin, Perceived Threats of Violence, Plenty of Kissing, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - T.

Author’s Note: Well here we are, watching me write for this show before it's fully aired. Blame/credit to @precious-little-scoundrel and her anon for infecting my brain. Reader has an unnamed brother for sake of plot, no descriptions or y/n used. Events of this fic take place a few days before the horrific Regensburg mission. Also I recognize that WACs did not arrive in the ETO until July of 1943, this fact does not seem to have influenced Hanks/Spielberg so I shan't let it influence me either. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 4217

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The pub was crowded, as usual, and Bucky leaned back in his chair as Curt regaled their table with another one of his stories from Walla Walla. The press of uniform clad bodies, damp from the summer rain outside, created a humid atmosphere. But as he tipped the last few drops of Scotch whisky from his glass into his mouth, he was certain there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Buck had decided to sit this one out, wanting to catch up on his latest letter to Marge. His mouth ticked up at the corners as he reflected once again on how different he and his friend were from one another. Glancing at the bar while he contemplated fetching the next round, Bucky’s eyes widened as they fell on the last person he would ever expect to see in a pub. It took him a moment to recognize you in such an unusual environment, hair perfectly styled. He noted that you were even wearing makeup as your teeth sank into your brightly painted lower lip, wending your way through the crowd, clearly on a mission.

“Bucky are you even listening?” Curt chided with a sharp jab of his elbow into his upper arm.

“Yeah absolutely,” He nodded firmly, unable to take his eyes off you, “every word.” He tacked on as his gaze followed you across the room on your approach to the notorious flirt from 349th squadron, Arthur “Red” Jameson.

He was vaguely aware of the doubtful scoff his reply had earned as his eyes narrowed. Wasn’t your friend Mary rather serious about Red? Not that Red bothered limiting himself to any one woman, local or American – there were few limits that smug redhead put on his relations with the fairer sex. Perhaps that was why Bucky was feeling particularly annoyed with how close you had come to stand next to him at the bar. With the way you were smiling at him. You hardly ever smiled, had to be one of the most serious, reserved women he had ever encountered here in England or back home.

It was when you ducked your head to peer up at Red through your lashes that the realization hit him – you were fucking flirting with him. His fingers clenched tightly on his empty glass, fingertips blanched white as the strength of his grip drove the blood from the flesh there. A slow, knowing smile unfurled across Red’s face as he leaned in, his hand landing on your shoulder making Bucky’s teeth grind together almost painfully as he was flooded with proprietary rage.

The intensity of it startled him, made him take a sharp breath and relax his grip on the glass. Where in the hell had that come from?! The pair of you had spoken no more than a handful of times, simple interactions in the Operations Room of the Control Tower back when he was Air Exec, around the base, or most recently, that afternoon when you had lent him a copy of one of his favorite books, but it wasn’t like you were close. You were quiet, overshadowed by your boisterous friends Mary, Ruth, and that brunette whose name escaped him just then. They were always outgoing at dances while you did an excellent job of decorating the wall. It certainly was not like you were anything more than colleagues. Objectively that was the truth, however, as Bucky sat there watching you grin at that man…

The final straw came as your lips nearly brushed against Red’s ear, making that bastard’s eyes shoot wide, sending Bucky surging to his feet. He narrowly missed one of the low beams overhead as he glared across the crowded room at the cozy pair you and Red presented at the bar.

“Jesus Christ Bucky, did something jump up and bite your ass?!” Curt barked in surprise, the rest of the table laughing loudly in response.

Bucky barely heard them as his new vantage point allowed him a clear view of your knee colliding painfully with the apex of Red’s thighs, causing him to crumple against the bar as you bolted out the back door. Bucky stared after you, just as bewildered as Red’s friends, before they charged out the door in your wake.

“God dammit.” He muttered under his breath before climbing over his friends to make a dash for the front entrance of the pub, his cap clutched in his hand.

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Your Women’s Auxiliary Army Corp unit had arrived at Thorpe Abbots in late May, part of the first battalion of WAACs sent overseas. Assigned to the Eight Air Force, you had spent roughly a week with your British counterparts of the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force observing missions on other bases before it had come time to establish the base for the 100th.

Fast, accurate typing skills and a calm, quiet temperament had seen you promptly assigned as a clerk in the Operations Room, one of the tensest and most chaotic places on the entire base. Upon your arrival at training camp in Fort Des Moines, you had been adopted by a trio of far more outgoing women – Mary from Miami, a sun-kissed blonde who managed to look that way no matter what the weather; Ruth from Pittsburgh, a black-haired beauty who was manufactured from the steel her hometown was known for; and Violet from Savannah, a brunette who elongated every vowel like the southern belle she was.

Why they chose to waste any of their precious time on you was as much as mystery to you in England as it had been in Iowa, and yet any time you tried to convince them you would be perfectly happy sitting out a dance in your barracks with a book instead, they were adamant you attend. Bodily removed you from your cot to join them – not that you were one for dancing, even with the most handsome of airmen. And that title would most certainly have to be bestowed upon Major John Egan. Perhaps a bit of a rogue and more-often-than-not a little too deep into his cups, there was something undeniably charming about him. A magnetism that drew every woman on the base, and from across all of East Anglia, to him. The handsome devil knew it, too. Of course he did, that was, alas, also part of his charm.

Your trio of outgoing friends had gravitated toward him immediately, traded their fair share of coy looks and dances with him while you looked on quietly from the sidelines. He never really seemed to form that deep a connection with any of them, with any woman for that matter, but that did not deter the female population from trying to be the one to catch his eye for a bit of fun. It was during the long hours of the 100th’s first mission, while he was still serving as Air Exec, that you’d had your first occasion to speak to the man directly.

In the middle of one of the tense periods of waiting for news, he had poked his head into the office to see if anything had come across the teletype or wireless and you had looked up, meeting his eye. He was wearing his sheepskin coat, a striking combination of ivory and cognac colored leather that would have honestly looked absurd on anyone else, yet on him just seemed to belong over his dress uniform.

“Can I help you, Major Egan?” You had asked, fingers poised above your typewriter as you paused your progress in typing up a report for Colonel Huglin.

He had looked at you, startled a moment. “I was convinced you might actually be unable to speak. Glad to know I was wrong. It’s Bucky by the way. Just checking if there were any updates?”

“We’ll be sure to get them to you as soon as we have them, sir.” You had replied professionally, trying to ignore the warmth unfurling beneath your breastbone at having his attention directly solely upon you.

“That’s all I can ask then, thank you.” He had winked before slipping out of the room and heading back towards the plotting map.

It had not taken long for a series of updates to arrive, both by radio and over the teletype and being the highest-ranking clerk in the office, third officer, it was your duty to run them out to him. Grabbing both sheets of paper, you had quickly made your way across the room, startled to find him striding towards you, meeting you halfway. “Here you are Major Egan.”

“Touchdown.” He had grinned and taken them over to review with the others as you had hurried back to your office, gnawing on the inside of your cheek to hide your smile.

You had been admittedly saddened when he had been demoted to squadron commander of the 418th after Colonel Harding assumed command of 100th. For selfish reasons, certainly – your interactions had become increasingly limited after this point – but also because it meant he was more frequently put into harm’s way. Every time he went up in a fort, you found focusing on the job at hand more and more difficult. Unlike the ground crews or the brass, it was not looked upon kindly for the WACs to go running outside to see which forts had come back. Which airmen were injured. Sometimes it would take hours for you to confirm that he was all right, and only then by way of hearsay.

You had still run into Major Egan from time to time, while walking with your group of friends to the WAC mess for dinner – by mid-July you were now serving in the Women’s Army Corp as a 2nd Lieutenant, or after meetings in the Operations Room when he was not flying missions. But the longest conversation you ever had was during one of your breaks earlier that very afternoon. It was an uncharacteristically sunny day, and with no mission in progress you had decided to take your coffee break outside, behind the control tower, sitting on one of the benches the ground crew had built out of scrap wood.

Before you had enlisted, your brother had bought you a copy of his favorite book, one he had never let you read before because you were ‘just a kid’ but now that you were old enough to sign up for the service yourself, he had decided you could have your own copy. With just two pages left, it seemed the perfect way to break up the morbid tallies you had been typing up in the grim office upstairs, and you had just finished the final sentence when a shadow fell over you.

“Now how did you get a copy of my favorite book?”

You had lifted your eyes quickly, squinting slightly into the bright sun that shone from behind him, to see Major Egan standing there.

“Major Egan. You like Guys and Dolls, sir?” You had asked, startled.

“How many times do I gotta tell you it’s Bucky.” He had stepped out of the sunlight to sit beside you carefully. “I love everything by Damon Runyon. Which story did you like the best?” He had leaned in curiously.

Pursing your lips to think over the collection of stories you had just finished, you smiled briefly as the answer came to you. “’Madame La Gimp.’ Where they pass off the bag lady –”

“As a society matron! Yes!” Major Egan chimed in, laughing as he nodded in agreement.

“What…about yours?” You had swallowed, unable to stop yourself.

“God, I haven’t read this book in forever…” he had reached out for it, and you had set it in his hands easily.

He had sucked his teeth in thought as he turned it over in his broad hands. “It’s gotta be a tie between ‘Blood Pressure’ and ‘Hold ‘Em Yale’…ah but ‘Lemon Drop Kid’ is excellent, too.” As he had spoken, he had begun to gesture with the book to emphasize his words, making you press your lips together fondly.

“You can borrow it if you’d like.” You had blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Give me a definitive answer once you’ve read it again.”

Major Egan had looked to you quickly. “Really? But what if…how will I know to get it back to you?” He had raised an eyebrow.

“My name’s on the front page.” You had nodded reassuringly but swallowed tightly as he opened the cover as if to confirm it for himself.

“‘Hey Sis,’” He had begun to read the inscription he found there, bringing your brother’s words to life, “‘lighten up, would you? You don’t have to be so damned serious all the time. See you on the other side.’” He had paused a moment before his eyes had met yours, caught you watching him, before you quickly looked down at the grass at your feet. “Where is he?” he had asked quietly.

“On a ship in the Pacific, somewhere.” You had replied softly, finding each blade of grass infinitely fascinating.

“Are you sure–” He had begun to ask before the sound of your name being called by your very impatient Captain, a woman even Major Egan knew not to waylay, interrupted the peaceful afternoon.

You had leapt to your feet. “You’ll get it back to me.” You had nodded and rushed back inside, believing every word of it.

You had seriously contemplated sharing your encounter with at least Ruth, the more level-headed of your friends, knowing she was the least likely to conflate the exchange with a marriage proposal. But as you returned to your barracks that night, you frowned deeply to find Mary in tears on her cot. After much soothing and rocking in your arms, she finally managed to open up, sharing what had gotten her so upset.

“It’s Red…I caught him out back necking with one of those doughnut truck girls…” She hiccupped and dabbed at her nose with her hanky.

“Oh Mary, I’m so sorry.” You frowned, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

“Oh god, I can’t believe I let that creep talk me into sleeping with him!” She wailed, fresh tears boiling over onto her cheeks as she sagged onto your shoulder, sobbing anew.

Every muscle in your body tensed as her outburst sunk in, the depth of his betrayal fully registering as Vi and Ruth returned from the end of their shifts in the weather office and Mary launched herself into their arms to fill them in as well. The level of pure fury that seized your body was utterly foreign to you and, unlike the descriptions you had encountered in literature to date, felt utterly icy in your veins. As your friends gently coaxed Mary to the latrines to get herself cleaned up, you hung back, a plan formulating quickly in your mind. Your life without these women would have been lonely, all but intolerable, and this transgression against one of them could not go unanswered. You could not look at yourself in the mirror if you did nothing.

Digging quickly through Mary’s belongings, you found her most alluring shade of lipstick, carefully but efficiently applying it to your lips before unpinning and redoing your hair into a more fashionable shape rather than the more utilitarian style you normally wore. Lastly you added a flick of mascara to your eyelashes and rouge to your cheeks. All this was accomplished using the tiny mirror Vi had set up on the shelf beside her bed. Nodding once in satisfaction, for it was truly the best you could do in a solo effort, you darted out the door, lipstick tube in your pocket for reapplications, if necessary. The cad would never see it coming from you, you just needed to figure out a way to get close enough.

Fortunately, the years you had spent on the sidelines watching the three masters of feminine wiles at work had afforded you quite the education. It was only a matter of finding the perpetrator to enact your revenge. You located him in the second pub you visited, taking a slow breath as your eyes sought him out in the crowded, humid space. The rain had thankfully stopped before your foray out into the night, though the streets remained wet, and you had taken the time to refresh your lipstick and tidy your hair before stepping inside. Your heart began to race as your veins flooded with adrenaline.

‘Easy now. Slow and smooth like Mary, give him that flirty smile she’s famous for.’ You thought to yourself.

As his eyes met yours it was all you could do not to wince back in disgust – you were going to need to hide your dislike better.

‘Pretend he’s someone else. Who would you like him to be?’

You gulped shyly, teeth sinking into your lip at the thought of applying these skills to Major Egan, noting that Red seemed immediately more receptive as you slid up beside him where he stood at the bar.

“Evening, Red.” You smiled at him broadly, swallowing nervously as he echoed the expression warmly.

“Well good evening to you too. You escaped the base.” Red teased you.

You faked a giggle and tilted your head down before flicking your eyes to look up at him through your lashes, something Vi had weaponised to great effect on many an occasion. You tried not to shout in triumph as Red’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, leaning in closer.

“Can I buy you a drink, sugar?”

“Actually…” You smiled coyly before leaning in close to his ear, taking a slow breath before dropping all pretense from your tone. “Mess around with one of my friends again and I’ll cut it off.” You snarled into his ear before driving your knee into his groin as sharply as the straight lines of your uniform skirt would allow, slipping out of his grip as he slouched over the bar with a cry of pain.

You longed to bask in his suffering, in your triumph, but you also recognized you had to get out of there before the consequences of your actions found you. Spying a door propped open to a back alley over Red’s crumpled torso, you made a dash through the stunned corner of the pub and out into the night, pausing a moment before turning to the left, hoping it was the correct direction. You certainly wished you knew your way around town a little better.

Your heart was pounding so hard you were worried it might burst through the front of your WAC jacket as you neared the main street but there was an increasing ruckus behind you – surely Red’s friends in hot pursuit. Suddenly Major Egan appeared in front of you, seemingly out of nowhere, and grabbed your arm, pulling you around a corner and down a smaller alleyway.

“Do you trust me?” He asked quickly, glancing back towards the approaching sound of voices as he shuffled you backward, closer to the brick wall of the building behind you.

You nodded at him, speechless, breathing heavily from your flight. Your uniform cap felt precarious where it was perched on your rapidly falling hairstyle. Major Egan’s aftershave was flooding your senses due to his sheer proximity.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He whispered as his eyes met yours, his own cap at a dangerous angle atop his dark curls, defying gravity.

He shifted forward to crowd your space, your eyes shooting wide as his forearms lifted to press against the wall on either side of your face, body shielding you from view. He bowed his head to press his lips against yours softly, making your eyelids flutter closed, doing nothing to slow the erratic beating of your heart. He tasted a little bit like whiskey, which had reminded you of gasoline the few times you’d had the misfortune of sipping it, but on his plush lips, it was not so bad.

Your hands balled into fists in the olive drab fabric of your skirt, heat painting its way across your cheeks and down your neck as the coarse hair that decorated his upper lip brushed against your skin. It was all too tempting to lose yourself in the feeling of him surrounding you, protecting you, kissing you. Reality reared its ugly head, making you inhale sharply through your nose as you heard the crowd of men stampede right past you muttering angrily.

“That damn cold fish from operations…”

“Who the fuck does she think she is?!”

“No wonder she ain’t got nobody.”

Pulling back from his lips, you frowned down at your brown uniform shoes, still hidden within the cage of his arms.

“Hey…” He murmured, bowing his head to nudge your nose with his, drawing your gaze back up as you swallowed shyly at the tender gesture. “Don’t listen to ‘em.” He urged you, his blue eyes so very dazzling and disarming at this range, even in the dim light of black-out conditions.

“I…It’s ok,” you breathed as you shook your head. “I know I’ll never be…” you furrowed your brow, not even sure what word you were searching for.

“Anything other than perfect, doll?” His lopsided grin was devastating, made it hard to breathe, though that may have also been his continued proximity. He leaned in for another kiss, but you lifted a shaky hand to press against his shoulder.

“Th…they’re gone you don’t have to pretend…” You murmured sadly, shifting to stand, but he did not move an inch, his breath brushing against your cheeks.

“I’m going to kiss you now because I want to, doll.” He murmured, eyes tracing over your face while giving you a moment to respond.

You were, however, frozen, staring at him again and so he pressed his lips firmly to yours, making your fingers curl slightly around the lapel of his uniform jacket. He hummed softly in response, pressing you back against the wall as he slanted his mouth tighter to yours, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. Shivering at the heat of his palms against your skin, you slowly lifted your other hand from your skirt, stretching it towards him, letting it hover between you tentatively.

He dropped his right hand from your cheek to guide your arm around his waist before sliding his own hand to splay against your lower back, drawing a whimper from your throat as you arched slightly.

He pulled back from your lips, chest heaving. “Christ, doll, you have no idea what you do to me.”

“Bucky?” You whispered, confused by his statement, finding it difficult to think clearly.

Bucky groaned and kissed you fiercely, licking at the seam of your lips, sliding his tongue to yours the instant you parted your lips for him. Toes curling in your shoes, you found yourself mewling into his mouth wantonly until he wrenched back suddenly, hand cupping the back of your head as he hugged you tightly into his chest. The sound of voices eventually registered in your addled brain – Red’s friends returning from their failed attempt to find you.

“If I had known all I had to do was kiss you senseless to get you to use my name…” Bucky teased once the coast was clear, panting into your hair.

You giggled against his throat, your own chest heaving as he loosened his hold on you. Your cap tumbled to the ground, fully dislodged by his attentions.

“It’s a burden I’m willing to bear.” He smirked, pressing his lips to your exposed forehead. “Let’s get you back to your barracks. What are you doing out here all dolled up kneeing idiots like Red in the goods anyway?” He asked as he bent to retrieve your cap, dusting it off and placing it in your outstretched hand before turning to slide his arm around your shoulders, leading you toward the main road.

You huffed with a frown as you walked with him, putting your cover back into place snuggly, crushing your once-stylish hair. “I didn’t appreciate the way he treated Mary.”

Bucky smirked at you “Your brother is right you know, you really do need to lighten up…you can just call him a good-for-nothing and be done with it. No need to write a formal treatise on his behavior.”

His lips stretched into a grin as that pulled another laugh from you. You turned to look at him properly and gasped.

“Bucky you have lipstick all over –”

“Perfect” He nodded proudly, cocky grin on his lips, and made no move to clean up his face, while you quickly wiped at yours, knowing you would have to face your barrack-mates. “Next time you go on an attack mission you let me know, alright, doll? I’ll fly on your wing anytime.” He winked at you, and you bit your lip shyly.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You swallowed and stopped walking, leaning in to press your lips to his cheek softly.

As you pulled back, Bucky flexed the arm he still had slung about your shoulders, hauling you in for another heart-stopping kiss, your hands coming to rest against his chest. You had a feeling that the rather lengthy walk back to base was only going to become exponentially longer and found you really did not mind at all.

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Read Part Two - "Just Had To Trust You."

"Trust" Series Masterlist

horny thoughts only

Ok @blacktie-whitenoise I went with Papa Copia and choice #1! But first we have to get through some phone sex oh noooo...

Ring, Ring

Papa Emeritus IV x Female Reader ~ Your work day is interrupted by a phone call from Copia

Warnings: phone sex, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, nsfw, 18+ only, mdni, 2400 words

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

“Cardinal Alero’s office, how can I help you?”

“Do you have any idea how badly I want to fuck you right now?”  You froze at the sound of Copia’s voice.  It was dark and low, his breathing ragged.  The only time his voice got like this was when—  “Well, dolcezza?  Do you?”

With a quick glance over at Alero you cleared your throat before you answered. 

“Uh, I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I’ve been thinking about burying myself inside of you all day.”

Fucking hell.  

“Oh?  That’s too bad.”

“Si, it has made the day very interesting.  Long.  Hard.  If you understand me.”

“Yes!  Yes I understand.”

Very faintly you heard the sound of his belt clinking and the rustling of fabric.  Copia let out a loud groan and you could only guess he had taken himself in hand.  You spun your chair away from Alero’s desk so your back was to him.  It was doubtful the Cardinal had heard Copia, but you knew Copia was only going to get louder.  

He never was very good at keeping quiet. 

“I wonder what that old bastard would do if I were to come in there right now, oh cazzo, and bend you over your desk.”

You snuck another glance at Alero over your shoulder, freezing when you saw him watching you.  

“I, uh, don’t think he’d like that.”   Alero raised his eyebrow and you gave him a quick smile before spinning away.  “Can I call you back?”

“No.”  Copia’s chair creaked as he exhaled into the phone.  “I wouldn’t do that anyway, dolcezza.  I’d have to get you wet first.”

“Don’t worry Papa, that won’t be a problem.”  You squirmed in your seat, your body starting to respond to Copia’s words.  Vaguely you heard your name but you thought it was just Copia saying it under his breath.  “How about I bring you those files right now?”  

“Wet already?  What a naughty thing you are.  Are you having dirty thoughts about your Papa?”

“Yes, of course I am you idi—“

“Is that Papa?”  You yelped at the sound of Alero’s voice, jerking your head around to see him standing behind you.  When you nodded he reached out a hand and snapped his fingers.  “Give me the phone.”

“Do not give him the phone.  Tell him to fuck off.”

A somewhat delirious laugh left you and you covered the receiver with your hand. 

“Cardinal, Papa says not to worry.  He knows you’re busy.”  Copia snorted and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing as well.  “He appreciates your hard work.”

“The only thing that’s hard right now is my dick.”

Alero frowned down at you and you could tell he was debating if he should insist on the phone or just take the compliment and sit back down.  Thankfully he seemed to choose the latter, a smug smile on his face as he turned to go back to his chair.  You slipped your hand off the receiver and turned away from him once more.

“What else can I help you with Papa?”

“Tell me dolcezza, are you wearing underwear?”

“No, Papa.”

“Mmm, so you’re just sitting there, bare for your Papa?”  You hummed into the phone, spreading your legs a bit unconsciously.  “If I was there right now I’d slip my hand under your skirt, then push two fingers right into your needy cunt.  Because that’s what you are right now, eh dolcezza?  Needy for me?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Molto bene.  Soon I'd be able to fit a third inside of you and watch as you made a mess of my gloves.”  You thunked your head against the back of your chair, immediately sitting up again when you remembered you weren’t alone.  Copia let out a strangled moan and you winced, hoping Alero hadn’t heard it.  “Would you clean them for me?  If I shoved them into your mouth?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Brava ragazza.  You’d do anything I asked of you, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything, Papa.”

“Bene.  Then come here so I can fuck you.”

Copia hung up the phone and for a few seconds you just sat there staring at it.  When it started beeping you scrambled to get it back in its cradle while looking for something on your desk you could use as an excuse to go see Copia.  Alero cleared his throat and when you looked over at him he was scowling.

“What’s the problem?”

“I uh, need to bring some paperwork over to Papa.”

“Why can’t he send a ghoul to come get it?”

Goddammit Alero.

“I'm not sure.”  You grabbed a random stack of paper and hastily stood up.  “He needed them right away.”

“Fine, but don’t dawdle.  There’s still a lot of work to do.”

You nodded, biting down on your lip savagely before you retorted with ‘yes, your work’.  With quick steps you left the office and did your best not to run towards Copia’s.  At the end of the hallway you turned right but immediately had to stop as you ran into someone.

“Shit!”  Copia’s hands grabbed at your elbows to help keep you upright.  “What took so long?”

“I had to come up with an excuse for Alero!”  You slapped the papers onto Copia’s chest and pushed past him.  “Now hurry up.”

Copia chuckled as he quickly followed you, coming up to your side and grabbing your hand.  You knew if you looked at him he’d have that stupid, dopey smile on his face and you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself from kissing him in the hallway if you saw it.  As you both rounded the last corner before his office you froze at the sight of Sister Imperator and Nihil waiting right outside his door.  Copia cursed under his breath and wrapped an arm around your waist, quickly tugging you back around the corner.

“Now what, Papa?”  Copia muttered something in Italian before starting to usher you across the hall towards a closet.  He ripped it open, gently pushing you inside before following and kicking the door shut.  You both stood there in the dark for a moment until you heard Copia make a small noise when he found the light switch.  As the room came into view in the dim light you sighed.  “You always take me to the nicest places.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s a closet.”

Copia rolled his eyes and started walking your way, you started to back up playfully but there really wasn’t anywhere to go.  Your butt hit a desk that was shoved up against the wall and Copia grabbed your waist, grunting as he lifted you up to sit on the edge.  He placed his hands on your knees, squeezing them as he grinned at you.

“Are you still wet for me, dolcezza?”

“Right now I’m mostly dusty.”

He started to respond but instead he had to turn his head away to sneeze.  You slapped your hand over your mouth to cover your laughter, trying to look innocent when he whipped his head back to glare at you.

“Sorry, Papa.”

“Uh, mi dispiace, this is not how I planned the afternoon to go.”

“Oh Copia, it’s ok.”  You reached up and brushed some of his graying hair off his forehead before cupping his cheek.  “This is still better than dealing with Alero.”

Copia laughed, leaning in to give you a lingering kiss on your mouth.  He nipped at your lips when he pulled away before resting his forehead against yours.

“Let’s see if we can get back on track, eh?”  He kissed you again and then dropped to his knees with a grunt.  His hands squeezed your calves briefly before they began to move up to your thighs.  The leather of his gloves was warm against your skin as he started to push your skirt up towards your waist.  He lowered his head to the inside of your knee, mouthing at the sensitive skin there for a moment before he looked towards your cunt and took a deep breath.  “It smells like you’re still wet for me, dolcezza.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, you just pulled your skirt up all the way to expose yourself.  His eyes darkened when you spread your legs and he was able to see your folds glistening even in the dim light.  Copia grabbed the bottom of your thighs and lifted your legs up so they hooked over his shoulders.  His hands moved down to grip your ass, holding you in place as he pressed his face against your cunt.  He took another deep breath, growling when you wriggled a bit.

“Copia, please.”

His tongue sliding between your lips was his only answer.  Slow laps across your cunt over and over again.  You placed your hand in his hair and held on as he continued to lap up your juices.  His moans were getting louder so you tugged his hair to try and get him to quiet down.  In retaliation he covered your cunt with his mouth, sucking hard and causing you to cry out.  You both froze, meeting each other’s eyes as you waited to see if anyone had heard you.

“Hush now, do you want the whole abbey to hear you?”

“How about you make me?” 

Copia nipped at the inside of your thigh and you barely held in your gasp.  Before you could snap at him he pulled your legs off his shoulders and stood up, leaning in to take your mouth in a hungry kiss.  You moaned as you tasted yourself, grabbing onto his vest to keep him in place.  He pulled you closer to the edge of the desk so he could grind his cock against you.  It was straining against the ties of his pants and you quickly dropped your hands down to start undoing them.

“Si, cazzo.  I need to be inside of you.”  While you struggled with the ties he pressed his fingers against your entrance, both of you groaning when two of them slid right in.  Copia bit his lip and rested his head against yours.  “I knew it.”

You finally got his pants undone and shoved down far enough to free his cock right when he started prodding a third finger at your entrance.  

“Now Copia, now please now.”  

He pulled his fingers out of you, swiping them quickly up and down his cock before he pressed forward.  You dropped your head onto his shoulder as he started pushing in.  As your body stretched around him you bit at his shirt to try to keep quiet.  He was relentless, not even pausing until he was all the way inside.  The material of his pants was rough against your thighs as he began to move his hips in a small circle.

“So wet, so tight for your Papa.”  You didn’t bother trying to respond, you knew if you opened your mouth no words would come out.  When he slid a hand into your hair and gently pulled your head back you couldn’t help but whimper.  “Let me see you.”

You both panted into each other's mouths as he let you get used to his cock.  He moved his hand out of your hair, stroking a thumb across your cheek before pressing a soft kiss onto your mouth.  You hummed against his lips, then took a deep breath as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Help me stay quiet.”

“Anything, dolcezza.”

Your mouths connected again in a clash of lips and teeth right as he pulled out and thrust back into your cunt.  His thrusts were hard and fast, neither one of you having the patience for anything else.  You nipped and sucked at each other’s mouth, Copia thrusting his tongue in time with his hips.  The slick sounds of both filled the air of the small room and even though your moans were muffled you knew that anyone walking by would be able to hear you both.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The edge was coming quickly, your orgasm ready to tear through you as Copia angled his thrusts so his cock brushed against that sweet spot inside of you.  With the way his movements were becoming more frantic you knew he was close as well.  He broke away from your mouth and you forced your eyes open so you could look into his mismatched ones.  

“Are you close, dolcezza?”  His voice was wrecked and his makeup an absolute mess.  You tried to speak but all you could do was whimper and clutch at his shoulders.  “Are you going to come on my cock?”

You managed a nod, your mouth opening in a silent scream when he brought a hand to your cunt and started rubbing his thumb around your clit.  That was the end for you, he kissed you again right as your orgasm ripped through your body, muffling both of your moans as he came as well.  He continued to thrust as his cock kicked and emptied inside of you before finally stilling, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close.  After a moment you finally found the energy to speak and lifted your head off his shoulder.

“I don’t want to go back.”  

Copia opened his mouth to respond but he immediately scrunched his face up, turning away right before a sneezing fit overtook him.  He stumbled back a few steps, pulling out of you quickly and making you gasp.  You looked around for something he could wipe his nose with, finally seeing a roll of paper towels on a shelf nearby.  With a wince you hopped off the table, grabbing a few towels and shoving them his way while you took a few to clean yourself up.  When you finished you turned to check on Copia, smiling when you found him staring at you and pouting.

“I wanted to do that.”  You mimicked his pout, laughing as he reached for you and yanked you close.  “That’s my favorite part.”

“Ugh Copia, you’re so weird.”

“But yet here you are, enjoying the finest closet our church has to offer.”  He leaned down to give you a quick kiss, before pulling away to look at you with a raised eyebrow.  “You can’t go back to work like this.”

“Definitely not.”

“No, you should come to my quarters instead.  I need your help with something else.”

“Anything, Papa.”  He grinned at you, that infectious smile of his sending a thrill through you like it always did.  You reached up to smooth some of his hair back as you returned his smile.  “Anything.”

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

my masterlist

my ao3

Through Sea Mist and Shadows (One) Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist

monday, march 12th, 7:02am;

The blare of the ship's horn and the sickly distinct smell of the fishing docks is what clicks everything back into place.  Your head, which had previously been bobbing along to the music in your headphones, raises to attention as you observe your surroundings. There aren't many aboard the small ferry - deemed the Wayfarer, it's name written in faded cerulean paint along its side - and yet the quiet crowd shuffles slowly together towards the gangway to depart, seemingly in a rush. An older couple chatters amongst themselves, something about the Island's declining economy and you immediately tune it out, uninterested.

As you gather your belongings you begin to wonder what your mother will say when you wash up on her doorstep, the same mortifying 'what-if?' scenarios swirling around in your head that you've been thinking about since you first made the decision to move back home. You can't shake the anticipation of a fight, butting heads with your mother as you always had (hence the distance for the many, many years). And honestly, you can't blame her either. Your decision to move across the country with your father after the divorce cut her deep, and over and over again as you continued to keep your distance throughout your young adult-hood.

You sigh aloud, honestly, what were you thinking? Showing up unannounced with the intention to stay indefinitely, despite the fact that you hadn't properly spoken in years.

Change is hard. The divorce was hard. It was a long time coming, and you've never resented either of your parents for their parting, only the alienation, the fighting, the uncivil manner in which they handled their parting. Your mother had always been stubborn, and harsh, and she always knew what to say to hurt someone without the punch. She was a force to be reckoned with and she loved fiercely and protectively. You never hated your mother, you love her truly, but getting away from her when you were a teen was the only thing you naively wanted for yourself back then. So, when your father asked for custody and proposed moving out to the West Coast, you took it as your ticket out.

You've matured since then. You're still angry deep down, for the way things went, for the way both of your parents made you feel. For the decisions that were made for you under the guise that you were the one making the choice at only fourteen years old. You shouldn't have been making the choice between two parents, and they should never had made you feel like you had to pick one or the other.

But it was a double-edged sword, because on the other hand, the time you spent in California gave you your passion. Art. You picked up painting and you never put it down. The local artists in the city were lovely, and smart, and welcoming, and full of inspiration. You spent every weekend in local galleries and did all sorts of workshops and then even got accepted to college and majored in Fine Art Education. In the past three years you had opened your own gallery which you taught community classes out of and sold your own work. It was enough to support you and it was fulfilling. You had found your purpose. And you had found the best of friends. Your heart ached to leave them behind.

As much as you loved the home you had made for yourself, there was still something missing. Home-cooked meals, the smell of the earth and the cold ocean waves on your ankles, perhaps the hands of a lover or the embrace of your mother, your old mare and the prickle of hay in your clothes. With each fleeting moment you can't help but catch yourself thinking more and more of your home by the docks. The crunch of gravel roads under worn tires, and the incessant screeching of the gulls. Of course, you still spoke to your mother over the years, but the conversation lacked emotion, and trust. You talked about nothing and told her about recent projects. Asked how the horses were doing and bantered about trivial matters. Still, the calls were few and far between.

You hadn't told anyone you were coming home. After the incident you quietly ended your lease on your gallery space, found a young college student to take up your quaint apartment, sold your car, sold all your belongings, and bought a one way plane ticket to Maine all in a fortnight.

As you stand from your seat and make your way to the exit of the ferry you wonder if showing up unannounced was a bit too impulsive, after all.

Too late to worry about it now.

You thank the deck hand as you pass by, who tips his hat in response with a kind smile. With your two suitcases and side bag all packed to the brim with the rest of your belongings, you step off the platform and let the breeze take you. The dock is just how you left it, the weathered wooden boards creaking under your weight, rusted nails poking through every few steps. Inside of your ribs there's a bird, fluttering frantically against your heart with nerves. The nostalgia is almost too much to bear, hands sticky with sweat as you grip your cases.

You remember the way instinctively, you could do it blindfolded if you had to even after all the years passed. You pass the small downtown square, a common ground sitting pretty in the center of the old-timey buildings with windows thrown open and crooked signs. Everything looks exactly the same save for a few extra cracks in the cobblestone and a business or two no longer flourishing, the mossy roofing sloping downwards a bit in the center. You take a left at the old red post office and the out-of-order telephone booth (it hadn't been used in the past twenty years anyway) and a right at the second dirt path.

After the clearing, is home. The tall grass sways with the ocean breeze, the white fences surrounding the pastures chipped from the weather. The big eight stall barn sits at the top of the drive in all its glory, the sliding door pushed halfway open to reveal the aged wood and stacks of bales inside.

The house stands still proudly on the hill just behind the barn, a fresh coat of paint on the wrap around porch but the screens in the front window still ripped and threadbare. You make your way up the front steps before dropping all your belongings at a heap by the door.

Before you can raise you hand to knock the screen door is thrown open haphazardly.

The older woman's face is painted in an expression of bewilderment. "What on God's green Earth are you doing here?" She asks in a rush, gathering you up in her arms in a crushing hug. She smells of lemongrass and vanilla, the scent of the hand soap at the kitchen sink and her perfume mingling. It's distinctly home.

You chuckle nervously, "Surprise?" you say, hugging her back.

Your mother smiles happily, pulling back to take a good look at you while rubbing your shoulders lovingly. There's a twinge of worry lingering in her eyes and you take a deep breath to prepare yourself to explain and break the news.

"I'm sorry, I know I should've called first but I just . . . I didn't know how to tell you and I was afraid you would tell me not to come."

She nods, but there are more questions swimming in her irises, "I would never tell you not to come." she says stiffly.

You resist the urge to retort, eye twitching, you have before is what you really want to say. Instead you take a deep breath and practically feel the words come to fruition on the tip of your tongue and suddenly your eyes are welling up with tears instead and theres a tight ball in your throat.

Your mother senses your hesitation and gathers your bags in her hands and urges you inside with her free arm at your back.

You're standing in your old living room now and the walls and crashing in on you like the tides and you can't stop the flow of tears down your cheeks and you have half the sense to be mortified by your slew of emotions. You had planned on keeping it together, but there are old pictures still hanging on the walls and its the same sofa your mother has had your whole childhood and the carpet is still stained in that one corner from your late dog and it smells like home everywhere.

"Talk to me," your mother pleads, "Whats going on?"

"Dad's dead." You sob, "I didn't even know he was sick. He refused treatment and didn't tell anyone and he passed three weeks ago. He'd been sick for months apparently."

The older woman shakes her head sorrowfully, her own eyes growing watery as well, "I'm so sorry you had to go through that alone. I know how close you were with your father." She says, rubbing your back soothingly. "The funeral?"

"It's passed. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

She only nods her head, understanding albeit still clearly upset. She knows she wouldn't have been welcome anyway. She sighs and swipes the back of her hand across her cheek. "If you want to talk about it I'm happy to listen. But I know you prefer not to."

You nod, "Thanks, Mom."

"Let me get some sheets cleaned for you, I haven't touched your bedroom since you were last here. I'm sorry it's probably a mess, I can help you clean up later." She says, moving towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms. "How long will you be staying?"

"Oh," you bite your lip hard, sniffling, "I, um, I sold everything. I'm not going back to California." you wring your hands tight at your lap, nervous.

But your mother smiles happily, although she turns away in attempt to hide her joy in such a sorrowful moment. You catch it anyway. A twinge of worry still lingers in her eyes, pulling gently on her crow's feet. She nods without hesitation and offers to take one of your bags up.

You sigh shakily as you crash upon the plush corduroy sofa cushions and put your head in your hands. The worst of it was over, and it was easy. Perhaps preparing yourself for the worst scenario was the key.

"Do you need to eat? Anything at all?" Your mother shouts down from the staircase. You can hear her starting the washer, the metal door clanging loudly as it locks shut. You decline, though you know you should eat soon. The nerves haven't quite run off yet and you're not so sure you're ready to put anything in your stomach yet for fear of it coming right back up.

"Bucky is stopping by to drop off eggs and a load of grain for the horses in a bit, he'd be happy to see you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, "Bucky? New farmhand?"

You mother chuckles as she makes her way back downstairs, "Sorry, James. He goes by Bucky now, I didn't realize you hadn't kept in contact with him either."

Your head cocks to the side— James. You hadn't heard that name in a long time, not that you had forgotten— you could never. But you would've thought he'd have been long gone off this island and had never looked back.

"He helps out a lot, painted the porch for me earlier this week when we had a rare, sunny day. The boy's a saint, I couldn't do all this work around here without him and his sister. I don't think he ever really recovered from combat though."

"Combat?" You exclaim, since when did he join the military?

"Honestly," Your mother chides, "You've missed so much around here, you've got to catch up!" she says, but there's a lightness to it and you can't hep but crack a smile. "Go on upstairs, you can bring the rest of your things up. Just push whatever is in there out into the hallway we can put it in the attic when we get to it."

You nod, thanking her again before making your way up the creaky narrow stair well to your old bedroom.

The door to your room swings open with a creak, revealing old boxes and crates of miscellaneous items and old broken furniture that looks like it hasn't been used in decades. Your old books sit in a pile on the nightstand and haphazardly in the old painted bookshelf. There are glow stars still stuck to the ceiling and a few stray ones on the walls, accompanied with an array of old posters and stickers and photos pinned to the surface with clear thumbtacks. The baby blue curtains are faded from the sun as is the thick quilt spread out on the bed from the big bay window.

"I'm sorry it's a mess, things started to accumulate in here since the room wasn't being used. Maybe Bucky won't mind helping us move everything to the attic before he leaves. The sheets will be done before noon." Your mother says gently, shrugging.

You thank her and the older woman turns to leave, a gentle hand resting upon your wrist and a soft smile in her wake. "Come down for breakfast please? I won't make you talk about anything." She says softly over her shoulder. "Its just good to have you back."

You nod, you figure it's the last thing you could do thing for her at this point.

"I think it's good to be back, too." You reply.

~

You sit in the old wooden chair propped up next to your desk, surveying the room around you. You make a mental note to remove those monstrosities on the walls as soon as possible, maybe throw them up in the attic with the rest of the junk. If you're planning on staying for the foreseeable future, you'd like to not live in a literal time capsule from your childhood. An old mug of cheap paintbrushes and broken pencils sits on the corner of the desk, along with a torn up eraser and an old peppermint candy that has probably been there for at least six years. The bed still adorns an old quilt set with yellow flowers and green vines, stitched with a thick yarn at the seams where you had accidentally torn it on the old wooden bed frame. A glance at the empty vase on the windowsill and you find your mind wandering to a certain James Barnes, or 'Bucky' now you suppose. Boyish hands holding yours and fresh bouquets from his mother's garden. The vase has never been empty for so long, you think sadly.

You remember a time when things were simpler, spent side by side with your best friend no matter the location. The boy was always sweet, doting, thoughtful. You wonder how you could've possibly gone so long without hearing from him, hell, you would be lying if you said you hadn't at least thought about him (like, everyday). Your heart aches for him, even if just for the quiet moments between the two of you when you were both naive, and young, and it was the world against you both. You hope with a sad smile that he hadn't been too lonely.

Perhaps he had a girl now, maybe he too left for college, or maybe the military was his ticket out but you did wonder how that came to be. And why he had returned here after. Suddenly, you feel terribly guilty, selfish even. You left someone truly important to you behind and on such poor terms. You never even called, texted, tried to reach out. God, the stupid things you do when you're only a teen. You can only hope he'd forgive you now that you were both grown— and hopefully less stupid.

You try to picture what he would look like now, and if he would be as handsome as you'd imagined he'd grown up to be. You grin at the idea. Perhaps his dark hair would have grown out or he'd have it cut short in a military fashion. If his steel blue eyes had darkened as he aged or if his face would be littered with freckles from the sun. Had he grown into those gangly long limbs and that boyish frame?

With a sigh, you push yourself up and throw open the window, letting the fresh morning air pour into the bedroom as you begin the task at hand: sorting through all this junk.

It's nearly noon when you finish putting away your belongings, getting rid of the dust, and making the bed with fresh, new sheets and a pretty, pin-striped comforter. You'd even taken a few trips to the attic yourself with the things she didn't need. Your mother had brought breakfast to you when she had seen how caught up you had gotten in the mess. But, the room felt big and spacious compared to what it once was, despite recalling that you used to complain about having no space when you were young.

It felt good to have an almost fresh start yet in a place so familiar.

Lost in thought, the deep growl of a truck climbing up the driveway rustles you from your mind. You rise to the large window and peer out at the sage green vehicle. It has a lovely vintage charm to it, and its frame is well cared for a free of rust, the tires are worn but the rims are sparkling silver, glinting even in the overcast. New lumber sticks out of the bed of it, harnessed together with a thick rope tied in a sailors knot and besides it are three bags of feed and a milk crate of eggs wrapped in a linen cloth. You can hear your mother calling out from the porch below her and its with sudden clarity that the anxiety you had forgotten about comes reeling back to your chest.

James.

And suddenly you feels like a teen again, rushing to check your appearance in the mirror and then pushing your fly-aways back from your face with shaking hands. You don't know why it matters to you even after all the time you've been away, honestly, it's laughable. But you can't stop worrying. What if he has absolutely no desire to see him after what happened the last time you were in town? Or what if he's disappointed by how you look? Or he's married?

You're slightly horrified by the realization, and even more horrified that it matters to you. Get over yourself! You want to scream. Honestly, what if he's ugly now? You have no idea!

You dig your nails into the wood of your dresser before turning on your heels and shaking the thoughts from your head. You're bounding down the steps before you can think any harder about it and when you finally throw open the front door you're nearly knocked back as soon as you lay eyes on him.

The first thing you notice is how tall he's gotten, and broad. He's shutting the driver's side door and walking around his truck, rolling up the sleeves of his henley when he stops in his tracks, eyes locked onto yours in shock.

It feels like a million moments pass and you're sure that you're oogling him disrespectfully and you're sure he knows. His eyes are bluer than they've ever been but not in that shockingly icey, cold way, but in the way that the ocean swirls and mingles with the cliffs, in that deep, dark, beautiful blue of the sea at nightfall, and the dark blue of the sky just before the last of the golden sunset falls away to the night. His hair is long, falling in cascades of ink just above his shoulders, some pieces cut short to frame his chiseled face, the lightest speckling of facial hair growing at his jaw. He raises an arm to fasten the baseball cap on his head before flashing that award winning smile, just the way he always used to.

He looks strong, and grown, and gorgeous. Healthy. And it's everything you could've wished for him.

You actually don't notice the glint of black metal at his left arm, not until you watch him deliberately hike his sleeves back down and cover it just as soon as you saw it. It's casual, but you do notice.

"Hi, James." You greet once he finally reaches within distance, your voice breathy and you almost shy away at how desperate it must've sounded. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jeans, the fabric wrinkled and faded at the knees from wear.

He gazes at you curiously, those damned blue eyes glinting.

"It's Bucky now," your mother scoffs teasingly, "I already told her, you know she never listens!" she says to Bucky, laughing.

"No, thats okay, I'll allow it." He says, cheekily, "Hey, doll."

Doll. That was new. A wonderful and enticing new that lingered a little bit too long in your mind— seriously, had you been reduced to mush from a simple smile and a set of lovely blue eyes? Yes

"Right! I'm sorry, I forgot. It'll take some getting used to, I guess." You reply apologetically.

Your mother pulls open the screen door, "Let me grab that cash for you, Bucky. I'll be right back." she says, and when she's disappeared within the house he turns to you again.

"It's okay, I don't mind the way it sounds when you say it." He grins again, "'James' I mean."

You smile back shyly, unsure what to say back, but honored honestly.

"Anyway, you've been well?" He asks, stepping up to the edge of the porch and leaning against the railing.

"Yes," You nod, "yeah. I've been - well a lot has happened, I can't believe it's been so long since I've spoken to you. There's so much to tell you." You say.

"Yeah? I can't wait to hear all about it." He's so sickly sweet. He should be angry with you, anything but this.

"Well, what about you, how have you been? You look - well, you look good." You say, fighting back the blush you can only imagine with great disdain is creeping onto her face. "This is new", you point to the mechanical hand sticking out of his sleeve. You hope it's not too sore of a subject.

"It's been good." He answers quickly, "Missed having you around, for sure." He raises his metal arm sheepishly, "And this . . . this is just a little work-in-progress. A friend and I are working on furthering prosthetics in our free time. She's a goddamn genius, you wouldn't believe it."

You guess that he must have lost his arm in combat, and you're sure it probably is a sore subject, so you don't ask anything more. But you do marvel in the engineering of the device— well, what you can see of it.

Your mom comes back out with an envelope of money and hands it to Bucky, who thanks her generously, telling her it really isn't necessary.

"Oh, and those boxes too, do you want him to help you bring them up to the attic?" She asks, turning towards you.

You shake your head, he's clearly done plenty around here in the time you were gone, "I can handle it, it's okay. I don't want to bother you with it."

Bucky smirks, raising an eyebrow, "I'll head up there now, I got it." and he's already ascending up the front steps.

"Hey! No really, you do enough, I can take care of it!" You're calling after him but he's already bounding up the steps two at a time like its his own home, and you suppose, it really is. Some things never change.

"Thank you!" Your mother calls out to him, before turning to the barn and making her way up the gravel path, making it your problem.

You're chasing after him with a wide smile but he's already grabbing boxes and on his way to the attic before you can stop him, so you grab a box of your own and figure next best is to do it together.

It does go faster that way and you both fall into rhythm quicker than you had expected. That awkward tension leaves your body and you're left with a comfortable, pleasant hum of energy.

"Will I catch you later?" He's asking, tilting his head to your level.

"Yeah, I'll be here."

"I have my dad's boat now. We could take it out together while you're home? Catch up."

You smile again, and you can't think back to a time where you've smiled so much for such a silly, simple little reason. "I would love that, James."

~

Bucky heads back outside soon after to drop off the rest of the things he had for your mother and promises to say goodbye before he leaves.

You decide to pad over to the barn where you mother is, to see what she's up to before you tackle another project.

You make it barely a step into the old wooden building before she's cornering you.

"You're still in love with him." She states.

Your jaw drops incredulously, "I'm not in love with him! He's my childhood best friend." you counter, bewildered. "We haven't even talked in like, six years!"

"Right. He just happens to be entirely gorgeous now, that's all." Your eyes widen impossibly more and you have to bite your lip not to laugh aloud at your mother's brazen accusations.

"Shh! He's still here you know!"

"Did they not have any good looking boys in California?"

"They had plenty, thank you very much. Now leave it be." You're trying to hide it but you are smiling. Your mother knows you want her to can it, and so for once, she does, but theres a silent promise in her eyes that she will bring it up again.

You're glad she had stopped talking about it when she had, Bucky ducks his head into the barn just after and waves, bidding goodbye and saying thank you again to your mother, which she only deflects with her own thanks.

And then he's gone, the scent of pine wood and cinnamon left lingering in his tracks.

written 5/3/23 rewritten 5/22/25

Night Triumphant and the Stars Eternal

🎨art by giannyfili on IG

this early dancing (1/2) | sirius black x reader

Sirius turned the camera on your faces. You rested your cheek against his arm and smiled shyly, happy to see his handsome grin.

“Stop hiding. We need a good one to look back on,” he said seriously.

“We take photos all the time,” you argued.

“Indulge me.”

summary blindly in love with your best friend Sirius you find yourself sharing a room with him on a group holiday to the seaside. it wasn’t ever going to go any other way [11k]

warnings fluff, smut, marauders era, mutual pining, idiots in love, she/her pronouns used for reader, fem!reader

With your head sticking out the window of James Potter's people carrier you felt like you were flying, face tilted up to the sun to soak in the seaside warmth. You couldn't be far from the Potter cottage now, having played passenger as peacefully as you were able to for hours now whilst the boys took turns driving.

"Moons," Sirius said from behind the wheel. Remus lifted his eyes from the book he was fighting to read in annoyance - you hadn't left him alone since the trip had begun, and only with your head out the window had he managed to return to his well worn novel.

"What?"

"Pull her back in, would you?" he requested, nodding his head towards you. Remus' warm hand grabbed blindly at the short sleeve of your t-shirt until you conceded and sat flat again.

"Pull her?" James muttered from the front seat, tired from driving the first half of the road trip. "I barely know 'er."

"That 'barely' works," Lily complained from his side, though she wiped the hair from his forehead tenderly.

Marlene booed from behind Remus, which had her seat mates Dorcas and Mary laughing jovially. Emmeline took no notice of any of it at Remus' other side, also reading.

"I don't care how you do it, get her down," Sirius said in concern.

"She's down," you assured him.

"Lovely Y/N will live to see another day," Mary agreed, low voice soft and lilting.

You blushed from all the attention and shimmied down.

"She's embarrassed!" Marlene cooed, reaching over to pinch your shoulders.

Sirius peaked in the rear view mirror and grinned. "Don't be embarrassed, but please leave the dog like activity to me."

"If that's a sex joke, I don't get it," Emmeline said.

"And who does that surprise?" Remus muttered.

You laughed behind your hand, boiling now from the heat. You couldn't help from fidgeting, pulling the fabric of your shirt away from your sticky chest, concerned you looked a sight. Not that the other members of your troupe looked any better; Remus fought a good fight but ultimately didn't look as unbothered by the heat as he acted. James was openly complaining about the sun from the front seat, arguing that he should be allowed to sleep in the relative darkness of the back.

"Too bad, Pots," Marlene said, pressed up against Mary and Dorcas. Only the cool safety allowed them to maintain friendly contact without melting, you knew, and felt very jealous.

"We earned these seats fair and square," agreed Dorcas, legs thrown over your seat, sandal clad toes poking in between you and Remus.

"You cheated! No way can somebody win rock paper scissors 23 times in a row," James said conspiringly.

"Prove it."

You quite fancied that she'd cheated too, though you knew better than to give James any fuel for his fire. Sirius, despite the many years of friendship, had not learned this lesson yet, and so he said, "She definitely did."

"Thank you! Thank you, Pads," he leaned over Lily's arm to grasp his best friend's arm, "my bro."

"Ew, ew, ew! They're getting gooey!"

"They can't help their love," Mary said to Dorcas, patting her arm. "Don't give them too much shit for it."

Sirius leaned his head down to kiss James hand and almost crashed into an oncoming car.

"Lily! Tell your boyfriend's boyfriend to keep his eyes on the road!" Dorcas roared, sandals twitching.

You leaned forward to press your hand at the back of Sirius' neck. "Watch the road, loverboy."

"You got it, sweetheart," he said, eyes obediently on the journey ahead.

Determined to ignore the pleasure that shot through you at the sincere pet name you ran your fingers through the raven hairs at the back of his neck and noted how it was damp with sweat. You pulled the bobble from your wrist and pushed up onto your feet as tall as you could manage, neck craned against the roof of the van to pull his hair back from his face delicately until it was in a moderately neat ponytail at the back of his head. You made quick work of the bobble and tucked the piece you'd missed behind his ear.

"Thank you," he said warmly. Then, "Put your belt on, idiot."

You scratched the skin behind his ear lightly in acknowledgement, a silent you're welcome between you both, and sat back down.

James soon fell asleep against Lily's shoulder. She held his face to her chest tightly and kissed his forehead. You made yourself look away to study the book in Remus' hands.

Remus said something to you and you missed it, attention monopolised by Sirius' soft singing along to the radio. "Hmm?" you asked him, blinking.

"How's your car sickness?" he asked.

You smiled dismissively at your friend's concern. "Fine. Better if I don’t look down for a while.”

He nodded. You went back to your silence and found your stomach turning quickly after that, punished for trying to read while the van rocked. You pushed your face out the window again, eyes on the quick-approaching sea. It was a stunning blue, sunlight blinding you as it bounced off the waves. You squinted and held your hand up uselessly.

"Here," Sirius said, hand reaching back. He was offering his sunglasses to you through the gap.

"Thank you," you said. His finger danced a quick line over your hand, his own silent you’re welcome, and then he was back to driving.

You loved most about your friendship with Sirius the things you didn't have to say. You weren't sure when the scratching had begun, only that it had, and that the slither of intimacy drove you insane.

Pushing his sunglasses up your nose you turned back to the view. The lenses helped dull the bright light of the waves nicely but they did nothing for your best friend; Sirius was as golden as ever. You found him difficult to look at, sometimes.

"How far are we now?" Lily asked quietly, hand in James' hair.

"Not far," Sirius murmured, voice sending tingles through your chest, "and then our summer can really begin."

You gulped a breath of fresh air and willed the nausea away, not fully confident it was car sickness after all. Remus nudged you with his elbow. "You want a polo?"

You laughed weakly. "No."

"Might make you less ill."

"I'm alright."

He huffed like he didn't believe you. You were amazed at his ability to keep his eyes on the page and unwrap a polo mint for you at the same time. He pressed it into your hand. "Eat that, dove."

You smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

"Welcome."

You sucked on the mint and twiddled your thumbs. You wished you would've put your camera around your wrist rather than in your suitcase. If anything you could've been taking sneaky pictures of the back row for you and Sirius to pick over later - you were sure Marlene was dating Dorcas. Sirius was sure it was Mary. James swore up and down it was Dorcas and Mary where Remus shrugged and said it was nobody's business. Lily definitely knew and wasn't telling. Alice probably knew because Lily knew, and Emmeline was about as oblivious to it all as she was everything else.

You didn't know who was snogging who but you knew for certain it wasn't you.

Sirius caught your eye in the rear view mirror. "What're you eating?"

You bit the polo between your teeth and bared it to him.

"Working?"

You nodded.

"Alright. Let me know if you want to pull over."

"Fuck off! If we stopped every time Y/N gets sick we'll never get there," Marlene protested, and then, "Hey! Stop fucking pinching me."

"Be nicer," Mary said softly.

"You first."

"We don't need to pull over. I'm fine."

"Better we pull over then have the car smell like sick all day," Dorcas argued.

"Guys," you were almost begging now, desperate for the attention to be on somebody else, "I won't be sick."

"You won't be," Remus said firmly.

"Aim for Moony's lap," Sirius advised.

-

No sooner had the people carrier pulled onto the Potter cottage driveway had you thrown the door open to keel over by the front garden grass. You were breathing heavily in an effort to overcome the sinking feeling, more than relieved to finally be on solid, unmoving ground. You could smell salt and clay on the breeze, the sun-warmed grass soft under your feet.

Sirius came up behind you, pushing his hand over the skin between your shoulder blades.

He didn't say anything. You'd played these parts before: disapparation made you feel sick, too, and the floo, and brooms and trains and planes - it all made you sick to your stomach. You could barely withstand a piggyback.

You swallowed a heave desperately.

"If you need to be sick, be sick," Sirius said gently.

You wanted to tell him to fuck off, suddenly and unfairly infuriated with him. His hand felt like a poker on your shoulders and you wanted to shrug out from underneath his touch. You recognised that was insane and not an appropriate reaction to your best friend comforting you and so you let him rub what was intended to be a soothing path up past your shoulders and then down to the bottom of your back.

You could hear Lily cheering about the sunset. You could see the pink purple sky out of the corner of your eye and worried you were missing an extraordinary picture.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, noticing your stillness.

You stood up, nodding. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and shook you about, squeezing. "God, I'm sorry. You really can't handle it, can you? Poor girl."

You relaxed under his arm and let him steer you to the cliffside overlooking the beach where everybody else had gathered. The sky was a shock of cherry pink at the horizon melting up into a deeper purple. You felt your lips part at the sight. No matter how many photographs you took of the sky on your shoddy camera, it never looked like the real thing.

You and Sirius looked at each other and grinned. Your eyes darted from eye to eye, pupils wobbling, and Sirius pulled his arm away, patting you on the shoulder.

"Where's your camera? That'll be a nice one to commemorate our first night here."

You retrieved your camera from the boot and noticed Alice and Frank's car pulling in.

"Perfect timing!" you called to them, grinning. "Group photo."

Your friend's all piled in for the photograph. The girl’s gathered in the middle, Alice with Frank on one end and Lily on the other. James was pressed tiredly to Lily's side whilst Sirius had wrapped his arm around the exhausted boy's shoulder. Remus was begrudgingly pulled into the throng of women in the middle.

"Alright, guys. Say cheese," you said, raising your camera.

"Hey! It has a timer, doesn't it?" Lily protested.

"Set it up on the birdbath, love!"  James called.

You rolled your eyes but did as they asked. With the camera ticking you rushed over to Sirius' side, who pushed you in between him and James and stretched his hand back over your shoulder. He smelled familiarly of his cologne.

"Big smiles!" Lily said loudly.

You smiled wide. The camera flashed brightly and then everyone was laughing and rubbing their eyes.

"Merlin, that's bright," Emma whined.

Remus patted her shoulder in sympathy and then walked off, leaving her blindsided. James sat down heavily on the grass and complained he'd never drive again, and he certainly wouldn't be helping get the things from the car. Lily sat down with him in solidarity. They both laughed roaringly at everybody else's indignation and refused to move until everyone had put their things away. You stayed outside, trying to catch photographs of the sky while it still looked so lovely. When James and Lily weren't looking you took a quick photo of their dark outlines in the grass, both their hair splayed around them, heads inclined toward each other, hands twined.

You finally walked over to the car to gather your things, gravel crunching under your canvas shoes. They’d already been taken in. You frowned and let yourself into the cottage. All the lights were on and Remus was talking very crossly from the landing upstairs.

“This is a holiday,” he was saying pointedly, “I will not be sharing a room with you, Pads. I won’t sleep.”

“I know I’m handsome but you don’t have to stay up and watch me,” Sirius sniffed. You stopped halfway up the stairs to listen to them argue.

“You snore! You know you do!”

Sirius winced. “A good friend would pretend not to notice.”

“A good friend would release me. Please, Pads.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do!”

“Sleep on the sofa?”

“You’re being an absolute wan-“

“Room with me,” you said easily, ascending the last few steps.

Remus frowned. “I wouldn’t force him on you, Y/N.”

“I snore too,” you said, shrugging. “Won’t notice.”

Having a room to yourself had been the one game of rock paper scissors you’d managed to win between the girls with no partners (as far as you could tell).

Sirius was looking at you strangely. You backtracked. “I mean, if that’s alright. I can get changed in the bathroom and I’m an excellent roommate, and-“

“It's alright. It’s brilliant, actually. Thanks, sweetheart.”

You smiled brightly. “That’s okay. Wouldn’t want poor Remus to suffer you.”

Sirius frowned. “What’s with everyone’s vendetta against me? Am I such a terrible roommate?”

“Yes,” James called from the bottom of the stairs. “God awful.”

“Right,” Sirius said solemnly, pulling his wand from his back pocket. James cringed backwards.

“Let’s not make any hasty decisions.”

“Trust me, I’ve been thinking about this one.”

You pointed Sirius’ wand up at the rafters and giggled madly when they turned a fluorescent yellow. "What happened to our no magic holiday?"

James squawked. “That would’ve gone garishly with my lovely skin,” he said, preening like a bird. Lily rolled her eyes and patted one of his lovely brown shoulders in mock comfort. “There there, babe.”

Sirius was half pouting at you. “He deserved that one.”

“He didn’t. You’re all cranky from driving. You’ll be besties again at breakfast.”

“Make that brunch,” James called.

Marlene called down something in response that you missed as Sirius shut the door behind you. Your room was big enough to fit two single beds with room to waltz between them, soft white bedding atop raglan furnishings set in a neutral tan room with an en suite bathroom, it was nicer than your room at home. You set your wand and camera down on the nightstand and sank into the marsh softness of the mattress, sighing.

Sirius did the same in his respective bed.

“You okay?” you asked him, peering over your shoulder at his languid form. He stretched his hands over his head, shoulder muscles moving underneath his graphic t-shirt. You bit your lip and watched him indulgently.

“Tired. Are you still feeling poorly?”

You shook your head. Though he didn’t turn to look you assumed he’d sensed it, as words didn’t pass between you again for a while.

“You really don’t mind rooming with me?”

You fiddled with your bracelet. It was a simple chain, gold-plated with a small piece of green jade at the centre. Sirius had gifted it to you for your birthday and you hadn’t taken it off since.

“I don’t mind.”

“It’ll be fun,” he decided.

“Like a sleepover,” you agreed.

“Exactly.”

Where had this awkward space come from? You suspected you were imagining it, so afraid of revealing your fondness for him that you were now hesitating to talk to him. You didn’t trust yourself sometimes to idle in his company. How maddening that a confession rooted itself at the front of your mouth, always waiting for you to get too close, to feel too loved.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

He turned toward you so sharply you spooked yourself, scared you’d said it out loud.

“Picture?”

“What?”

“Let’s take a picture. Me and you.”

Your smile crept up slowly at the corners. You shuffled across the bed to make space for him and he filled it, strands of his hair tickling your face as he settled. He grabbed your camera from the bedside table and struggled through its workings until it was green and ready to go, moaning about how you could possibly get along with such muggle-like contraptions. You knew he was grumbling for the sake of it and that in reality he liked your magic camera just as much as you did. It was brilliant, really, you could take loads of photos before it got full and with a simple spell you could look through them projected onto the wall like a small television.

Sirius turned the camera on your faces. You rested your cheek against his arm and smiled shyly, happy to see his handsome grin. You thanked god that you could veto whichever pictures you wanted because as long as Sirius was pressed up at your side smelling like sweetness and himself so sharply it made your heart ache, smiling like he wanted to be nowhere else, you’d look like a lovesick fool in every photograph.

The flash blinded you.

“Is there a setting that doesn’t jeopardise our eyesight?” Sirius inquired.

You buried your face in his arm and giggled.

“Stop hiding. We need a good one to look back on,” he said seriously.

“We take photos all the time,” you argued.

“Indulge me.”

The way he said it - you smiled with teeth and didn’t complain.

-

When you woke up Sirius was still asleep. You moved to lie on your side so you could watch him breathing, tracing the rising and falling line of his chest, the hair he'd left in your bobble the night before, his soft sleep shirt peeking out where the duvet had slipped in the night time.

You could hear the clinking of dishes and easy conversation echoing up the stairs, followed swiftly by the smell of frying bacon and eggs, the sweeter scent of pancakes hot on its tail.

Sirius made a sound in his sleep. You reached your hand out over the gap despite being yards too far to touch him, lining your hand up with his head and pretended you were smoothing the soft strands of ebony hair from his face, tucking it behind his ears. You'd kiss his forehead afterwards, breathe in the smell of his hair or tuck your face in the nook of his shoulder, slot yourself by his side like you belonged.

There was a sound of smashing glass and a shock of laughter that made you both flinch, rousing Sirius awake. You let your hand fall to hang over the side of the bed, fingers an inch from the hardwood floor.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes and stretched, turning flat on his back. You copied him, pulling the blankets up over your nose.

"Y/N," he said softly, words warped by a yawn, "you awake?"

"Yes," you whispered, aiming for casualness and missing by a mile.

You turned your head and he was looking at you with a happy, tired smile. You smiled back and then realised he couldn't see it.

"Do you want to shower?" he asked you.

"I showered after you fell asleep."

He sat up and hunched over, hair falling in his face, necklace slipping out from under his shirt to dangle in the space between his chest and his legs. It was a chain with a thumbnail sized circle of silver hanging from it. You suspected it was engraved but had never had reason to get a good look, and were too shy to ask.

He scratched his face, his two days stubble. His hands looked funny without a ring or two, you'd never seen them early enough in the morning to catch him without them.

You pushed the duvet down and stared at the ceiling as he got to his feet and scrounged through his bags for clean clothes and his towel. You'd already shoved your toiletries in the bathroom last night.

"You want to go eat?"

You shook your head. "I'll wait for you."

"I'll be fast."

"Take as long as you want."

You should not have said that, you realised, twenty minutes later with a rumbling stomach and Sirius nowhere to be seen. You'd whipped up to get changed in case he'd been as quick as he promised, worried he'd walk in on you starkers. Lily had pronounced the first proper day had to be a beach day, so you'd put on a bikini top and simple white t-shirt with short sleeves and a pair of shorts over your bikini bottoms.

You picked at the seams of your crisp denim shorts and wondered if you should be wearing a skirt, no doubt like Lily and Alice would be. Marlene was likely naked or close to it, Mary would wear a sundress, Dorcas did as she liked and Emma might show up in a hazmat suit.

You pouted and leapt to your feet, rushing for your bag. You'd packed a beach cover up and so you might as well wear it rather than feel insecure in your shorts. You unbuttoned them and pulled them off, kicked them under your bed for now.

The bathroom door opened before you'd located the cover up. You looked up like a deer-in-headlights and Sirius was looking at you too, but he didn't look nearly so bashful. Obviously - there was no need. You were going to the beach and he was bound to see you in your bikini eventually, and still you felt naked as the day you were born.

You smiled fleetingly and crouched down to ruffle through your bags for the wrap skirt. It was plain and black, simple enough that you didn't feel as though it would garner much attention. You pulled it on and then found your sandals and put them on too.

Sirius hummed appraisingly. "You look nice."

"Thanks," you said warmly, cheeks heating, "you look nice too."

And he did, lean thighs showcased by a pair of dark swim shorts and a white cotton vest that hugged his chest keenly. You almost matched.

He'd tucked his necklace back under the fabric. Your bobble was loose around his wrist, hair curling and wet dripping on his maddening shoulders. He'd trimmed up his face but still had a shadow like he usually did. You wanted to run your hands over his face and feel the dark stubble under your fingers so instead you cleared your throat and whispered past him to the bathroom to freshen up.

You came out smelling much nicer and feeling cleaner, face all softened up by cleanser and moisturiser.

"You have sunscreen?" you asked him.

"Nah. Greek doesn't burn."

"Greek does get skin cancer," you said pointedly, pulling your shoulder purse open to check you had what you needed.

Sirius pushed the door open and held it for you, beaming down at you. "If I let you put it on me will you stop scowling?"

You relaxed your face. "I'm not scowling."

He'd tilted his head back and laughed at you all the way down the stairs.

James was at the stove, brown skin speckled by white powder. You laughed at the sheer amount of flour he'd managed to wipe up his own face.

He was on the defensive quickly. "Laugh it up! No pancakes for either of you," he said, pointing his spatula at you both. Sirius scoffed in indignation.

"Am I to be punished for everything she does?"

James nodded pensively. "Indeed."

Lily was sitting on the countertop near the sink. You sidled up to her side and opened a glass fronted cupboard to retrieve a glass to fill with water. She had a piece of toast in one hand and pushed your hair flat with the other.

"I love your skirt," she said.

Her's wasn't so different to your own, you thought, and then realised that was the joke. Her long legs were outfitted in a black wrap skirt that didn't so much hide her blue bikini as it accentuated it. She hadn't bothered with a shirt, which you applauded.

"Thanks, babe," she said.

"Such a pair of tits shouldn't ever be hidden. Ti's the true tragedy they must be encased at all," James agreed.

"What is this character you're doing?" Sirius spluttered. "You ridiculous man!"

"I doth not know what you mean."

You smiled to yourself and sat down next to Mary, who was looking pretty as a picture in her lilac sundress. She'd styled her twists into a half bun that showcased her pretty face, her dark skin glowing in the morning light. You felt a shoot of jealousy and then grimaced at yourself. There wasn't any need to be jealous - your friends were gorgeous and so were you.

Still, you found yourself ogling Mary's clear skin reverently.

"You're glowing," you complimented her, pulling a bowl of fresh fruit towards you, no doubt Mary's doing.

"Thank you! I got this new serum with almond oil that makes me really soft and dewy, and it smells really good too."

"Yeah?"

"Mm, from Boots. Oh, you want coffee?"

"No, thanks," you said at the same time as Sirius said, "You're a godsend, Mary."

Mary smiled brightly, lifting the pot of coffee towards his outstretched mug. "I know."

He sipped at his coffee with his hand on the back of your chair. You tried your best to ignore this and found yourself on ends anyways, wondering what the back of your head looked like.

He stole fruit from your plate and wouldn't back down, even when you started fighting back with your fork. You'd almost speared him when Marlene walked in with Dorcas looking dazed behind her, grinning. "We're ready."

"I'll grab Remus and then we'll go," James said, untying his apron. There was a naked square where it had been, and he looked down at it frowning. "After I change my shirt."

"Thanks for the pancakes," Emma called after him.

"You're welcome. At least somebody appreciates my efforts," James said from the bottom of the stairs.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Get a load of him. Makes breakfast and now he's Saint Lucy."

You smiled up at him. "He can be whatever he wants if he's making pancakes every morning. Though Saint James has a terrible ring to it."

Sirius wiped the corner of your mouth with the tip of his index finger. "Wasn't he beheaded?"

You shrugged, biting back a laugh. You didn't know why you were smiling so wide but Sirius was, and his beatific grin was contagious.

"I hope you aren't planning to execute my boyfriend," Lily said, jumping down from the countertop. Her red, smooth hair moved in a sheet behind her.

"Don't think of it as an execution, Lils."

"An exoneration," you suggested.

"A freeing."

James pushed into the kitchen with a knackered looking Remus at his side. "I've saved you so many pancakes, Moony, you wouldn't believe it. You'll be fed for days."

"Thank you, James," Remus said, rubbing a hand through his depressed hair.

"Eat up, darling boy," Sirius said loudly, "you look as though you're on the edge of death."

"I might have slept too well," he admitted sheepishly.

Sirius looked at him then and all his care melted into outrage. "Your hubris befalls you."

"Did we all decide to speak like this today or did I miss the memo?" you asked, more to yourself than anyone else.

"T'was not a decision! T'was a calling from the heavens," James piped in, looking much cleaner in his new vest and open button-up.

"T'was a twottish calling," Marlene said, laughing. This sent peels of laughter through the room and after a good chuckle, eventually everyone was smiling and ready to walk down to the beach.

Why you'd all waited to go together was a mystery, it was hardly a five minute walk down the path from the cottage cliffside before you were breaking out onto a gorgeous white stretch of sand kissing clear blue waves.

Sirius and James had carried the picnic basket between them. Lily had the cooler. You'd deigned to carry the blankets and towels and refused anyone's help, almost tripping over a piece of driftwood. You let the linens fall into the soft sand and felt the grains of it sink into your open sandals, wiggling your toes.

Your camera bounced at your chest as you traipsed over to the cooler, searching for something cold to hold against your head. It had been noon by the time everyone was ready to head out and so the sun was already making itself known, beating down on your shoulders.

"It's gorgeous," Lily said brightly.

"We'll have a bonfire tonight," James said.

Marlene laid a towel out and put her stereo, her prized possession, down on it carefully. She clicked a button and set the volume low, and the beach was suddenly alive with the hum of The Rolling Stones.

You and Lily spread the biggest blanket out away from where James had begun forming a rock circle for the barbecue and sat down on it with matching peaceable expressions, soon joined by Emmeline and Remus. Mary, Dorcus and Marlene set their towels up at the edge of the blanket and were quick to begin sunbathing.

Marlene was likely going to burn herself to a crisp trying to tan. Lily pulled the brim of her sunhat down and began slathering sunscreen over her pale legs, her stomach and chest.

"James!" she called, "come do my back, please?"

He perked up like an excited puppy. "Oh, Lilykins, you charmer."

"If I'd asked anyone else you would've sulked all day."

"Yes I would've. Now stay still, I need to get your beauty mark."

"Mole."

"Mole, whatever. Most marks on you are pretty, I get confused."

You looked down and made yourself busy covering your skin similarly in sunscreen, bringing your knees up to massage the cream into your legs and feet. You'd just managed to get your arms when a shadow was towering over you.

"What, Sirius?" you asked.

He smiled impishly. "You gonna get my back too?"

The comment made you giggle nervously. "In the event the sun could even reach your back then sure, I'd get you."

He crouched down. "You haven't rubbed it in properly. Let me," and he was touching your face, mouth so close you felt his exhales on your eyelashes. He spread the sunscreen with his thumb in a broad swipe across your cheek. "You don't think you're going overboard?"

"There's nothing overboard about protection."

"No glove, no love," he agreed under his breath.

You batted his hands away. "Grow up. Go help James make his firepit."

"Yes ma'am."

-

Later, you were wading through the shallows, full of barbecued foods and sparkling cider and trying not to get pushed over. The others had insisted on playing chicken and you were watching from a distance. Lily and James were the winning team, closely followed by Lily and Sirius when James got sand in his eyes.

Emmeline from atop Remus' shoulders pouted and called for justice. "Lily is obviously too good. We're never gonna win."

"Fuck you, Em! I'm at least half the team,” Sirius said, offended.

Remus tightened his hands on Emma's calves, who was wobbling as she shook her head. "The common denominator is Lily."

Lily was calling and laughing. "Quite right!"

"Sweetheart, I know you don't like chicken, but it's for a better cause, Sirius said, turning his determined gaze on you.

"Wha-" He bent down, ushering Lily off his shoulders, and you understood what he meant. "Sirius, no."

"Come on! I'll do your dishes all week."

He usually did them anyway.

"It'll make me sick."

"It won't!"

You began protesting again and he trudged towards you, big hands on your arms. He looked particularly handsome, damp and sun-kissed, eyes big with happiness and smiling like you were something good. "Get on my shoulders, Y/N."

"Fine. Just one,” you gave in, pulling your shirt off. You tossed it in the direction of your towel and set your begrudging eyes on his legs, sulking.

"Good sport!" James cheered, flat on his back stoking the small fire.

Sirius led you out into the deeper water and knelt down so you could climb over his shoulders. Once seated he got to his feet, eliciting a terrified moan from you. You grasped onto his neck tightly with your face smashed into the back of his head.

His grip was unfailing on your thighs. "Relax… I won't let you fall."

You loosened your headlock incrementally.

"Good girl. How we feeling?"

You felt a shot of pleasure at his words, and then with horror recognised that your crotch was literally at his neck.

"Y/N?"

"Great. Good. Let's do this shit," you declared, hands precarious at his neck.

He laughed and turned you to face the others. "That's my girl."

-

Having defeated everyone who tried to beat you at chicken, you and Sirius were very obviously feeling closer to each other, and it was infuriating everybody.

"We get it! You're good at chicken! Shut the fuck up!" Remus complained, book flat on his chest to glare at Sirius, who had been lamenting your victory with his shoulder pressed to your shoulder.

"So bitter," Sirius said suavely, running his hand up Remus' sand crusted calf, "somebody sounds a little jealous, Remy-poo."

You crinkled your nose and shook the crisp packet in your hand, looking for a nice one. James leaned over your shoulder to grab a handful and you let him, smiling at your friend. He had Lily's head in his lap and looked as blissful as a man could look.

"I hope you aren't talking to me, Remus," you said, feigning hurt. Usually he could be tricked into being his softie self but he was really quite irritated by Sirius' gloating.

"Get fucked, Y/N."

You laid your head on Sirius' shoulder, your hand on his thigh. He dug through the crisps and offered you a flavorful looking one before stealing some for himself. You knew you were pushing it - this was bordering the platonic boundary - but, high on victory and your friendship, you couldn't help yourself from cuddling up to him.

He didn't seem to mind anyhow, making conversation overtop your head as easy as breathing. You stretched your arm out blindly searching for your camera until you found it, clipping the lense cover off. You clicked the camera on, zooming in on your leg against Sirius'.

"Nice legs."

"Testing," you told him, though you hadn't been.

You twisted around to take a photograph of Lily and James, who didn't protest, Remus with his head on Mary's thigh, who did. You got a wide shot of Frank, Alice, Dorcas, Marlene and Emma playing cards before zooming into Marlene, who was leaning back on one arm, a cigarette dangling between her teeth. She took a lazy drag and laid her hand of cards out flat. "Read 'em n weep, ladies."

Dorcas groaned. "Right, I'm done. Anyone else wanna watch a film?"

"My brains fried," Alice said, nodding.

"I want my pyjamas. And a shower. Not in that order," Lily said.

Soon everyone was getting to their feet and groaning. "I have sand in places sand shouldn't be," Emma said morosely, helping you gather the sheets.

"The boys'll stay for a kick about?" James said, looking between his mates.

"No cheating this time, Prongs," Remus started.

James held up his hands. "Scout's honour."

"You didn't get in scout's, mate. Brownie's honour, at best," Frank said.

A headlock ensued. Sirius jogged over to you with his rings in hand, "Have these for me?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"Sweet," he said, kissing you on the cheek. "Shan't be long. Quick, get back before the gnats come out!"

You looked at his rings in your hand, warm still, and felt heat rise to the tops of your ears. Lily threw an arm around your shoulder and you were off up the lane. Marl had already thrown the door open, letting in the summer breeze to break through the humid heat kept in the house while you were gone. Lily rushed upstairs to catch one of the showers, citing a deep rooted annoyance at the sand in her bikini top.

You went into the kitchen and put your purse and Sirius' rings down on the countertop and started putting things away, binning everyone's leftovers and setting the plates in the sink. You'd spelled away the crumbs and food and was about to get to the dishes, hot water running and sleeves pushed up when you realised you weren't wearing your bracelet.

Your heart skipped.

It took a moment to sink in. You looked at your blank wrist in bizarre confusion, turning your hand like it might be hiding. No such luck. You scoured your eyes over the kitchen and spotted no signs of it, hand moving up to push against your forehead.

You walked out the way you came and traced the hall, the porch. You ran up the stairs two at a time and burst into your room, nosing through your bags, then did the same in the bathroom. Your chest felt tight as you stood there, walls white and blinding.

You stumbled back into the bedroom and Sirius was in the doorway.

"What's wrong?" he asked instantly.

Your eyes darted to him and then back to your bedroom floor. "My bracelet. I can't find it."

"When'd you have it last?"

"This morning. Definitely before we went to the beach."

You paled.

"Doll, don't worry-" he started, worried by your expression. You moved past him before he could finish and fled down the stairs for your purse in the kitchen. You'd looked through it once, but it didn't make sense - maybe you'd taken it off to play chicken? Unlikely. You never took it off, not ever.

"D-" Sirius was again cut off by you, eyes widening as you tipped your purse out on the kitchen floor. You picked through the contents, despairing.

"It's not here," you murmured.

Sirius was by your side. "Have you summoned it?"

You shook your head, laughing bitterly, "I put anti-spellwork on it after James turned it into a snake."

Sirius laughed and then smarted, clearing his throat.

"Right. Sorry."

Your eyes filled with tears. You looked at the bright kitchen light and willed them away.

"Hey," he said softly, moving into your eyesight, "don't cry, bub. I'll get you a new one."

You blinked, moving your head left to right like the movement might stop the overwhelming emotion. "Sirius, I want that one."

He bit his lip, pulling his hair. "Alright. Get your shoes back on and we'll go look down on the beach, yeah?"

Sirius pulled his jacket on and pulled his wand out with a Lumos at the tip, eyes steadfast to the ground as you walked. "What's it look like?"

"Sirius-" you began, feeling a little hurt.

His smile came up on one side. "Kidding, kidding. Can't forget the damn thing if I tried. You've only worn it since we were seventeen."

You rolled your eyes, momentarily forgetting the task at hand. "You know any metal-detecting spells?"

"You'll be lucky, it's made of plastic."

You chuckled weakly.

He grabbed your shoulder, digging his thumb into your skin. "Hey, don't worry about it. We'll find it. And if we don't, I really will get you a new one."

"I - it's not like that. It's special. You gave it to me, you know? It's like," you cut yourself off.

"What?" he asked, grinning smugly.

You kicked sand under your shoe. You were almost at the beach now, the tide having moved far out. You only hoped your bracelet wasn't somewhere in the waves, never to be seen again.

"Y/N?"

"It's like my piece of you."

You peeked out the corner of your eye at his expression which had gone slack at your confession.

"Right. Right," he picked up his pace incrementally, "let's get digging. We'll shovel the whole beach if we have to."

And you did, looking through the hills of sand until the sky was darkening and the sun was a yellow beam across the ocean, a multicolour spectral that splashed up your skin and drenched you in pinks and orange.

Sirius was similarly sky stained and on his knees, digging around where you'd been sitting again.

"It's alright. Let's just go back."

Sirius shook his head. "I'm gonna find this bracelet, babe."

You hugged yourself.

"Seriously, Black, let's go home. It's pointless."

Sirius ignored you, crawling over to the firepit. "Oh," he said. And then, "Found it."

He held it up between pinched fingers. "Not so pointless, as it turns out."

You couldn't believe your luck - his luck - couldn't believe it was there to find. Sirius staggered to his feet, legs completely covered in sand. You almost threw yourself at him, pushing him back with the force of your hug, wrapping your arms around his waist and then pulling back to accept the bracelet. He wrapped his own arms around your neck, holding you.

You basically danced in his hold. You stole your arms back to put the bracelet back on.

"I have great taste," he said quietly, arms still at your neck.

You laughed, really laughed, felt your chest heave with the force of it, and then you lost any and all sense of reason, any self preservation, looking at Sirius' handsome face. He was looking down at you all homespun and glowing with the sunset at his back and you couldn’t have stopped yourself from kissing him if you tried.

It caught you both by surprise. He made a small sound in the back of his throat and stilled. You pulled away quickly, still laughing (albeit scared to death) and he brought one hand up to the back of your neck to bring you back in.

His kiss was warm. He tasted of fruit juice and…

"Have you been smoking?" you asked, mouth poised over his.

He stopped short, moving the hand that was cupping your neck to your cheek. His eyes were brilliant, pupils dilated.

"No?"

"I think you have. You know those things are going to kill y-"

He kissed you again. His lips were firm, pushing down with enough force to make you retreat a step. He followed, kissing and kissing. You broke it off to finish scolding him, heartbeat in your ears.

"You'll get cancer. Is that what you want?"

He shook his head in disbelief, hand smoothing the side of your face twice quick.

"Why are you so obsessed with my having cancer?"

"Because you purposefully take stupid risks and don't think about the consequences!"

"Fucking hell," he said, chuckling, eyebrows high.

His laugh was contagious - you were so tiffed with him and so happy about the bracelet and so hot where his arms were wrapped around you, burning at his bare hand on your face. You pecked the corner of his mouth and then the other. "Idiot," you breathed.

He caught you while your mouth was still open.

You realised suddenly that you were kissing your best friend, your favourite person in the world, who you'd been half in love with since you met and more and more every day.

He was kissing you back. He was leading.

His tongue was in your mouth.

You pulled away to question him, planning on asking him what he was even doing, why was he kissing you back? He should've pushed you away, and why was his hand at your lower back? Why was he touching the naked skin there like you were something precious?

He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead on yours.

"Is it bad that I kind of like you calling me names?"

"It's terrible," you said, pushing up, mouth a millimetre from yours. When he leaned down so that your lips were touching, you hesitated coyly. "Anything else you like I should know about?"

He pushed his fingertips into your waist and smiled when you squirmed.

"Quite like your bikini," he murmured, kissing you chastely, "worse," he moved down to kiss your jawline, "I like what's underneath it."

You laughed in surprise. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Careful," he said, punctuating the warning with a nip.

His fingers found the bow tying your bikini top shut. He tugged at one of the ties gently. Maybe he was waiting for your permission, or protest, or something, but you could only stand with your chest heaving with excitement and trepidation both. Slowly, he drew the tie open. The seconds stretched, you could barely look at him where he was unblinking, unflinching. It sprung undone, and his hands moved to the one at your neck. He was even slower the second time around, gaze heavy-lidded. Your faces were close enough that you were breathing in the others exhale, stealing air from his parted lips.

The fabric was slipping away, and suddenly Sirius was pressing you flat to his chest, hugging you tight. You frowned in confusion as he manhandled you to be where he'd been standing seconds ago, bare chest against his shirt. Frank and Alice were at the edge of the sand, holding hands. Alice gave you a knowing look.

"Wh- hi, guys!" you shouted, maybe too loudly.

"Sorry, we were coming for a walk! Didn't realise you were already down here!" Frank called, laden with innuendo.

Sirius had turned his head to laugh but was covering your naked chest by standing in your path. "That's alright, Y/N here was just cold. In fact…" he slipped his jacket off, stuffing your discarded bikini top deep into the pocket. He wrapped it around your shoulders and zipped it up, hands uncharacteristically shaky.

He stepped away from you casually. "We came to find her bracelet."

"D'you find it?" Alice asked curiously.

You pushed the sleeve of your borrowed jacket down and held your wrist up, "Sirius found it."

"Brill," Frank said.

“Yeah, we were just leaving,” you said. “Ssssssso, we’ll get out of your hair.”

You laughed and nodded, agreeing with him as Sirius steered you towards the couple and then past them. "See you in a bit, lovebirds," Sirius shouted over his shoulder.

The walk up to the house was clearly nervous.

"Thanks," you told him, embarrassed, "not sure how many people I can deal with seeing my tits before it's a problem."

"Don't mention it," he said. He didn't sound quite like himself. You bumped his shoulder with yours.

"Is… is everything okay?"

He came into himself a bit then, as if he were shaking off a layer of dust. "Can't believe Longbottom cockblocked me," he said, and winced. "Not that-"

"Who said he did?" you asked lowly.

He looked sideways at you and then down at his shoes. He smiled.

-

Sirius held his index finger against his lips, opening the front door to the Potter beach cottage as quietly as he could. You nodded, a picture in his jacket. Each time he remembered you were wearing nothing underneath he had to take a moment for himself and breathe a ragged inhale. He flicked his eyes to the evening sky before pushing open the door.

The floorboards were thankfully silent. The stairs didn't groan. He was halfway up with you flush to his back when James said, "Sirius?" from his room.

Sirius opened his mouth, unsure whether to answer. You shook your head despairingly.

He shut his mouth. You both stood silent on the stairs, staring at each other with his heart in his throat. James didn't call again, and so you finished creeping up the staircase and then across the landing. He ushered you into the room first and then followed behind, shutting the door. He stood there for a moment, listening.

When he turned back you were cleaning up the contents of your purse from the floor hurriedly. He peered down at you, the big light stretching his shadow and leaving you in darkness. You zipped your purse shut. Looking up at him from this angle, he could see a triangle of your chest. He offered his hand and you took it. Pulled to your feet you wobbled, wavered, looking at him like you wanted to touch him and weren't sure you were allowed.

He rested his hands on your shoulders in what he hoped was a placating gesture. Your smile was sweet and soft as he traversed down your sternum to fiddle with the zipper on his jacket, pulling it down an inch and then up half, down another inch.

"Sirius…" you whispered, reproach in your gaze.

He tilted his chin up proudly. "Sweetheart."

"Are you gonna mess with me all night?" you said, words tinged with anxiety. He laughed at your neediness.

"Maybe I will… I've been known to play with my food."

"Gonna eat me?"

"Gonna try," he affirmed, pulling the zip down steady.

You went to take the jacket off and he stopped you.

"Keep it on, won't you?" It didn't sound much like a question.

He didn't think about it - didn't second guess himself. He spread his palm flat over your breast and took your beaded nipple into his mouth, mouthing your breast in a heavy kiss. Your hand went to his hair so gently he almost felt sorry for being rough. Almost.

He moved to your other breast and felt his chest burn when you giggled breathlessly. He learned the curve of your waist under his calloused hand, kneading your softness.

He took your nipple between his teeth very gently and tugged. Although you made no sound, your hold in his hair tightened which told him everything he needed to know, abandoning your hip to pay special attention to your tits. He smiled at the goosebumps spreading over your body.

You made a sound like a hiccup. His dick jumped where it tented his shorts.

Determined to catch any similar sounds he returned to your perfect mouth, guiding your face to his. He pressed his other hand against his cock and prayed you didn't look down just yet.

You were eager and attentive, trying to get as close to him as you could, hands roving his chest. He walked you backwards into his bed, didn't think about the sand covering you both until it was ruining his sheets. He broke the kiss to retrieve his wand and you chased him. He allowed you a quick peck and then pulled his wand from his pocket, expunging the sand, locking the door and muffling the room from between your legs. Then he set aside the damned thing and pressed his knee between your thighs, pushing your head down into his pillow.

And how many times had he envisioned this?

You, warm and ethereal, laid out in his bed.

Himself, breathing fast and desperate and willing to do anything you wanted.

You pushed your cheek into his pillow shyly and grinned, squinting from how wide you were smiling. He smiled back, not as wide or openly, but hopefully enough.

"You sure you wanna do this?" he asked you quietly, running his hand over your hair.

"Mmm… you'll have to be more specific," you whispered, words so quiet he had to lean down to hear them.

He kissed your cheek, lingered there.

"Gonna make me say it?" he said. He was going for sexy, obviously, but with you affection tinged every word, had them rolling off of his tongue pleased and covered in sweetness like dark honey.

"I might do," you whispered, tone taking on a similar fond-sticky quality.

He ran his knuckle down from your temple to your jawline and then back up, touch soft. He flitted underneath your eye before flattening his hand to push his fingers underneath your ear, pad of his thumb poised over the very top of your cheekbone. He marvelled at how his hand fit perfectly in the space there like it had been made to rest against your skin.

"You're very quiet," you murmured, pupils wobbling.

"'M thinking," he murmured in turn, punctuating with a broad sweep of his thumb.

"'Bout what?"

His other hand smoothed over the soft flesh of your abdomen sinking down, down to the elastic of your bikini bottoms. They were tied in the same fashion as your top had been, and he delighted in the slow unravelling of the bows at each hip.

"'Bout how I'm gonna make a mess of you," he said, drawing a line down your now-bared centre. Your chest moved up sharply and didn't come back down until he'd found your entrance, already leaking slick. He spread wet up your front, circling your clit until your breath caught.

"There you are," he said, laughing.

"It's not funny," you protested breathlessly.

He pushed down a tad roughly, listening intently for your quiet moans. "It feels funny."

"That's my line."

He rolled his eyes, edging your entrance with the tip of his fingers. "Tell me if this feels funny, sweetheart."

He pushed his index finger past little resistance, already coated in your arousal and working more out of your warmth. You shuddered underneath him, reaching out to grab his hand for some comfort. He took your wrist in his other hand and held it away from your cunt. He checked your face to see how you were taking and felt a smugness like no other at the evident pleasure smudging your features, lips parted delicately and eyes shuttering closed with each thrust inward. He increased the pace and added his second finger, scissoring them inside you to spread you open.

He didn't intend on making you cum yet, really, having wanted to get you properly ready by murmuring sweet nothings and worse, promising things he wasn't sure he could give but was determined to try. "How's that feel, baby?"

"Good," you said shyly.

"Good? Just good?"

"Feels really good," you confirmed, panting at his uptick in speed and renewed pressure on your little bundle of nerves.

"Gonna make you feel so good," he promised, "gonna get you all messy, get you ready for my cock. That okay?"

"Yep," you said tightly.

Your legs were twitching - not a full shake but enough to tell exactly how it was going to go. He took his fingers from your cunt and pulled back further to push your knees up, spreading you wide in front of him. He used his left hand to stimulate your swollen clit and his right to finger fuck you in quick bursts.

It was wonderful to watch, your face swimming in pleasure and your eyes getting all wet and glassy, too timid to meet his gaze.

"Hey, pretty girl," he said, forcing you to look at him, "hey, baby. You look so fucking cute, yeah? Don't you?"

Your eyebrows creased, distracted by his attentions on your sensitive cunt.

"Tell me how you look," he ordered.

"Sirius…"

"Go on, tell me how good you look. I'll reward you, I promise."

You shook your head.

"You won't?" he paused attending your clit and took big, slow strokes, curling his fingers to drag down your walls. Your thighs wobbled.

"Just tell me, baby," he said, voice faux pleading, "tell me all about how you look and I'll make you cum."

You whimpered at the unfairness of it all and he felt a little sorry for you, but not enough to let you out of the deal.

"I look… nice." You bought into his game.

He grinned proudly, pressing his thumb back against your clit as though he might begin again, but didn't.

"C'mon, you can do better than that."

"I look cute."

He nodded appraisingly and started slow circles. "And what else?"

You stuttered over your words, stubborn in your own diffidence but desperate. "I look pretty."

"Pretty," he hummed like he was chewing it over. "You're more than pretty. Gonna look so fucking beautiful all covered in my cum too, baby, I promise you."

He was trying to relax himself as much as he was you. Trying to convince himself that fucking his best friend that he loved, loved unthinkingly as the pumping of blood in his veins, the thrumming of his magic beneath his skin, was the right path. And what did people say? Sometimes the easiest path was the path of least resistance? He couldn't resist you, he knew that much. So, selfishly, he made you cum. Selfishly, he cooed as you moaned. Selfishly, he spread his hand across your trembling tummy. Maybe it was the wrong decision, but Sirius Black fancied himself a selfish man, and so he was going to fuck you silly, should you allow him.

You were recuperating, blinking bashfully, wetting your bitten lips. He leaned over you to push his hands behind your shoulders and lift you into a sitting position, stealing a quick kiss. When he broke it you looked dazed as ever.

"You okay?" he asked.

Your dazed expression cleared with his voice. You nodded, catching your breath with your hand pressed to your cunt. He laughed madly when you touched yourself and jumped, ticklish.

You glared at him.

"Don't be like that," he chastised, taking both of your hands into his, tugging your arms towards him.

You squeezed his fingers likely without thought and climbed up onto your knees, almost as tall as him, "I'm not being like anything," you said, climbing up into his lap, wet pussy sliding against his aching, clothed cock, knees either side of his thighs.

He pulled your arms around his neck to relieve his hands and push down his shorts, freeing his cock. He pumped, feeling your arms tighten as you spotted his length.

"Ah," you said weakly.

"You ready?" he asked, guiding his cock underneath you to tease your hole, gathering wetness to palm over his length.

You didn't answer, instead lowering yourself onto his cock slowly. He kissed your shoulder, tasted the salt of the sea on your skin as you stretched around him, gasps like a sweet song in his ears. Hands on your hips to alleviate the effort it took for you to hold yourself upright, he steered you up and down until you were confident enough to do it yourself. You were slow, and he wouldn't rush you, but fuck if he didn't want to lay you out flat and ruin you, pound into you until you were a wet-eyed mess. Still, you worked his cock, moaning as the stretch turned to indiscriminate pleasure.

He grabbed your neck, not rough enough to hurt but certainly not gently, straightening your head up to meet his gaze, though the sight of you watching his cock spread you open was tantalising, mouth a small o-shape.

"Taking me so well," he praised.

You tried not to show how his words affected you. He was determined to make you, fucking up into you as you came down, relishing in the startled delight clouding your face.

"How's my pretty girl feeling?" He followed your hips with his own, dragging his cock against your walls. "How's my pretty pussy, all full?"

You looked like you might burst into tears and dug your face into the side of his neck, tightening your arms. He took this in stride and kissed the top of your head before grabbing a hold of your hips and fucking fast into your heat, moaning at the feeling of your cunt contracting around his throbbing dick.

"Yeah, you know, don't you? This cunt," he said into your hair, "this cunt's all mine now."

You'd gone so quiet he worried for a split second he'd gone too far, until he felt your lips at his neck, mouthing. He didn't have to see you to know what you'd said soundlessly.

All yours.

His fault for goading you, he realised, groaning so raggedly he felt his chest burn. He fucked up into you until he thought even a muffliato wasn't enough enough cover the sounds you were making, unrestrained and half-sobbing in his lap.

He slowed, let you drop so you were seated with his cock inside you as deep as it could go, which was a different agony, and pulled your face from the crook of his neck.

"Awww," he sympathised, rolling his hips as he wiped the tears from your face. "You're okay."

You nodded, bringing a hand up to wipe your face yourself, hands half covered by the sleeve of his jacket.

"It's not too much, is it?" he asked, bringing his hand to the small of your back, pushing leather into your skin and leaning back to really focus on finding your sweet spot.

You pouted jokingly as if to say what do you think? and then laughed, the movement prompting little flecks of water to jump off of your lashes. It was a sight he thought he would remember for the rest of his life, your pleasure driven tears and your cock drunk laugh, tits half sheltered by his old leather jacket.

You took his leaning back as an opportunity, spreading your fingers against the trail of hair at the bottom of his stomach to encourage his back flat onto the mattress. He laid down curiously, head close enough to the edge of the bed that his hair draped over the end. You anchored yourself to his tummy and didn't ride him so much as you squirmed, the head of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot, goosebumps breaking out across your body. You whined, pleading sounds that had him probing your clit, searching for your second climax. You protested his actions, grabbing his wrist and holding it to his breastbone, leaning down so your cunt was flush with his crotch, pelvis' sliding into one another bruisingly as you grinded, faces inching closer and closer as the sensation weakened your resolve to be in charge. He felt his own resolve weakening in turn.

Escaping your clutches he pulled your chest flush to his with only the head of his dick inside you, to which you grumbled, rocking down. He frowned himself and wrapped one arm under your armpit and over your shoulder blades, the other across your back.

"Don't do me in," he blurted, steadying your movements.

You raised your eyebrows at his panic amusedly. "You gonna cum in me, lover?" you asked teasingly.

He kissed the skin left of your mouth, strokes haltingly slow. "Don't do me in," he restated, softer. "Please."

Your lips parted as he dug into your soft spot, mouthing your cheek before tucking you into his front, hugging you tenderly as he opened you up slowly with his cock. He sped up, testing what he could handle and savouring your keens.

The sound of your whimpering was his last straw, pulling out of you quickly, cock throbbing in his hand. You searched for his mouth and kissed him, once and then twice, chaste and slow and loving kisses that made him want to serve you up starlight on a silver platter.

Then you climbed off of him. He let you go reluctantly, watching as you settled in a W-shape near his pillows, breathing hard and neatening up his jacket so your tits were fully out.

"Do your worst," you told him.

He blinked, pushing up onto his elbows, cock twitching at the skin under his belly button.

"What?"

"'Gonna look beautiful covered in my cum,'" you quoted him, something bright in your eyes.

He crawled over to your quivering body, hand already milking his cock. He kneeled so he was hovering over you and you leaned back into his pillows, sweaty and rugged. He thought you looked the prettiest he'd ever seen you, hands tugging roughly at his cock, lubed by your slick.

"You're beautiful," you whispered gingerly, eyes skipping up his chest to alight on his mouth, his nose, his eyes. You smiled, eyes heavy.

He came down your front, pearlescence dripping down the swollen curve of your breasts and gathering at the slade of your chest, white rivulets that shone in the golden sundown. He'd barely finished when he was kissing you passionately, trying to convey his thoughts with his rough hand on your silken face, his undue mouth, trying to push the depths of his devotion into his soothing fingertips beneath your eye.

He broke the kiss begrudgingly, struck with an idea.

"Where's your camera?" he asked, forehead resting on yours.

"Huh?"

"Let me take a picture of you like this."

You didn't need much convincing, a beatific beam dancing across your kiss red lips. He scrubbed his hand down your cheek before he hastily pulled his shorts up and retrieved the camera from where you pointed, messing with buttons he didn't hope to understand until the camera was blinking and aimed at your smiling face. He zoomed out just enough to catch his jacket and your messy chest in the photograph.

"Pretty," he said, more to himself than you. Your chest heaved with his praise. "Say cheese, lovely girl."

You shot up a peace sign and he chuckled so suddenly he thought he'd never breathe right again.

thank you for reading!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

read part two here

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they are disgusted by my blood but they love to watch me bleed

I genuinely think this little mini series is my favorite AU ever I could die happy

Hiiii!! I saw that you were asking for camp counselor! James and I got an idea, what if reader and him weren’t yet together but they were both pinning on one another and he was just telling the kids how adorable the reader is and the kids thought that they would be so good together and were so happy when they finally got together!!!

Thanks for requesting sweetheart!

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 751 words

You spot James before he does you, holding court among a circle of campers enjoying their free time after lunch. The sun beats down on the unshaded bit of grass in front of his cabin, but James doesn’t seem to mind. He’s all loose and smiley, skin glowing in the afternoon light and hair that hasn’t been cut since May curling just above the rims of his glasses, meanwhile you can already feel the tickle of sweat forming on your skin. 

He looks up as you approach, grin widening the second before his face smooths into seriousness. “Careful, guys, we’ve got a wily one coming to join us,” he tells the kids. “Keep your cards close.” 

You roll your eyes, sitting down with your legs crossed beneath you between a couple of girls from your cabin. “What are you playing?” You ask them, and yet James answers anyway. 

“Blackjack.” You look up at him, and he smiles. Almost bashfully, like he’s unable to help himself. “Crazy eights,” he concedes, setting down his hand to deal you in. “Here, we’re just starting.” 

“James,” one of his boys whines, “we’re halfway through.”

“What harm does it do you, Cal?” he asks. “You’re set to win anyway.” 

“It’s okay,” you promise, “James is allowed to set me up for failure if he likes.” 

James pretends to be appalled, making the kids laugh, but he can’t keep it up for long before he’s smiling back at you. You like doing this with him, allying together. It feels like you’re in on some sort of secret, though you’re not sure what that might be. 

“It’s probably because he fancies her,” one of the other boys whispers to Cal in a not-so-low voice. 

You do your best to keep your eyes on your cards and your feelings off your face, but you feel a heat that has nothing to do with the sun creeping up the back of your neck. 

“Shush!” One of your campers, Mary, elbows the other boy sharply. “You’re so loud.” 

You don’t dare sneak a glance up at James, but when one of the girls goes, “Wait, what?” and the circle erupts in giggles, you can’t help it. He’s grinning at you, that us-against-the-world look again, like kids, right? You hope your answering smile looks half as relaxed. 

“You guys are worse gossips than my mum, you know that?” The kids’ laughter worsens as he feigns an exasperation that’s easy to see through, setting his hands on his hips. You pointedly do not notice how nicely the pose displays his biceps and forearms. “This is why I don’t tell you any real secrets.”

The boys from James’ cabin look genuinely upset. You feel a bit bad for them even as relief washes over you, tinged with a bit of disappointment.

“It wasn’t a secret?” the boy who’d spoken asks. 

James gives him a sideways look. “Hate to break it to you, mate, but look at her.” Blood rushes to your face as the kids gasp and ooh conspiratorially at each other almost too loud for you to hear him saying, “I’m only human.” 

You feel no better than the kids when the first response that rushes to your lips is shut up, but you choose to take your own advice, rolling your eyes like you think he’s joking despite the light and undeniable sincerity in James’ tone. Butterflies crowd your stomach.

“Y/n, are you gonna be his girlfriend?” one of the girls from your cabin asks, grinning ear to ear. 

“Um, it’s not quite so simple—” 

“Terrible!” James exclaims, looking around the circle with a scandalized expression. “You’re all terrible. I haven’t even asked her anything! You’re going to kill your counselor, and what then? You think the next one will let you play in her hammock?” 

“We’re not allowed to do that anymore,” another of your girls says sulkily. 

James looks to you, and you shrug, sheepish. “I got caught. They said it wasn’t safe.” 

“Whatever,” James blazes onward, “the point is, who will I have to talk to if you kill her? Be considerate, guys. Plan ahead.” 

“James,” you plead, very nearly on the brink of actual death, you’re sure. 

“And that,” he says promptly, stacking three fives and holding up his hands empty, “is how you win at crazy eights.” 

The kids erupt in shouts, pointing fingers and throwing down their cards, and James sends you a wink. 

You think you need to take a dunk in the lake. 

okay, I might be a little bit obsessed

Jayvik Frankenstein AU

Me seeing Barbie and Oppenheimer back to back